Picture Day

I’m behind this week. So picture day is a day late, but it’s still here. I’ve been into using Chompyface as a prop recently. He’s not very cooperative.


Break Out the Tissues, I Bought a Dog

After a year of looking at dogs online and trying to figure out what kind of dog would be right for me, I finally got one. For most people getting a dog would be a happy, fun experience of discovery and bonding with their new pet. Well, I’m not most people. I started regretting my decision in the car on the way home for the animal shelter and it only got worse from there.

Yes, I tried to play fetch and tug with him in the backyard and did all the things you’re supposed to do with a dog, but I also cried for three days straight and talked seriously about giving him back. You might wonder why. Having a dog was like stabbing myself in the eye with a knitting needle. It felt like I went to the SPCA one lovely Saturday and paid them for the privilege of stabbing myself in the eye everyday for the next 15 years. I thought having a dog would kill me.

It wasn’t just the random barking in the middle of the night and having to get up at 7:30 in the morning (the butt crack of dawn) that was getting to me. It was the general upset to my schedule. My husband says I’m autistic because I get so upset when my schedule isn’t followed.

On top of all that, the dog just kept looking at me. I’d play with him and walk him and then he’d just lay there and look at me with those sad dog eyes. What does he want from me? I don’t know because he can’t speak English. He only speaks dog. See how upsetting this is. If you had a stranger staring at you silently while you tried to work you’d turn into an emotional wreck too. Don’t believe me? Tell me where you work and I’ll come stare at you for a while and see how you feel.

Don’t worry, I kept the dog. As time passes, he’s becoming less and less like a knitting needle in the eye. I guess that means I’m growing to like him even though he still hasn’t had the common courtesy to sign up for an English class so we can communicate more easily. I guess that means I’ll have to learn how to speak dog.

Introducing Reginald P. Chompyface ….


Walking the Cat

So you all know about my latest obsession with dogs which is much different than my obsession with foxes because I could actually get a pet dog one day. I guess I could get a pet fox too, but that’s not as easy as just popping by the pound and picking one up.

I keep trying to imagine my pet dog and what she might be like. I scroll through the SPCA website and pick out contenders. I think I’ll name my dog Lettuce. I’ve decided that’s a good doggy name. I’m also going to get a cat and name him Bacon. Every time I tell my husband that I plan on teaching Bacon to walk on a leash he looks at me like I’m crazy.

“You take dogs for walks, why can’t you take a cat?” I say.

“You just don’t,” he says.

My husband obviously has no vision. He has no idea that I’m going to start a world wide cat and dog walking trend. I imagine myself walking Bacon and Lettuce together on a leashes through my new sidewalk filled neighborhood. It will be great. We’ll get so much exercise and I’ll be totally in control. People will point and say look at that lady walking a cat and a dog on leashes. I’ll wave and smile with pride.

Everyone will think, “Gee that lady has a good idea.” Before you know it in every country in the land people will start waking their cats and dogs together. Inspired by the new found harmony between cat and dog all people will stop fighting and peace will spread across the Earth. All of this walking will cure the obesity epidemic and people will be healthier.

The world will be a much better place just because I taught my cat to walk on a leash with a dog. Once they get the walking down I’m going to teach my dog to drive a car and my cat to read a map.

Now I just need to get the cat and dog.

Big Boy

I love visiting the SPCA website so I can choose the dog I’ve always wanted, but will never get. The other day when I went to the site I saw a dog that looked surprisingly like my father. Meet Big Boy.

Big Boy

My father

The Animal Ambassadors

I used to always say that nature would be great if it wasn’t for all the animals. Being charged by a hungry squirrel in a park or surrounded by a gaggle of angry geese when I’m trying to go for a peaceful stroll is not my idea of a good time. The idea of being attacked by a ferocious hedgehog on a camping trip still sends chills down my spine.

Even though I’ve had some traumatic experiences with animals over the years there have been some animal ambassadors in my life that let me know that animals really aren’t that bad.

105:365 Logan at the BBQ

This is Logan the ambassador to crazy dogs everywhere. The idea of having a dog never crossed my mind until I spent a week dog sitting for my sister. This dog is fun, fun, fun. Even though he would bark like a maniac in the back yard and never came when called, he grew on me. The great thing about a dog is that they are always so happy to see you. The bad thing about a dog is picking up steaming turds when you walk them.

Logan stayed by my side watching horror movies (that was a bad idea) with me when I came down with the flu. He’s a great little friend.

And then there’s this one:


Cats seem like they should have a posh English accents and say things like, “It’s time for my Fancy Feast, chop chop,” and “You can pet me now, servant.”

This cat, Dexter, is a mellow guy. Even though he’s a bit demanding and is incredible picky about his food, he’s growing on me. We like to chill out on the sofa together. The great thing about owning a cat is that they are independent and even though they’re totally in it for themselves they are good company. The bad thing is that I suspect that they’re not very fateful. This guy is gone a lot and I can picture him working two homes to get all the Fancy Feast with gravy that he possibly can.

I gave him a cat massage once and now he thinks that massages are required everyday after meal time. He’ll eat, or won’t eat depending one whether or not there’s gravy, and then perch him self on the arm of the chair next to me and meow until I start giving him his massage. If I stop he protests. When the massage is finished he goes outside to sleep until next meal time.

Now of course, I’ve been saying to my husband, “What do you thing about getting a cat?” My husband’s Dog Whisperer obsession makes him really want a dog though. Maybe we could get one of each.