Pictures from the true puppy (Guest Blog)

Hi, 'member me? I'm Kyzer, the only real puppy left in the house. I turned 5 mos. old on last Saturday, so I still have quite a bit of growing to do. Two weeks ago, I made the big boy move to only have two meals a day instead of three. So, these pictures are all of me when I was still a little puppy who needed to eat three (or four in the beginning) times a day.

Here I am at 5 weeks playing with two of my sisters. We are tugging the camera strap. I'm the big one on the left
Here's another one of me with my littlest sister, Emma. Right now, I weigh almost 30 lbs and she doesn't even weigh 20. She's pretty feisty, though.
Here's the whole puppy pile on the day we all went home. Can you guess which one I am (hint: I'm the biggest in the whole litter)
If you didn't find me, I'm the one laying the farthest to the right. Don't we all look a little bovine? Here's me awake that day (and pretty worried about what was going on)
Look at my ears (Hamish said I should say that.) I settled in pretty nicely at home. I got to sit in the person's lap all the way home even though I was supposed to ride in a crate. She just didn't want to put me down and the crate was SOO big for such a little fellow.
Look how cute and sweet I was out on the deck. Looks like I'm going to have floppy ears.
I may look sweet and all, but I'm no pushover and I know how to defend my stuff. Rafe and Hamish have always wrestled and played with me and taught me how to keep hold of my stuff. The older dogs (and definitely Queen Pippin) don't play with me at all. They're boring.
I got to see sheep for the first time when I was 8 weeks old, but only from outside the pen. I was pretty interested. Even though Hamish got be in the pen with the sheep when he was just 4 1/2 mos. old, I have to wait until I'm 6 mos. old. It's not really fair, but what's a boy to do?
I like to play with balls, toys and tugs a lot. I try to keep them away from Hamish and Rafe. I "bat" about 50%, but my averages are getting better as I get bigger.
Here was my official portrait at 4 mos. Look, my ears are coming up a little bit. That's when I got weighed at the vet and I weighed 25.4 lbs. The vets say that puppies will be about double their weight at 16 weeks, so I'm gonna be a pretty big guy. That's good--then I'll be as big as Rafe. He weighs almost 50 lbs. Hamish is a skinny guy. He only weighs 41 lbs, but he's taller and longer than Rafe. That's why he's the corner back on our football team. I don't have a position yet, but my people keep saying lineman or tight end. We'll see. (Rafe is the quarterback, Pippin is the wide receiver; Renzo is the kick returner and Tansy is the linebaker--aren't the people doofy?).

Even though I'm a big boy and all, sometimes I just have to rest a little bit. And where better to rest than a spot in the sun?
Finally, here's the "portrait" my person took on the first day I got no lunch. Don't I look like I am starving? I'm completely gaunt. It's amazing I didn't keel over from low blood suger. That's pretty much what I still look like, only bigger and more handsome. And look at my ears! They look like they're going to be tippy ears.

"Puppy" pics from First Dog, Renzo (Guest Blog)

Hi everydog. You might remember me. I'm Renzo, first dog. The people became a pack when they added me back in 2001. I was young and very skinny. They didn't have a digital camera then. The very first pictures of me aren't on the computer. That's o.k., except for gaining a few pounds, I don't look all that different. Most of these picture are from life B.B.C. (before Border Collies). I had fun then. I have fun now too.

When the people finally joined the rest of the world and got a digital camera, some of their first pictures were of me. Here's one
I'm glad the people like taking my picture. I don't like the flash, though. Never have, never will.
One of my main jobs for the pack is squirrel duty. I don't like them and they don't like me. Kind of like Miss Ivy, I am part of a secret Anti-Squirrel Army. Here I am patrolling the borders of my property while on squirrel duty. I found one lurking in a tree.
Here I am just keeping an eye on things from my preferred vantage point on the deck
In B.B.C. times, I used to play with my neighbor, Zuri. Her people got her only a few months before I claimed my people. But, she hated Pippin from the moment they met and after Pippin came to live with us, Zuri didn't want to play in the yard with me anymore. That's o.k., I like Pippin. Zuri went to live with new people last summer so we don't see her anymore.
I trained the kittes about dogs in B.B.C. time. It's a good thing too since B.C.'s sometimes like to "herd" kitties. The people *almost* had to give me back because while I was training the kitties, I was pretty relentless about one of them and did whatever I could to try and catch him. I just wanted to tell him that dogs are o.k., but he kept running away. The people made all kinds of barriers and that kitty moved to the basement for a while. But, look, now we are pretty good friends
The big white cat Macchio and I always got along. He taught me how to be gentle and I taught him how to hug a dog. I really still miss him.
Finally, the thing that caused life to go from B.B.C to A.B.C (after Border Collies) was flyball. Funny thing is, I'm the only dog the people actually trained to play. So, here are two pics of me playing flyball and one of my person asking me to stop barking (my nickname at home is Sir Barks-a-lot--I don't know why people think that's funny).

Puppy pics--Hamish (Guest Blog)

From the desk of Hamish Braeburn Moy, Esq.

After being inspired by the Aof4's puppy picture-a-thon and some newly found photos of Copper, my sister Pippin decided that we should do the same thing and for some inexplicable reason, she picked me to be first (probably because I was the cutest puppy on the planet). So, here I am as a little tyke.

This was the first picture the breeder sent to my people of me even before they thought they might get me. So, this is before I was Hamish.
Here's a picture of me after I became Hamish. Still pretty guinea pig-like, huh?
Here I am on my first day in Michigan. I had a hard travel from Canada because I got car sick. Let me tell you, it's no fun being car sick for 8 hours. But, I survived o.k. Look at what my ears are doing.
My big sister Pippin (she and I have the same mom) was really nice to me right from the start. That's unusual for her, so I decided I must be a very important dog. She still likes to play with me the best.
Although I look sweet and innocent in this picture, what it really captures is my very own first dug hole. Wouldn't Meeshka be proud? And, hey, check out my ears here!
My people thought I was so smart that I should go to school right away, so off I went. Here I am with my diploma (and some really wacky ears)
Finally, the big day came for me when I first got to see some sheep. I was just a whipper-snapper--only four months old--but on my second visit into the pen, I ran up to the sheep and told them they had to listen to me. And guess what, they believed me! My people were so stunned they forgot to take a picture, but here I am waiting while Tansy had a turn--and still with those who-knows-what-they're-gonna-do-ears
It didn't take long before I was doing more or less "real" (but still beginner) sheep work. Here I am at 8 mos sending the sheep through a chute. That's me in the back.
And finally, about this time, my ears made up their mind and here's the final product. I'm the only one in my pack whose ears both stand up pretty much all the time and all the way.
Watch for the early pics of the rest of my gang in the coming days. One of my people thinks it's really neat to see all the different ear types, so don't be surprised if the ears of my packmates get pointed out too. Of course, you should feel free to tell her she's a big geek.

Sincerely,

H.B. Moy

My bubba and my person

Hi everydog. You might have been wondering where I've been (at least I like to think you've been wondering that--it helps feed my delicate ego). My person went away for a long time to stay with the toddler in her family (some of you might remember when the toddler came to visit me). Toddlers are human puppies. In dog time, a 2-year old toddler is like a 3 month old puppy. Old enough to feed themselves, but not old enough to keep the food in the bowl all the time.

People believe that our ages and their ages are related by "7"--people think that a 1 year old dog is like a 7 year old human. So a three-year old like me is the equivalent of a 21-year old human. Where do you think they got that idea?? Why "7" and not "8" or "6". It sounds to me like a lot of what they do--make something up that seems like it might be right based on their random, ad hoc observations of the world and then pretend it's true. Humans really do seem to believe that saying something a lot is what makes it true.

If only they really followed the dog method, which is to read the pee. That tells you all you really need to know about anything. Or at least they could follow their own scientific method.

Anyway, we're glad to have my person back 'cause the other person was getting pretty worn out walking, feeding and playing with all of us each day and she needed some time to do her important reading that she does every night while we let her share the couch with us.

So the title of my entry today is "my bubba and my person". You've heard about my person. My bubba is Hamish. See the toddler girl in Florida where my person was for so many long days calls her older brother "bubba". It's kind of cute in that way that Southerners are (not that I'm patronizing or anything--really, some of my best friends are southerners), and so I decided that's what I'd call Hamish from now on. Sort of poke fun at the people for giving him such a haughty, British name. So, here's a very sweet picture of Bubba.
He likes to take my person's shoes and just lay with them. When he was a pup, he'd chew them all up, but now, he just likes to have it with him--kind of like a security blanket. Sometimes, he tries to make it look like somedog else took them. As in the picture below
See, it looks like I'm the culprit with the shoe, but really, Bubba brought the shoe there and I just happened to be on the bed at the same time. Really.

And last, here's why I love my bubba-boy. What other dog would sleep with his sister curled up against him like that? I bet you wish you had a bubba-dog too.

Work. (Guest Blog)

Rafe here.

I'm a working dog. Play, sure, but work is what it's all about. Don't have sheep every day, yet, but still find work.

Those pups Hamish and Kyzer, don't know about them. Here's what I'm talking about:



See how I stay on task, chewing the bone:



Back to work now.

Woof,
Rafe

Hmmm. (Guest Blog)

Rafe here.

Morning reconnoiters this week. Puzzling. Object between sidewalk and street, on second block of walk. Gave it a wide berth first two days: walked a curve into house lawn, bad manners but necessary. Third day walked up to it, carefully.




Here's a close-up:



Sources report it's a Dried Hydrangea Blossom. Curious, a DHB in the snow, middle of February. More curious, next day:



Gone.

Any other DHB sightings out there?

Woof.
Rafe

Westminster makes me sad

I try not to talk politics in public since I know it's in bad taste, but last night my people watched the Westminster Dog Show. Even though I know that there is never anything completely black and white in the dog world (except maybe Border Collies), I wanted to offer some thoughts on AKC Border Collies in particular. Before I do, though, everydog should get their people to donate some money to a humane society,rescue group or animal welfare group. The pedigree commercial is right--every dog should have a home.

On to Border Collies. I'll say upfront that not everyone will agree with me on this, but really, it's my blog, so I get to say what I want to about things I think about.

It wasn't so long ago that Border Collies were not recognized by the AKC and we Border Collies mostly thought that was a good thing. See, we're bred to work and really that's the only reason we should be bred. Sure, not all of us can become the top, top working dogs and many of us excel at other kinds of things too. But, one of the reasons we have all the characteristics we do is precisely because we were bred for a particular purpose, herding livestock, and not for a particular look or for some other purpose, like playing agility or being sweet, lovely gentlepups who give the most delicate kisses in the world.

The less we are bred for working stock, the faster we lose many of the traits that make us Border Collies. That means that while people can *do* whatever they want to with the Border Collies once they have them, the only ones who should be *bred* are the ones who have proven they are great at working livestock. Although my packmates and I are wonderful in every possible way, we shouldn't be bred. Which is not to say that we shouldn't have been *born*--just that we haven't proven ourselves on livestock-- and since we haven't, we shouldn't compete in the gene pool.

There was a whole lot of debate, and there still is, about whether Border Collies should be recognized by Kennel Clubs and thus bred for a particular conformation (e.g. a particular look).

So anyway, I just watched the Border Collie judging at Westminster with my person. What you notice immediately is that none of those Border Collies look much like me and my pack. Just to remind you what we look like, here we are (ignore Renzo here):

Here are some comments from the breed standard:

Ears: Ears are of medium size, set well apart, one or both carried erect and/or semi-erect (varying from 1/4 to 3/4 of the ear erect). When semi-erect, the tips may fall forward or outward to the side. Tansy has "semi-erect" ears; I have one ear carried erect; Hamish has both ears carried erect and Rafe has zero ears carried erect. We represent all the ear types found in Border Collies

Coat: Two varieties are permissible, both having close-fitting, dense, weather resistant double coats with the top coat either straight or wavy and coarser in texture than the undercoat which is soft, short and dense. The rough variety is medium in length without being excessive. Forelegs, haunches, chest and underside are feathered and the coat on face, ears, feet, fronts of legs is short and smooth. The smooth variety is short over entire body, is usually coarser in texture than the rough variety and may have slight feathering on forelegs, haunches, chest and ruff. Neither coat type is preferred over the other. Tansy, Hamish and I are "rough" coated; Rafe and Kyzer are "smooth". Tansy and Hamish have a wavy coat; the rest of us have a straight coat. We represent most of the coat types found in Border Collies except for the really curly ones and the really fluffy, long ones.

Color: The Border Collie appears in all colors or combination of colors and/or markings. Solid color, bi-color, tri-color, merle and sable dogs are to be judged equally with no one color or pattern preferred over another. White markings may be clear white or ticked to any degree. Random white patches on the body and head are permissible but should not predominate. Color and markings are always secondary to physical evaluation and gait. Kyzer is almost entirely black; Tansy, Kyzer, Hamish and I have "ticking"; Rafe and Hamish are tri-colors (Hamish is a "red" tri-color and Rafe is a "black" tri-color). I have a "split" face. We represent a very small subset of the possible color types found in Border Collies.

What you notice in the standard is that BCs should have a lot of variety because what matters isn't what we look like, it's how we work. Our working ability is pretty hard to encode in a breed standard, though, so that's not really an important part of the package. And that's sad since it's the work that has defined us for hundreds of years.

When you look at the BCs that go to dog shows, you see little of this variety. Despite the breed standard, show Border Collies, and especially the top ones, are almost all black and white, with no ticking or merle and almost never tri-colored. They are rarely smooth-coats, and their coats are almost always the long, fluffy kind. Their ears are never pricked. The almost never have a split face and rarely have wavy or curly hair.

So, basically, there is lip-service to variety, but they are clearly being bred to look a very certain way since that's what wins at shows. Which means, they are not being bred first and foremost to be workers.

It also means that people almost never know that any of the dogs in my pack are BCs. I come about the closest to be "recognizable" to most people--but my speckles tend to throw folks off. Hamish is often thought to be part Sibe; Rafe is thought to be Rottie or Shepherd--some folks have even said that he doesn't have any border collie in him at all. Tansy has been called a cattle dog cross and we're sure that Kyzer will be seen as many things but probably rarely as a border collie.

We don't care so much about that, but I sure wish people would stop mucking around with our beauty genes and go back to focusing on our working genes.

Hiya, I'm Renzo

Hi everydog. I'm Renzo, first dog of the pack. I trained the kitties first. I played flyball first. I snuggled with the people first. I taught them to give treats first. I took them to obedience class and agility class first. Heck, I taught those doofy people what it means to live with a dog. If it weren't for me, there wouldn't be a Pippin, Tansy, Hamish, Rafe or Kyzer. No sheep for them either. I'm important in this pack.

Even though you haven't heard much from me before, I came before the Border Collies. I'm a polite dog and know that those Border Collies are a pretty pushy crowd, so I let them talk first. But as they say, every dog must have his or her day. Today is mine.

I'm a reluctant leader of the pack. I won't be too sad if one of those young boyz decides to step up and accept some responsibility one of these days. No one gruffs with me or tries to take my stuff. If they ask nicely, I give it to them. They know I'll always be first dog.

I can run like the wind and jump like a spring. I assign all the jobs in the pack. If anydog is sleeping on the bed, it's me. I am the mutt, the most important and special dog of the pack. I like sharing my people with Border Collies.

They have to remember, though, that I was here first.

Finally some musings from ME

I don't know if others noticed, but I certainly did. Several of my packmates were given the opportunity to blog since I last commandered the opposable thumbs. I would be completely outraged if I didn't have so much to say.

1. It is cold here. I mean REALLY, REALLY cold. Ice-balls on the feet cold. Frozen feet in milliseconds cold. All of my tennis balls are really hard rocks of slobber-ice cold. This morning as my person contemplated our morning walks, she checked the temperature and it was -8. She opted to keep us and herself in the warm house. This is all wrong and I'm officially logging a complaint (though I am very thankful that I don't have to live outside like some of the dogs in my neighborhood).

2. The young boyz at my house are stinky. They all seem to have particular strengths in the silent, take-no-prisoners flatulence department. They make it up somewhat, however, by looking quite adorable together on the couch.

3. My people, with only minimal consultation with me, have decided to take a break from flyball. I don't know what this means for the status of my *flyball* blog, but since I haven't been talking about flyball for a while, maybe "flyball" can simply take on an ironic flavor. I have to admit that I'm not all that sad about not doing flyball because, for those of you who were early adopters of my blog will no doubt remember, I never really liked flyball all that much. Still, my people had a hard time deciding to take the break since it means they'll miss other people they like a lot. But, that's what happens in a busy world sometimes. The only real change you will notice is that I no longer sign my posts and comments at Pippin the flyball dog, but the far more descriptive and appropriate, Pippin, the Gentle pup

4. My people went to a sled dog race on Saturday and came home talking about "hooking Rafe up". I'm not exactly sure what that means, but since it's not about me, I'm not going to pay it all that much mind. And if it means the lug-oaf puppy might learn some manners, all the better (he was a particularly evil starer last night and got into repeated scuffles with me, Tansy, Hamish and even Renzo. If I used such terms, I might have called him some naughty names that start with letters like "b", "a" and "s". But since I'm not that kind of gal, I'll leave it to your imaginations.

Stay warm, pups!

Guest Blog

Greetings, Gentledogs!

I am Tansy. My flock-mate Pippin asked me to contribute to the blog. I am a humble sheep dog, and am uncertain as to what to tell you. When our people are gone, Pippin tells of tales from the dogblog world - all your lives are so interesting and exotic to us! Opy and Charlie in Australia, watching Beverly Hills 90210! The Army of Four holding up walls in Kansas! Charlie Kelley-Church dealing with snow in New Mexico! Chester a fellow BC in Singapore! Isabella the beautiful Florida poodle who may go to Singapore!

I could speak to you of my simple life - my runs in the park with young Hamish, my tummy rubs on the bed, toast crusts at breakfast, an almond at an unexpected time, relaxing on the couch while listening to Yundi Li's Chopin CD. Or I could speak of my duties as senior bark officer of our flock - difficult work, but very rewarding as well.

At this moment, however, I must nap.

Until later, I remain yours sincerely,
Tansy Cakes.

Puppy party (Guest Blog)

Hi everydog, it's me, Kyzer. Pippin said it was o.k. if I borrowed the computer to tell you about my week-end (Pippin also said to tell our people that she'd like a special week-end sometime too, but I haven't done it yet.)

I got to go on a long car ride and meet up with all my brothers and sisters plus my mommy and daddy and all their people. We had a puppy party!!

Besides the nine of us, our half-brother, Whisk, and half-sister, Badger, (my dad was a busy fellow last summer--but it was all planned of course) and a friend of Millie and Royal's named Mel were there too. There were also some non-Border Collie dogs around. They were a lot smaller than me, but older, so I was sure to lick their faces and tell them I wouldn't do anything bad.

The people tried to get pictures of all of us, but as you can imagine with 10 puppies, it was pretty hard. We got one picture with all of us littermates and Mel--you can see it on the left there. We all look pretty similar but our people can still tell us apart.

I have the most black on my face; my brother Royal has one almost completely black leg plus a "split face"; Gus is a tri-color and has curly hair like our mommy; Maddie has a wide blaze and looks the most like our daddy; Bracken has a lot of speckles on his blaze and his ears stand up already; Emma is tiny, jowly and tri-colored; Millie has a crooked blaze and has a cool black mask. So, see, we're all a little different.

Our personalities are different, too. I think I'm the most contemplative and if I were a human kid, I'd be the one sitting in the corner reading a book while all the other kids ran around like crazies. I'd also be the one who wanted to tag around with the teen-agers rather than play Chutes and Ladders with the kids.

It was a whole lot of fun. One of the people baked a doggie cake made with chicken and carrots and we all got a piece, plus some "Frosty Paws" which is doggie ice cream. It was yummy for the tummy.

We got to play and play. I said hi to my mommy but she seems to like my brother Royal the best of all. She lives with him still, so she knows him best. I wasn't a pest or anything and she wasn't mean to me, but I could just tell that she didn't really want to play. That's o.k. I have my own pack now and they play with me all the time. That's just part of growing up to be a dog.

Daddy was even less interested in me than mommy. He's a pretty big dog with strong muscles, and now we know where I get my size (I'm by far the biggest of my brothers and sisters). He seems like a nice dog and he didn't gruff at anydog.

I know he's a good worker--that's why he got picked to be my daddy. I want to be a good worker, too, just like him and my mommy.

Well, I guess that's about it from the puppy party. I also got to go to the sheep herding lesson on Saturday, but that's really more a story for Pippin, Hamish, Tansy or Rafe to tell. They actually worked the sheep; I just slept in my crate in the car and poked around in the snow. I'm too little to do much with the sheep. I also hung out with Royal and Millie, but they know each other a LOT better than they know me, so they mostly played together and I snuffled around. Plus, as I said up there, I mostly just like to play with the boyz in my pack. I mean if you can play with big dogs, why stoop down to puppies?

Bath: Not Fun But Okay

Rafe here. Had a bath last night. (Amber, you wrote too late. Thanks for thinking of me though.)

Thought it was something good. My favorite person called me - me alone, no Hamish or Miss Tansy - into the bathroom. Took my collar off - fine, I'm quieter that way. Took the Fox-cat out of the bathtub. Should have been a sign - if the cat likes this place, the dog won't. Then whoa! I was picked up and put in the bathtub! Got out lickety-split and hunkered down. Did something I shouldn't have, but there was a towel to clean up. Then the other person came and put me in the tub again. My person told me to think of sheep on a warm June day, away, lift, fetch, drive, pen, cool off in the water tank. That got me through it. Even didn't want to get out when the water spray stopped. Got a nice rub-down, shook off, then went out to show off to the pack. My white was white, brown was brown, black was black. Thought I smelled good too. Little Hamish didn't think so, kept following me and growling. Hey, it's not like I was at the clean place with smooth floors and other dogs and people in white coats who poke you. Just had a bath. Now I'm Clean.

Woofs,
Rafe

Week-end score: Dogs: 4; Cats: 2; People: 3

My people took Renzo, Hamish and Kyzer to a flyball tournament on Saturday and Sunday. My favorite person, Moni, came and checked on me, Tansy and Rafe. The people took Renzo because he was competing (and did a good job as always--reliable Renzo we call him--he bobbled the ball once, but otherwise was spot on); they took Kyzer because he's a baby (though Renzo told me he didn't act like a baby at all and was very good with all the people petting him. He even figured out by the end of the day on Saturday that it's safe to pee even if you have a leash attached to you--that's hard to learn, so we were all proud); they took Hamish because he scored two points during the week by eating a hole in a pair of sleepy pants AND in the replacement fuzzy fleece sweater that one of the people bought to replace another one that he'd eaten a hole in. Hamish had a pretty boring time and said he would have rather stayed with us. We considered calling the people for "unnecessary dog removal" (since they are exercising an unfair advantage afforded them by their opposable thumbs, ability to walk upright and of course the fact that they have the keys to the car), but we decided instead that we like the challenge of having only three dogs on the home front to play the game.

We at home dogs also scored two points when we ate the last remaining spatula in the house AND the handle of the special cheese-slicer thingy that one of the people bought in Germany. That means that the dogs scored 4 points over the week.

Even the cats got in the game. Actually, it was just the scary kitty, Fox, who destroyed two rolls of toilet paper (thus earning two points as well). Our friend Moni told our people that she came to let us out and there was toilet paper everywhere. She blamed us, but the people know as well as we do who the toilet-paper-meister is.

The stupid people did score some points of their own. First, they saved one roll of toilet paper by hiding it in the medicine cabinet. They also saved one pair of pants from having its pockets chewed out (that was my bad--they were watching football, so I thought it was safe. One of the people came up to get a pair of socks and found me with the pants before I could chew out the pocket--I apologized to the rest of the team for not paying enough attention). Finally, they saved one shoe from Kyzer. That should hardly count as a point since Kyzer is hardly a real player, but the people whined so much that we gave it to them. So, they scored three points.

Animals are still ahead by three and we have an excellent game plan. We may be a little bit hindered since the people have reinstituted the "young dogs must be crated when there are no people at home" rule, which means that only Renzo and Tansy are loose in the house. But, two six year old dogs with a lot of experience under their belts are a fair enough match, we think.

DNN (Dog News Network) Headlines:
1. Rafe Gets Bath Tonight Due to Itch
2. Pippin Held In Living Room Against Her Will In Battle with Fox, the Cat
3. Hamish Learning New Trick to be Unveiled Soon
4. Kyzer Rules Puppy Kindergarten
5. Tansy has the Last Laugh in Battle with People over Barking
6. Renzo Reclaims Fuzzy Bed
7. Cats Still Get to Sleep in Bed while Dogs have to Sleep in Crates. Dogs Considering Arbitration

How to horka

I thought I'd show everyone that, although I am a gentlepup in every conceivable way, I do sometimes act just a wee bit naughty. Normally, I don't destroy toys, but my person captured me in the actual act of dismembering a fleece toy. Don't I look proud?

Several folks asked in response to my last blog how my people learned about forced vomiting--or "horka-ing" if you're speaking Dog. Well, they learned about it after Renzo had to spend two days at the emergency vet after he ate a bag of dark Hershey's kisses. For those who don't know, chocolate tastes just as good to us as it does to the people, BUT, it affects us like cocaine does people and we can overdose on it pretty easily. By the time my people got Renzo to the vet, he was completely wired for sound and the vets and the people were pretty worried about him.

When my people told the story to some of their dog friends, the friends told them about the hydrogen peroxide. Before they used it the first time (on me, with the Dobie pad mentioned in previous post), they double checked with their vet (because that's the kind of geeks they are), who verified that H2O2 is a fine emetic (though of course "fine" is a matter of perspective).

On a more pleasant note, we have finally gotten some colder weather--we had some ice (which caused a HUGE limb to fall off one of our trees, but luckily the only damage it did was to explode a bird feeder--it came mighty close to the house, though.

More importantly, our agility lessons are back on the docket--I went Monday night and Tansy and Hamish go tonight. Tomorrow night, Kyzer goes for Kindergarten. Rafe and Renzo are sitting out this round, but they said they didn't mind--it must be an R-name thing. We also got to go work the sheep on Saturday--which was great since we hadn't seen them for a few weeks. They told us rather haughtily that they hadn't missed us a bit. For that, I ran at them extra fast and ignored my person when she told me to "lie down". Sometimes you just have to take the penalty to reinforce proper respect and all. I learned that from watching football.

And just for a gratuitous finish--here's a shot of Rafe and Kyzer sharing a doggie bed. Aren't they sweet? You'd never know what a lug-oaf Rafe is by the looks of him lying there, would you. Thank heavens, I'm around to keep the record straight.

Puppies trump computer time

It is hard to choose the computer over the puppy, friends. This is one reason why I haven't blogged in over a week. Kyzer is getting bigger--he'll be 12 weeks old on Saturday. The best thing is that we think he might be a one ear up; one ear down border collie like me (and Chester) !! If you look at the picture, you can see that his ears are doing different things. Puppies ears flop around for a while before they decide what they're going to do; but from the looks of it, he's going to have the his left ear up and his right ear down. Just the opposite of me--we'll be like bookends.

There we are hanging out in the sunshine together.
The other reason I haven't blogged is that my person went away, leaving the other person to take care of all 9 of us kidz over the week-end. I don't know where the person went, but I think it was in a different time zone thing-y. She called home at weird hours. Anyway, she's back now and finally agreed to channel my thoughts.

This morning at the end of morning walks, my person found a half-eaten Dobie pad in the living room--I ate one of those when I was a puppy and it was the first time my people made me throw-up. You can see where this is going, I'm sure. When I ate it, I actually swallowed the whole thing, so it was really good that they made me throw it up since it would have probably caused a blockage in my gut somewhere--my people live in fear and trepidation of such a thing.

Anyway, my people naturally suspected Hamish and so he got the first treatment. For you dogs who don't know about this, you might want to put your paws over your eyes and hum so that you don't have to know how the people do this. Basically, they trick us into drinking hydrogen peroxide--1 teaspoon per 10 lbs of body weight. For Hamish, that meant 4 teaspoons mixed with some cheese. He lapped it right up.

Then he and the person waited. You could see he was feeling ookey and then after about 10 minutes, he chucked it all up. But, no sponge. Sadly, their big eye of Mordor then fell on me and I got the treatment. If they'd only asked, I would have honestly told them that I hadn't done it--having learned my lesson as a pup--and I would have pointed them in the right direction since I'd seen the act of sponge-eating in progress, but no, they didn't ask, so I didn't tell. Thus, I was subjected to the distinctly un-gentle-pup way of having to toss my cookies, too. Of course, there was no sponge. This left Rafe as the final likely suspect. Again, had they asked me, I could have told them and thus spared Hamish and myself from such unpleasantry. Of course, it was the oaf puppy. I tried to tell him that he wouldn't like the consequences, but like many teenagers, he just laughed at me, believing himself to be outside the laws of man and nature. He's sorry now.

I felt kind of bad for him since he looked pretty miserable, but hey, we all have to learn sometimes that our actions have consequences that we don't get to pick. Just ask Hamish--he gets fed hydrogen peroxide on a fairly frequent basis--indeed, he had to have it just last Saturday when he ate the better half of a plastic ball. Maybe one of these days one of those boyz will listen to me--but don't hold your breath.