Thursday, October 14, 2010

Fuzzy Photo of the Day

The puppy is scared of air vents.


He adamantly refuses to retrieve any toys that happen to roll onto the vent. Forest may give it a few sniffs, then retreat and whimper. Again, where are these types of situations in that doggy manual we bought? Worthless.

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Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Recovering Addicts

I swear, Nick and I never thought we’d get addicted. We were just looking for something to relieve the stress of raising a puppy, help us relax after a long day at work. So we thought we’d try it for a few weeks, no big deal right?  Twelve months and a couple thousand bucks later, we've finally realized the truth… we’re addicted to doggy day care.

It started out innocently enough. Baby Forest had a tiny bladder and had to go potty like a zillion times a day. After one week of scampering home every two hours to let him out, we gave up and took him to doggy day care (which is conveniently run by his vet). Suddenly we had our lives back. While we were at work, the doggy day care folks let him play with other dogs, took him out to potty every few hours, and lavished him with love and attention. Sure, it was more money spent on the dog instead of a bar tab, and one of us had to drop him off in the morning while the other had to pick him up after work, but we assured each other that doggy day care was only a temporary solution.

A few weeks turned into a few months and we continued to take Forest to doggy day care. Addicts can always come up with excuses for not quitting.  In the beginning, we reasoned that it would be healthy for Forest to interact with different people and animals while he was still young so he wouldn’t turn into a weird canine who couldn’t play well with others and tried to eat cats. When the weather got cold and nasty, we argued that doggy day care was a perfect way for Forest to get exercise, negating the need for an evening walk. When Spring came around, we were convinced that we just couldn’t find time in our hectic work and travel schedules for a mid-day puppy break. 

So our temporary solution has eventually transformed into the main problem. Doggy day care is not on the way to either of our offices, so we spend more time stuck in traffic. When Nick’s out of town, I’m responsible for both drop-off and pick-up duty. And although it’s reasonable priced, a year of care adds up (raising a dog has turned out to be freaking expensive).

Luckily, it was Forest himself who started us on the road to recovery. The growing puppy finally mastered his bladder, so we stopped locking Forest in his crate at night. When it was time for bed, we just shut the bedroom door and Forest slept on the floor (usually curled up on my discarded clothing).  Except for that unpleasant incident when I tried to sleep in on a Saturday, Forest behaved quite well. Next, we experimented with leaving him home alone for a few hours in the bedroom, sans crate, and we always came home to dry carpets. Then slowly, starting with just one or two days a week, we locked Forest in his crate while we were at work (finally discarding the trusty bungee cord). We felt horrible about putting him in a box all day, and soon progressed to our current practice of just shutting him in the bedroom (although we suspect that he probably spends half his day on the bed).

Someday, we’d love to give Forest free-rein of the whole house while we’re gone, but we’re not quite to that comfort level yet.  Doggy day care isn’t completely out of our system, and may always be a small part of our routine, but I have hope. Every addict does.
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Monday, October 11, 2010

Why Forest can’t have nice things…

A few weeks ago, I was picking Forest up from doggy day-care when one of the vet’s assistants pulled me aside. “Forest had a little incident today,” she said, and immediately I’m thinking ok, either he got humped by another dog or ate poop again. She must have saw the growing panic in my eyes and quickly explained that it was nothing serious, just that Forest had somehow slipped off his collar and turned it into a chew toy. The Hawkeye collar was officially destroyed.




Luckily, the vet/doggy day-care place also sells pet’s supplies so I bought a new, non-Hawkeye collar (thus preventing Forest from riding home naked). I thought about getting a snazzy purple one, but thought Nick might consider it too feminine for his manly-male puppy. I finally decided on a respectable blue/yellow plaid collar (with a lifetime warranty).



As I was paying for Forest’s new bling, the vet’s assistant got a closer look at our puppy’s rabies tag and casually mentioned that she would just go ahead and get a new one of those as well. Remember that post awhile back about Forest’s bad habit of chewing on his tags? Well, let’s just say that the problem has yet to be resolved...


So now the puppy has a new collar and a new rabies tag…which he is quickly destroying like the others.



As a side rant, how many tags does one dog really need?  The first tag Nick and I bought was a name tag with an emergency phone number engraved on the back. Then the vet gave Forest a rabies tag. Then we had to get Forest licensed with the city and they gave us another tag (supposedly they’ll ticket us if they ever catch Forest without it). And finally, when Forest got chipped, the micro-chip company sent as yet another tag so if the puppy ever got lost, people would know Forest had a chip and should be scanned. Are we really expected to clip four freaking tags to our puppy? Makes me wonder how many tags other dogs are wearing…
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Friday, October 1, 2010

Fuzzy Photo of the Day

And once again, Squeaky Hippo has been temporarily retired. Forest was just a tad too rambunctious with his favorite toy while Nick was working from home last week, so it was banished to the top of the front door.

 

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