Lost Notes

I have a Word document full of random notes and stories about Forest. I find it easier to write when my only goal is to put words on paper, so this method helps me temporary ignore the impending question of “Is this going to end up on the blog?” I was going thru some old entries and found the notes that I made while the fence was being built. I published a post raving about the new fence after it was up, but apparently I wasn’t so excited during the actually build process…

I know the fence will be awesome, but if I line up all the facts, it would appear that building a fence should, in fact, just piss me off:

1) Fences are extremely expensive. I have no clue why they’re so expensive, it's just a bunch of wood and nails, but I guess you throw in all that measuring, hammering and post digging (which may or may not involve cement, I have no clue) and it comes out to a couple thousand dollars. Dollars which would have been much happier spent at a bar, or for a tropical vacation…or most likely at a bar during a tropical vacation.

2) The fence company took our deposit money, but then said they had so much business that it might be a few weeks before they could actually build our fence. Just my luck, I found a company not taking a hit in this economy.

3) Unless the home builder was nice enough to bury something like steel bars in your yard to mark the property line, you need to have a surveyor come out and measure your measly plot of land, which involves more time and money, hence making building a fence cost even more money.

4) I had to fax the home owner's association some form asking permission to build a fence. It's not like I'm asking them to pay for it, or asking to build something on public property. No, I had to beg for their permission to build a fence on my property with my money.

5) The surveyor folks informed us that we have half a dozen power lines snaked under our yard, but they can't really figure out exactly where the power lines are or why they're there. So they called the city's electrical company to come out and put +25 flags in our yard to mark exactly where the lines are buried. A guys from the surveyor company said "I'd hate for us to miss one (power line) and then someone gets electrocuted just putting up a damn fence." Well I can’t remember if he actually say damn, but it was definitely implied, because getting killed while building a fence is just a dumb way to go.

6) Apparently the hand-drawn sketch from the fence people was not official enough for the home owner's association, so later I had to fax the surveyor's Certificate of Survey, which oddly enough looked liked the fence company's sketch copied over with magic marker.

7) They finally started building our fence today..at 8:30 am..while I was trying to sleep in...because I took the day off…because it's my birthday.  Insistent hammering and the sound that machine they have makes when it punches thru our lawn to build a post hole = unpleasant birthday morning.

8) I've been sick all week with some sort of weird allergy-induced cold and sore throat, so I've been dealing with all of this shit thru a Sudafed/allergy med induced daze.

Lost Notes

Forest the Cyber-Dog

A few weeks ago I got my sh!t together and asked the vet to implant an identify microchip in Forest. I don’t think the puppy would ever purposely run away, but I can easily imagine him getting confused and wandering off, so the chip helps prevent paranoid nightmares of a terrified, lost Forest searching for shelter from the freezing rain, or getting hit by numerous cars on the freeway, or prostituting himself to the city dogs to make a few bucks for the bus ride back home. That’s just not the life for a loved puppy. If Forest did end up at a shelter, all the employees have to do is scan his chip and they’ll have all of our contact information.

So, even though I knew a chip implant would bring some peace of mind, I had been delaying this important task for two reasons:

1) I thought this would involve a lot of complicated paper work. Although the vet implants the chip, it’s up to the owner to fill out the necessary forms and mail them in, and I was convinced I would somehow mess up this essential step. Luckily, the vet took pity on me and filled out some of the form. Then I had Nick proof-read the parts I filled out. No problemo.

2) I thought the vet would have to shave off a patch of Forest’s fur to implant the chip. Yes, I realize that that’s an incredibly shallow reason to postpone an important procedure, but, yeah, there you go. Forest had a lot of new people to meet this summer and I didn’t want him to look like an unfortunate lush who passed out early at a party and got shaved by his friends (don’t tell me this doesn’t happen, I’ve seen those photos on Facebook). But it turns out I was completely wrong (either I was misinformed or totally made up the shaving part, not sure which). The microchip is super small and was implanted using a needle, so no shaving or stitching was involved. My bad.

So it’s official, our puppy has been chipped. Finally.

Forest the Cyber-Dog

This might get smelly

Earlier this summer, I accidentally dropped a doggy treat down the air vent in our living room. I removed the metal covering in a lame rescue attempt, but the artificially-flavored pizza treat had disappeared down the rabbit hole. Whatever, it didn’t seem like a big deal at the time, out of sight=out of mind, so I quickly forgot about the incident…until last week.

With the heat index regularly hitting triple digits, some of my friends and coworkers are already pining for the cool Fall and Winter days ahead. I’m not a fan of the cold, but this summer has been rough for us Missourians. For example, I haven’t really been paying attention to the humidity records this year, but tonight it’s supposed to reach 82% humidity. Yuck. So I’m kinda excited for Fall, and Winter can go f*ck itself. Unfortunately, Missouri seems to skip over the Spring and Fall months and bounce directly between Winter and Summer.

Anyway, while everyone’s talking about how nice it will be to step outside without specific body parts breaking into sweat, and how much they’re looking forward opening the windows for some fresh Fall air, it suddenly occurs to me that I have a decaying doggy treat stuck in my air vent. With Missouri’s recent track record, after I turn off the air conditioning, I’ll only have a couple pleasant weeks before I’ll have to turn on the heat. So what’s going to happen when I have hot air blowing over my logged doggy treat? Will my house be filled with the aromatic scent of burnt pizza? I can imagine Forest becoming obsessed with finding the hidden treat whose scent magically radiates from every room. Or will my home be infested by scavenging bugs that plan on rationing this rotting doggy treat for the coming winter months? Ugh, it’s too hot to think, maybe I can ignore this problem for a few more months…

This might get smelly

Is this even legal?

I was driving home one day when I saw such a spectacle that I had to pull out my iPhone and take some pictures. (Yes, I know taking pictures while driving is incredibly stupid but I was very careful, which is why I only have a couple blurry photos to share with you).

Some dumbass was driving down the highway with his dog in the back up his pickup truck. I know lots of people do this, but it’s still very dangerous for the dog. However, this particularly truck had its tailgate down and was packed full with a four-wheeler, gas can and other crap. I have no clue how the driver thought his dog was going to fit back there, but apparently the doggy figured out his own solution…

That’s right, this dog is sitting in the seat of the four-wheeler, which raises him above the cab, while its asshole owner drives 70+ mph on the freaking freeway.

I have no clue what the hell this driver was thinking. I thought I was being irresponsible about leaving Forest unrestrained in my backseat (especially after his incident) but this guy has found the bottom rung of the reckless pet-owner ladder.

Is this even legal?

100 Posts!

The My Dog Forest blog has officially reached 100 posts! Forest was thrilled to hear this news :)

I would like to thank the puppy for providing so many adorable photos and writing material for this blog.

100 Posts!

Poop Scissors

I never saw a chapter about this in any of our dog training books. It would have been considerate if someone had given us a heads up about purchasing an essential doggy accessory…Poop Scissors.

As we have yet to train Forest to wipe his own butt, sometimes we have to complete this task for him. Usually there are just some ugly remnants hanging on his fur, and a quick dab with a paper towel is all that’s required. But unfortunately there are times when a paper towel just ain’t doing the job (forget cleaning up spilled milk and stovetop grease, if I ever see a commercial where a mother cleans up puppy poop with her magical Bounty towel, I’m buying that freaking product).

Yes, every now and then, Forest somehow manages to embed his puppy waste into his butt hair, and then it’s a job for the Poop Scissors. Nick and I have become so accustomed to this chore that we routinely remind each other to double-check Forest’s butt after he poops. Today I decided to start using the command “Butt Check” with Forest so he’ll stop squirming when I lift his tail for inspection.

And no, we didn’t buy an expensive pair of scissors that were specifically designed for this job. The Poop Scissors are just an ordinary pair of office scissors that now have the sole purpose of clipping turds out of Forest’s hair. I did a quick Google search and surprisingly didn’t find any certified Poop Scissors for sale. With all the stupid dog items out there, like this one, you’d think someone would have patented Poop Scissors by now. Hmmmm...

Poop Scissors

We love you, Forest *Updated*

One year ago today, baby Forest left the breeders, his doggy Mom and Dad, and all his liter-mates, to join a new family.

Wow, truly the best decision we ever made.

*Update* Conversation with Nick after I published this post:

Nick: “Wait a minute, what about when I asked you out? That was a damn good decision.”
Me: “True, but that was your decision, just like saying Yes when you asked me out was my decision. I’m talking about our decision to get Forest, as a couple.”
Nick: “OK…then our decision to buy the new TV was a close second.”

Touché, Nick, touché.

We love you, Forest *Updated*

Whoops

We had a little incident today. After picking Forest up from doggy day-care, I made the slow journey home through rush hour traffic. About half way back to the house, the car in front of me suddenly braked, forcing me to also slam rudely on my brakes. I stopped without hitting anyone, but heard a whoosh from the backseat. I turned around (as I was safely stopped at this point) and found Forest on the floor. Yep, the puppy had slid right off the backseat. To make matters worse, the passenger seat was positioned pretty far back, so Forest was kinda stuck behind it. Traffic started moving again so I couldn't help the wedged puppy, who finally managed to crawl back up onto the seat. The poor doggy hid in the corner, shaking with fear, for the rest of the ride home.

So now I'm contemplating buying a dog seatbelt or restraint. Recently a local car accident made headlines because the car flipped a few times and a doggy passenger was ejected. The hurt puppy ran away from the accident and wasn't found for a few days. I had thought about buying something for Forest then, but Nick reasoned that such an accident was unlikely to occur to us so the purchase was unnecessary. But after today's scare, I think I'm going to have to seriously consider it…

Whoops

Puppy Farts

Anyone with a dog can back me up here: puppy farts are as sneaky and silent as a ninja. You could be minding your own business, just innocently walking thru the kitchen, when suddenly you stumble into an invisible cloud of doggy gas that makes your eyes sting and your stomach heave. Forest usually doesn't make a sound when he farts so most of the time I have no warning of the God-awful trouble leaking from my puppy's butt. At least doggy poop is visible and can be somewhat contained in a plastic bag. Doggy farts are just an intangible mess.  

The last time Nick suffered an encounter with Forest's puppy gas, he sarcastically suggested what I thought was a brilliant invention. We need to strap a machine to Forest's butt so every time he farts it makes a sound and emits a black vapor that clings to the gas particles. That way we'll be warned both visually and audibly that there are puppy farts in the room. Brilliant I say!

Puppy Farts

1,000 visits!

Last week, the My Dog Forest blog reached 1,000 visits! Thank you all for taking the time to visit my little site. The puppy and I really appreciate your support :)

1,000 visits!

Worm Jerky

Our puppy loves to eat dried-up worms off the sidewalk. Sometimes Forest won't even swallow them, he'll just munch on those chewy morsels for a few steps and then spit them out. The puppy doesn't pay any attention to wiggly, live worms. Nope, for some reason he seems to prefer dead ones. When Forest snacks on a withered worm, the term "worm jerky" always comes to mind. Gross.

Worm Jerky

How Forest Spent His Sunday

Yesterday, Nick and I spent most of the day staining and sealing the back porch (the deck looks so amazing now that it’s almost worth the sunburn, splinters, back pain and stain spots that still won’t wash off my skin). Anyway, we thought it would be cruel to lock Forest in his crate all day, so we decided to keep him outside with us. But we knew we were going to be busy and wouldn’t be able to watch him the whole time. I could just picture Forest playing around the ladder or trying to drink out of the cans of deck sealant.

Our solution was to pound a tent stake into the middle of the yard and tie Forest to it with a leash. I thought he might get bored since the leash wasn’t long enough to let him run around a lot, so I brought him some toys to play with. It was very sunny, and after while I noticed that his black fur felt warm, so I dragged the deck umbrella out of the garage and set it up next to him. Soon after that, I filled his water dish and put it outside as well (later in the day I dumped crushed ice into his water dish, Forest found it very entertaining to swat at the bowl until some ice sloshed out and then eat it off the lawn).

In the end, Forest spent most of his Sunday like this:

Nick said that everyone who glanced into our backyard probably thought Forest was the most spoiled dog in the whole neighborhood. I can’t say they're wrong.

How Forest Spent His Sunday