backyard dogs.

Hey y'all! Apologies again for the posts being so scarce lately. I'm pretty sure things will be back to normal around here come August, so stick with us, k?

Since our last post, summer's come to Nashville in full force -- high humidity (which my hair does not appreciate) and excessive heat. It's been a bummer mainly because Claire and I can only go for long walks and hikes early in the morning and late at night. Claire does not understand, nor does she like this arrangement. But God forbid we try to go outside in the middle of the day -- she walks like fifty feet and then starts panting like crazy and looks at me like, "Why would you ever take me out here in this heat?!"

As it's gotten hotter around here, I've been thinking more and more about the poor Backyard Dogs that are in our neighborhood. Backyard Dogs are the ones who live outside either in a fenced in area or tethered to a stake or a tree. I don't really understand this concept, nor do I like it. First of all, why would you get a dog (a companion animal) only to have them live a solitary life in the yard without any human or dog interaction? That's against all of their instincts! Secondly, dogs overheat really easily, and unless you live in San Diego where it's 70* all the time with low humidity, this is just unacceptable.

There's a couple living down the street from us who just got a 3-month-old pit bull puppy. At first they were letting her out off-leash in the morning to do her business, and then they'd call her back inside. When she started bounding across the busy street to say hi to us each morning, the girl must have realized just how dangerous that was; a few days later, as we walked by, I heard Sweet Puppy barking but I couldn't see her. I looked around the side of their house and saw that she was tethered outside with no water, no food, and no shelter. It was 95* that day. I brought her some water, and when I stooped down to pet her, I noticed that she had huge welts all over her stomach from bug bites. I think about the argument that people with Backyard Dogs often say: "They're animals! They are meant to be outside! They like it!" Well sure - a dog will love time outside if there are other dogs that they get along with, if they are with their people, if they aren't left alone, if they're given a mix of on-leash time and off-leash time, if they aren't too hot or too cold. But Sweet Puppy's situation is all too familiar, and it's extremely neglectful.

I said something about it to the girl the next time I saw her, and I haven't seen Sweet Puppy outside since then. I have to admit that I'm really concerned about how she's being treated, but I haven't seen her lately to assess how she's doing. You can be sure that I'm keeping an eye out for her, though.

If y'all have come across any Backyard Dogs, what have you done to help their situation? Have you said something to the owner or kept quiet? Are there any organizations in your area reaching out to these dogs? Are any reaching out to provide education to the owners?

Check out the following links for more information:

Paw Rescue's Tips

Backyard Dogs: No Way to Treat Man's Best Friend

The Backyard Dog Project

PETA Hearts Backyard Dogs

guest blogger: amy and kingsley.

If you read this blog on a regular basis, then you already know Kingsley who belongs to one of my dearest friends, Amy. They have had a rough year, as 2-year-old Kingsley was diagnosed with Wobbler's Disease. I asked Amy if she'd mind sharing a little about their journey together, which completely displays true love and companionship at its best. So, grab the tissues, curl up with your pup, and settle in for this heartwarming story.

Some people never plan on getting a dog but end up with one when a stray shows up randomly one afternoon. Or maybe they didn't expect to see that cute box of puppies when they headed to the supermarket that day. I, on the other hand, had dreamt of getting a Great Dane for more than ten years. Everyone always asks me "Why would you want such a HUGE dog?" Well, I grew up on a farm. I had horses, cows, pigs... just like Old MacDonald. I love animals and have always been a "dog person." I was always intrigued when I saw a Dane. It was something about their gigantic, regal, yet clumsy stature that pulled me in. I researched the breed a good bit and only became more enamored. You'll find most anywhere that they are unequivocally referred to as "Gentle Giants." With that moniker, you'll often find images of them with tiny toddlers hugging their necks, which seems ironic given the notion that the bigger the dog, the more they tend to scare people. There's something that speaks to my soul about an animal that embodies such capable power and strength, yet chooses not to wield it.

I finally got to a place in my life where I decided I was ready. It took me a few years to convince myself I could handle it and afford it, but the time came when it was a "now or never" moment. In all my research, I found a  great breeder just west of Nashville at the time. Reading up on Danes you'll discover purebreds have the potential for quite a few health problems mainly due to their size. With the anticipation of being a first time Dane owner and wanting to ease into it, I decided getting a pup from good stock would help ward off some of the genetic issues and give me a better shot at a prolonged lifespan, since the average textbook lifespan of a Dane is only 7 years. Little did I know that my breeder had show stock and had some of the best Danes around. I wasn't completely ready for the price tag of such a pedigree, but I was committed and fortunately, even though I wasn't going to show, they allowed me to get a puppy.

"Sir Kingsley" (as he's AKC registered) was born on December 4, 2010. The breeder called and let me know I could come out and take a look when the pups were a couple weeks old. When I got to the nursery I found four little fur balls huddled together near a heating lamp.

The breeder picked Kingsley up and handed him to me. It was love at first sight. I held him and he snuggled close up into my neck. I was elated! The worst part was having to leave him since I couldn't bring him home until he was seven weeks old - which is prime attachment time. Seven weeks couldn't pass fast enough. However, I had plenty to do to get the house ready for a baby puppy. You quickly learn that the size "XL" sometimes isn't big enough and you hope the pet supplier carries "giant" sized items. His crate was a nightmare trying to put together. I bought one that ultimately fit a full-size Dane, but you also buy this divider that you use to let your puppy grow into it. The crate is slightly smaller than a MINI-COOPER, a beast to maneuver, and took a community effort to put together. I was ready!

Take Home Day came and I was so excited and nervous! I went with a very close friend to pick him up. They drove, I held him. It was late January and it was cold, so I zipped him up inside my jacket and he couldn't bury his head in my neck deep enough. He eventually stopped wiggling and fell asleep. When we got home, I immediately took him to a grassy area to do some business to try the potty training bit right away, which was pretty successful. We had friends come visit and he instinctively hid behind my legs when he was unsure. After having him only a few hours, he already seemed to be attaching to me.

Kingsley grew like a weed the first year. I could literally leave for work in the morning, come home in the evening and see that he had grown. He went from being born to weighing 125 lbs in one year. We became very attached to each other. As soon as he was old enough and had his shots, we went through two levels of obedience training, took hikes together and went to the dog park. It was important for me to socialize Kingsley early. When he was a puppy everyone would comment on how big his feet were. As he grew, his feet did too. To this day, he still gets comments on not only his size (often called a "horse"), but the size of his feet.

At the dog park Kingsley met LOTS of dogs and owners. Some welcomed him warmly, some didn't. As he grew and some other dogs were intimidated by his size, he would get picked on, and he would take it. As a mom, you want everyone (including other dogs) to like your dog. Your dog is your child. You feel responsible. Yet, I was intrigued to see the development of his personality and that witness that gentle strength that made me fall in love with the breed in the first place. The best thing Kingsley found at the dog park was his girlfriend, the one and only Claire Baby Butterworth. He's been taken with her from the beginning.  Claire and her mom are the warm welcoming wagon of the dog park. Sweetly, Kingsley would follow Claire's lead and pretty much do anything she did. Claire taught him how to dig and crawl under the park benches. Most of all he learned the art of chasing and racing with her. While Kingsley is not incredibly fast compared to some breeds, watching him run is a sight to behold and always left me in awe. His big, beautiful strides were so amazing to watch as he'd thunder past you at a full gallop with his giant paws. He was a pretty active Dane growing up and he loved to play.

About a year ago when Kingsley was just about to turn two, while at a routine visit to the dog park I noticed Kingsley trying to run to keep up with the pack. He couldn't seem to get coordinated with his front half and his back half. Inevitably, he tripped and fell. He scared himself and wobbled to get back up, quickly marking the end of our play time for that day. The first time it happened, I thought he just tripped. I took him to the park again a little while later, but this time when he fell in the pack he managed to get flipped on his back and it scared both of us. Thankfully he wasn't injured, but he still struggled to get back up. We immediately went home. While driving home I recollected some times when I noticed some weakness in his back end, and that he splayed his back legs when he'd walk/run. I decided it was time to check in with the vet. It took a couple vet visits and a lot of explaining, but they surmised that he might have Wobbler's Disease and said they needed to send me to a specialist to know for sure. 

We went to a few specialist appointments. They did x-rays and an exam and diagnosed him with Wobblers. For those of you unfamiliar with Wobblers, basically Kingsley has a malformed cervical vertebrae that is putting pressure on his spinal cord causing inflammation of the spinal cord and therefore weakness in his body. This is a disease that, over time, can take a toll on a Dane. Immediate treatment consists of steroids and medical management, which includes minimal and light exercise - meaning no dog park, no rough play, no quick jerky head movements (which makes playing tug very difficult and is one of his favorite games), minimal car rides, minimal stairs and other uneven or slippery surfaces. The other not-immediate option is surgery, but the prognosis of surgery is grim at best given that the procedure is difficult, quite invasive, and there is still no guarantee that it will be successful. The specialist didn't recommend the surgery unless his condition was so severe that it prevented him from daily self-care activities such as eating and going to the bathroom. While the specialist explained all this to me, I broke down and sobbed in the exam room. Kingsley was lying on the floor and I laid down with him and buried my head in his cheek and kissed him while my tears soaked into his fur.

I pulled myself together and became determined to take care of him the best I could for the time I'm graciously given with him. I took an inventory of all the things we needed to adjust, and accommodations were made. The steroids definitely helped and I've seen the weakness disappear for the most part. However, the steroids made him gain weight - he's topped out at 180 lbs this year, which isn't good. I don't think I mentioned earlier that the reason Danes don't live longer lifespans is because their hearts can't keep up with their body mass. So weight on a Dane is not a good thing. You want them lean to try and keep the stress of the weight off their heart.

However, I'm happy to report that we're a year in and Kingsley is doing okay. He is on a diet and has already been able to get down to 170 lbs, though I'm hoping he can still lose a bit more. While we miss the dog park terribly, we're thankful for dear friends like Claire who come over to the house to visit and socialize. Kingsley has adapted well and he continues to be such a good boy. He makes the most of his toy box which keeps him occupied for play time. As for me, I try not to take any moment with him for granted and I make a point to try and live in the moment of one day at a time. I love letting him put as much of himself in my lap as possible, cuddling (for the record, he likes to be the baby spoon), playing games in the living room, wrapping him up like a burrito in the bed sheets, and simply just spending time together. 

Looking back, I don't regret a thing - and certainly not my decision to get a Dane. This is the reality and fragility of life. Getting Kingsley was one of the best decisions I've ever made in my life. We're a good pair and we take care of each other - and I pray that we continue to have many good years together in front of us.

say hello to captain.

Okay, guys. Remind me that I am not allowed to go to the Nashville Humane Society unless I am able to adopt all of the dogs another dog. I stopped by with some friends last weekend because they volunteer there, so we spent some time loving on the sweet dogs. It was my first time back since I adopted Claire three years ago, and I was reminded why I don't frequent the NHA more often: I cry. I cry when I see all of these incredibly amazing dogs who don't have loving homes. I cry because I can't take them all in myself. I cry because I want them to all be adopted right now!!

We spent a lot of time with a 9-month-old Boxer/Chow/Sharpei mix named Captain who was such a fantastic dog. He was trained by his previous owners, so he was really well-behaved, and he loved playing fetch and running around with us. I loved him - and I would adopt him myself, except that everyone agrees that Claire needs to belong to a one-dog family, at least until she's older. But Captain very clearly chose my friend, anyway, and when a dog chooses someone, it's a connection that can't be denied. Sadly, my friend can't adopt Captain because he and his girlfriend live in an apartment with two dogs already. Don't worry. I'll keep trying to persuade them! Do you know anyone who might be interested in adopting this love bug?

Captain.

remembering puppyhood.

I was sitting on a park bench yesterday, Claire perched on my knee [yes, in all of her 50-pound glory], when I realized that it was just a little over a year ago that we came to the end of an era: puppyhood. It finally hit me yesterday, as I watched the next generation of puppies playing together, romping around with the big dogs. I still consider Claire to be my puppy, and I will always refer to her that way, even when she's a healthy thirty-eight in human years [just humor me]. But in reality, she's an adult dog now - a young one, but an adult just the same.

She's got a whole slew of friends that she has grown up with, and it has been so sweet to see all of them grow up together. Thankfully, she still sees most of them on a regular basis. But now there are new little ones who are learning the ropes at the park, and honestly, I get a little nostalgic as I watch them all play together and figure things out. Where does time go when it flies by?

Nostalgia aside, it is time to introduce you to two of the newest members of the dog park gang: Riley and Murphy. They are both incredibly sweet and full of that wonderful puppy innocence. There isn't a dog or person out there who they don't like [which is great because it means lots of cuddles for me when I see them]. From what I can tell from our interactions with them, Murphy is going to be in the middle of the action all the time, while Riley is more of a thinker; she plays hard, but she also has moments where she goes off on her own and watches things from a distance. [Sounds a bit like Claire, doesn't she?!]

Riley and Murphy

You know what I miss the most about the puppy years? The endless excitement at discovering new things, and the fearlessness that accompanies it. As Claire has grown up, I've noticed this excitement give way to a tentative curiosity. Though, on one hand, I am glad about this, because it's a bit safer!

What do you miss the most about the puppy years?

   

the anatomy of a trip to the park.

I was sitting on the park bench chatting with some friends, and I looked around for Claire just to make sure she wasn't getting into trouble. She was a little ways away introducing herself to the people who came into the park. She could've cared less about the dogs at that point, since she'd had a pretty busy afternoon at the river with Gracie and Asya.

One of the guys who was loving on Claire called over to me and asked if she's the dog who sits on the bench. When I said that yes, she's the one, he asked if she does that because she's afraid of the other dogs. I told him how she's been coming here since she was a puppy, so she knows most of the dogs who frequent the park as much as we do. I said that, it isn't that she's afraid of the other dogs, it's just, now that she's older, she has a certain routine for herself when we come to the park.

Claire spends a half an hour or so sitting next to me on the bench observing everything, and then she goes and plays a little bit with her friends. She checks in with me more during this playtime, and, if she finds a tennis ball that meets her high standards, she'll ask me to throw it for her a couple times. Sometimes she digs a hole or two under whatever bench I'm sitting on. And every so often, Claire will stop whatever she is doing and will go find Asya; she likes to antagonize her until she agrees to chase her in circles around the park. After that, Claire just hops back on the bench and sits with me for awhile until she lets me know that she's ready to go.

When Claire was a puppy, we used to go to the park for hours on end, and Claire would just run and run the entire time. It's funny how her needs have changed in the past couple years. She's not old by any means - she's just three! - but she certainly doesn't have that constant flow of energy anymore!
 

a gift for our neighbors.

My weekend was filled with puppies. No complaints here! How can anyone see a sweet little munchkin and not smile?! Personally, I can't see a puppy without running over to pick it up and kiss its fuzzy little head. All of these sightings this weekend got me thinking about Claire when she was a tiny thing just two and a half years ago.

I remember when she was about four months old, and I could still walk around my apartment complex without having her on a leash; she followed me wherever I went. She was more curious than usual on this particular day, and she heard people talking up on the third floor of the building. We were working on recall anyway, so I figured I'd take this opportunity to see if she would come back when she heard me call her name. After I called for her twice without her returning to me, I started walking up the steps to go get her. All of a sudden, I heard people screeching. I ran up two flights of stairs just as I heard a man say, "Whose dog IS this?!?!" I got to the top floor just in time to see people running out of an apartment - Claire had taken it upon herself to invite herself in when they opened the door to leave. I peered into their apartment and saw Claire zooming around their living room, jumping on the couch, circling their kitchen table, and sliding down the wood floor in the hallway. I pushed one of the women out of the way and dashed in to get Claire, all the while apologizing for my wild dog puppy causing a ruckus in their apartment. I saw an older man running after Claire with a broom, and yelled for him to stop chasing her so that I could catch her. She saw me and leapt into my arms, tail wagging the entire time, and smothered me in kisses. I continued to apologize to the family profusely, explaining that she was just four months old - a little thing, really - and tried to make a joke about me learning my lesson through this experience that it was time to put her on a leash during our excursions outside. They didn't find it funny, if you can believe it.

I remember myself thinking, "She's just a puppy, I don't understand why they were flipping out." You know, despite the fact that a little black furball went beelining into their apartment when they opened the door. I also remember noticing, as I walked out of their apartment with Claire in my arms, that she left a little present on their doormat. As if her unexpected visit wasn't enough?!
 
   

and the oscar goes to...

Here's Claire's fifteen minutes four seconds of fame! Our pal Kelsey has a Great Dane puppy named Bishop who is absolutely gorgeous. Kelsey and his wife are videographers, and they brought aaaaaallllllllllll of their equipment to our favorite dog park a month or two ago to get some footage of the dogs playing. They also hooked up a camera to Bishop to get things from his perspective. You can find Claire at 42-46 seconds doing some kind of ninja move, but I think you should watch the whole video anyway because it is awesome!

 
 

sometimes things get a little crazy.

My friend Brianna had to work at a fox hunt yesterday so she asked me to watch her puppy Asya. I didn't have a problem with that at all because Claire and Asya absolutely love each other, so I figured it would be great for both of them. I went to the stables to pick her up and took Claire out of the car so that she could help me find the room that Asya was in. It didn't take long for us to find her because she was whining (loudly) when she heard me calling her name. I opened the door and she came bounding out, a wiggly, jumpy, squealy mess of a thing, overjoyed at seeing me. I let go of Claire's leash because she was pulling me around the stables trying to smell everything. She went off to explore the barn while I tried to get Asya under control. But in all the excitement, Asya managed to wrap her lead around my ankle. Before I could untangle myself, she spotted Claire and ran towards her, effectively pulling my feet out from under me. I fell to the ground and Asya kept running, so she succeeded in dragging me a couple feet before I got my foot free from her lead. Thankfully there was a guy working in the stables, so he caught Asya for me while I got to my feet. As he brought her back to me, I saw Claire in the corner of my eye chowing down on horse poop (gag), so I ran over to her yelling, "IF YOU THINK YOU ARE GOING TO KISS ME AFTER THAT, YOU ARE SADLY MISTAKEN!!" (because obviously Claire understands English). Once I put her back in the car, I was able to go and get Asya, so finally we all headed off to the dog park.

Does the story end there? Nope.

I pulled into the parking lot for the dog park and Asya started howling with excitement. Which got Claire barking. Which led to the both of them running around my very small car, wagging their tails, and jumping around. Asya somehow ended up in my lap, so I held on to her so that I could put her leash on, but she was so BOUNCY that she kept honking the horn as she wiggled around. Then Claire squeezed between Asya and the steering wheel so she ended up laying on the horn. Asya was howling, the horn was blaring, Claire was barking... It was chaos!!

Once I got the two of them into the park, however, everything settled down a bit. They played there for a couple hours which definitely helped them burn off some energy, because when I got them back to my house, they both crashed, so it was all worth it. Here's the proof:

Snuggling.

  

  

contest: name that puppy!

TEN THOUSAND!!!!

On 11/11/11, we hit 10,000 visitors on this thang.

Whaaaat!! Super exciting.

Keep coming and we'll keep writing!

I think this calls for a contest. A contest that has to do with something cute and something necessary and something awesome. Ready for this? Here's the deal. My darling friend Whitney just rescued a sweet 12-week-old blue pit bull puppy. That's the cute. This little lovebug needs a name; names are necessary. Leave a comment by SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 13th AT 6:00PM with name suggestions. If Whit picks a name that you thought of, you can choose between one of two prizes - because prizes are awesome: (1) a prize pack full of Nylabone DuraChew toys and a variety of treats for your dog, OR (2) a $50 Target gift card. It's your choice if you win! Whitney obviously picks the winner. Because it's her puppy. Makes sense.

Whitney wanted me to tell you a little bit about this adorable pup, so in her words... "He's a rescue, a cuddle bear, timid and nervous, and he likes wrestling with Roxie already [Whitney's 3-year-old bundle-of-joy pit bull]. I like dog names; so I will not call this dog Joe, Dan, or Mike. [So she would have probably named Claire something like "Mittens" or "Oreo" if Claire was hers]. This puppy was rescued through a connection at CrossFit Music City and I am open to naming him after a WOD, if appropriate [In CrossFit culture - of which I am not a part of - this apparently means "Workout of the Day" which I believe are actually named after people]. I'm not open to any stereotypical pit bull names because my dogs are breed ambassadors and he will be too - although, I am considering B.I.G. (as in Notorious) because I like his music (and music in general - rap, classic rock, indie, pop, what-have-you)."

Here are some pics of Cute Puppy, courtesy of Whitney, to help you brainstorm some ideas. Have fun and good luck!

 

hungry? why wait?

I’m hanging out. You know, just waiting for dinner time to roll around. I’m Italian, so I’m often hungry and dreaming of food. It’s a problem sometimes. As I was pondering what deliciousness is coming my way this evening, I got to thinking about the things that Claire has found to be tasty in the past – especially when she was a puppy. She never actually ingested anything, but she liked to tear things apart and chew on them for awhile. Not so awesome, but I suppose it was better than if she swallowed these things.

• When she was about six months old, she managed to chew a very large hole in my couch – while she was in her kennel. That was the day I decided to bring her to day care a few times a week.
• The carpet in my former apartment. I made sure to buy a house with hardwood floors, just in case she might get tempted again.
• My red patent-leather flats.
• A new pair of Rainbow sandals. She completely disregarded the old pair.
• A skirt that I had just purchased and hadn't even worn yet.
• Rolls and rolls of toilet paper – I've found her on more than one occasion with one end of the roll in her mouth while she prances around with it trailing behind her.
• Countless tennis balls – she likes to peel off the green fuzzy part and chew the rubber into a million tiny pieces that are next to impossible to completely clean up.
• Three Willowtree angels.
• Two library books, one which was (ironically) entitled “The Well-Adjusted Dog.” I think it was Claire's way of letting me know that she was not very well-adjusted at the time.

Thankfully, now that she is two years old, she now mainly sticks to her diet of Blue Buffalo and a variety of organic dog treats. But I think I have PTSD. Because every so often, when she’s hanging out by herself at home, I start to think of all the things that she could get into if she tried…

   

   

what would you do?!

Stray dogs always find me somehow. And I always want to take them home. The problem? I'm broke. I'm a social worker, for crying out loud. That should explain everything! I wish that I could win the lottery so that I could buy a house with a lot of land (fenced in, of course) so that I could adopt a million dogs. And a million kids, but that's another story.

My friend Rob called me last night to tell me that he found a stray puppy outside his house. She had a rope tied around her neck and had chewed through it to get loose. He did not call to ask me if I could take her, he called to tell me that this sweet girl looks exactly like Claire. I was already fretting about her situation, when Rob did the worst thing that he could have ever done: he sent me a picture.

After I saw the picture, I called him back and begged him not to put up signs for the owners. They tied her up with a rope and left her outside in the rain! Rob said that he would take her to the pound tomorrow. But, oh, the pound! She will sit in a cage and then will be put down if she can't be adopted. And how frightening would that be for a sweet baby like her...

Claire and I are going to see her. In the meantime, I'm going to pray that God brings along a wonderful family who wants to take her home and give her a great life. And preferably, these people would contact me or him before she is brought to the pound...

Good thing that God is bigger than time, right?

happy birthday claire baby!!!!

Today is a very special day: Claire's birthday!!

She is now a big girl; a two-year-old in human years, and fourteen in dog years.

It seems like it was just yesterday when she was a little peanut of a thing

who was peeing all over my new apartment and chewing on everything in sight.

Little Claire at eight-weeks-old with her first toy!

Now she is a mostly-obedient, extremely sweet, incredibly loyal girl

who has been by my side for the past two years

through times of joy and times of pain.

I wonder if she knew, when she chose me,

that she was going to become such an important part of my life.

Two-year-old Claire smiling for the camera!

All this to say:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY CLAIRE!!!!

I love you so so so so so so much!

take a guess.

I mean, I have to start this post by emphasizing that I really don't care - I'm just curious about your opinions, because they certainly vary, and I can understand why! Okay. Now that that is out of the way, I can tell you what I'm talking about. What kind of breed is Claire? When I adopted her from the shelter, I was told that she was a black lab / border collie. I went along with this until I saw a whippet for the first time. Now, I'm not so sure. Being the kind of person I am, I feel the need to make a list of how Claire matches each of these mixes - but some qualities and characteristics are the same for both breeds! (Go to Designer Mixes for more information on mixed breed dogs).

Claire Baby:

BLACK LAB / BORDER COLLIE:

high energy

extremely smart

playful

extroverted

excitable and has difficulty focusing when excited

loyal to family, friendly to strangers

feathery tufts of fur on her back legs

does not typically bark unless excited or on alert

requires a lot of exercise each day

great at fetching and swimming

BLACK LAB / WHIPPET:

teeny tiny little waist

tall, strong hind legs

runs extremely fast

high prey drive

mischievous

mildly stubborn

very sensitive

loyal to family, friendly to strangers

does not typically bark unless excited or on alert

So, after reading the similarities and seeing the pictures... What are your thoughts? When people ask me what kind of dog she is, I've been saying that she's a Claire, and Claires are the best :)

**Collage pictures were found on the internet. Apologies to anyone who recognizes these pictures and thinks "Hey! That's my dog!" But... take it up with Google Search.

italian cheese hounds.

Earlier this evening, I was fixing a lovely dinner of prosciutto-stuffed pasta, and giving Claire a piece or two before I dressed it up with spices. I laughed while thinking that my sweet puppy apparently likes Italian food as much as I do.


It got me thinking back to when I first adopted her from the shelter. Her tag simply said that her name is Claire and she is a lab mix. Post-adoption, while we went shopping in Petsmart for everything she needed, I had called my uncle to tell him about her; he used to breed dogs years ago, so he's my primary go-to for information. He was so happy to hear that I had just adopted a puppy, and was more than happy to venture some guesses as to what exactly her mix might be. I informed him that she is black with little white paws and a white chest, and her fur seemed like it would stay pretty short. Honestly, I could have been describing ANY kind of puppy - I mean, you certainly can't tell what a dog will look like until they get older. But my uncle said immediately, "Oh! Well, it sounds like she has some Italian cheese hound in her. Yes, I wouldn't be surprised if that is what she is mixed with." Sounded good to me!


I went to Banfield Pet Hospital to register Claire with the veterinarian and proudly informed the tech that Claire is a labrador retriever and Italian cheese hound mix. The tech looked at me with a blank stare and said, "Hmm. I've never heard of that kind of dog before. Who told you that?" I told her that my uncle, a former dog breeder, was pretty sure that was her mix, based on my description of her. The tech was quiet for a minute and left the room. When she came back, she said, "So, your uncle... Does he like to joke around a lot?" Well, yes, I thought. "Because," she began, "I just asked the vet, and she said that there isn't an Italian cheese hound breed registered with the AKC."


The pieces all fell into place. Of course he was kidding. And in my excitement about Claire, I completely disregarded all of the indications that he was not serious. So there I was, prancing around town, announcing to the world that my new puppy is a lab/cheese hound mix. And looking like a complete fool! When I told my uncle that I finally caught on, he thought it was hilarious that I took him at his word. And to this day, he asks how the Italian cheese hound is doing...


A few months after I got Claire, I managed to contact the people who brought her litter to the shelter. I wanted to tell them how fantastic she is, and wanted to find out about any potential health problems that her parents may have had. They said that Claire's mother was a lab and her father was a border collie. And now, having spent the past year and a half with her, it's plain to see that she has a good mix of both with her looks and her personality. Although, after letting her try some of my pasta tonight, I'm thinking that maybe she really does have a bit of Italian cheese hound in her...

real pictures...

...are coming. I've been posting mostly cell phone pics lately because that is what I usually have with me when Claire and I are out and about. It's much easier than carrying around the DSLR and all sorts of equipment! Little does Claire know, but we're going to have a photo shoot this weekend... I'll post some of them early next week for your viewing pleasure! I mean, who doesn't like to see pictures of an adorable puppy?!

"if you won't get it for me, i'll get it myself!"

The first few months after Claire's adoption were both fun and frustrating, scary and exciting. I had this little wiggly thing who totally relied on me to take care of her. And I had no idea of what I was doing. She was always managing to get into things that she shouldn't (which I soon learned is completely normal for puppies to do), was teething on my clothes and furniture rather than her chew toys, and woke me up at all hours of the night needing to go out. But no matter how much I wanted to laugh, cry, or scream, I loved it all.

One Saturday afternoon, I came back from the grocery store and unloaded the first few bags. Then I let her out so she could run around the apartment while I headed back to the car to get the rest of the groceries. I came back in just in time to see her wedging her nose between the refrigerator door and the frame and pushing with all of her might. Within seconds, she had the door open and was standing on her back legs trying to get into a bowl of green beans. Smart puppy. I was both dismayed and in awe!

 

Claire Baby at 6-months-old.

It is this look that still manages to get her out of trouble.

She has perfected the art of the "puppy-dog eyes" over the past year.

Lesson learned: never underestimate Claire! She observes things, learns things, and always manages to get what she wants - with or without my help!
   
   

how it all began.

Let me start by saying: I did not grow up with pets. Maybe a fish or two here and there, but nothing that required more than two seconds of my attention each day. Interestingly enough, I used to be afraid of dogs. I was smaller than a lot of kids my age. Naturally, most dogs were bigger than I was, especially during the more impressionable years. To put it bluntly: I was chased. By many a dog. MANY. A. DOG. The first dog that I actually bonded with was my cousin's golden retriever, Emily. When people talked about a dog being man's best friend, Emily was always the one I thought of. Emily made me want a dog of my own.

Fast forward to June 2009. I moved to Nashville for my job and to get a second fresh start (my first fresh start happened in September 2007 when I moved to Denver. But that is another story for another time). I packed up everything I could in my little Honda Civic and drove to Nashville. And when I finished my first week of work, I decided that there was no better time than now. However... I am the type of person who likes to know everything there is to know about something before I make a big decision. Please keep that in mind as you read on.

I decided to go to the Humane Society and ask some questions about having a dog, about what kind of dog would fit my lifestyle, and about other helpful tips for first-time dog owners. After I spoke to some lovely volunteers, I took a walk around the shelter to read about some of the dogs there. I was doing really well, staying strong, just "gathering information." But then one of the volunteers pointed me in the direction of the puppy room.

Ohhhh the puppy room. The volunteer told me that they had gotten a litter of black-lab/border-collie mixes a couple weeks earlier. The family dropped off the eight puppies because they already had too many dogs. They were now eight weeks old and were so cute. They were black with little white paws and white chests; five boys and three girls. I first held a mellow little boy named BB. As I was holding him, I noticed his sister in the next kennel over. She was sitting there looking at me with her head tilted to the side. I put BB back in the kennel and picked her up. As soon as I picked her up and put her against my shoulder, she rested her head and gave me this big contented sigh. She made herself right at home, all snuggled up against me.

That did it for me and Claire. I put her back in the kennel to go fill out the adoption paperwork, and as I turned to walk away, she let out this one loud yelp. I turned around and looked at her, and she let out another yelp. I picked her up again and took her with me to fill out the application. She walked across the counter sniffing everything, chewing on pens, and giving the volunteers kisses while I gave them all of the information that they needed to know.

She is now sixteen months old. We have successfully navigated through a little more than a year together. She keeps me laughing, keeps me busy, and at the same time, keeps me sane during the ups and downs that life has to offer. My goal for this blog is to share the stories of the past year and to share the stories that are yet to come. Because, as you will soon see, I absolutely love my Claire and can't imagine life without her. I'm pretty sure you will feel the same as you continue reading. There is so much more to come!

8-week-old Claire :)