A Dog & Her Cucumber

Last year, right before I had finally had it and hacked the thing to pieces, Tess discovered that she really really liked vegetables in the form of my entire summer squash plant. Not just the fruit, all of it. Sure, table scraps and the occasional lost pea were fine, but now she knew where they came from.

I spent the rest of the year trying to keep her from chewing on the remaining parts of the squash and eventually having to beat her off with a Brussels sprout stalk to keep her from eating the stalk, sprouts and all.

I have a weird dog.

This year she's been moderately unaware of the garden's presence. That was until the cucumber.

While taking her out for a potty break right after we got home from work, I wandered over to the cucumbers. I've had a lot of flowers, but nothing looked like it was really taking off. Imagine my surprise when I had a nice perfectly pickable cucumber right there on the vine.

So I picked it. Then Tess went absolutely nuts.

It was all she could focus on. Even after I peeled and sliced it for the other cucumber lover in the house (we planted them at M's request), even after we ate it, she was still looking everywhere for it.

Her obsession with the garden has returned.

My only real concern is that once we have ripe cherry tomatoes, we won't be able to leave her alone in the back yard for a second. They are perfectly sized for small terrier mouths.

Even dogs need to be shredded

Well, my third appointment with Jillian is over. Depending on when I start my "week", I either did it two or three times my first week. (I'll say three, since I didn't really commit until Tuesday of this last week) This time wasn't as bad as the first two, and I finally feel like my body is remembering good form. Considering how long it has been since I did a proper squat, I figure I'm doing good. Nothing injured, and making improvement.

The only issue I'm having is Tess. Apparently human exercise time means puppy exercise time. So to keep her from getting squished during a jumping jack, I'm stuck fitting in throws of her favorite toy while trying to not lose step with Mistress Jillian. Not too bad, my only complaint is that she gives up too quickly. She can only seem to hold up for about 10 minutes, not the fully 20. Maybe if I can work her up to 20 minutes, she can go off of her diet food.

As for progress... after absolutely hating the pants I ordered from Lands End (seriously guys, I'm fat, not pregnant or 60 years old), I furthered my search for work pants and braved Lane Bryant. Despite what the woman on the phone said last week, they did have khakis. I went in to try on a size 20, but ended up having to get a 16. I nearly cried I was so happy about it. They fit a little snug, but I have enough stuff to get me through another week or two until they really fit well. The 18 would have been too big pretty quick, so I think I made the right choice. I also got a pair of tummy-holding-in jeans that do wonders. After weighing 313 right before I gave birth to M, my skin is having a hard time adjusting to the weight loss. I have some below the waist line issues that are hard to disguise and starting to get uncomfortable. I know the toning and time will help, but maybe if I win the lottery, I'll get a tummy tuck some day.

Tuesday is weigh in day, so we'll see how I've actually progressed in that department.

We call her butter butt

After a 1500 emergency vet bill, a new regular vet, and a very sick dog with no apparent cause for the illness, our new vet called Tess an "indiscriminate eater". She has eaten wood mulch, weeds, countless amounts of rabbit poop, dust bunnies, silicon nipples, nipple shields, teething toys, socks, rubber bands, cotton balls, half a loaf of bread, and an entire stick of butter. She weighs 12 pounds, so an entire stick is a measurable percentage of her weight.

After it happened, we knew we were in for something foul, something disgusting. We discussed that she would not be sleeping in bed with us, and what the plan of attack was when she inevitably got diarrhea. What we weren't prepared for was the puking of what by far is the worst smelling greasy disgusting... there just aren't enough words for it. We tried to get her outside, but we didn't make it. What we didn't realize is that a well greased puke is silent. She was nearly done by the time we noticed what she was doing.

The good news was, after that, she seemed to be fine. Unfortunately for us our rug was not. It was a cheap one from Ikea (since she had started to eat the good wool ones a family friend imported from Afghanistan), so it wasn't a great loss. I had considered cleaning it, but soon realized that there was not way the smell was every coming out. We replaced it a few weeks later.

We've gotten better about where we keep things on the counters, and as we always say, at least she's cute.

This post is part of a blog blast from Parent Bloggers Network sponsored by Pledge's Show of Your Shredder contest.

I blame the green goo

Pink eye is going around daycare, I caught some green goo in the corner of M's eye today. Spent our evening getting her to eat, getting her to Dr, getting her home and to bed just in time. (while singing every song we knew on the car ride home to keep her awake) A went out to fill the prescription and hunt for the elusive Reeces Peanut Butter, while I tried to write my post for Savvy Source. The dog, the building company from Iowa who doesn't know how to use a freaking fax machine, and the neighbor's dog all had other ideas.

I am now totally tired and out of ideas. I still have to do the dishes and clean up from dinner too.

Tomorrow will be better, there are fine feathered things to see. They are good.

Twelve pounds of Terrier(ist)

Astrologically speaking I am a Leo, so it would make perfect sense that I love all things feline. I grew up having cats, and when I finally was adult enough, and living on my own, I got a cat.

When I moved to MN, he stayed with my parents. I never lived with him again because I met A, who is seriously allergic to cats.

I never liked dogs. I really had only ever know farm dogs, and well, manners aren't their strong suit. However, love does strange things to you.

So, after A and I got married, we started looking for a dog. Somehow he managed to sell me on a Cairn Terrier, since he had grown up with one. He said they were good with kids, had attitudes, but also personality. Our obedience trainer called them terrierists.

We had seen a dog at a pet store that I went to for my fish supplies, and pretty much fallen in love. While I had wanted to go with a breeder or rescue, when we saw her, we knew that her chances of being bought were slim, and she would likely end up in a bad situation. We were willing to deal with her. (and the judgment from people about where she came from) Around the time our wedding was supposed to have been (we went to Vegas to avoid... stuff), A was on a business trip, and I went to get her. She peed in my car on the way to get her supplies. and that was just the beginning. Having never owned a dog, I had to call A in panic to see if she was having a seizure when she started yelping and running her sleep. He still hasn't let me live that one down.
She was obviously the runt, had bad skin, not much in the way of hair, and loved licking your ears, neck, and up your nose. We indulged her and loved it.

We got her training, she obeys reasonably well. She will poop in the house if she is mad at your for ignoring her. Despite having been on a diet for years, she didn't really lose weight until we started feeding M table food, which doesn't make sense since she gets all of the left over veggies.

She loves a warm lap, down blankets to sleep on (preferably with a person underneath them), sleeping under the covers, early mornings, frozen green beans, and riding on your shoulders while in the car.

She charms nearly every one she meets, including self professed dog haters like my dad, who is by far her favorite sitter. He even calls her the "All in One Shredder Vacuum Love Machine".

She tolerates a surprising number of silly things I have done to her. That includes silly parkas, pumpkin hats, antlers and making her sit still endlessly for two calorie treats.

She is our first child, who has bonded incredibly well with the second (first). M's first word was Tess. Part of her nightly routine is to kiss her goodnight (which means she gets licked). The other day, she put her dolly blanket over her and put her to bed, and Tess just stood for it. She got sick when she was younger (most likely had something to do with why we go her in the first place) and we paid a small fortune to get her well again. She was worth every penny, despite the fact that at night she sleeps next to A, and not me, despite me being the cold one who could really use it.


This post was written for Parent Bloggers Network as part of a sweepstakes sponsored by Burger King Corp.

WW - Butterfly, do you need your ears cleaned?

When you are the puppy, you must inspect everything, especially the ears. Who knew little butterflies had ears.

What do you know, today is my 100th post. More Wordless Wednesday.

Naked Baby On The Loose!

Since M started really enjoying her bath, and getting especially squirmy, we've been letting her go from the bathroom, holding her adorable hooded towel off the floor, to her dad in the living room to get dried off. (it is so cute)

Except tonight, she took a detour. She went to the corner by the front door. The corner that the dog poops in if she's mad at us. She dropped her towel, ran a little, peed very little, and before I could get her, ran into the kitchen and peed more. A lot more. Good thing her bath hadn't emptied yet.

While nearly all of this was happening, A sat on the couch laughing. See, I stay in the bathroom to start cleaning up after her bath while he starts drying, so I didn't see her run to the corner and get naked.

I guess we need to figure out a new routine.

Oh, and in case you're wondering, there is just something about that corner. The dog will leave her pissed off presents there, and I think more than once I've seen M go there to make a mess of a diaper. No idea, maybe there is something they can smell...

Wordless Wednesday - My other child

The first born. The neglected. M and her speak to each other in their own secret language, I swear.