Thursday, December 31, 2009

Our boy needs your prayers

Gonzo has been diagnosed with IMHA and is very sick. It's a disease that causes antibodies to attack the red blood cells in our boy's blood.

Pray to your Higher Power (mine is God) that our boy continues to respond to and hold his own with treatment. I am hoping for a miracle, but realize that it's a long road, full of potiential problems.

The vet left a wonderful message about how Gonzo is doing, that he's holding his blood counts, and that the staff loves him, and how the nurses are playing with and petting's things like that that make it okay that our boy isn't here with us. I haven't been able to see him since we admitted him on Tuesday morning and I miss him. The vet thinks if he remains stable, we could visit him on New Year's.

Good boy, Gonzo. You just play with the nice girls at the hospital and get better, okay?

I do so hope that there's more to come.

Friday, November 20, 2009

Do wet buffalo smell like wet dogs?

So, here's more about that buffalo farm that was on the route I used to drive while delivering bread.
Every day I would drive by this kind of dilapidated, rundown old farm. One day, seemingly out of the blue, there were buffalo standing in one of the fields. After recovering from my mind being blown by a herd of buffalo in Pennsylvania, I started the "Way to go, buffalo!" that I would repeat every thing I passed the field. It was actually a thing I would look sort of forward to, this oddity in the modern world; a herd of buffalo roaming in PA , like they used to roam everywhere in the wild west (or at least in the movies I've seen.)
One day, it was raining all day, and when I passed the field, the buffalo weren't out grazing as they usually would be. I thought, "Well, maybe, the farmer guy didn't let the buffalo out because if wet dogs smell bad, I can't imagine what a wet buffalo would smell like!" (Ah, naivete; I miss ya.) The next day, it was clearer, but still no buffalo in the field. The third day, when I saw that there were still no buffalo, I gasped, and said, "Ohhh! He's a bad, BAD, man!" as I realized the point of buffalo farms.
I won't eat buffalo burgers. No how, no way.

Good Boy, Gonzo. I bet you smell better than a wet buffalo.

More to come (just not so often as before), so come back if you're interested.

Friday, October 30, 2009

Driving games

I used to drive a lot. I've been a bread delivery person, a sales rep, and a merchandiser with a service area from South Central PA, Philly and Northern DE. So spending all that time on the road, alone, I started doing stuff to alleviate boredom. You know, the stuff people do to pass the time on the road? Like one of my coworkers said when he and his group see one of those vanity plates with the two sets of initials on them, they come up with the names that would match the initials, starting with Mr. and Mrs. The example he gave was ABC DEC would be "Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy Bartholomew and Dorothy Elizabeth Connor." Probably very fun with kids.

Well, my game isn't so much a game (unless you would consider yelling ,'MOOOOOOOOO!" at cows a game) as it is a time-passer. When I see livestock along the roadside (safely in their fenced fields, I hasten to add, not roadkill), I have a saying for most types I see.

1.) cows- I nod my head and say,"Ladies," in the fashion of a man tipping his hat greeting a group of women.

2.) bulls- I call out,"That's just bull!"

3.) goats- "Hi, kids!"

4.) buffalo*-"Way to go, Buffalo!

5.) sheep- "No flockin' way!"

6.) deer - "Oh, d-d-deer, oh, d-d-deer-deer-deer," in the manner of Winnie the Pooh.

I don't have a saying for horses, as I have a traumatized dislike of them, having been thrown and never getting back on. And they smell bad, like a moldy wet dog.

It's a weird little pasttime, but it helps with the boredom. I find I still do it now, on my hour commute to and from work.

*There was a buffalo farm on my bread route, more on that another time.

Good boy, Gonzo. They're all just funny looking dogs to you, huh?

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Monday, October 26, 2009

The "I'm Sorry" Video (sad, to say the least)

I was looking for more funny doggie videos on youtube again, but instead I found this. Maybe Gonzo's former owner's "sorry" story is in there somewhere...who knows why anyone would get rid of such a great boy.

Good Boy, Gonzo. We've got you now, and you're home, for good. We're not sorry, either.

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009


I was looking on youtube for that video of the raccoon "playing" water sprinkler (it looks like he's playing the harp; it was on America's Funny Videos years and years ago) when I came across these:

Glad to see the little feller got out on his own, but did you catch the casual paw lick at the end: "I meant to do that."

And this one ("I'm not worthy of the ice creams"):

The lady does have a point; wildlife that is fed by humans become dependent on that food source. But give the little guy the ice cream you've been teasing him with, fer cryin' out loud!

Good Boy, Gonzo. No, raccoon aren't really bad, they were just drawn that way.

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Friday, October 16, 2009

What the ???

I have seen this creature gracing the 'Catch the Keystone' train service billboard on the PA Turnpike on my way to and from work.. It makes me wonder every day as I drive past what this thing is supposed to be. After many miles back and forth, I have come to the conclusion that it's supposed to be a combination of all the male/female oversleeping commuters as it's shaving and putting on makeup as it's driving to work. The title link will show the other "monsters"on the Keystone website one can avoid by taking the train instead of driving: rubberneckers, construction, etc, but this is the one that disturbs me most. Men who wear makeup aren't a problem for me, per se, but I have always been freaked out by those performers whose costumes are half gown, half tuxedo. Probably frightened by one on "The Gong Show" as a kid.
This video is equally freaky for me. (eeeshch!)

Good boy, Gonzo. I'll let you know when it's safe to come out again, m'kay?

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Monday, October 12, 2009

Owowowow. Okay, I feel better no..owowow!

I have a (stupid, stupid, owowow) muscle spasm in my neck. I have started a course of homeopathic remedies and feel a lot better than I did at 3 am when I couldn't figure out how to get out of bed to get the Tiger Balm (stinky stuff, but boy, it makes me feel better!)

I can't imagine it feels any worse than what this guy's going through:

As you can guess, I am anti-shock collar. I wish more people would watch (and appreciate) this video and live with a little barking.

Good Boy, Gonzo. Bark it up, crazy pup!

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Friday, October 9, 2009

Just wow.

This was sent to me by my dad, who passed along that the dancers are deaf. Amazing!

Good boy, Gonzo. Look at all those hands to skritch your belly!

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

So you say you have a lot of photos of your pet?

Not as many as Bodie's people do, I bet. I thought I had too many pictures of our boy, but now I think I need a few more.

Good Boy, Gonzo. Now smile for the camera, hmm?

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

Feed Me, Seymour!

A comment made yesterday (Thanks, Christina!) reminded me to tell you this. Our boy had indeed gotten used to the new and improved schedule, with my husband and I leaving about the same time, and my husband getting home about an half an hour after me. (Commutes are brutal sometimes!) Well, my husband's schedule changes every 4 weeks and now he leaves well after me and gets home about 3 1/2 hours after his old schedule.
So now I feed Gonzo about the same time my husband used to feed him on his old schedule, and our boy still does the " I'm-starving-here-please-for-the-love-of Mike-and-gravy-would-you-feed-me?" dance of impatience when my husband gets home. Even after he is reminded that he has indeed been fed, he will not calm down until he is sent to bed (without dinner, in his mind,) then we give him a Better than Ears treat.
Good Boy, Gonzo. When you're calm and sweet, you get the treat. 9See how I made that rhyme?)
More to come so, come back if you're interested.

Monday, October 5, 2009

What a change...

I went from being fully unemployed, to very underemployed, to now. I figured it out: I will be working 19 days straight before my next day off, and I am sooo not complaining, but trying to explain the lack of posting for the past two days.

Gonzo has been taking it like a trooper, adjusting to the new schedule like I was never home all day before, and we even got a change to play around yesterday (well, I was looking for something in the back of the bottom kitchen cabinets, and it looked like playing to him, shh..) Anyway, I hope to adjust that well myself and get back into the swing of things soon.

Random picture from our trip to Gettysburg this summer

Good boy, Gonzo. How did you know that I was looking for Blue Football Fan in the cabinets? Thanks for bringing it over.

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Friday, October 2, 2009

Oops, was that out loud?

Last night, our boy was sitting in his favorite spot; as always, within 2 feet of my husband, right behind his computer chair. My husband and I were talking about some silly nonsense, and Gonzo must have been either bored or frustrated by the lack of attention. All of a sudden, my husband and I hear this bizarre sound coming from our boy's direction. I guess it could best be described as a combination yip-belch-yawn. My husband turned around to look at Gonzo, and you never saw a creature trying harder to look innocent and casual with a worried look in its eyes.
I laughed so hard, and provided the voice-over, "Oh, sorry, was that out loud? So sorry; my apologies; excuse me." And as always, the more I laughed, the happier our boy got, and soon he had forgotten that he had burped a sonic burp, and was running around, looking for the dead duck.

Good Boy, Gonzo. Do you need a Rolaids? (no, I wouldn't give Gonzo a Rolaids, or any other "for people" medicine either.)

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Thursday, October 1, 2009

Give 'im the ol' spin move, Spud!

I don't know if it's because it's set to "Yakity Sax" (that song from the chase scenes from Benny Hill) or that the cat looks so confused by the fighting techinique, but I thought this was funny. I can only hope the fun continued down the hall and no lamps were broken.

Good Boy, Gonzo. Next time Emma starts with you, try the ol' blender move, but make sure you cue music first, m'kay?

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Talking dogs?

Now, our boy starts with a sort of "ararar" when he's frustrated, and I tell him,"Use your words..." when he barks, but these pups are far more advanced in their vocabulary.

Good Boy, Gonzo. Maybe it's French, non? Oh, right, it's Pirate.

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Why Gonzo doesn't fly private air

My husband showed me this the day before yesterday, and I feel for that poor confused pup.

I love how when he drifts to the front of the plane, it seems that the pup's expression is of, " A
little help here, hmm?"

Good Boy, Gonzo. They have steak in first class, too.

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Sunday, September 27, 2009

Sheep Fireworks?

Maybe you've seen this already, but I just saw it for the first time today, and now wonder it I could offer Gonzo's help (Our boy is part border collie, among other breeds):

Good Boy, Gonzo. Is that what you're trying to get the Christmas lights for?

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Gonzo wants to eat Lizzy.

Well, at least he wants to bite her in her tiny little face.
See, I held Lizzy in my arms while kneeling down, so the two of them were equal height, and I turned her around so our boy could sniff, and told our boy to lay down and put Lizzy down near him, and kept them at a distance, and he still snapped in her general direction. So I chastised Gonzo that Lizzy's just a little girl, and put Lizzy down on her own porch. Lizzy did a tiny growl-bark-yip combo that I could only guess meant, "I could take 'im; let me at 'im!"
Maybe one day they'll get along. Maybe.

Not so good boy, Gonzo. But at least I think you're getting it, that you can't eat Chrissy's* dog.

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Saturday, September 26, 2009

Did you see "Up?"

If you did, you may be familiar with the doggie character of Dug. My sister saw the movie before we did and swore that we would see a dog in the movie that "was Gonzo."
Well, having seen the movie, I now agree. If the writers had met our boy, they couldn't have done a better job writing Dug's character to match Gonzo's.
Two scenes in particular are dead on perfect. Dug says, upon his first meeting with the heroes, "My name is Dug. I have just met you, and I love you." which is exactly how our boy reacted when he met my husband at the Humane Society. The other scene is after Dug has been called a bag dog, he shows up at the front door and says,"I hid under your porch because I love you." Spot on perfect.
Although the line would be outright creepy if it were delivered by Christopher Walken. Imagine it: "I hid under your porch because I love you." Ecssshh! Instant skin crawl.
Pixar trailer:
Good Boy, Gonzo. Know any squirrel jokes?
More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Friday, September 25, 2009

I'm gonna sit right here...

After my husband leaves in the morning, our boy's determination to prevent any subsequent people departures doubles. He will follow me around, and if I manage to slip away to another room unnoticed, he will do a room to room check until he finds me.

However, he doesn't really like to go into the bathroom. That's where his B-A-T-Hs happen. You know, I could accidently slip and give him a B-A-T-H at any time if our boy goes in there. So if I'm fussing around at the mirror, I can count on him laying himself across the landing at the top or the bottom of the stairs, like a recumbant sentry, so I don't get away.

Good Boy, Gonzo. Just wait right there. I'll be back in a doggie minute.

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Thursday, September 24, 2009

Our boy and his favorite toy

Every dog finds a favorite toy. Gonzo loves the type that make noise. Not just squeakers, or crunches, but those little squeeze activated noise makers that make more elaborate sounds. He had an "Aflac" duck that he loved until its snowy feathers were a crunchy, clumpy beige colored mess. I took the noise maker out and put it in another toy. I often do this, because I won't let him have a toy back that's leaking stuffing or beans. Miss Piggy screams, "Aflac!" at us now.
Those Audobon plush birds are his paws-down favorite. I think he likes the natural sounding bird calls they make, as well as the fact that he can get most of the toy in his mouth. But lately, it's been the dead duck toy with the extra long neck that we got at the shore. It plays a four-part bird call with one squeeze.
My least favorite of his old toys was this tiny pink bunny that made this annoying, "chkchkchk, chkchkchk," noise that I got him after Easter one year. One morning, I was sleeping in, and Gonzo charged in with the bunny. "Chkchkchk, chkchkchk!" I rolled over."Chkchkchk, chkchkchk!" I rolled back and said, "Give me that!" and the game began. He ran to the other side of the bed, "chkchkchk, chkchkchk!" Our boy squeezed under the bed and continued. "Chkchkchk, chkchkchk! Chkchkchk, chkchkchk!" Well, there's no sleeping now. I got up. He left the toy under the bed and followed me downstairs. Our boy needed to go out.

Good Boy, Gonzo. But you still can't bring your toys outside. You don't bring them back.

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Home Improvements

Well, I added a widget-gadget thingie to the blog today for reactions. You can let me know if you like the type of post above the reaction buttons. I would rather post the things you like to read, you see. And comments are always welcome. If you have a suggestion for the button names, I'm open on that, too!

If you feel like it, go back through and rate a couple of the old posts, and I'll get a better idea of what you like. Thanks for reading about our boy.

Good Boy, Gonzo. How are you at counting?

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Who Are You?

The other day, I came home and my husband was already home. Gonzo rushed the door, and from the other side I heard our boy call out," Bahroo-roo-root!" in that confrontational way of a dog protecting his property. I said something to our boy and opened the door, repeating myself.

My husband said, " What is that you say to him? You say it everytime..." I said, "Well, he runs up to the door and barks,'Who are yoou?' and since he's in my house, I always say, 'Who are you; that's the better question.'"

I think I am just letting him know that it's me, so he can drop the bravado and pick up the dead duck toy to start the parade.

Good boy, Gonzo. Way to watch over the house, sweet boy.

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Monday, September 21, 2009

"Is she mad at you, too? Oh, just me."

There are rules in most houses. No playing ball in the house. Clean up after yourself. Don't hit your brother with that. Well, we've got them here too. Code 378 refers to meal time activities. Subsection 4 clearly states, "No body, be it canine, feline, or supine, shall be underfoot in the kitchen area (defined in Subsection 2) whilst meal preparation is in progress."
The other day, after Gonzo had violated this code, I sent him to the equivalent of "doggie jail;" I pointed a finger and said,"Bed!" in a deep voice that I imagine sounds more like my husband than me. Our boy went, but as per the norm around here, he only put half his body on the cushion.
I have a theory about that, as he only does that when he feels that the punishment isn't justified. For example, if I sent him to bed so I can vacuum the other room, he'll sit completely next to the bed, as he did nothing wrong. (No, I don't really think our boy's reasoning is this complex, but it's uncanny how often his actions match up to this..) So, I pointed again, and boomed," Bed!" Our boy threw a sidelong glance at my husband, as if to say, " Are you in trouble too? Oh, it's just me, " and adjusted himself to be all the way, all four paws and tail, in bed.
Hard not to laugh at our boy.

Good Boy, Gonzo. It's just for a little while, hmm?

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Sunday, September 20, 2009

Last weekend of summer (deep and heavy sigh)

where I'd rather be (there's a pole for you, too)

view that beats all for me

she'd rather stay here (kthanx)
Good Boy, Gonzo. You look ready to go (c'mon peoples!)
More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Saturday, September 19, 2009

Chrissy* got a puppy!

(Chrissy's* back story here)

My neighbors have relented and have gotten Chrissy* a sweet little chihuahua mix puppy. Lizzy is a little high strung, but my husband got to hold her, (Gonzo was distracted indoors for this exercise) and she took right to him. (This is not a actual picture of Lizzy; but a reasonable resemblance.)

Of course, now Gonzo runs right to the fence to see Chrissy* anytime she's in her yard. Jealous much, old boy?

Good Boy, Gonzo. Sorry playing hard-to-get didn't pan out for you. But Chrissy's* moved on with her life.

*not her real name. It didn't seem right to post her name, not that there's weirdoes on the internet or anything.
More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Thursday, September 17, 2009

Know what I think is funny?

When I hear my husband in another room, arguing with our boy.

"No, she told me she fed you already. You already ate! She told me so. You did so! You big faker..." Now that's funny.

Tonight, I was teasing my husband about how Gonzo seemed freaked out* that my husband was helping me with dinner, for a change. "What's going on? That's not right...AAAAAAH! Black is white, right is wrong, up is down...what's going on?!!?" Annnnnd, my husband told our boy to be quiet, like Gonzo was actually the one talking. BWAHAHAHA! Just priceless.

This video is funny and sweet, and you can almost here the dialogue: "Please, please, PLEASE get this little guy a catnip mouse or something..."

Good Boy, Gonzo. And you have so been fed.

*Our boy was actually looking at the dinner on the plates with wild-eyed amazement and hope, but I turned it into a commentary on the fact that my husband rarely helps with dinner.

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Such a good daddy!

You may have already seen this, but it happened in my area, so we may have gotten better coverage of it than other areas.
His first foul ball catch ever, and she throws it back. His first instinct is to hug her and let her know it's all okay. Now, that's a good guy. A heartbroken good guy.

View more news videos at:

Good Boy, Gonzo. See if you can finditfinditfindit!

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

I'm tryin', I'm tryin'!

So I was just playing with our boy upstairs. My husband is laying down on the bed, and Gonzo has set up camp next to him. Typically, our boy sleeps at the foot of the bed, but lately, I'll go in at bedtime and he'll be sitting or laying down at the head of the bed (on my side, of course.)

I'll say, "Oh, I don't think so, mister..." and he'll walk down to the foot, wagging apologetically. "I was trying to lay in my spot, but I tripped." (No, I don't actually think our boy talks; I'm not that far gone yet!) Well, tonight, I patted the foot of the bed, and said,"Get down here, you..." and our boy sort of half limped, and half crawled, and rolled over on his side, then his back, and pulled himself along...for a grand gain of 6 inches, closer to the foot of the bed.

I said to my husband,"We have a bit of a drama queen here, I think, " and I left Gonzo where he was. I heard the soft thumpthumpthump of our boy's tail celebrating his victory as I left the room.

Good Boy, Gonzo. You're easier to move when you're sleeping, anyway.

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

New tricks!

Kinda fun video, showing off beat tricks that this trainer taught her dog. Most would only be useful for a movie stunt dog, but I liked the video.

Good boy, Gonzo. I know you could get most of these without a problem.

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Monday, September 14, 2009

Poor kitty

Ever feel like you're taken for granted? I do, because of my cat. She mostly stays in the finished basement, occasionally gracing the 1st floor with her presence, and rarely the 2nd floor if she's really desperate.
While I was at home, of course, I was the one who fed her most times, but now that we are both working, it's either or. That doesn't stop her from telling me that she's out of food even right after my husband has fed her. Emma just assumes that I am there to feed her.

Another kitty trying to get fed:

Good Boy, Gonzo. It's ok; it all turns out alright for the pigeon.

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

Rain, Rain, go away...

if you must, you might come back some other day.
Ah, the joys of owning a dog when it's raining. Although we are fortunate enough to have a fenced backyard that Gonzo can do his thing in, there's always that pungent wet dog smell. If a person hasn't ever smelled this complex scent, there is no way to describe it. It isn't the sparkling scent of a freshly washed pup, or the one where the dog has rolled in something to disguise the freshly washed scent; it's more of a dirty-carpet-at-the-city-bus-station kind of thing. Just something if you can avoid smelling, you should do so at all costs.

To minimize the length and strength of this odor, I have two "puppy" towels right inside the door that leads to the backyard. Our boy will come in from the rain, and sit right down to get his massage. At least I that's what I tell him it is. (Our secret, right?)

After that, he dries quicker, and our boy goes back to smelling like Fritos.

Good boy, Gonzo. Just wait a minute before you get up of the sofa, ok?

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Circle of Life running counterclockwise

Check out this video (if you haven't seen it already, it's long, but well worth the 8 minutes.) It's a shaky safari video, but what they capture is amazing. Watch it. It's the food chain playing "crack the whip."

If you've seen it before, I know you'll want to watch it again.

Good Boy, Gonzo. Let's go on safari in the backyard. (Haven't cut the grass in a week, so it's practically the same.)

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

It's the little things

Not too long ago, our boy was sick. My husband and I had just come back from the beach, and the week before we all had been to the mountains (the one vacation Gonzo can take with us.) The night we got back it has hot, hot, hot! so I didn't really get too concerned about our boy's super red ears and hot foot pads. The next morning though, his ears had a rash, and his body had bright red circles all over any area that touched the floor. A quick Google search, and I thought we were dealing with a contact dermatitis from the kennel. I got some holistic rash shampoo and creme, and bathed and treated our boy. His spirits were high and he had no lack of energy or appetite, so I thought, "Well, we'll see how's he's doing tomorrow, and call the vet if it gets any worse."

Well, our boy got a lot worse overnight. His poor ears were caked and the rash was now everywhere. I called the vet, and she said bring him in. I explained everything, and she pointed out that the rash wasn't really external, as there were no raised areas. She ran tests to make sure it wasn't mountain tick related, and she determined that it was vasculitis of an unknown origin. Our boy had to take a low dose of antibiotic for a month. Getting him to take the medicine inside a treat was easy, but getting him to eat his meals wasn't. The antibiotics killed our boy's appetite.

Since all Gonzo wanted to eat were the treats, I crumbled up bacon treats into the smallest crumbs and put that in the bottom of the dog dish before putting the dry on top. He would tear through the meal to get to the treats, and viola! no problem.

However, now that he is all better, he still wants his treat in the bottom of his dish. I am now in the habit of obliging, and am now training my husband to do the same.

Good Boy, Gonzo. He just doesn't do it right, does he? (We love him anyway, hmm?)

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

He made it!

Well, I made it through the first day back to work. Actually, I had a great day, and I think I'm going to like it there. On top of it all, I played a scratch-off lottery ticket on the way home, and won $40. Whoo-hoo, triple word score!

What about our boy, one might ask? Oh, Gonzo made it through the day with flying colors (and no accidents.) Right now, he's staring down the double chocolate muffin that my husband is eating. ( "I am willing you to drop the muffin....droooop the muffin.....) I don't think he even remembers that there was no one here all day anymore.

Good Boy, Gonzo. C'mon, let's go watch some tv before I leave.

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Monday, September 7, 2009

First day on the new job

I start my new job today. Just a tad nervous. It's like the first day of school all over again, complete with new clothes. I hope I do well. Mostly, I hope Gonzo transitions well.

Found this on YouTube and thought you would enjoy. It's advertising a show on BBC called Walk on the Wild Side.

Make sure to watch the rest of the adverts from the BBC as well; funny stuff (especially the prairie dogs)!

Good boy, Gonzo. I'll be home soon.

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Nice doggie!

Well, truth be told, I find our boy a never ending source of entertainment. Even the simple act of giving him a treat could turn into a game of "nicer than that..." where Gonzo becomes increasingly gentle in his treat-taking, until I have to actually drop the treat into his open mouth. I like this game, because I can say,"Nicer than that," even before he is given a treat from someone else. Saves the minute possiblity that our boy might scare my nieces by snapping away an offered treat.

I think the most popular game around here is the, "Find it!" game. Gonzo is ushered out into the enclosed porch, and we close the door. Then either my husband or I will hide a good treat, usually something that takes awhile to chew down, somewhere in the house. Then we open the door, our boy charges in, and Super-Snoot is on the case! Almost always, our boy will check the place we hid the treat last time. But he'll run up and down the stairs, around the whole house, alternately nose in the air, and to the floor, with us calling, "Finditfinditfindit!" He'll free stand on his hind legs to smell the counters in the kitchen, jump on the sofa to smell the cushions, jump across the bed for the sheer fun of it...oh, it's a blast to watch.

Some times the game lasts longer than others, especially that time my husband hid a BusyBone on the windowsill in our bedroom...even with my husband's coaching, it took him almost 10 minutes to find it. I think the wind was blowing in the window and the treat's scent wafted throughout the room, and confused poor Super-Snoot. (I have often said while Gonzo has ran right past the treat that if I were to ever get lost in the mountains, that my husband should not send our boy to find me.)We usually play this game at night after dinner and it uses up all Gonzo's extra energy. Our boy gets all tuckered up, and we all sleep well.

Good Boy, Gonzo. Bloodhounds have nothing on you, huh, boy?

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Sunday, September 6, 2009

Canine voiceover work

(I got this off youtube; this isn't my video.)

I start my new job on Tuesday, and I've decided to keep my extremely part time job, but I've realized that I have been employed here at home for a while. I do voice over work for Gonzo. Most pet owners do this; I have heard people confess to it often. What I find odd is how accurate it seems to be, based on our boy's reactions.

Some of it, I admit, is conversational; I will pretend our boy is Lassie, that Timmy's fallen down the well again and Gonzo's telling me to bring an extension ladder and a rope. Usually, he just wants a treat, but he really gets animated.
Some of it, is rabble-rousing; I will tell our boy that I am closer to my husband than he is and Gonzo will eventually climb on top of my husband to be closer than I am. "I'm closer than you are," "I'm closer," "I am," "no, I am..." until my husband is buried under a pile of dog.
Some of it is narrative, like saying,"Stretch it out, stretch it out, waaaaay out!" in a cheerleader's cadence while our boy does his post-nap four leg stretch. (That one makes my sister-in-law laugh every time.)
But the best ones are usually when we have company and our boy's playing the clown. It always cracks me up when I translate our boy's actions in words and our company responds to Gonzo as if he actually had spoken. I must be good at my job, don't you think?

Good Boy, Gonzo. Canine mime? Dog Charades? You act it out, and I'll tell them what it means.

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Friday, September 4, 2009

How much is that doggie in the window?

Priceless, just priceless. And it cracks me up everytime it happens. Ah, jees. Allow me to explain:

When my husband leaves for work, I will see him off (sometimes, not very often, I'm no Mrs. Cleaver) and wave to him from the door. Sometimes I'll wave to him from the 2nd floor bedroom window, instead. Gonzo's right there, looking up at me, as if to say,"He's coming right back, right? Can you still see him? Is he out there?" I tell our boy, "Sorry, Gonzo, he got away again. We'll have to try harder to keep him here next time." If I leave the door to the enclosed porch open, our boy will lay out there for awhile, then dejectedly resign to his bed behind the computer chair with a deep sigh.

Gonzo gets beyond excited when my husband gets home. I can wind our boy up by just saying my husband's name close to homecoming (yes, it's as big as a high school homecoming every night to Gonzo, complete with duck-toy parade. Gotta love him.)

I was upstairs one day close to homecoming, and I got an idea. I decided to show Gonzo that if he stood on his hind legs he could see out the bedroom window to the street below. We waited in the bedroom until my husband pulled up, and I called Gonzo to the window. That's when the fun began. Our boy spotted my husband getting out of the car, and freaked out! Success!

So now, when we both go out, our boy will bark at us out the window (hey, come back here!) and when we get home, he will bark, yelp, and make that high-pitched squealing noise I just love so much. The neighbors can hear it, and our neighbor down the street (she owns a shiz-tu named Archie) said he barked at us for a 1/2 hour after we left one day. That part is kind of sad, but when we get home and I can see that tiny little head above the sill, well, I laugh every time. One day I came home, and I could hear Gonzo's barking but he wasn't in the window. We had one of those expanding window fans in his way, so our dog was standing on the bed, looking through the fan, barking at me. Oh, funny, funny boy.

Good boy, Gonzo. We'll try not to stay out so long next time.

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Gonzo's Dream Dance

So I was sitting on the sofa with our boy, when I heard a odd sound. Gonzo was sound asleep, snoring and dreaming. Of course, I grabbed the camera:

I edited music into it, "Dream Baby" by Roy Orbison, and it's posted on Youtube. Of course, I don't think one can hear the snoring as well. I felt I had to add the disclaimer on the end, because of the idgeots (IDG-E-OTS!)* that comment on dreaming dog videos that the dog is having some sort of fit.

Good Boy, Gonzo. This seemed like a sweet dream. Sorry I woke you.

*I had a co-worker once who was from some European country who would scream this at people. Is it a wonder I don't know what country he came from.? "IDG-E-OTS! I am SURRR-OUNDED by IDG-E-OTS!"

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Heartbroken puppy

Our boy is heartbroken. My husband is working from home today, so he should be a happy boy, but alas that is not the case. My husband has an office area set up in our finished basement and actually is quite serious about maintaining a "office environment" there.

Gonzo barks sporadically at sudden noises, possible threats, and invisible squirrels. Just one or two barks, sometimes a growl-bark combo, but noisy nonetheless. Hard to maintain that "I'm-sitting-in-my-cubicle-talking-on-the-phone-on-the-third-floor-of-my-office-building," if there is a series of staccato barks coming from under your desk. Herein lies the problem. So the door to the basement is closed, Gonzo is not allowed downstairs during working hours, our boy can't even see my husband, and there he lies, devastated in front of the basement door in a heap on the floor. (Very Dr. Suess, wasn't that last bit?)

To cheer our boy up, I found another funny sign while searching for funny signs in Google Images. Odd how that search turned up a funny sign, isn't it?

Good boy, Gonzo. See, the sign even says so.

More to come so come back if you're interested.

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Possibly not safe for work, however...

...this is a public road sign. (Scroll down, I moved the image to the bottom of the post.) I came across the sign in a image search for international road signs.

I believe this one stands for," Caution, if your auto breaks down, stay inside the vehicle until help arrives; the locals are uber friendly on this search of the roadway."

Or maybe: "Please don't feed the fornicators."

Possibly: "Remember to set the parking brake before engaging in (ahem.)"

Add your own caption in comments.

Good boy, Gonzo. Keep your paws over your eyes for a little while longer.

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

It wasn't me!

Oh, our boy. He is a pack dog, through and through. In a pack of dogs, (cue the music from the dance/fight scene in "West Side Story,") at meal time, the canines at the top of the hierarchy of the pack will eat first. After the are finished, whatever is left behind is fair game for the lesser members of the pack. Sounds about right, right? Wonder how this translates in domesticated dog world?

It means if you leave it, you lose it. Especially around here. I can remember hearing Sarge's owner complaining that her son left his sandwich on the counter "for a second," and turned around to find Sarge had eaten it and was waiting for another. Our boy will get into the garbage as soon as we leave the house, which led to the raw pork eating /whole house steam cleaning incident of 2008. Oddly, Gonzo does not eat our cat's food. Ever. That is the exception, not the rule. (Can you tell I watched "He's Just Not That Into You" yesterday?)

The other area that seems to have a giant green light over it is the kitchen island. If we leave it, Gonzo will eat it. Especially bakery items. Our boy has eaten countless loaves of bread, an entire bag of these little Latin croissants (don't know what they are really, but oh-so-good,) and numerous bags of hot dog and hamburger rolls. Why don't we learn to use the bread drawer, you ask? Because we are beyond forgetful.

This morning, I awoke to an extremely loud belch from under the bed. Praying that our boy hadn't just barfed under there, I cajoled him out, and went downstairs to let him outside. As I turned to walk into the kitchen, I saw it there on the floor. The tray from the day-old donuts my husband had bought last night torn open with a gob of sprinkled frosting next to it. Of course, Gonzo was the culprit, skulking off under the dining room table, but sadly, my first instinct was not of our boy's health and well-being. Nope, not even close.

No, my first concern was that my husband would think that in the 12 hours he will be gone to work today (loooong commute) that I would eat all 4 of his day-old donuts. It wasn't me! I was actually going to try to stare down said donuts in a battle of will today. It really wasn't me!

Good Boy, Gonzo. Go eat some grass, and work on your skulk for when he gets home so he'll know it wasn't me, ok?

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Monday, August 31, 2009

Our boy and the little girl next door

I've posted about Sarge's people who live on the one side of us. On the other side lives a family who have no cats or dogs but rabbits and birds. They also have a little girl who is obsessed with Gonzo. I think she really, really wants a pet that she can cuddle and train and hug and will follow her around...rabbits and/or birds aren't cutting it for her. But her parents have said that they don't want an animal that poops in a litter box or the backyard. Hmm? The birds poop in their cage and the rabbits poop in their is that at all different? All animals poop. Everybody poops. Meanwhile, Chrissy* plays in her backyard quietly, usually by herself, and I am a little sad for her.
Last night, Gonzo went out to do his thing, and she spotted our boy. Chrissy* ran to the fence and then it started. The pitiful pleas of "Gonzo, Gonzo, Gonzo, c'mere, Gonzo, Gonzo, Gonzo, Gonzo, good boy, c'mere....ah, c'mon Gonzo!" lasted for a full 5 minutes while I finished the dishes. (Did I mention that Gonzo just tolerates kids? He'd rather play with grown-ups.) I went out and brought Gonzo over to the fence where she could pet him and love him (and name him George.) But that's not enough.

That kid should have her own dog that she could love as much as we love our boy. Yes, it's a commitment, yes, it's work, but the joys of dog companionship far outweigh the duties. I may be a little biased here, because I do have the best dog ever (no offense, Penny.) Get the kid a dog, people! (steps off soapbox, straightens clothes, and smooths hair) Ahem.
*not her real name. It didn't seem right to post her name, not that there's weirdoes on the internet or anything.

Good Boy, Gonzo. You know she loves you, so go to the fence for her, hmm ? Just once, on your own?

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Sunday, August 30, 2009

Don't Eat That! (Don't feed these things to your pup)

Gonzo loves his veggies. I used to find this strange, because as a child I tried to feed our family beagle brussel sprouts, lima beans, and mixed vegetables to no avail. Mom would find a pile of veggies on the linoleum next to my chair. "Where were you when I was growing up?" I lament as Gonzo begs for cucumber peels and tomato tops from the cutting board. He actually would pick cherry tomatoes off the vine with his teeth last summer. We have grape tomatoes this season, and he doesn't seem interested. I understand that green tomatoes and leaves can make our boy sick, so I am careful not to feed him under-ripe ones or too much at a time.

It's hard to know what you can and can't feed a dog, because you'll read,"Don't feed X to a dog; it will kill them," meanwhile, your dog has been eating X since it was a puppy and is alive and well. I will give our boy lettuce and carrots (indigestible according to the online sources) and I used to feed him a few grapes every time I ate them by "accidentally" dropping them, but now I read that I may have damaged his kidneys with my treat.

To save heartache, I have put together a list of items that you shouldn't feed your pup, regardless of how sweetly he asks:

Apples, Apricots, Cherries, Peaches and Plums
Baking Powder or Baking Soda
Coffee Grounds
Dairy Products
Eggs and/or Egg Whites (raw)
Fatty Foods
Grapes and/or Raisins
Macadamia Nuts
Moldy or Spoiled Food
Onions or Garlic
Salt or salty foods like chips, pretzels, or ham
Tea or tea bags
Xylitol or other artificial sweetners
Yeast dough

The link above will take you to the list at and there you can read the reasons behind why you shouldn't feed these things to your pup.
Other sources: (notice it's a PDF file and will need to be opened, from Drs. Foster and Smith)

Good Boy, Gonzo. Eat a dog treat instead.

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Saturday, August 29, 2009

Home again, Happy Gonzo

Yes, I made it back home, and Gonzo was thrilled to see me. Of course, it's the same reaction I get when I've been gone 20 minutes to the store, or hours and hours on errands. "Oh my gosh! I can't believe you came home again! You're amazing!" How can anyone not love dogs?

My cat on the other hand, has not greeted me as of yet. More like,"Oh, you again."

I'm going to give Gonzo a chewie, and unpack.

Good Boy, Gonzo. I've missed you, too.

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Vacation post day two

I imagine that if my parents didn't still have dial up, I would try to post from their house. But they do, so I won't, hence another video post.

I hope this makes you smile:

Good Boy, Gonzo. The babies are smiling at you.

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Vacation posts

I'm heading up to my parents' house for the next few days, so video posts!

An homage to the first blog that made me laugh until I cried (for humanity:) Cake Wrecks, blogged by Jen Yates (look for her book!)

Good Boy, Gonzo. You've got frosting on your nose.

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

The Sofa Weasel! (Not half as naughty as it sounds)

Our boy, at first, was not allowed to sit on the sofa with us, as we were told that it's confusing to a dog to be allowed to sit on furniture and sleep in your bed as an equal. Confusing? I don't know. Less comfortable? Decidedly so. Anyway, we got a grip, and slipcovers, and our boy sits with us.

Gonzo is devoted to my husband with a passion that would rival any bromance, and wants to not just be near him, but as close as caninely possible. If our boy can get on my husband's lap, he is in heaven. However, having a 48 lb. dog on your lap is not what my husband would call comfortable. So, when our boy tries to squeeze in, sometimes he gets the heart-breaking,"Off!" and Gonzo slinks off the sofa with the most pitiful look on his face.

Then the Sofa Weasel starts his approach: First, Gonzo turns and faces the sofa. Then he'll lick the closest hand or leg to the planned point of attack. Soon, he'll put a front paw, then the other on the sofa. Then our boy goes into full weasel mode. Holding his body close to the sofa, balancing his weight forward, he'll bring his back legs up and slide himself back onto the sofa. Usually, he's so slick, we don't even realize he's back on the sofa until our boy tries to get back into my husband's lap. Hense, the Sofa Weasel. (I usually call our boy that in the annoying sing-song way that Paulie Shore used to say "Weas-el!")

Good Boy, Gonzo. It's more comfy up here, anyway.

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Is there anything cuter then a dreaming dog?

Gonzo has his share of "puppy dreams," and usually they seem to involve running, yipping, and eating. Sometimes, though, at night, I'll wake up to hear him whimpering and whining. He seems to be asleep and dreaming, so they're not the happy dreams of the afternoon naps on the sofa. Our boy is a rescue dog, so it makes me wonder.

Do dogs have dreams of things they don't know? I mean, if they haven't experienced it, can they conceive of it? Are all they thoughts of actuality, and not fantasy? When our boy is dreaming, is he remembering something that had happened, or do dogs have imaginations? I sort of hope they do, and can have nightmares based on things they haven't experienced. Otherwise, our boy might have have some mean people in his life before we came along.

Our boy just loves older people. Where my parents come for a visit, Gonzo will stick with my mom or dad like glue. The same for any older visitors to our house. When we first got our boy, I was walking him around the neighborhood when we passed the apartment building two streets up. There was a little white haired lady walking into the building, when Gonzo spotted her. Our boy whined and pulled toward the lady, which he hadn't done before for anyone but my husband. I believe that our boy thought he knew that lady. I started to think that maybe, just maybe the reason our boy was given to the humane society had nothing to do with him. Maybe he was owned by a sweet older person who couldn't keep him anymore. Maybe that poor person had to go live in a home, or worse, passed on, and the owner's family put Gonzo in the pound. I hope that's the life our boy had before us, and that the nightmares come from his stint at the pound. I'd like to think that he's never met mean people that would hurt him, but sadly, I can't be sure.

Good Boy, Gonzo. Dream a little dream of me (or Mama Cass).

Monday, August 24, 2009

Knock, Knock! Who's there?

Our boy, Gonzo, fancies himself a guard dog, although we teasingly call him a panic-attack dog. When someone knocks (or God forbid rings the doorbell) he sets off in a cacophony of barks, yelps, growls and other odd noises to scare off the intruder. (He must imagine Attila the Hun comes to our neighborhood on a regular basis.)
I call him our dog-bell, and one can set off the dog-bell by knocking on any wooden surface in the house. I find great entertainment in this some days. I will knock on the end table or coffee table and call out,"Who is it?" and let him go to town. Of course, then I praise him up and down for saving us all from horrible intruders. However, this can be a tad embarrassing for us when our boy won't stop barking at company. Soon enough, Gonzo stops barking and goes and grabs one of his toys to parade around with, but our boy can make it quite loud at our Christmas open house.

The other major threat in Gonzo's mind other than the mystery knock is the dog next door. Sarge is a gorgeous rust colored Akita mix with a sweet face and a great disposition. He doesn't bark at passers-by in his yard, and is generally sweet and lovable. But Gonzo will absolutely flip out when Sarge in out the yard while he's out. He barks, growls, snaps and acts completely out of character. Sarge doesn't seem to even notice that Gonzo is there. I am glad that there's no access between the yards, because I don't know that it would end well. I have a theory why Gonzo acts this way with Sarge although he ignores the other two dogs our boy can see from the back yard.

Sarge is also a rescue dog. As a matter of fact, he was adopted out of the same shelter the same week as Gonzo. If I remember correctly, they were across from each other in their cages. So Gonzo met Sarge in the "big house" and apparently someone must of talked some smack. Now that they're both sprung, Gonzo's got a score to settle. Sarge is trying hard not to get sent back to the slammer.
On the other hand, Sarge's owner loves Gonzo to the point that she buys him special treats. She insists that it's Sarge that instigates the barking, although Sarge never makes a peep. I guess I should be very grateful I have such a wonderful neighbor who loves our boy almost as much as we do.

Good Boy, Gonzo. Everybody loves you.

Sunday, August 23, 2009

Isn't it supposed to be instinct?

A few years ago (two I think) my husband and I decided to take our boy Gonzo to the family camp. Up until this point, we really didn't go anywhere on vacation, and when we did, it was no dogs allowed. I wanted to go back to camp, my husband wanted to fish, and Gonzo wanted to be with us, no matter where we went. We took a few test-drives around to get Gonzo used to the idea of being in the car (without it ending at the vet) and he did alright. No car sickness, no anxiety, all around good behavior. We packed up the car, put in our boy, and away we went.
Well, the length of the trip caused a bit of anxiety for our boy, but he did really well over all. The boat trip across the lake to the camp was another story. He apparently hadn't seen a boat and he wasn't sure about sitting in a box in that scary stuff that moves around in a weird way:

But we got him across the lake, and we went about having a nice vacation. When my husband decided that he was going for a swim, it made sense to us that Gonzo would want to go swimming too. But we were quick to realize that Gonzo had never been swimming before. Our boy wanted to be near by my husband, but he was afraid of the water. I tried wading in the water and leading him in behind me on his leash, but no, that didn't work. So my husband came back into shore, scooped Gonzo up and slowly carried him into the water. When the water was waist deep, he put Gonzo down in the water slowly. ( My husbands's sort of squatting down in the water here)

We expected a few things could happen. Gonzo could totally freak out and scratch the heck out of my husband trying to get back into his arms, he could have a more ,"Thank you very much but this is not for me," response and just swim back to shore, or he could swim around and have fun in the water with my husband. We did not expect his actual reaction.

When small children (for that matter, anyone) is taught to swim, they are taught the rudimentary dog-paddle. It is so named, presumably, because it resembles the way a canine flails its front paws while swimming. I thought it was an instinctual thing, something that they just do. Well, no. Our dog, once free of the protection of my husband's arms, didn't do anything. No movement. My husband called to him, but our boy just looked as us and floated, like a log. My husband went over to him and showed him how to move his paws in the water, and then our boy (buoy?) took off like a toy boat with a rubber-band propulsion system. I couldn't breathe from laughing.

Good Boy, Gonzo. Swimming's for Labradors.

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Saturday, August 22, 2009

Cover of the Rolling Stone

I got called to work at my very part time job today, so a video post:

Good Boy, Gonzo. You always did like Dr. Hook.

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Friday, August 21, 2009

The Battle for Supreme Power!

Gonzo has always had the odd habit of sometimes sitting like a person would on the sofa. 9 times out of 10, he does it with people there on the sofa with him. It's like he's thinking,"Oh, is this what we're doing now? Okay, catch me!" and he turns around and sort of throws himself backward. He ends up on his tail end, sort of sitting upright, leaning against whoever's next to him. He has also been known to do this when no one's around to sit with, and one could walk in the room to find Gonzo sitting upright, watching CNN (quite disturbing.)

As I have mentioned before, our boy is a pack dog, and believes my husband to be the Alpha dog of our pack. Well, let me tell you, these two boys can play-fight up a royal storm. When they're on the floor, it's no-holds-barred, full-on knock-down, drag-out battle for Top Dog. (That sentence is a hyphen-o-rama!) Of course, Top Dog is not a position I desire, so I let them have at it. However, when our boy and my husband go to town on the sofa, I 'm in Gonzo's corner 100%.

So at night, the 3 of us will be watching t.v. together on the sofa, and they will start to play-fight. Gonzo will lean against me, sort of upright, and either my husband will start or Gonzo will often times "slap" my husband's hands with his paws, and then hold his paws up in a kind of (sad) defensive maneuver. I call it the ''jazz paws" defense. My husband will try to poke Gonzo's body, with Gonzo play snapping and growling. He sounds terribly vicious, our boy, the tough guy. I will coach Gonzo, "Bite 'em, Gonzo! Jazz Paws! Jazz Paws!Get 'em, Get 'em, Get 'em!" Alas, after a long 10 round bout, my husband wins again, and Gonzo curls up against the victor, after getting a drink from his water bowl. (That's usually the signal that Gonzo's given up.)

Good Boy, Gonzo. Live to play fight another day.

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Seems to be something missing...

Can't quite put my finger on it...wait, I think I know what it is...I don't have to try to find a job today! I mean, I didn't spend every waking minute trying before, but I did spend quite a bit. So now I am a little freer, as I don't have to worry that someone might be calling with yet another 5 minute phone interview. (Seriously, what are those all about? There's no way anyone could get the sense of anyone else in 5 minutes.) I did have one company have me submit a resume, fill out an application, submit that EOE questionnaire, call twice for phone interviews, then come in for a face-to-face interview (and fill out a second application.) I am still waiting to hear from them what the next step is. Probably put my resume in, take my expectations out, put my references in, and shake it all about... "You do the job search pokey and you turn yourself around...that's what it's all about!" Sorry, couldn't resist. If I was applying to be the nanny of the First Children, I can't imagine it would be so hard.

Gonzo the ever-vigilant guard puppy:

It is Gonzo's self appointed duty to keep intruders at bay, whether it be my parents, friends, or any company for that matter, but especially the mail lady. I have a theory why our boy barks at the mail lady through the door. I think he hears her open the screen door to put the mail inside, and she walks away. But that's not how he interprets what happens.
See, to our boy, he hears threat approach. Threat tries to break down the door with all its might (by opening the screen door). Gonzo yells at threat," Hey! Hey! Whattda think you're doing? Get away from the door! I told you yesterday, you're not getting in!" Threat is so intimidated by this impressive display that threat slinks off, to try its luck elsewhere. (Or continue delivering the mail.) Gonzo makes a mental note that barking at threats make them go away. Whoofing a few times quietly to himself is his way of saying," That's right, and stay away!" Then he saunters over to me, stretching out his legs, and I imagine he's saying," It's all right, little lady, they won't be back a-bothering you any time soon." (Sometimes our boy channels John Wayne.) Of course, he's probably thinking,"Hey, is there any chance I could get a treat for that?"

Good boy, Gonzo. Save me from the credit card bills.

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Oh, happy day!

My mom called me yesterday from the road, to let me know that they were surprisingly close to schedule, and would be arriving in under a hour. I told her, "I'll start the brown rice now. Just come to the house that has the person with a job inside." That's right, I am starting my new job in September.

Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later. You get your resume updated and in order, scan the internet job posting sites, apply, apply, apply...and you get the interview. You find a nice suit, do research on the company, and give a stellar interview. Then you wait. Wait. Wait. Then it happens:

You get the call. "Ms. Frigglesnitz, this is Linda from the Job-you-wanted Company. Are you still available for the position? You are? I am calling to offer you the job." Oh, happy dance of joy! If I were Gonzo, I would be tearing through the house, barrel-racing style, with the dead duck toy in my mouth. (Thank God I get to celebrate in other ways. Like going out to eat or something.)

And it's not the one with the weird hours, or the one where I'd work weekends, but a regular 8-4 M-F kind of job. Even though its pay is significantly lower than what I was making, it is about 20-25 hours less a week. (I was salary before, and I worked loooong days.) So the hourly rate is actually much higher. And a lot higher than unemployment.

But what about Gonzo?:
I am actually a little concerned that he's not going to take this well. I have been home since January, so he's gotten used to me being here a lot more. Well, he was okay when I went back to take those computer courses, but I have been home most days for over a month now. He is a pack dog and he likes his pack right where he can see them. That's a funny thing at bedtime when the one of us goes up and the other doesn't. He doesn't know whether to fish or cut bait. So he usually makes sure the one who went up is going to stay put, then comes back down for the other one.

Good boy, Gonzo. I'll be right here where you can see me (for a while.)

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Early bird post today

My parents are stopping by today. They are both in their 70's, are the epitome of the "young at heart." My father roller blades. He ice boats (where they go shooting across the ice on a giant skate with a sail attached.) He rides a Goldwing. He sails his sailboat solo. He roller- and ice- skates. If it's an activity (emphasis on the "active",) sign him up. My mom has a thousand and one projects she is working one at any given time. Right now, she's recovering from cataract surgery, her second eye done, so her activities have been just slightly hampered. My sister and I discussed the possibility of getting her a plush parrot to go with her eye patch, but decided we would find that way funnier then she would.
But I have to clean my house to "company specs." You all know what I mean, right? There's good enough for everyday, but then you have the "company-ready" details. All the sofa cushions straightened, the trash cans all emptied, and Gonzo's least favorite, our boy gets a bath.

Now Gonzo will tolerate most anything you want to do to him, (i.e. look in his ears, clean his teeth, pedicure his nails, give him medicine) but his least favorite is the bath. I think he has a water phobia or something as well. He stands in the tub, looking pitiful until it's over, then he gets the ever-loving rubdown with the towels (he loves that part) then it's off to find my husband to show him what a mean trick I just played on him. Again! Of course, my husband is at work today, so he doesn't even get to do that this time.

Good boy, Gonzo. You'll be dry and rolling in the sweet grass in no time.

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Monday, August 17, 2009

Let's de-stress, now, shall we?

I am going to think happy thoughts of fluffy kittens and happy, flitting butterflies. I am not going to stress myself out about this interview today.

Happy pictures:

My father's sailboat at the family camp:

Can you believe I got to go here every summer as a kid? Spent my honeymoon and a few vacations as an adult here, too, but it's so far away from where I live now.

Emma, after losing a snowball fight with the balcony railing:

I took this through the screen door. After the snow fell on her head, she threw herself on the door with a bang, and I couldn't resist capturing her owl-head dismay.

A wave breaking on the pier at Barnegat Light:

Took this on vacation several years ago. Hard to time random waves, so my digital camera had quite a few "fails" before I got the spray just the way I wanted it.

Ah, now, that's better. Breathe in, breathe out, and relax.

Gonzo's taking my advice to heart. He's so relaxed, he's out cold under the dining room table. Good boy, Gonzo, take it easy today.

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Tomorrow's a big day

Tomorrow. A face-to-face interview. I found a new suit, new blouse, and a pair of shoes for a very good price. (Thank God for the outlets!) My resume is updated, and on linen paper. I am ready for this. Do you think the will smell the desperation? I think I will be okay, as long as I can show up on time without being covered in dog hair. I also have a phone interview that most likely will turn into another face-to-face later this week. Currently, I am waiting to hear from two others that I have interviewed with last month. Something will come along soon. I know it. Right?

A picture of Gonzo:

Another one:

For some reason I can't directly post pictures here. The picture adder thingie is showing me a error message . Hope I figure it out soon. (Figured it out, 8:00pm)

Good Boy, Gonzo.

Doesn't he look like he's laughing? My over-imaginative mind thinks so.

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Saturday, August 15, 2009

Another exercise in embarassment

I get to go shopping today! I should be thrilled that not only do I need an interview suit, but I have the money to buy it.* But I am not. In my typical eating-is-the-best-way-to-deal-with-stress way, I have gained entirely too much weight to fit in my nearly new, very stylish pin-stripe suit. So now I have to go out and buy another, slightly larger, stylish suit. I shouldn't be complaining, I know! So many people in this world would love to have the problem of too much to eat, and I should be able to walk away from the cookies, candy, and ice cream that I have been stuffing my face with. I have a membership at the local gym and no reason not to go, but here I sit getting bigger and complaining about it. I am a self-loathing mess today. Not the best frame of mind to go try to jam my over-sized derrière in a pair of slacks. Hmm. Maybe I'll try a skirt. Blargh!

*I won gift cards in a church raffle earlier in the year.

The wonder that is our boy

I mentioned before that we got our boy, Gonzo, from the Humane Society, so there was an adjustment period for both sides, as Gonzo was getting used to us and we got to know this fully grown 4-6 year old mixed breed that decidedly has some border collie in there somewhere. He's awfully clever, our boy. Every day was a new realization that there was really not a lot wrong with this dog.
He has only had one "accident" in the house in 3 years, and he was very sick at the time so it really wasn't anything he could do about it. I used to be out of the house for 12 hours at a time when I was working, too. My husband works crazy long hours as well, so Gonzo must have amazing control, of which we are too grateful.
He tolerates kids well, with the pulling and tugging of the ears and tail, although we know he would rather just be with my husband instead.
He doesn't harass our cat. At first, he really wanted to be friends with her, but Emma wasn't having it. (My husband claims that he saw Gonzo running through the house with Emma attached to his butt by her claw, but that's pretty far-fetched, dontcha think?) They just stay apart and give each other wide berths. He does have a dog aggression issue, but if he's on the leash, you can keep him under control.
Our boy definitely had some training in his background, too. He has basic commands down, like sit, stay, down, off, no, stop, leaveit, and come. He has a few odd ones we discovered, like if you say,"gogogo," he will run or get out of your way and not be underfoot (very handy!) and "back up" gives similar results if he's facing you. Also, he will "turn around," although only at certain times, like when he's sitting next to you on the sofa or by your feet on the floor. He'll turn around to sit down leaning up against you. So a sweet well-trained dog, all around.
Sometimes, he surprises us though. (We had our boy almost 2 years at this point.) One day, I was in the fridge getting a snack (imagine that!) and I had the container of cold cuts in my hand as I closed the door. The container went over Gonzo's head and he sat up! Spontaneously, without a command, all by himself, he sat up. So I tried (in vain) to get him to recreate it. "Sit up, Beg, Pretty-please..." I tried all the commands I could think of, but nothing. Ah, well, he did it once, so maybe he had done it before and I hadn't seen it? I told my husband about it when he got home to see if Gonzo had ever sat up for him. Well, his reaction was a bit over the top. My husband reached down, hugged Gonzo around the neck and said," I can't believe anyone would ever have gotten rid of this dog!" I mean, really. I said the dog sat up, I didn't say he spoke French! But I have to agree. I can't believe anyone could ever not just love our boy. Good boy, Gonzo. You're home now.

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Friday, August 14, 2009

More of this, more of that

Well, there's nothing new to report as far as getting a new job, but I did go to a meeting last night for my extremely part time job last night. Best business meeting I have ever been to. The regional sales manager got through everything we were supposed to cover, no unreasonable requests or demands were put to us, and we had a great dinner at an Italian restaurant. (Which we were paid to eat, BTW.) All meetings should be so pleasant. I got my new schedule, and there's a lot more work for me, (yay!) Upgrades the job to very part time. Not that I am complaining, mind you, I knew it was just weekends and not even every weekend, or even both days of the weekend when I applied. It was a good idea to take this job, because even after I get my new full time job, I will be able to do this one as well. I really enjoy this job too. It's nice to enjoy what you get paid for.
The Pancake Story
So I thought I would tell you a story about our boy, Gonzo. There's quite a few of them, so I will tell them as I remember to. Around the time we first got Gonzo, we realized that he was an odd eater. Sometimes he needed encouragement to eat his dinner, although he would polish it off when he did start eating it. We determined that it was the pack thing kicking in again, and he wouldn't eat until we were finished. Of course, sometimes if we fed him when we weren't eating, he didn't know what to do, and would leave food in his dish until later.
That said, one night, my husband had made us dinner. He made pancakes, but I was really in the mood for some of the leftovers we had. So we had these leftover pancakes, and Gonzo was looking all kinds of hopeful, and in his dish they went.* He sniffed them, and followed my husband into the living room, sitting at his feet. "Ah, well, maybe he'll eat them later," and we watched tv for a while. After awhile, my husband was ready to head up to bed, so he starts up the stairs and calls to Gonzo. Gonzo, (who had not forgotten about the pancakes) ran towards the stairs. Then, seemly stopping in midair, turned and ran back towards the kitchen, and grabbed up the pancakes. He ran by me in the living room, pancakes a-flapping in his mouth. Well, I started laughing so hard, saying, "Hang on, big guy, I'm bringing the pancakes!"(I do voice-over work for Gonzo a lot.) My husband, who hadn't seen any of it, called down the stairs, "What's so funny?" I told him about the about-face and the flapping pancakes. He said, "Gonzo didn't have any pancakes when he got up here," which set me off again into a new fit of laughter. Good boy, Gonzo. No one said you had to share.

*I do not make a habit of feeding our boy table scraps or pancakes, but sometimes, he just wears me down with those hopeful puppy eyes.

More to come, so come back if you're interested.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Staying home isn't what it's cracked up to be

"Wish I could stay home and do nothing!" No, you don't. No, No,...nuh-uh, you don't. It's not as fun as one would think. It's stressful to think that your household isn't making what it used to, and I was a major contributor here. The continual disappointments of potential employers not bothering to get back to you when they said they would about job opportunities that you really thought you'd be great at. The major highlights of your day being the mail arriving and your husband coming home from work. IT'S NOT FUN.

I had a great job, that I just loved and was good at until January of this year. Great pay, great bennys, sweet car...and the work wouldn't kill anyone. The hours were long and the driving got to be less than great, but all round, one of the best jobs I've had. (That includes the job at the diner when I was a teenager where I could drink all the Mountain Dew I wanted all day, and the car parking job when I got paid twice minimum wage to hold a cardboard arrow to show people the direction to drive.) So I was actually in mourning of that loss for awhile. Being laid off has happened to me twice in the past two years (more to come on that) so I adjusted faster this time. I would still rather work the long hours, drive to another state, get stuck in road construction, soothe angry customers, and do that job than sit here, getting bigger, and talk to the dog. I like to work. I know, that must make me a weirdo, but I do.

Our boy, Gonzo, however, likes it a great deal that someone's around more. And it's not just so someone with an opposable thumb is around to work that pesky doorknob, either. He is a pack dog, with that pack dog mentality and he wants his pack here where he can see them. There's my husband, the Alpha dog, and me the Zeta dog. Actually, he's not quite sure where I fit in the pack, because I will let him eat without me eating first, and I encourage him to sleep in our bed. Apparently, that sends mixed signals to a pack-minded dog. (My sister knows about these things.) If I'm upstairs on my husband's computer, he's content to be in the living room on the sofa or the dining room right behind my chair. But if I'm downstairs on my computer, he sleeps at the top of the stairs or underneath my desk. Especially if I'm eating. Which I do too much of, if truth be told.
I have to admit, though, it's nice to have company while I'm in limbo. Good boy, Gonzo.

Come back if you're interested. More to come.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

"Trying to find a job, but it just keeps getting tougher every day..."

So I am currently way underemployed. I have a extremely part time job (not scheduled to work for the rest of the month already) and I am actively seeking. I have two jobs that I have interviewed for and am waiting to hear back from, and another two that I am going to interview with next week. That's why I'm home often enough to talk to the dog too much. Poor thing. That's him in the picture. He doesn't know what the heck I am saying, he just keeps listening in case I say, "Out," or "Eat," or " Would you like filet mignon for a snack today?" Well, I've never said that, but a dog can dream, can't he? He's a rescue dog, meaning that we saved him from the Humane Society. Well, they were taking pretty good care of him, but he wanted a home.

Gonzo's story-

My husband and I and his kids would often go the the Humane Society to drop off donations of cat and dog food that I had gotten cheap or free with coupons. (my lifelong hobby, coupon shopping for cheap stuff) While we were there, we would always go visit the puppies and the kitties (yes, I refer to full grown dogs as puppies). Our boy was there, and we met. He took to my husband immediately, but we weren't looking to get a dog just yet. I mean we had talked about getting a dog, and we now had the back yard that we needed to hold a dog, but we really weren't looking. So we left, and went about our lives.

The next week, more donations, another visit, and our boy set up such a racket when he saw my husband. (it sounded like he was being poked with a pin, kind of a "i,i,i,i" in a high pitched squeal, truly unpleasant) so of course, we all went over to see him again. "Gonzo" is his name, and he's a mixed breed, dog-by-committee kind of fellow, with a head that's too small for his body. I start the "He's was funny looking." "Whadda mean, funny looking?" dialog from Fargo, when they were describing Steve Buscemi's character. We all laugh, and hoped for the best for this poor pup with the tiny head and dated name. But we go home without him.

Another week, more donations, although I think I just brought newspapers that time to see the dog again. "I,i,i,i,i,i!" My husband stayed down at the end with Gonzo the whole time we were there, but still wasn't going to take him home. I stage-whispered to Gonzo our house number and told him to go over the wall that night. As we were walking away, my stepson said,"you're so mean; you didn't give him the street name!" That night, my husband said, " I think they going to put the orange tag next to his name. I think he's done for." We got him the next weekend.

Gonzo loves my husband with an adoration that creeps him out sometimes. Gonzo's ideal place is next to my husband on the sofa, staring at him. A dog and his boy.

More to come, so come back if you're interested.