Toasty

Smart dog.

The morning routine

Mischief is a crate sleeper. When she wore a cone a few weeks back, she wasn't a crate sleeper, she simply didn't fit. Once that cone came off however, she went back to sleeping in her cubby. When my alarm goes off each morning, I get up to turn it off the first time, and I let her out of her crate. This is where she goes when I climb back into bed and wait for my alarm to sound a second time:

Oslo is not a crate sleeper. He's not consistent in where he sleeps, and moves around quite a bit in the night. He'll usually start under a bedside table, move to an armchair, then another armchair, against a wall. I'm lucky I'm not a light sleeper. This is where I found him one morning:

As I eat breakfast, they're usually pretty calm. Some mornings, they take advantage of some cuddle time while I sip cup #1 of coffee, the world is good:

Marking one's territory

No, I'm not going to write about peeing on posts. Dogs mark their territory in other ways as well, or maybe we should call it dominating. I couldn't help but laugh the other day when I walked in my room and found this:

Mischief's blanket, removed from her crate and placed on my bed. Her keen ears heard some sort of ruckus going on, and she came to make sure the message was understood:

That's The Ball under her paw. I think she's trying to say, "There's only one bitch in charge here.". You can bet that blanket went right back in the crate once the photo op was done!

You may remember the post a few days ago about letting the dogs eat together. That didn't last long, a snarl was expressed the next day and the fence went back up. However, today, I understood that they really do enjoy eating together in harmony. After setting up the crate and putting the food down, I went to do something else. I came back a couple of minutes later and saw this:

Notice that someone opened the door, and their bowls are touching! I let them stay that way after all that effort. Especially because our new friend Fred the Blue Frog was resting quietly during chow time. Upon a second return for clean up, I walked in on "dessert", sharing the last few bites of each other's bowl. [insert warming of the heart here]

Field Trip!

Today Oslo's Nan called and said she was on her way to pick us up. We all hopped into the van, and off to her house we went. The pups have their own preferences on how to enjoy a ride in an automobile:

Nan's house is one of Oslo's favourite places in the whole world. It was Mischief's first trip out there. We had some extra company, Jerry, who is visiting with his mum. Jerry saved the day by finding the ball that was lost under the deck, if Oslo could talk, I'm pretty sure he'd say something like "my hero!"

It was a hot day, and Mischief was really enjoying the cool grass, nothing like finding a stick in the grass!

We got into a little game of catch, the anticipation of a ball flying through the air is brutal:

I call this one "Give me a boost, I'll get it!". Team work is their specialty:

Off they go!!

It was a hot one out there, and the grass provides some coolness, but it doesn't take long before a shady spot under some trees starts to call them over. After this, it was pretty easy to call them inside for a nice long stay at the water bowl:

Satisfied snouts:

The coveted ball

A few months ago we were at a park when Oslo discovered a ball in the melting snow. The spherical orange and blue rubber may as well have appeared with a halo over it. That ball went everyone Oslo did for two weeks. It put a damper on sniffing every post that we passed, but that was ok. He had The Ball.

As time passed, his obsession with the ball decreased slightly, but it continues to be the favoured among the collection that he has. Last week, it was lost under the bed. I knew it was there, as he would wake me up in the middle of the night with a slight whimper. Oslo is not one to whimper. This only happens when The Ball is under the bed.

Today, hitting my limit of fur and drool covered feet, I cleaned the floors. As the broom passed under the bed, it scooched The Ball out from underneath, and back into the canine jaws of the apartment. This is bliss:

Of course, they didn't want to leave me out of the joy, and insisted on playing right next to me while I sat watching Mad Men, en francais:

"Cooommmmeee onnn, play with us!!"


This went on for a while, if you're in the market for a ball, check out the Chuckit section for this one!:

A post not for the faint of heart

I've picked my fair share of random items out of a dogs mouth. In the city it's usually a french fry, a twig, maybe a Tim Horton's bag, nothing bad at all.

My mum probably takes the cake when it comes to taking something out of a dog's mouth, when one windy day over Christmas she saw something dangling from Oslo's mouth to realize only as she took it out of his mouth that it was a used condom...

I thank my lucky stars that we never had to make a trip to the vet to remove a fishing hook from Oslo's digestive system, as has happened twice to his buddy Fudge in Spain. The worst thing that he picked up off the beach was a used feminine product. That was pretty disgusting though.

Why am I talking things that we really want to forget about? Having had Mischief for only a month, what I've seen come out of her mouth includes:

The little rubber nubs from the door stoppers, you know the springy kind that keep your doorknob from making a hole in the wall? Twigs, leaves, grass, socks, blankets, shoes, the list goes on. Yesterday I saw her pick something up on our way inside. I had her drop it once we got upstairs, before we went inside, so that I wouldn't find this new object of interest on my pillow. *phew* it was one of these:

Yup, a foam earplug. A used foam earplug. There was a dance involved as I sprinted to the trash and scrubbed my hands thoroughly.

The New Kid on the Block

My shoulders have been pulled quite a bit lately, so I didn't take the camera on yesterday's evening walk. We had strange weather yesterday, rain, sun, followed by torrential downpours, followed by a bright and sunny evening.

On my way home from work I ran into the latest puppy in the neighbourhood, Lokey, or Loqui. He's a Bernese Mountain Dog who is growing like a weed. He was about half the size two weeks ago. Apparently not the biggest fan of walking, but loves to play, and chew your hand. I couldn't resist taking a picture:

Isn't he handsome?!