Archive for the ‘Animalia’ Category

Ok, I realize I’ve been VERY remiss about telling all y’all about Oliver. So this is Oliver.

Oliver 1

Oliver 3

Oliver 4

He’s almost double that size now, because I’m lazy and he’s been here for a month and I’m just getting around to writing about him.

Lobsterface and I had been talking about getting a puppy for a while, because we’re both gone all day long and Neville gets rather bored. Apparently two cats do not make the best playmates for a still-kind-of-puppyish corgi. We were thinking about getting another one and having a matched set, but it turns out that freshly-minted baby corgis are expensive and, after talking about it for a while, L and I agreed that we didn’t actually need to invest in another brand name dog. Neville, as you may recall, appeared in our lives spontaneously and free of charge, but I’m pretty sure that doesn’t happen twice in a lifetime.

So I spent a few days wandering around on Craigslist, looking for a cute puppy. We knew we wanted something smallish because we don’t have a big yard with a fence, so our pups are confined to the length of their lead ropes hooked to a post by the back door when they go outside. We also knew we couldn’t get anything with pitbull or rottweiler in its family tree because our local dog park has outlawed those two breeds, and since we have such a small yard, the dog park is the only place Neville (and now Oliver) can run around like a crazy person and get dirty and exhausted.

After about a week we found Oliver. Someone in an apartment complex nearby had a Dachshund-Yorkie mix puppy that needed a new home. I emailed, asking for pictures and I was immediately impressed by how SMALL he was. One blurry photo of him was on a kitchen floor, and he wasn’t even as long as one of the tiles. L and I took Neville over there after work that day to meet him; 10 minutes and $100 later we left with our new bebeh.

Oliver 2

In the past month, he’s learned how to climb the stairs and the couch, but not the bed. He’s mostly learned not to pee on the furniture, but as far as he’s concerned, the entire rest of the house is fair game. He and Neville are the best of friends, stampeding through the house, fighting, barking, growling and yelping all at once. Oliver loves Pixel, too, but I’m not sure the feeling is mutual. He also has no idea that he’s 10 inches tall and weighs 7 lbs. At the dog park, he flips right out if he’s not allowed to play with the big dogs who could conceivably eat him in fewer than three bites. Sometimes they accidentally step on his head, but he just shakes it off and goes right back to trying to relieve them of their ankles.

We’ve just started trying to housebreak him. Does anyone have tips on how to do that? I don’t really want to crate train him, and we’re teaching him that peeing outside is good by giving him treats when he does so, but I’ve read that you shouldn’t smack their noses when they pee in the house, which I kind of think is bullshit. We clean up his messes with enzymatic cleaning solution that’s supposed to erase all of his tiny manscent, so he doesn’t think that it’s ok for him to keep peeing inside, but that doesn’t seem to be working AT ALL. Thoughts? Strategies?


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Today I took my dog swimming. I take him swimming because I think it’s hilarious, not because he enjoys it. He doesn’t. He won’t even get into the water without some kind of incentive. Luckily, there are alway a flock or two of ducks or geese on the canal near our house, and he can’t resist herding ducks. Corgis are herding dogs, and he’ll herd anything he can find, even if they’re not actually on land.


It’s always amusing when the only dogs at the dog park are herders. Basically they run around each other in circles while we bipeds try to get them to play fetch.

In between herding, he hung out on the teeny, tiny, rocky beach with me.



And ate what I can only assume was duck shit off of a rock. Awesome.

duck poo

Neville’s 4-inch long legs aren’t exactly built for swimming, and his muscular little body is hard to keep afloat, so I got him a life jacket hoping that it would make things easier. I don’t think it worked.

more herding


and swimming

Also, he really hates it. He won’t even walk around while he has it on.


It’s hard to tell, because Corgis are perpetually smiling, but he was pretty mad at me by the time we got done.

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I imagine that my grownup cat has this inner monologue. Except in Shohreh Aghdashloo’s voice. I don’t know why I think of my cat as middle-eastern, she doesn’t even travel that much. But there you have it.

Happy Sunday. Unless you’re a cat.

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You may recall that one of my New Year’s resolutions was to acquire a corgi puppy that doesn’t have a vendetta against Thomas’ remaining fingers (he only has eight-and-a-half to begin with).

WELL! We got one! He’s not a puppy, exactly. He’ll be a year old next month. But he’s just the sweetest little corgi anybody ever met. And lots of people meet him, he’s very gregarious. I’m going to teach him how to tell knock-knock jokes.

Striking a pose

Please excuse my grainy photos. My house is dark and I have yet to purchase a decent flash.

Our original plan was to adopt a freshly-minted puppy from a nearby breeder sometime in the spring. There are lots of advantages to working with a reputable breeder, and lots of disadvantages to adopting a dog that you don’t know much about, but sometimes life just hands you a puppy. And when life hands you a puppy, it’s downright rude to hand it back.

A few Saturdays ago, I got a text from my sister saying that a friend of hers had a corgi that needed a new home. Apparently this friend was given this pup for free, but turned out to be HIGHLY allergic to him. So I gave this friend a call, kind of expecting to be subjected to an intense interview process, but our conversation basically consisted of,

Me: “So…is this dog bitey? Or is he generally in a bad mood all the time? Or any of the time?”
Him: “Oh no, he’ll lick you all over and then sit down and want you to scratch his belly for all eternity.”
Me: “Sweet! Sounds like the dog for us.”
Him: “Can you meet halfway between our houses tomorrow?
Me: “Um, sure!”
Him: “Great! See you then!”

He really is just as awesome as all that. He loves belly rubs and playing tug-the-rope above all other things (except peanut butter). He’s starting to understand “sit” and “stay.” He doesn’t love the car, but he’ll sit there and take it without much arguing. We took him to the vet last week and nobody there could stop talking about how great he was. He got a shot and had some blood drawn, all without complaining one little bit. He’s housebroken, only chews on cardboard (for the most part), and has made friends with Pixel already. We’re big fans.

more posing

Speaking of Pixel, she’s gotten SO fat. And ridiculous.




Anyway. We took Neville (that’s corg’s name, you see) to visit my parents’ farm last weekend.

happy dance

Boy loves snow, the deeper the better.


Unfortunately, anything deeper than six inches is too deep for his stumpy little legs.


But! He shall overcome.

he believes he can fly

And then he sniffed all the things.

must sniff ALL THE THINGS

And that is Neville. He’s not so great at “come” when he’s outside among many interesting smells and has zero concept of “cars” and what they can do to short little dogs, so he almost got squished in the road. At that point I tackled him and dragged him inside, and that was the end of the outside-without-a-leash fun.

Little shit.

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This is Pixel’s favorite toy in all the land. She carries it around with her, brings it to us when she wants to play and sleeps with it snuggled in her arms.

It’s true love.

I think it looks like a dead monkey on a stick.

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Lobsterface: “Dear, your blog is in desperate need of updating.”
Me: “I know, but we haven’t done anything interesting on the house, we’re not finished painting the hall yet and I haven’t even cooked anything fun lately.”
Lobsterface: “Okay.” (goes back to watching Supernatural)

So here I am, to update all of my lovely reader(s) with the snippets of things that I’ve been doing.

I went shopping! At the moment, we’re using wooden TV trays instead of nightstands. TV trays don’t have drawers, so my contacts, my earrings and spectacles are all sitting out in the open to be smacked around by a particular kitten who sleeps all day and regards every waking minute that she’s not destroying personal property as time wasted. So I went shopping for some nightstands. I like the ones that have tall legs with drawers at the top better than the chunky, rectangular kind with cabinets or drawers all the way down. I found this one at Home Goods, but there was only one, and it was red.

I was really looking for one in a dark-stained wood to match the headboard that came with the bed that came with Lobsterface. I ended up ordering this one from Amazon (and using our Amazon Rewards points to pay for the whole thing! Woo!)

While I was at Home Goods/Marshall’s (they were all in one giant store), I found these loveiles on sale.

They were looking like they might be contenders in the Wedding Shoe Wars (I’ve tried three pairs so far. All duds.), and they were the only pair left in my size, so I snatched them and went dashing for the checkout line.

Alas, I tried them on with my gown, and they just don’t look right. My gown is this shimmery, very bright white tafeta, and the behind-the-lace fabric on these shoes is too warm and cream-colored to work. Drat. And they’re kind of too fancy for every-day wear, so it looks like they’re going back to the store. I’m sorry, girls. You’ll find a home soon.

Last week, my littlest sister, Molly, turned twenty-one. So this weekend Lobsterface and I went to visit her.

We ate sushi, went to a rodeo, and then ate burgers and wings. I’ll be running and not eating for weeks now.

While we were there, Molly’s landlady brought home a large box of 3-week-old kittens that someone had cruelly tossed over the side of a bank from their moving car. The poor nubbins were absolutely covered in fleas, so a group of us sat around on the porch de-fleaing the tiny kittens for an hour or so.

Kittens don’t like to be wet.
Wet Kitten

So we dried them. They didn’t really like that, either.

When they were all dry and fluffy and flealess, they had lunch.
Nom nom nom

I bonded with the one on the top left, with the white spot on her back. I was half tempted to bring her home with us, but I don’t think I’m ready to spend another $500 on a “free” kitten. Also, my established Grande Dame cat still isn’t speaking to me after I brought Pixel home.

Most of the kittens headed to a no-kill shelter nearby, but one of them found a new home with a lovely young lady who needed a roommate. So Molly and the kitten went on a road trip. She only let the kitten drive on back roads.

And in other kitten news, Pixel is recovering from surgery. She has recently been relieved of her lady equipment. I’m at a point in my life when I rather wish someone would relieve me of mine, so we’re commiserating. On the couch. With ice cream (so much for not eating).

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As I may have mentioned, we have a new kitten. She’s been with us for about a month and has already doubled in size. It’s ridiculous. She’s just as spastic as ever, but now she causes more damage when she crashes into things and it actually hurts when she tries to remove my hands and feet from my body.

She’s almost constantly in motion, but I happened to catch her the other day during one of her sudden, brief power naps.

Sleep with one eye open, gripping your pillow tight (name that lyric and Lobsterface will love you forever).
Sleep with one eye open, gripping your pillow tight.

Tiny feets!
Tiny Feet!

She looks deceptively angelic here.
angelic kitten

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