Saturday, February 27, 2010

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

Today I was at S.A.I.N.T.S for one of many upcoming shoots of their wonderful and whimsical collection of special needs animals. Carol, the founder, and I are talking about collaborating on a photodocumentbookthing about this huge and amazing rescue she runs.

While I was there, I overheard the most *interesting* conversation. Apparently, someone came up with the most brilliant idea for a fundraiser - a fundraiser wherein they either raise $2000.00 .... or Carol shaves her head.

S.A.I.N.T.S. is an incredible sanctuary for senior and palliative and "unadoptable" animals. Over 130 of them call this little farm Home.

The old.

The Blind.

The maimed.

And the ... uh ...

Oh, it's Percy. Best. Cow. EVER.

All of them have found safety, love and physical and emotional nourishment in Carol's home.

That's why I don't think it's very nice to make Carol shave her head! She's already lost her sanity, she shouldn't have to lose her hair too ;-)

If you're interested in helping Carol keep her hair, email S.A.I.N.T.S. to find out how you can purchase a lock of her hair and give it a good home on her head!

And please give Daphne a cookie. She's starving.

Friday, February 26, 2010

Mommy will kick you until you're dead.

Say whuuut?

Ha ha! I was having a conversation recently with an animal trainer friend of mine (whom I won't "out" here in case she doesn't want anyone to know about her personal vulgarities) and when I made a joke about Wootie's recall being something along the lines of "Fine! I hope you drown in that river, you willfully-deaf, disobedient, pile of orange garbage!" she told me that her newest response to *her* 'selective listening' dog was to promise to kick him until he was dead.

I *may* have laughed until I cried.

Abby doesn't find it all that funny.

This got me thinking about all the Frustration Phrases that have either come out of my mouth, or the mouths of my friends, with respect to their dogs over the years.

Why just last weekend, after the agility trial, I posted on Facebook something to the effect of how proud I was of Tweed, and that I'd left Piper in the dumpster behind the gas station on my way home. Which was indeed something I had threatened her with when we left the trial site.

She's just kidding. Right? *goes off to find Piper*

In agility class, Tweed expresses his enthusiasm by talking about how happy he is. Loudly, rhythmically and eternally. It's this great, booming, metronomic ARF ARF ARF ARF - you could play an entire symphony on the piano to this noise. He does it while other dogs are running, and it increases in frequency when he thinks it's his turn: WOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOF. It. Drives me. INSANE.

Our class often runs late, and generally our last exercise is a timed run-off where we all try to run clean and beat everyone else. The next class is frequently coming in to set up while we are finishing up the Competition Run - and since I have two dogs who run 16" Specials, Piper is often near the beginning, and Tweed somewhere near the end, so they catch Tweed's run mostly. I don't know all the people in the next class, just a few of them.

Recently one friend in the late class told me that I scared the bejesus out of some of his classmates by hollering at Tweed "I will reach down your throat and remove your bark box with my fingers if you don't shut up!!"

You'd have to catch me like a tennis ball first!

(don't tell anyone we were playing Dumball, okay? Shhh.)

Food Lady let us play Dumball! Food Lady let us play Dumball!!

Dexter, I will shake you until your testicles drop.

(Hmm. Not a bad idea, actually.)

My friend Finn, whom I've blogged about before, is like the tattooed patron saint of needy animals. She's worked in animal welfare her whole life. She travels the world lending a hand to animals in crisis; she was in New Orleans post-Hurricane Katrina, she is regularly at New Hope's Casa Lupita in Nicaragua. Now she is heading off to Haiti in the aftermath of the horrible earthquakes that have devastated the Haitians. In other words, there is nobody more invested in the well being of the world's critters than Saint Finn.

And yet, Finn has been heard to tell her dogs that she will beat them repeatedly with a 2X4 before sending them back to the Pound. Loudly.

I think people need to have more of a sense of humour when it comes to their dogs sometimes. We get so caught up in being politically correct about how we train, how patient and tolerant we can be ... we forget sometimes that dogs can be really freakin' frustrating, and that it's okay to get irritated, and that without a healthy sense of humour about it, we might go insane. As long as you channel your frustration into funny ... that way, you're a lot less likely to *actually* take it out on your dog.

Last night Dexter ate my headphones for Skype. Whilst sitting on my toes, I might add, innocent as a Spring blossom, the little turd monkey. I *may* have told him he was getting the leftovers for breakfast, and that there would be no more real food coming his way, ever.

I don't know about you, Mr. Husky, but I think TFL just likes to hear the sound of her own voice. I don't like it much, and that's why I ignore her. What say we take her out?

Plus I think they learn something from it.

Last night in agility class, Piper nailed her weave entries That's never happened in the history of Piper. (Piper: "The dog full of GO, but empty of KNOW" ~ courtesy of Christine. hee hee!!) I like to believe the dumpster threat is responsible for this magical turn of events.

So what's your dirty little secret? What threats do you utter at your recalcitrant canines? Don't be ashamed - I won't judge you! After all, my K9 Mantra is:

More Beatings. Less Love.

Oh shut up already. And here's your stupid frisbee.

Thursday, February 25, 2010


So, umm, lots of you folks made me cry - and I'm not a crier either. Usually you'd have to pinch me really hard or something to get me to shed a tear, and then only if you ran away really fast afterward because if you pinch me, and I can catch you, I'll channel those tears into return pinches;-)

I cannot believe how much you all love this blog, and how kind you've all been. Really, I am overwhelmed.

So here's my situation, since you all deserve to know why I'm cryptically trying to sell my camera stuff.

You probably all know that last year I lost my job at a NPO I worked for when this stupid moron ugly co-worker, her even stupider and uglier husband and a pack of their intellectually challenged friends decided to stage a hostile takeover of the BoD through false means (me = still bitter). The new, fake, BoD terminated our positions, shut down the NPO and then a battle in court between them and the old, genuine BoD ensued that has tied them up in court since forever.

Piper hates the stupid ugly people.

Like any jobless person, I applied for Unemployment Benefits, full expecting to find another job right away - I always have. It's rare I don't get a job I apply for, historically speaking. But their timing could not have been worse because, umm, there are no jobs. The economy sucks goats. I have been unable to find gainful employment since. Hell, I can't even find crappy employment.

Sad Wootie is ... sad.

This month, my Unemployment Benefits ran out. So I have no job, no money, and no safety net, because I was not exactly earning a fortune at my last job (the curse of doing Good Works for a living). I am dead serious about not being able to pay the rent - it's no euphemism, or exaggeration. I have sold everything I have to sell, including my beloved bicycles, just to get by these last few months. My friends have been just stellar, paying for my agility classes and trial entry fees, donating dog food to my hungry canines ... but I cannot continue to let people fund my life!

That's in part why I am so reluctant to put a tip jar on the blog. People have been so very generous already, I feel downright naughty accepting more help. I'll beg shamelessly for rescue, but it's awfully hard for me to ask for help for me.

But not for Tweed.

I also don't want to make any of YOU pay for *my* blog! I do this because I love it - it's so much fun to chronicle the many (mis)adventures of my dogs and the fact that you all get to enjoy it with me is just a bonus for me. Your comments often make me laugh harder than you probably do at the blog itself. You give me back as much I give you. That's what makes this whole blog thing work, imo.

Lastly, I don't want anyone to think I'm plugging for money. There are so many disingenuous people in this world with a sob story - I wasn't trying to elicit sympathy from anyone by trying to sell my camera gear. I just want to pay the bills, and the camera et al is all I have left, really.

But I won't sell it, not right now - not because I never intended to in the first place, but rather because several people have offered to buy the whole shebang and rent it back to me again until I've paid it off again. I think losing my cameras would be like losing an arm, so I can't pass an offer like that up if I can avoid it (because without my arm, how would I beat Wootie for being so BAD?). So if you've emailed me about what I've got to sell and not received an answer, that's why - not because it was a sympathy scam.

I would love for this blog to make money, I really would. But because I started this blog for my own selfish enjoyment, I would - and still don't - have any idea how to go about making that happen. I am completely open to suggestions. I am no entrepreneur. I'm just a girl with a camera and too many dogs for any sane person. But I definitely don't want it to make money at the expense of any of YOU. I won't charge for subscriptions ... my dogs are whackos for free, you should get to appreciate their whacko-ness for free too!

But pay ME, and I might give you another ear.

The many many emails, atop the many many comments here, that I have received are trying to assure me that my 'art' such as it were, is worth paying for. I really struggle with this, friends, but my protests get drowned out by your arguments. And I'm tired of Pia calling me an asshole! ;-)

So I acquiesce, and I'll put the tip jar here on the site. I'd never even heard of such a thing until you all collectively bellowed it at me.

If you want to donate, I love you and I'm deeply humbled. If you don't, I love you for reading the blog. And you have NO idea how much Tweed loves an audience.

ETA - I don't know what I am doing wrong with the donate button? I just followed the paypal instructions. As you may have figured out, I'm quite techno-stupid. What's the secret here?

Okay wait - more Edit ... I think this will work. The only paypal account I have is the one associated with the rescue, so if this works, maybe just add a note that it's not a rescue donation so the funds don't get mixed up? ARGH! It's already complicated ;-)

If this helps - just use the address It's all connected to the same account, I think, but that address differentiates it from the rescue one...right?

In return I promise to buckle down and try to find a way to make what I love to do pay for my simple little life. A friend and fan is hooking me up with someone who apparently knows how to make websites make money. Another friend has suggested I check out a government run self employment program for sad sacks like me with an idea but no idea how to execute it. I will also look into selling prints or other items made with my camera - if anyone is familiar with setting up webstores or similar, and wants to help me get that off the ground, I'm all ears (kind of like Dexter). And of course, if any of you fine folks in the Lower Mainland can hook me up with an actual job job, I'm all about the networking and will take any help I can get.

I don't know what else to say, except that I promise to try and repay you all for your kindness by being funny and taking funny photos. A little birdie tells me I'm not too bad at it, after all.

No, not that birdie.

But wouldn't it be totally creepy if, like, it did?

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Camera gear for sale

Dear Readers,

I find myself in financial straits and desperate times call for desperate measures.

Wootube and 365puppy have been great fun for me, and hopefully for you. But all good things must come to an end.

Maybe one of you wants to take up the gauntlet of providing fun posts and decent photos to the world. If so, I have a camera package for you!

Please email me for a complete list of the items I have available. I prefer to sell it as a package. The Food Lady needs to pay the rent :(

I will miss you all.

Monday, February 22, 2010

Super Woo!


Actually, Wootie has nothing to do with this post, I just liked the photograph and couldn't be bothered to think up a decent segue.

The real Super Dog in today's installment is my Bestest Boy, Tweed.

Who, me?

Yes, Mr. T - I am talking about you!!

We trialed on Saturday and Tweed made me so very proud! His accomplishments this weekend were:

Steeplechase - 1st place and a Q
Masters Jumpers - 1st place and a Q
Masters Standard - 1st place and a Q
Masters Gamblers - 2nd place and a Q
Challenge class - 1st place and a Q

He went 5 for 6, as I got slightly out of position in his last Standard run and he dropped a bar. He was still several seconds faster than his competitors, but the 5 faults meant no Q.

Nobody could touch him in Challenge; the Q time is determined by the fastest dog, and he blew everybody away. It was the nicest run I think he and I have ever had. It *even* got us a compliment from the Sadist - not even a backhanded one, an actual, genuine compliment!

Udda udda udda - whuuut?

I know Tweed, I was surprised as well. It's such a rare thing.

I've been told it's not nice to brag, but I don't care! Tweed and I worked real hard to reach this level of teamwork, so I'm braggin' for both of us. Tweed's a winner!! I only wish I had gotten someone to video some of those runs.

I *heart* Tweed!

Piper ran 4 times in Advanced too, and she didn't let me down - she messed up every single run and didn't have a hope in hell of getting a qualifying run. More or less what I was expecting - she's a pretty thing, but running on fumes, not cerebral power.

Piper fetch me a stick with which to beat you.


You owe me $56.00 in wasted entry fees.

Ummm ... can I pay you in sticks? Here's my first installment.

Piper is officially pulled from trialing until we get some of our shit together. The Sadist says Piper really wants to please me and I get too frustrated with her, which shuts her down. It's hard to imagine her being shut down whilst she is at the same bouncing up and down on my toes like a cork in a stormy ocean. If that's shut down, what would she do if she were really happy - jump right inside my skin??? And also, if she wants to make me so damn happy, then why doesn't she get the hell off my cleats and go take a freakin' obstacle?

Really, Piper's two biggest challenges are:

1. Distance - Piper is attached to my cleats by an invisible elastic that only stretches a tiny bit. I thought with time the elasticity would develop some give, like a well used hair tie, but it's pretty damn resilient!

2. Weave pole entries. Piper's brain is like a nervous frog in a hot frying pan, and even though there are weave poles set up on the kitchen, she can't find the entry to save her life. We're going to go back and retrain the weaves using the 2X2 method - has anyone successfully retrained weaves this way? I keep hearing they are a great way to teach them, but stressful for the dog to relearn. I'm hoping that since she doesn't seem to understand them now, retraining won't be too confusing for her.

Oh well, I'm still strutting around all happy-like thanks to Tweed's glorious Saturday. Nationals, here we come!

Thursday, February 18, 2010

My Kingdom For A Decent Dog Park

Even though we have 10 acres, it gets boring wandering about all by ourselves sometimes - it's pretty isolated out here. We often hit the park up the road, where we've made lots of new friends, but I make a point of trying out the various nearby parks we find on the internetz. Yesterday, we went to the worst one yet ... we only lasted 30 minutes at that one.

Then Ace's dad tells us that there is an off leash beach in White Rock. A beach?! Ohboy! Being former West Enders, we really miss the ocean a lot. White Rock sounded like it'd be far away, but I timed it - only took us 15 minutes or so to drive there.


And by "Woot" I mean Wootie was happy to be back in a large body of water.

Ahhh, this is the life.

He was so happy, he couldn't even keep his feet on the ground.

He didn't even care if he caught The Wootie Toy or not. Which is good cuz, umm, he didn't.

Tweed + beach = bliss.

Piper + ocean = who-cares-as-long-as-TFL-throws-the-ball.

Even Dexter seemed to like the ocean, and water is NOT his favourite surface.

He was a little hesitant at first ....

... but soon he'd made himself at home with the ocean.

Speaking of Dexter, I've been observing him a little more closely lately to see if we can't get to the root of his assholiness.

Someone had suggested that perhaps his issue was being on leash, so I took him to the park several times on a leash to see what he did. Which was nothing different. Friendly to everyone he met on leash or off.

But he did do something in my living room the other day that gives me a little bit of a clue - he snapped at Wootie who got between him and his "job" (we were working on fetching to hand from a short distance). He was waiting for me to toss the ball and Wootie wandered by and got a snap in the face for it. A little later on, Piper (gasp!) got one was well.

At the park, he largely ignores other dogs, though will greet them politely for the most part, but he's not too interested in them. He will infrequently snark at a dog who is too in his face, but I expect this from all my dogs, who like calm greetings and detest rambunctious ones. However, if he thinks something fun and exciting is about to happen involving people, he gets very bitchy with other dogs. This is different from being *involved* in something fun and exciting though - like today at the beach, I was throwing the frisbee for everyone and a certain Schnauzer decided to obsess on Dexter, who was - as usual - creeping around in "work" mode trying to keep an eye on the frisbee and all three other dogs at once. Several times the Schnauzer jumped on him, got in his face and barked right in his eyeballs without so much as a blink of a response from Dexter, because Dex was concentrating very hard. And when he finally did snark at the irritating Schnauzer, it was ever so brief.

So it seems to me that "Relaxed" Dexter is friendly, and "Working" Dexter is largely oblivious, but "Anticipating" Dexter is a right rip roarin' bitch. I do wonder if at agility class he is so keyed up that his nerves are on edge - he sure acts calm, but I know he's dying to get to 'work' (I keep putting "work" in quotes because it's his definition of a 'job' not necessarily mine) and he wants nothing to do with anyone who may interfere with that.

I suppose this makes him a workaholic.

I'm going to take him out to play with some of those same puppies from class at the trial this weekend to see if he treats them differently in class than out of it. That might give me some insight.

Why's Dexter such a turd monkey?

Who cares? He's boring anyway.

Is that a rabbit?

I think we'll be spending a lot of our free time at East Beach this summer. We are all just so happy to have found a nearby ocean again.


Monday, February 15, 2010

Single White Female

Srsly. Dexter is not just trying to be like Piper, he is trying to BECOME Piper.

It's real good for Piper to have a buddy she can play with. Tweed's too scared of her to play with any regularity, and Wootie likes to torment her, but has no attention span to keep up a good game for any length of time. Also, I'm not even really sure he speaks border collie very well.

Of course, he still likes to indulge in old habits from time to time.

But Dexter speaks Piper's language, man. They have invented this ridiculous game where they run parallel to one another about 20 feet apart, usually with one of them up on the dyke, and the other in the field below. They'll both drop into a crouch and eyeball each other, then one takes off and so does the other one and then they're racing like Nascar.

And, just like in Nascar, sometimes they collide.

I have lectured Dexter on the importance of becoming his own person and not trying to borrow the attributes of another to form his personality, but he's not listening.

Shut up. I'm not listening.

Sometimes he tries Mr. Woo on for size...

...but mostly he prefers to adopt Piper's personality.

It's getting so that I can't tell them apart. Aside from Piper's hillbilly teeth, that is.

But one thing Dexter is, that Piper is not, is a DICKHEAD. He's becoming a real shit again with other puppies in his age range. Yesterday at class he embarrassed me to no end by snapping at Nixie several times, biting Chili in the face and making ugly face and snapping noises at Joey. None of this is okay! And I'm not sure where it's coming from either - Dexter goes to a dogpark almost every single day of his life and has mingled with hundreds of other dogs and he does just peachy, greeting dogs politely. He's been socialized up the wazoo and has not had bad experiences with other dogs at all. He let Sean walk into his house and make himself at home without issue and he plays with Ginny all the time. But I'm not really sure what to do with his new asshole-to-other-dogs business he's decided to take up. What do you think?

Sometimes I feel like Dexter moved in and replaced Wootie. When we go for our morning walk through the fields, Mr. Woo vanishes, but I still have The Three Muskateers.

Apparently, we are just too boring for Wootie-Mac and the jet setting lifestyle he wishes to lead.

He thinks if Piper and Dexter want to be one-dog-same-dog, that's fine with him.

More time for hunting wabbits.

Friday, February 12, 2010

Exercise Induced Collapse in Border Collies

If you have a border collie that has episodes like Piper does the University of Minnesota wants to hear from you. Check out their website for information on submitting samples. Your dog does NOT need a pedigree to be included in the study.

"An exercise-induced collapse syndrome similar to the EIC syndrome in retrievers has been recognized in Border Collies and may be called Border Collie collapse (BCC) or exercise induced hyperthermia. It is most common in dogs used for working stock but has also been seen in dogs training for agility or flyball competitions and in dogs repetitively retrieving a tennis ball. Affected dogs are normal at rest and seem healthy but become abnormal after five to fifteen minutes of strenuous activity, particularly in warm weather. Some dogs will develop a stiff, stilted gait with short strides and others will become wobbly and then collapse. Some dogs develop a balance problem or are mentally abnormal during an episode, and a few dogs have died during collapse.

This syndrome has not yet been well characterized so we are uncertain whether this is a metabolic, muscular or nervous system disorder. Affected dogs are negative for the dynamin 1 mutation causing EIC in Labrador Retrievers.

If your dog has had 2 or more episodes of collapse we would like your help as we try to describe the syndrome and search for the genetic cause. Please take the time to fill out the questionnaire and send us a DNA sample and pedigree from your affected dog. If you have a video of your dog having an episode we would like to have the opportunity to view that as well."

Thursday, February 11, 2010

Ode to an aging dog

It's hard to believe that in just a few short months, Tweed will be 10 years old. To the unfamiliar eye, he looks like a young adult dog, and nobody ever guesses he's more than 5 years old. Even I forget he's not 5 years old.

Watching him age has been both beautiful and painful. I did not get the chance to embrace Briggs' aging process ... he was an old soul from the time he was small, and his health problems aged him faster than he deserved, or I could believe. He was always an old dog, to me, and I lost him when he was not yet 11 years old. I always felt robbed of his twilight years, but also, somehow, robbed of his youth.

And Tweed is not Briggs. Briggs lived his while life asking me, "What now, Boss?" but from the time he was small, Tweed only ever asked me "Why?" Why should he sit there, stand on that, leave that alone, stop barking, be nice to the cat? "What's in for me?" he always wanted to know. He still does.

Tweed has always questioned everything - he's a born skeptic. And he's cautious, about everything. Never was Tweed one to run headfirst into a tree after a ball, like Piper; never has he skidded to a stop throwing up mud answering his recall, like Dexter. His steps are measured, his enthusiasm always tempered with reserve. Strangers, new places, foreign objects, new commands - he's been cautious about them all. He's not like Woo, who exists only to please himself. Quite the opposite, Tweed has always wanted to be good, but first he just wanted to know why. If I've failed him in any way, it's that it took me ages to recognize that he really is a very good dog. In many ways, he's smarter than Briggs ever was, and the smartest dog I know.

I'm an impatient trainer; my temper is quick, my impulse control needs work. I struggle with it often. And Tweed's questions always drove me crazy - "Just do it!" I'd seethe, and Tweed would tilt his head at me and ask "But why?"

It was not until after Briggs' death that Tweed began to shine for me. Although he was a difficult dog in so many ways, Briggs was so easy for me because he always wanted to do what I asked. Briggs was a foot soldier, a loyal subject, who could not even fathom asking "Why." It saved him from himself, and his demons, but at the time I didn't see it as a survival mechanism; I only recognized it as Super Dog, and more robust, more rounded dogs seemed petty irritations to me. But when I no longer had anything to compare Tweed to but a memory, I began to see what an amazing dog he really is.

And this is what Tweed has taught me - forgiveness. He forgave me, instantly, for assuming he was a lesser dog than Briggs. He never lost faith in me, even when I had so little in him. It pains me that for so many years, I failed to see how many times the "Why?" I saw in Tweed was really TRY. He tries so hard, he's full of try. Once I learned how answer his questions, he has given me more back that I have ever deserved.

Years ago, I was walking around a lake with my two red dogs, and Briggs stepped on a big, fat thorn that shoved itself way up into his pad. He yelped, held up his foot and limped over to me - held out his paw and trusted I would take care of it. I pulled the pointy barb out of his flesh and tossed it to the side of the path where Tweed, meandering by, immediately stepped on it. He screamed, tucked down his tail and took off on three legs - unlike Briggs, he didn't come to me to save him. And I used to think that illustrated the difference between my two dogs, and was such a clear indication of why Briggs was so superior to his little brother. I was too selfish to see that all it illustrated was how much less I valued him.

Today, while we walked along the dykes we came to the place where we have to cross a sea of boulders - about 50 feet long, and 20 feet wide, there's no other way to get to the other side. As the pups and Piper danced across the uneven surface, Tweed picked his way carefully along behind me, stepping where I stepped, choosing the same flat surfaces where he saw my feet go. He trusted me to lead him safely across this small challenge, and it made me so glad to see how far we had come.

And then he fell - he lost his footing and slipped. He went down rather heavily, and two of his legs disappeared into crevices, trapping him with his chest pressed against the jagged edge of a big boulder where he tried to balance. And it was then that I realized Tweed is getting old. I've seen Piper fall on these same boulders and recover herself before she's fully hit the rocks, but Tweed went down and he stayed down. He's not 5 years old anymore - he's almost 10 years old, and his body knows it, even if I don't.

For a second or two he struggled and I thought "don't panic Tweed, don't - you'll break your legs if you do!" and then he turned his head and looked at me. He just met my eyes for a long second and I could see he was asking, again, "Why?" But not "Why is my body failing me? Why am I getting old?" Rather, he was just asking me, "Why are you just standing there, you flippin' idiot, can't you see I'm stuck?"

"Sorry, sorry!" I said and picked my way across the rocks back the way I'd come. I bent down and carefully lifted him out of his little prison and set him back on a flat surface. He wagged his tail and stuck his nose in my pocket. "Cookie please, that was really traumatic."

I laughed. Tweed loves it when he thinks he's been funny, and he barked back. Of course I gave him a cookie. I'm looking forward to giving him cookies for barking at me for many more years to come.

He's such a good dog, my Tweed is.

(I promise not to make these long winded, sort of maudlin posts very often)

Tuesday, February 09, 2010



Sunday, February 07, 2010

The answers you seek

EvenSong said...

Inquiring minds need to know: with all of Piper's energy focused on making mad teeth at a healthy Tweed (YEAH!), what happened when sweet little Dexter, of the half-mast ear, landed upon her?!?

Nothing! He did not land on her, as he's not allowed to do that. He tends to land beside her, and then get run over as she barrels through him :)


Blue said...

Would you mind sharing the recipe for the fish brownies? My Aussie LOVES fish.

Sure! But first, the history: The Sadist, aka my agility teacher, is unnaturally competitive. It must be an Austrian thing. He is even competitive about his dog treats. So every class, he tries to lure my dogs away from me with his own home made dog treats and then gets all puffed up and happy when it works. Of course, he could probably lure them away with Elmer's Glue, because my dogs are gluttons and will eat just about anything. I don't have the heart to tell him this, plus he wouldn't be able to hear me over the sound of his own crowing.

Anyhoo, I am trying to improve my treats, because I am going to lure his dog Biscuit away from him and replace her with Wootie. I make the ubiquitous "dog brownie" with whatever happens to be in my pantry. I use liver, chicken gizzards - whatever. At the moment, I am using salmon because I have lots and lots of salmon (thanks Jez!). Canned salmon works best, but ground up salmon works fine too.

This is very complicated, so pay close attention.

You'll need: salmon, a couple of eggs, some flour, some baking powder and some baking soda. I can't tell you how much, because I am a free spirit when it comes to baking or cooking. I throw it all in the food processor until it's lump-free, then gag whilst spatula-ing it out into a baking pan (a pan which, I should add, is only used for dog baking. For that matter, so is the food processor). I fight with it for a bit until it's sort of smooth, then I throw it in the oven at either 225 or 300 (because I always forget which temperature is the right one) and leave it there until I notice a smell bothering me and remember that I'm baking dog cookies.

Voila! You can make them with anything! You can use ground beef if you want, and sometimes I add parmesan cheese, or just grated cheese, garlic powder or any other spice I grab out of the cupboard. The stinkier the better.

I smell cookies

Anonymous said...

I, too, have one pupster who loves to go off hunting. Sometimes she is successful-yyyyyeeuck.

Anyway, have you tried finding a hole or whatever it is Woo is after and then calling him to show him your most excellent find? In chipmunk season I actually have better recall because it is believed this food lady has mystical powers to control the appearance of chippy holes.

That would probably work, except Wootie knows where the best hunting grounds are, and they aren't accessible by humans. Today he returned from another hunt bleeding once again from his ear and ALSO from his Flamboyance!

I've told him to be more careful, but he's not listening.

Anonymous said...

Oh Food Lady you just scared the livin beejeesuz outa me. Just looked at That'll Do Rescue and saw a pup called DEXTER up for adoption. Had to check and check limb, by limb, tail, ears and markings to make sure it wasn't your/our Dexter.

dexter 191002

Well of COURSE not! As if I'd give away my cutiepatootie puppywuppy! And as if I'd give some other dog his same name! THAT Dexter was named by the shelter, so nothing I could do about it, unfortunately. The only thing he really shares with TOD (The Original Dexter) is really loooong legs. Otherwise, they aren't very mix-upable.

Other Dexter is not available for adoption yet, but when he is, you'll be able to read more about him here.

Lastly, those of you who enjoyed Finn's Sarna Dog Chronicles blog will want to follow her to Haiti via RabidGoats. Happy reading!