tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63832044481786766242024-03-13T03:52:25.395-07:00dietary indiscretionscactus petuniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16114194541917210679noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6383204448178676624.post-18100372275730482602010-10-31T22:53:00.000-07:002010-10-31T22:53:46.538-07:00bwahahahaha!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3FaYliQvNxAhqJOawYR8cJPyThV7aIILlQabNSXraKyEu6drM7O5CWa1GodjkkyCJN_P0Sw-pZbrdaWhfoY19PMR-jHzqy_m-ptBKYlWLfQPv5-_UQGPF36ifFl7Cj2__pAFFk8HQKsuJ/s1600/AbbieCooperHalloween.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3FaYliQvNxAhqJOawYR8cJPyThV7aIILlQabNSXraKyEu6drM7O5CWa1GodjkkyCJN_P0Sw-pZbrdaWhfoY19PMR-jHzqy_m-ptBKYlWLfQPv5-_UQGPF36ifFl7Cj2__pAFFk8HQKsuJ/s320/AbbieCooperHalloween.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGOp1oFm6rveMw5g0T710ZZ8i27KjEEpz5thBxieX_Q8GJk7On_IJudD5FnIfX7SsrjIgR8rxoZaxlLvkzlLZwnbcEYO0YBOlV9GWdBmB33oj0ORWT4Gt8_GzPSr0F9NiM6ktzeIopy_fi/s1600/FriscoHalloween2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGOp1oFm6rveMw5g0T710ZZ8i27KjEEpz5thBxieX_Q8GJk7On_IJudD5FnIfX7SsrjIgR8rxoZaxlLvkzlLZwnbcEYO0YBOlV9GWdBmB33oj0ORWT4Gt8_GzPSr0F9NiM6ktzeIopy_fi/s320/FriscoHalloween2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Happy Halloween from the Knuckleheads and friends!</div>cactus petuniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16114194541917210679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6383204448178676624.post-85540087264802555932010-09-07T23:34:00.000-07:002010-09-07T23:36:11.767-07:00do you believe in reincarnation?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJDJVwQxjlz3Apv_7seiZkxcfZ7m5Mc22ryhedmUVkMWKitj4-oJM8xSbs3TljcxlLKNyEmU6xIPoMuyNtQQMke7eyeV06rX6gzJJxAkD2A4__3wkma7QfJSQUsNaVG4JOyKrhrqSpYT5J/s1600/Dali.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJDJVwQxjlz3Apv_7seiZkxcfZ7m5Mc22ryhedmUVkMWKitj4-oJM8xSbs3TljcxlLKNyEmU6xIPoMuyNtQQMke7eyeV06rX6gzJJxAkD2A4__3wkma7QfJSQUsNaVG4JOyKrhrqSpYT5J/s320/Dali.jpeg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;">I'm beginning to wonder if Salvador Dali</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcWIZM7QFKev0yGoSWgeYRKDvM5_cCL1tOWZJmGxXgheFCE_ehiLnBiFajuYLydCm_clTM18XJXkPqi9Zqh9NSlbV6403nJrW7chyhkbdixSC39sex3uI4lLiLrQ_ENKKjO8K1J8EI16Oe/s1600/ChubbsAsDali.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcWIZM7QFKev0yGoSWgeYRKDvM5_cCL1tOWZJmGxXgheFCE_ehiLnBiFajuYLydCm_clTM18XJXkPqi9Zqh9NSlbV6403nJrW7chyhkbdixSC39sex3uI4lLiLrQ_ENKKjO8K1J8EI16Oe/s320/ChubbsAsDali.JPG" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;">came back as Mr. Chubbs...</span></div></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div>cactus petuniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16114194541917210679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6383204448178676624.post-8693822141227782112010-01-14T22:14:00.000-08:002010-01-16T22:17:40.866-08:00three hams<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0XnorscfyjlcbEShUx_h_ueE_2Y0lJPKbQzQ2QJE9lWXhu8a3YcLcoS_4yBn2605-kYRHPqJuF85wKkWjTZPQEYxAWi3j1JlsYaoi50fusmrLm72OjPJE19u0PMr9qnVes3C7GHLgdLKw/s1600-h/NatalieNKnuckleheads.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 301px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0XnorscfyjlcbEShUx_h_ueE_2Y0lJPKbQzQ2QJE9lWXhu8a3YcLcoS_4yBn2605-kYRHPqJuF85wKkWjTZPQEYxAWi3j1JlsYaoi50fusmrLm72OjPJE19u0PMr9qnVes3C7GHLgdLKw/s400/NatalieNKnuckleheads.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427588422551664930" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">The Knuckleheads will play dress up at the drop of a hat...or treats.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Happy New Year from all the goofballs at Camp Cactus!</div>cactus petuniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16114194541917210679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6383204448178676624.post-82151646975160029142009-06-28T22:30:00.000-07:002009-06-28T22:37:38.600-07:00welcome to the asylumI'm living in an insane asylum. An asylum where the inmates have four legs and an inordinate amount of fur. And they tend to bark and howl. A lot. (Except for the ones that hiss and spit.)<div><br /></div><div> <div> </div><div>The asylum is currently in an uproar over a new temporary inmate, the small but mighty beagle named Arrow. The thing about beagles is that they<i> look so dang cute</i>, wagging their adorable little tails and staring up at you with those big, sweet, luminous brown eyes. Don't let their looks fool you, though, because behind that happy smile and cuddly exterior beats the heart of a lion, and the iron will of an extremely obstinate mule. </div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpAKstVpAoWjFbNg27hu8t9U8_BtCO5mxTDTEi40EqfmW5hzFo9ufYIfi5w-br73BOq6XEHgscUfMLlK5wgQsSVp3G9zlz-wFMv5npsPl1aw2TRP0tdjtnEtHS6bZbIR0oWLOZaEiAS7Vn/s1600-h/thelittleprince.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 317px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpAKstVpAoWjFbNg27hu8t9U8_BtCO5mxTDTEi40EqfmW5hzFo9ufYIfi5w-br73BOq6XEHgscUfMLlK5wgQsSVp3G9zlz-wFMv5npsPl1aw2TRP0tdjtnEtHS6bZbIR0oWLOZaEiAS7Vn/s400/thelittleprince.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352521637107597250" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">See how cute he is?</span></i></div><br />A few weeks ago Arrow's family told me they were going on a three week trip to Europe, and that Arrow would be spending his vacation at the <a href="http://www.doggybusiness.net/">Doggy Business</a> spa. They dote on the little guy (can you tell by his personalized place mat?) and Tamara was a little worried about him being boarded for so long. I volunteered our house for a week or two, thinking he'd feel at home on the block in familiar surroundings, and he gets along with the knuckleheads just fine. </div><div><br /></div><div>I figured life with the cats would take some getting used to, but he's very sweet natured, and they'd all adjust in a day or two. We've taken care of other dogs lots of times, and the household is generally pretty accepting of newcomers. In fact, Arrow seems just fine with the arrangement. He's adjusted to the routine like a champ, and behaves well with the rest of the pack on our walks, his little arrow pointing the way.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguYD3hSqfZCNhqxO2bhScfKMlEf7xY59rl0yQMhuCVT1J40eAoxyyvlDWNSUdAKd2YShMwjiz7NZJ5k4-aajKWcg-vuucas7d9ywEKJyRkzu5eNEreiR2egz7NbEO6boxIMSQK75GX2ztE/s1600-h/ArrowsArrow.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 282px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguYD3hSqfZCNhqxO2bhScfKMlEf7xY59rl0yQMhuCVT1J40eAoxyyvlDWNSUdAKd2YShMwjiz7NZJ5k4-aajKWcg-vuucas7d9ywEKJyRkzu5eNEreiR2egz7NbEO6boxIMSQK75GX2ztE/s400/ArrowsArrow.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352616735456861922" /></a><br />The cats, on the other hand, are a little pissed. Six days later, Maizy still hasn't emerged from the basement, and Frisco and Mr. Chubbs slink in and out of the house under cover of darkness. Every time one of the cats comes up on the porch, Arrow jumps up on the back of the sofa and starts howling in that distinctive beagle bay: <b><i>"Aroooooo!!"</i></b> In fact, every time someone walks by the house, or makes a noise upstairs, or a moth flits against the porch light outside? <b><i>"AROOOOOO!!!"</i></b> This gets Abbie started, and they both go at it. Cooper just hides in his crate with his paws over his ears.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9OAyGFeRGvyQ5osCN5nUp3LFg5ynaeNTRnmjk6C1T2TDpw2H1JU3NVQFk7MZR0FKmpyQ41y66-kmEpAOtvkHUH9r4QDzEI8fQqVdDVgmqp2XbxV671cCngI8RWa9COpHWtOYpjrZTSZG0/s1600-h/Aroooo.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 327px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9OAyGFeRGvyQ5osCN5nUp3LFg5ynaeNTRnmjk6C1T2TDpw2H1JU3NVQFk7MZR0FKmpyQ41y66-kmEpAOtvkHUH9r4QDzEI8fQqVdDVgmqp2XbxV671cCngI8RWa9COpHWtOYpjrZTSZG0/s400/Aroooo.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352528852942314466" /></a><br /></div><div>Beagles are scent hounds, and will stop at nothing to find their prey. Like Maizy's favorite rocking chair, obviously imbued with her scent. Arrow is convinced there's a cat hiding in there somewhere. He'll just keep burrowing under the slipcover, trying to find her...</div></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJCBIJ_DMmq6xzV-gKiL3rR4v-bNs8HOF74IlFw6gwzEcMPCNaCVSJbqHimv4aPApDPtJ_LdpEr7J2sJRe3fmLFApRmLRRGcdhmL4375TTXkJmFYr9UIStCXnhNufppUQe2o8t6ZN7P46h/s1600-h/ArrowCouchSurfing.JPG"><br /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 330px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJCBIJ_DMmq6xzV-gKiL3rR4v-bNs8HOF74IlFw6gwzEcMPCNaCVSJbqHimv4aPApDPtJ_LdpEr7J2sJRe3fmLFApRmLRRGcdhmL4375TTXkJmFYr9UIStCXnhNufppUQe2o8t6ZN7P46h/s400/ArrowCouchSurfing.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352527240638001650" /></a><br /><div>He does settle down eventually in the evening. It must be exhausting, guarding the planet against marauders.</div>cactus petuniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16114194541917210679noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6383204448178676624.post-64109517954491525822009-05-20T22:15:00.000-07:002009-05-21T00:43:27.721-07:00it could have been worse...When the Knuckleheads were pups, it's no secret they were a bit out of control. In fact, they were so wild, I had a hard time walking them together. They pulled like a team at a monster truck rally. I would be dragged to every squirrel, every smell, every smidgen of food or garbage (or worse) within 100 yards.<div><br /></div><div>At the time, they probably weighed about 25 or 30 lbs each, which normally would be pretty manageable for a (I'm not gonna say exactly, but I weigh <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">slightly</span> more than 100 lbs.) person, but their pulling power and mass seemed exponentially higher than a mere 60lbs. Dave and I had to walk them together, or if only one of us was available, we had to walk them one at a time. Training seemed like an impossibility, although we tried. Littermates tend to bond with each other so completely it's as if they share one brain. I think these two share about half a brain between them. </div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFZ7XBLPRDttbbmUJK-fhR41tvk1zeUzIo6gGsGO3VUlO7tEpMY1V7GaYGpK2Zh0SUnHeug6vT4cJRx-udX9abkFM7gwkbLIwCRXC9aLVygckJMZhyUWvzYFH_FlKFL64wFZh3p-9Wy0Ur/s1600-h/TheTeam2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 330px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFZ7XBLPRDttbbmUJK-fhR41tvk1zeUzIo6gGsGO3VUlO7tEpMY1V7GaYGpK2Zh0SUnHeug6vT4cJRx-udX9abkFM7gwkbLIwCRXC9aLVygckJMZhyUWvzYFH_FlKFL64wFZh3p-9Wy0Ur/s400/TheTeam2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338179184941263618" /></a><br />Because I have carpal tunnel syndrome, and a bit of arthritis in my hands, we developed strategies to cope with the pulling. I took them on very long walks to tire them out. I worked with them individually. I scanned 100 yards ahead for squirrels and cats and food. I tied big knots along the length of the leashes so I could grip better when I needed to. (And I needed to often!) We bought them special harnesses designed to minimize pulling and maximize control.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlKIp9rc29YEpNtxjRHg3w0yv6FvyN3rlozzHah1cPi2WwjdoD_gPc_rHgB4fmN5IFAiKMHHHTAmYdS95gdqOEbVqCDJaucF-LLxBG4i5HxL09kIP9mf50aDeSlqnad6MiRbjVLbKg6lLX/s1600-h/FlexiLeash.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 219px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlKIp9rc29YEpNtxjRHg3w0yv6FvyN3rlozzHah1cPi2WwjdoD_gPc_rHgB4fmN5IFAiKMHHHTAmYdS95gdqOEbVqCDJaucF-LLxBG4i5HxL09kIP9mf50aDeSlqnad6MiRbjVLbKg6lLX/s400/FlexiLeash.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338153728443703730" /></a><br /><br />Dave decided using a retractable leash might be easier than trying to get them to stay so close, and he thought maybe it would be easier for me to hold onto. Since we were walking them individually, it seemed like it might be a good idea, but I soon found out that retractable leashes require a degree of expertise, and might not work so well for people who have a hard enough time walking and chewing gum at the same time (people like me, for instance).</div><div><br /></div><div>I just couldn't get used to the locking mechanism, and didn't like the way they got so far ahead of me. I also found that the hard plastic handle was difficult to grip and left my hands aching at the end of a walk. I went back to the old fashioned soft nylon 6 ft leash with big knots tied in it. </div><div>After about a year, and lots and lots of training, I was able to walk them together by myself. Now that they're 5 years old and together comprise about 160 pounds of pure muscle, (and don't forget-still sharing that half a brain) I'm able to walk them every day by myself, calmly and sedately, for the most part. </div><div><br /></div><div>The retractable leash got used only occasionally, and always by Dave, who still thought it was easier than a standard leash. Until this morning.</div><div><br /></div><div>We had gone on a long walk together, I had Abbie and Dave had Cooper on the retractable leash. We were almost home, when a neighbor's dog rushed off the porch barking her head off at Cooper. Dave stopped to let them sniff, and I walked ahead. Suddenly, Coop decided to get all frisky and playful and wheeled around, slamming into Dave's knee. Dave went down, and Cooper charged past me, while the leash played out... then Dave let go, just as I made a grab for it. </div><div><br /></div><div>I didn't manage to grab the soft, 12" long strap, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">or</span> the plastic handle (see above photo). Have you ever had a rope burn? From hanging on to a thin nylon cord being pulled through your fingers at about 60 mph? </div><div><br /></div><div>As Cooper blew past me, Abbie's one quarter of their shared brain yelled: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">"GO!!!"</span></span> And away she went, too. Meanwhile, the cord was cutting through my skin like a hot knife in butter. I went down hard and finally let go. They ran into a neighbor's driveway as I lurched to my feet, grabbing them both before they could escape. Dave was still sitting on the sidewalk, nursing his knee, when I looked down at my hand, now missing about 4 layers of skin. Crap. We hobbled the last block home and I iced my hand for the rest of the day.</div><div><br /></div><div> Tonight I googled "retractable leashes" and found this tip on the <a href="http://www.flexiusa.com/warnings.asp">Flexi</a> website: </div><div><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Do not use this leash with a disobedient or uncontrollable dog, since they are more likely to wrap the cord/tape/belt around people or to run off at high speeds.</span></span></span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Huh. Really?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">And how about this one:</div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWCzmIMcUhzrNni3-mA37WmoycMRCyY1nAXI6Q2hX8O7d6Gb2hbxC1bR7kEWnP0OPu3ZtY6hdt37LfmHGHRLBojyS0tRODIdwj_vI-mf3IIeL80SbRY2PXZw6JWWTP06VGMNNUG3fS42rZ/s1600-h/Warning!+1.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWCzmIMcUhzrNni3-mA37WmoycMRCyY1nAXI6Q2hX8O7d6Gb2hbxC1bR7kEWnP0OPu3ZtY6hdt37LfmHGHRLBojyS0tRODIdwj_vI-mf3IIeL80SbRY2PXZw6JWWTP06VGMNNUG3fS42rZ/s400/Warning!+1.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338142134050743890" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnia-9R-L6PEdGzCqcXK1lVe1CoWpNR9BtVPb7ayTgWd2DIHWzf1xWNfcfIldw6r_JWL8wdI1yVtFShwCyYljRj4gi_PkTRrkzqLsEPoxVsTh11TJaSQjtRZ2uttkNbu55HJ4EO3WI7gYL/s1600-h/LeashBurn.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnia-9R-L6PEdGzCqcXK1lVe1CoWpNR9BtVPb7ayTgWd2DIHWzf1xWNfcfIldw6r_JWL8wdI1yVtFShwCyYljRj4gi_PkTRrkzqLsEPoxVsTh11TJaSQjtRZ2uttkNbu55HJ4EO3WI7gYL/s400/LeashBurn.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338166927957645794" /></a><br />Gee, thanks for telling me! I guess it could have been worse -- at least I still have all my fingers. Now where did I leave my sledgehammer? That leash is toast!cactus petuniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16114194541917210679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6383204448178676624.post-85818594655978440472009-04-19T17:14:00.000-07:002009-04-19T17:19:43.992-07:00the camp cactus canine wrecking crewWay back when they were small, the Knuckleheads got into trouble on a daily basis. Nothing left within reach was safe from those twin jaws of destruction.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje9diUWzbj7HKyW5nlLsPwX89Yji-1vAV1bWXufzDB65KPIqFDiCZaNOEpXJr11o4qjIOeyNkL24CPqLre7T86uy_UMqXwcx5jhobgDE6Txc2LX6BFgHrZeKJ8VTc7UinoYk9UFGGzYuQc/s1600-h/PaperTowels1.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 302px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje9diUWzbj7HKyW5nlLsPwX89Yji-1vAV1bWXufzDB65KPIqFDiCZaNOEpXJr11o4qjIOeyNkL24CPqLre7T86uy_UMqXwcx5jhobgDE6Txc2LX6BFgHrZeKJ8VTc7UinoYk9UFGGzYuQc/s400/PaperTowels1.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326556846092587778" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh95Jio1IUEw2ZLB3ZANUppCf4VXK4ywZM6NJ5xl_Rqvo3VTNai9Cde8PI-UQUFc3PIPpS3Jd_A7NnAuydtoKfAgFrQaxnlbMFCnXtGLEIKVIlp3CAafHkCIuPC7UncrWQApIJkKVvelrup/s1600-h/PaperTowels2.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh95Jio1IUEw2ZLB3ZANUppCf4VXK4ywZM6NJ5xl_Rqvo3VTNai9Cde8PI-UQUFc3PIPpS3Jd_A7NnAuydtoKfAgFrQaxnlbMFCnXtGLEIKVIlp3CAafHkCIuPC7UncrWQApIJkKVvelrup/s400/PaperTowels2.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326556922603282034" /></a><br />They would eat <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">anything</span></span>. Now when I say <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">anything</span>, I mean that literally. I'm not exaggerating in the least for the sake of dramatic license. Seriously? Leaving them alone in the house for even ten minutes was like playing Russian Roulette. Either they would be dead when you returned, or something would be destroyed. There was no third option. <br /><br />They're a bit more trustworthy these days, but whenever we turn the key in the door when we come home, there's still a chance that the house could look like this:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipEAuYuhWuG36UuUL61Fsh-oREzY-9qjd0ScgwmEV3h0MRmFoxea9vt0j97XqqLdG6QX4opy5v7XsKqqOYx4Y44MB6qp75ruOleKyVKMgEpOaJGWS_W9R4EEVtzKaJK86jFr3BD_URHHit/s1600-h/FoamSnowstorm.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 246px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipEAuYuhWuG36UuUL61Fsh-oREzY-9qjd0ScgwmEV3h0MRmFoxea9vt0j97XqqLdG6QX4opy5v7XsKqqOYx4Y44MB6qp75ruOleKyVKMgEpOaJGWS_W9R4EEVtzKaJK86jFr3BD_URHHit/s400/FoamSnowstorm.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326168247152996306" /></a><br /><div>Life is never dull around here, that's for sure.</div>cactus petuniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16114194541917210679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6383204448178676624.post-72428507312478060332009-03-17T15:31:00.000-07:002009-04-20T13:55:14.638-07:00canine leprechauns<div style="text-align: center;">There once were two silly black dogs<br />who starred in a canine weblog<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYSSsJ6QnFTo_N0X9A8ajAuDXysNwj_xGZcRD1SP_v3X-SMH7rVaQfqfLYDB_bqVSNivSnMK_LvehHgZBRyQIa226wH_biuVsJep0y9mNLsb_IV1O8hzAo8iGoU7a-YDRiHMqWDnlDJ1EO/s1600-h/IrishCooper.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 298px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYSSsJ6QnFTo_N0X9A8ajAuDXysNwj_xGZcRD1SP_v3X-SMH7rVaQfqfLYDB_bqVSNivSnMK_LvehHgZBRyQIa226wH_biuVsJep0y9mNLsb_IV1O8hzAo8iGoU7a-YDRiHMqWDnlDJ1EO/s400/IrishCooper.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314288376549515794" border="0" /></a>Their daily transgressions,<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">and <span style="font-style: italic;">Dietary Indiscretions</span><br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyxvUTGLUmOMgUZ4yCvnowNfzkv-AD9w2B2stMGOky74VtKjhiMXpIf_BmPlpXi515Yd3aT4bwqprgtxKFdmX7QL02K9zwszbBfn_gr7uMZbhd2-e297EKFpZR850vtxk2FgOgsZpaLfNq/s1600-h/IrishAbbie2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 272px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyxvUTGLUmOMgUZ4yCvnowNfzkv-AD9w2B2stMGOky74VtKjhiMXpIf_BmPlpXi515Yd3aT4bwqprgtxKFdmX7QL02K9zwszbBfn_gr7uMZbhd2-e297EKFpZR850vtxk2FgOgsZpaLfNq/s400/IrishAbbie2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314288371605162594" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">made them famous among doggy blogs.<br /><br /><br /></div>cactus petuniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16114194541917210679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6383204448178676624.post-14426898113353980462009-01-01T01:44:00.000-08:002009-01-01T01:46:23.592-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbcX-qHOi-MI1niC0pzSR1oOwMTp11C5tmgtKfa8JtjZ7zU258FtksGIAuCTd0PPVmngVGfapyd9A39bh_L8in593Mh4WkWXQP1diVBIxDYGVTtmdhqBH3Gs-Sakpy-y8eVlC7gPvoq2Pb/s1600-h/SantaPups.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 298px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbcX-qHOi-MI1niC0pzSR1oOwMTp11C5tmgtKfa8JtjZ7zU258FtksGIAuCTd0PPVmngVGfapyd9A39bh_L8in593Mh4WkWXQP1diVBIxDYGVTtmdhqBH3Gs-Sakpy-y8eVlC7gPvoq2Pb/s400/SantaPups.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286258990586393266" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">The Knuckleheads would like to wish you Happy Holidays and all the bones you could wish for in the coming year!<br /></div>cactus petuniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16114194541917210679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6383204448178676624.post-59741666599865541662008-12-19T10:44:00.000-08:002008-12-19T10:47:30.307-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGcWTPoEQD_TmFl6GUfWcT3B_CdVxn35euhDZBVMfSSINHnwZXnyq54PM2Dpp0XlDDsdC-mnoTPBbjBukpHpk6Nk8H_suKmS6s11tY7C3SVuUcDDX7HEmAG3aPX-5sjLl2DThOzCzUXRuu/s1600-h/SnowSniffweb.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 336px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGcWTPoEQD_TmFl6GUfWcT3B_CdVxn35euhDZBVMfSSINHnwZXnyq54PM2Dpp0XlDDsdC-mnoTPBbjBukpHpk6Nk8H_suKmS6s11tY7C3SVuUcDDX7HEmAG3aPX-5sjLl2DThOzCzUXRuu/s400/SnowSniffweb.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281574669834688178" border="0" /></a>cactus petuniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16114194541917210679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6383204448178676624.post-2362540341946647702008-12-18T14:54:00.000-08:002008-12-18T14:59:09.443-08:00baby, it's cold outside!<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXo4Mvc5oYDQ8aB0PGofcgxSXtIKeGsPSP_6oGrv1lqUw6X1loVHDxSZfEAKG0WRwhWYm11acBO3h6Mufv48_v-_Yhx9Ulb1KBLHVNjaFsnM0ZRaWcusN6j5FiXTMZytD_sQ3QpsR0F7HE/s1600-h/Peekaboo.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXo4Mvc5oYDQ8aB0PGofcgxSXtIKeGsPSP_6oGrv1lqUw6X1loVHDxSZfEAKG0WRwhWYm11acBO3h6Mufv48_v-_Yhx9Ulb1KBLHVNjaFsnM0ZRaWcusN6j5FiXTMZytD_sQ3QpsR0F7HE/s400/Peekaboo.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281267867344757138" border="0" /></a><br />Cooper's keeping his nose warm by burying it under his back leg. <br /></div>cactus petuniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16114194541917210679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6383204448178676624.post-29371827691152763042008-11-22T14:39:00.001-08:002008-11-22T14:40:46.610-08:00a new fad!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCQdYoUIZjf7kBmSFTN2tqAhTEu4_zDHkEHlNnPzdSqU9tAdaaLfXOvGrgS28HSlBdHgDwO940-Bnyg9EXaQBvqzZlrzji69zXyKK-BR6H4o8WrtkaHqh4aRxYt-kcJ1vpHPxlUeF7DK-O/s1600-h/FriscoTattooedSm.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 393px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCQdYoUIZjf7kBmSFTN2tqAhTEu4_zDHkEHlNnPzdSqU9tAdaaLfXOvGrgS28HSlBdHgDwO940-Bnyg9EXaQBvqzZlrzji69zXyKK-BR6H4o8WrtkaHqh4aRxYt-kcJ1vpHPxlUeF7DK-O/s400/FriscoTattooedSm.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271615414308716210" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Tattoo your cat!<br /></div>cactus petuniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16114194541917210679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6383204448178676624.post-29688205131767479872008-10-20T16:25:00.000-07:002008-10-20T16:39:00.119-07:00it's definitely mondayThere's always something nutty going on around here at Camp Cactus. Sometimes it involves animals and sometimes it involves laundry. And often, it's a combination of both. I know, I know, my laundry basket is out of control. Just so you know...this my <span style="font-weight: bold;">clean laundry</span> pile.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9KrI2tsSdbwvw52RrQ8MVNlrABrMHLwqpDMxEodqTUAfEkKbjp6XpWP7k7bAVS2nQsnuY_iAc9mTAVllWjdv9_DxGQNLsOoZ92iP_yLfKgIehFMWQ8LnWd0Hzhdk_eMENf3rkBxFVL7Rj/s1600-h/TopOTheHeap.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9KrI2tsSdbwvw52RrQ8MVNlrABrMHLwqpDMxEodqTUAfEkKbjp6XpWP7k7bAVS2nQsnuY_iAc9mTAVllWjdv9_DxGQNLsOoZ92iP_yLfKgIehFMWQ8LnWd0Hzhdk_eMENf3rkBxFVL7Rj/s400/TopOTheHeap.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5259381516334176290" border="0" /></a>Or, it was...want to read more about the Official Camp Cactus Laundry System? click <a href="http://buenosburritos.blogspot.com/2008/03/how-not-to-do-laundry.html">here</a>.cactus petuniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16114194541917210679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6383204448178676624.post-50493076007563546732008-10-01T12:52:00.001-07:002008-10-01T12:52:48.611-07:00one word wednesday<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyCLGyq64dcda0gaXOblqYoWZyj-EB2ACswfjvg0HMYzhxFFZ8JvSREaCx8hfACVAtAUr0eovDzsxTDuqdoArHjx1xii9-3Tnwr4Lepfo3E0neEWuWiv3wvYI-bm7AMv79vjvCOeM_szE7/s1600-h/CooperNCooper.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyCLGyq64dcda0gaXOblqYoWZyj-EB2ACswfjvg0HMYzhxFFZ8JvSREaCx8hfACVAtAUr0eovDzsxTDuqdoArHjx1xii9-3Tnwr4Lepfo3E0neEWuWiv3wvYI-bm7AMv79vjvCOeM_szE7/s400/CooperNCooper.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252275816993102370" /></a>cactus petuniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16114194541917210679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6383204448178676624.post-56402919165320834072008-09-01T13:52:00.000-07:002008-09-01T14:55:23.583-07:00the ultimate indignity...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4nKMU3sQgxqq9QKkMF4nEyt9YG4mSC-D3EmLFkza2baFtI64wV5VGEP6bjxVXDsM5ot3eW1bUW4kvWNypR5_FMJLDFBTBcJOTTO83EOCRBDicxo-q1jsVtFjoGnq7jj-Ie4iUGjiGMDK4/s1600-h/FriscoCollar.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4nKMU3sQgxqq9QKkMF4nEyt9YG4mSC-D3EmLFkza2baFtI64wV5VGEP6bjxVXDsM5ot3eW1bUW4kvWNypR5_FMJLDFBTBcJOTTO83EOCRBDicxo-q1jsVtFjoGnq7jj-Ie4iUGjiGMDK4/s400/FriscoCollar.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241158904075773426" /></a><br />Poor Frisco. He's being held against his will in the bathroom for a few days while his abscess heals. I feel pretty bad for him, except at 3 am when he's had enough of the solitary confinement and starts whining and yowling on the other side of the bedroom door. Thankfully it's only for another day or two. Otherwise, I might just have to get some ear plugs.cactus petuniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16114194541917210679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6383204448178676624.post-37243181885238610532008-08-26T09:36:00.000-07:002008-08-26T09:41:45.350-07:00good morning!Stay tuned for a new layout on this blog soon...and in the meantime? Relax, dude!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeJqB78jIajDu10ASNK6LUfX06cLRf5wVnCmqACUpW5EF-lpSLoV7-zrEV2YTEPUynzXHAO_VtcXbmhz6HuU8o8uA8egSxAs4-W2GAuWQda0opkxQbGM1h9uxsNVUL7v8WPyxSS3qFxahJ/s1600-h/DSC_0884.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeJqB78jIajDu10ASNK6LUfX06cLRf5wVnCmqACUpW5EF-lpSLoV7-zrEV2YTEPUynzXHAO_VtcXbmhz6HuU8o8uA8egSxAs4-W2GAuWQda0opkxQbGM1h9uxsNVUL7v8WPyxSS3qFxahJ/s400/DSC_0884.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238867428454679298" /></a>cactus petuniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16114194541917210679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6383204448178676624.post-2168834547486085342008-08-01T00:43:00.000-07:002008-12-11T06:20:53.573-08:00and now...the rest of the storySo, where was I? Oh, right...Puppies!<div>Having already decided we wanted a boy dog, we agonized over whether we should choose Jughead or Archie from among the six puppies (Reggie was already spoken for). We ultimately chose Archie after watching Jughead devour about a pound of ripe cherries off the ground around the tree in the yard, then with a distended belly, waddle off to beg treats from the owner's three daughters.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL86C_dWD7s6RTFqqpEOrq41KrrAfPLdcAP94QMrrx_MNDppznnpTG5aPWVfjJkGt7FAuFEdrrLGUnlCcxFCF2zxTMxaE-sgR8oE9OFEnKYLNNokEI579t2mj34_2_qBLNHq5PgTe3apwS/s1600-h/Jughead.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL86C_dWD7s6RTFqqpEOrq41KrrAfPLdcAP94QMrrx_MNDppznnpTG5aPWVfjJkGt7FAuFEdrrLGUnlCcxFCF2zxTMxaE-sgR8oE9OFEnKYLNNokEI579t2mj34_2_qBLNHq5PgTe3apwS/s320/Jughead.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229415120973424642" border="0" /></a>The warning sirens went off in our heads, imagining a future Jughead waddling around the neighborhood knocking over trash cans and grazing wantonly on garbage. </div><div>Archie seemed more interested in <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">us</span> (and by "us" I mean he really took a shine to Dave, and vice versa) rather than the cherries. </div><div><br /></div><div>This was all fine by me. Archie was the pick of the litter from what I could see, anyway. Sweet disposition, nice proportions and a bit larger than all the others. </div><div><br /></div><div>I think I mentioned in the <a href="http://dietaryindiscretions.blogspot.com/2008/05/smitten.html">previous chapter</a> that after we chose Archie, the unthinkable happened: Dave turned to me and said: "Maybe we should get <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">two</span>." </div><div><br /></div><div>When I stopped feeling faint, and picked up my jaw from the ground where it had fallen, I demanded to know just who the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">hell</span> he was, and what did he do with my husband?<br /><br /></div><div>As it turned out, Dave's idea didn't come completely out of thin air. Our friend Howard had been telling us about someone he knew who had gotten two lab puppies (sisters), and as he told it, it sounded like a great idea. They kept each other company and each had a built-in playmate. I had actually met these dogs, and I must admit, they seemed like very sweet and gentle labs. (I realized much later that she had gone through hell for <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;">a couple of years</span> with her two sibling labs before they calmed down into the dogs I had met.)<br /></div><div>So it sure seemed like a good plan to me, unrepentant (and totally naive) dog lover that I am. To tell you the truth, I'd probably have three or four dogs if we could afford it, so I looked Dave (the CFO here at Camp Cactus) in the eye and said, "How about a boy and a girl?" He thought that was a good idea, and we asked the owner's daughters who Archie got along with the best...(It was Betty, of course) and that's who we chose.<br /><br />The funny thing is, a friend who raised and trained champion Border Collies had offered us a puppy from a recent litter. We had gone out to Central Oregon to help him out after he'd had an accident, and one of his dogs had just had puppies. After hanging out with him and his pups for a few days, it became clear to both of us that it probably wouldn't be a very good idea for us to have a dog that was so much smarter than we are. Border Collies are unbelievable animals. They're so incredibly smart and focused that just sitting in the same room with them gave me a headache from the laser stares they fixed me with when I wasn't even paying attention to them. I could envision taking home a puppy from that litter and being completely hypnotized into doing whatever that dog wanted within days.<br /><br />So we declined the offer and stuck with our decision to adopt Archie and Betty. The day we brought them home they took a nap in the grass with Dave, and we knew they were definitely the pups for us.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgASRfEpeRkA-qPbCDpc3XNb0A390CzCMQyNQTBT2dTmUoXiYMjmc02jhc6yBJCneFg_sTfUAWBfWXIdMxu6_uqjpJpDK-mnLoDR9DRyOeeixRe4kwGQU8LqJg9kRqRw43Eco7Z0pgZP5Lu/s1600-h/NapTimePuppies.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgASRfEpeRkA-qPbCDpc3XNb0A390CzCMQyNQTBT2dTmUoXiYMjmc02jhc6yBJCneFg_sTfUAWBfWXIdMxu6_uqjpJpDK-mnLoDR9DRyOeeixRe4kwGQU8LqJg9kRqRw43Eco7Z0pgZP5Lu/s400/NapTimePuppies.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229423194815121234" border="0" /></a><br />And their names? Archie became Cooper (for <span style="font-style: italic;">Cooper Black</span>, a very old type font I've always loved) and Betty became Abbie (because nobody but me seemed to think that <span style="font-style: italic;">Helvetica</span> was an appropriate name for a dog). <span style="font-style: italic;">To be continued...</span><br /></div>cactus petuniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16114194541917210679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6383204448178676624.post-67907506011278485262008-06-15T08:37:00.000-07:002008-12-11T06:20:54.028-08:00the cat houseIt's 8:30 am on a Sunday morning, and my hands are shaking. No, it's not from too much coffee, and I <span style="font-style: italic;">wish</span> I'd just spent a leisurely hour or so reading the paper and sipping a cup or two of french roast. On the other hand, who <span style="font-style: italic;">wouldn't</span> want to jump up from their newspaper and coffee to chase after two insane dogs <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">hell bent</span> on getting to their favorite destination?<br /><br />It all started months ago, and without any warning whatsoever. Abbie and Cooper pulled one of their great escapes (I can't remember now whether we were walking them and they got away from us, or if they simply <strike>barged</strike> slipped out the door). Anyway, for some reason, instead of just running around the neighbors' yards in a merry game of "can't catch me", and ignoring the <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;">come!</span> and <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;">here!</span> commands, they took off together, running in a straight line down the street at top speed (which is roughly about 50 mph).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQa1YxjZZcwTpS4ygYPu4Ncks134LbaQaAHaF_INplA7Qso5Xpu4t4cWCcydthtcp7peidnAMl84JShYDTxyXJgZfsNHoYS9RWCKzVybcMnkLd93ITtkVJAYyteSBpQ_pVJ5WBTCMi11JR/s1600-h/runningdogs06.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQa1YxjZZcwTpS4ygYPu4Ncks134LbaQaAHaF_INplA7Qso5Xpu4t4cWCcydthtcp7peidnAMl84JShYDTxyXJgZfsNHoYS9RWCKzVybcMnkLd93ITtkVJAYyteSBpQ_pVJ5WBTCMi11JR/s400/runningdogs06.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222613810352931474" border="0" /></a><br />They seemed to be on a mission, and knew exactly where they were going. We, however, had no clue where they were headed, just that they were flying down the street like the Millennium Falcon making the jump to light speed. They were headed toward the busiest street in the neighborhood, merely two blocks from our house. Knowing this dynamic duo can cover two city blocks in just under 15 seconds, my heart leapt straight into my throat and threatened to choke me. I took off after them, <span style="font-style: italic;">my</span> top speed being roughly 3 mph. Two of my neighbors (who are considerably fitter and faster than I am) saw them blow past and joined in the chase.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivPyaui361gW13W69evu6TosmsTzCt5VNdCFgrdobnZO4Z6S90Bap0xUKvCGmSv0R-TixlUDVZMRLzPrTDr_2qGEADN608fO8SH5LRLHotpnD9qhTbLIrRf1EuX2R2CY-2JE_6x4Nath_7/s1600-h/CatHouse.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivPyaui361gW13W69evu6TosmsTzCt5VNdCFgrdobnZO4Z6S90Bap0xUKvCGmSv0R-TixlUDVZMRLzPrTDr_2qGEADN608fO8SH5LRLHotpnD9qhTbLIrRf1EuX2R2CY-2JE_6x4Nath_7/s320/CatHouse.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222649731140781890" border="0" /></a><br />We found them in the backyard of a house about half a block from the busy street, hurriedly cleaning up the last of quite a few bowls of cat food set haphazardly around the unfenced backyard.<br /><br />I was totally baffled how they could have possibly figured out that there was free food down the street in the backyard of a house we had walked by with them maybe twice, at most. It's just not on our regular route, mostly because there are always a few scraggly cats hanging out on the porch, and we're not keen on encouraging cat chasing, since we have three ourselves.<br /><br />Since then, every time they've gotten loose lately within half mile of the cat house, they've made a beeline for the place. A few times, the homeowners have caught them, and I can tell you they don't find it amusing <span style="font-style: italic;">even the least little bit. </span>In fact, they don't seem to have any sense of humor at all.<br /><br />Several times the homeowners have angrily <strike>shouted</strike> suggested, "You need to control your dogs!", to which I have responded "Yes, you're right. I'm terribly sorry." It <span style="font-style: italic;">is</span> our responsibility to control them, and we <span style="font-style: italic;">are</span> working on it, but as several dog trainers have told us, if there's a reward at the end of this misbehavior, they'll continue to do it. I'm pretty sure that it's going to be a long time before this problem gets worked out. It's not as if we willfully let them loose to roam the neighborhood pooping on everyone's lawns and turning over garbage cans (which they have never done, thank god). We walk them twice a day, every day, always clean up after them, and <span style="font-style: italic;">never</span> let them off leash deliberately.<br /><br />I've recently learned that the homeowners are feeding feral cats, and belong to a feral cat coalition, whose intent is to capture, spay and neuter, then release them to keep the wild population down. Personally, I think this is a very worthwhile and humanitarian cause. I love animals and hate to see them suffer unnecessarily.<br /><br />I mean, come on...since their yard isn't fenced they might consider feeding once a day and taking the bowls inside between feedings, which would also discourage other wild varmints attracted to cat food. One of their neighbors confided that they're also supporting a healthy population of raccoons along with the cats.<br /><br />If the dang cat people would calm down, maybe we could work something out that would benefit both the wild cats and my wild dogs.cactus petuniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16114194541917210679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6383204448178676624.post-51098349152958860882008-06-04T20:24:00.001-07:002008-12-11T06:20:54.405-08:00another wordless wednesday<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZWiCEY0RZgfv7dgGgxbviO_M2ZMPGxp0uUqoOO2aYMWoh0tRdsY3HdgxIjVOEcYXSnYb4Gebi4n_3Ov30x9Y4GEr7uaL5a-Y7IcMWQ2-cWsQHD-8WS17_8YJjWHYFqI1hz3hqCEU1g_qW/s1600-h/bookends.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZWiCEY0RZgfv7dgGgxbviO_M2ZMPGxp0uUqoOO2aYMWoh0tRdsY3HdgxIjVOEcYXSnYb4Gebi4n_3Ov30x9Y4GEr7uaL5a-Y7IcMWQ2-cWsQHD-8WS17_8YJjWHYFqI1hz3hqCEU1g_qW/s400/bookends.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208233211711833778" /></a>cactus petuniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16114194541917210679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6383204448178676624.post-72072975380813751622008-05-21T10:24:00.000-07:002008-12-11T06:20:54.793-08:00wordless wednesday<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIrfR9SeyVyUUyw2_HW-cEZfrA5_zv47MbPS-3-kelCSeO_JCY8Y9u3_i-N3A1qVsTebbTLbnW75Ywl_S-ZpiRTlJXXvVTxuoJH5n_ZDjGEYAR3-mKFh4AfEOIZTpSN9BM-lW88Wu_nzxy/s1600-h/DontEvenThinkAboutIt.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIrfR9SeyVyUUyw2_HW-cEZfrA5_zv47MbPS-3-kelCSeO_JCY8Y9u3_i-N3A1qVsTebbTLbnW75Ywl_S-ZpiRTlJXXvVTxuoJH5n_ZDjGEYAR3-mKFh4AfEOIZTpSN9BM-lW88Wu_nzxy/s400/DontEvenThinkAboutIt.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5202890783804052562" /></a>cactus petuniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16114194541917210679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6383204448178676624.post-24505452391988483222008-05-11T12:36:00.000-07:002008-12-11T06:20:55.055-08:00happy mother's day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwq9VQBLHbLkUOHEFLWIqsPmk-EGYV7QqzvYaSlvPRHQPbYWKgzci6kDKEJSKUsz9cAeGhqw41iD4KTW6ElscOsuTjTL3ilqXkVIzfB584rTWEKNZ0KidknxL5d7ojWXXTgYlD8EoVNrD0/s1600-h/MoonNPups.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwq9VQBLHbLkUOHEFLWIqsPmk-EGYV7QqzvYaSlvPRHQPbYWKgzci6kDKEJSKUsz9cAeGhqw41iD4KTW6ElscOsuTjTL3ilqXkVIzfB584rTWEKNZ0KidknxL5d7ojWXXTgYlD8EoVNrD0/s400/MoonNPups.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199206616692118242" /></a>cactus petuniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16114194541917210679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6383204448178676624.post-13710377067645304942008-05-08T10:33:00.001-07:002008-12-11T06:20:55.469-08:00smitten!The ad read, simply: Lab/Dalmation Puppies for Sale. It seems the litter was the result of letting their beloved 12 year old, Chocolate Lab-Dalmation mix have a little fling with their two year old female Yellow Lab.<br />Being relatively familiar with the mellow disposition, dim-bulb intellect, and easy charm of the Labrador Retriever, I read up on Dalmations, having heard that they're incredibly <strike>hyperactive</strike> energetic, smart and prone to kidney stones and deafness. I weighed the pros and cons of each breed and came to the conclusion that this particular blend of breeds could be a great mix: Athletic, smart, good natured, loyal and easy to train. (Stay tuned later for a cautionary tail about the pitfalls of amateur genetic engineering.) I think it was at that point, possibly swayed by my somewhat optimistic portrayal of the perfect mutt, (or maybe just exhausted by the strain of trying to hold off the inevitable) Dave realized he had unwittingly become a passenger on the express train to the puppy farm. He agreed that there was no harm in just taking a look.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz-5A_iHQt0etGkuZms-3clDvbzB-9sOVx47W7m90LxPCPpSoGwindTBDDzgiKjXOUe9o2ckadZ-AE9mAlltNxWgexCHsh2BGR8CkwPcnbfpW8cH4fholN7MmJHC6b1gZ64dVb07ok32RO/s1600-h/PackOPups.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz-5A_iHQt0etGkuZms-3clDvbzB-9sOVx47W7m90LxPCPpSoGwindTBDDzgiKjXOUe9o2ckadZ-AE9mAlltNxWgexCHsh2BGR8CkwPcnbfpW8cH4fholN7MmJHC6b1gZ64dVb07ok32RO/s400/PackOPups.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198894617416660354" /></a><br />Their names were Archie, Betty, Veronica, Reggie, Jughead, and last, but not least: Ethel. A pile of cute, glossy, sleek and squirmy puppy love. Six fat, shiny little black olives climbing all over us and each other for attention. Needless to say, we were instantly smitten.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9BJygPynmAgG4kogd9kevQCFzrNDGvZlvRn0Apsd6H4J57CDIttZ0zbznWOd1hJI4f-OgwhzUf1RLGwbK5pDYiWrhAtp4Cap-4LEQdn3Y1ZABEMWdBKxbBgcl4Pb-MN83dsz_jbsARJx-/s1600-h/DaveNArchie2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9BJygPynmAgG4kogd9kevQCFzrNDGvZlvRn0Apsd6H4J57CDIttZ0zbznWOd1hJI4f-OgwhzUf1RLGwbK5pDYiWrhAtp4Cap-4LEQdn3Y1ZABEMWdBKxbBgcl4Pb-MN83dsz_jbsARJx-/s400/DaveNArchie2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198882797666661746" /></a>Even Dave, firmly uncommitted to the idea of a new puppy, melted when Archie (soon to be rechristened Cooper) climbed into his lap for a snuggle.<br />After checking out all the puppies, and getting to know them and their parents a bit, we agreed that Archie was the one for us. And then the unthinkable happened.<br />To be continued... cactus petuniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16114194541917210679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6383204448178676624.post-70098589613096857792008-05-08T10:25:00.000-07:002008-12-11T06:20:55.676-08:00How It All BeganI've heard there's a name for the sort of condition I had. I think it's called "Empty Nest Syndrome", or something along those lines. Whatever it's called, I was apparently driving my two grown children nuts. In early 2004 they were both living away from home, which we were adjusting to quite nicely, thank you (or so <span style="font-style: italic;">I</span> thought)...and then the whole charade came crashing down.<br />Within a three month period, I lost my job, Dave lost his, and Rosie, our sweet but paralyzed eleven year old Australian Shepherd mix passed away. In short, I lost my marbles for a bit. Don't get me wrong-it was thrilling to be without all that responsibility for the first time in over twenty years, but you can't just hang up those motherhood urges at the drop of a hat. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9SzYsgtNYTUwIro_qGGtXLUmO_ALjNivEq9zqVjqomdD4-72C3PY2cz-FMAIDq7b2kE6_SlMu2MN6IcMfjwDIS6v1UvOd5HBR4z61nhyphenhyphencT8ywMBp6k7CljeyJ308gVGNAMaOoh_oRjVad/s1600-h/Luxury.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9SzYsgtNYTUwIro_qGGtXLUmO_ALjNivEq9zqVjqomdD4-72C3PY2cz-FMAIDq7b2kE6_SlMu2MN6IcMfjwDIS6v1UvOd5HBR4z61nhyphenhyphencT8ywMBp6k7CljeyJ308gVGNAMaOoh_oRjVad/s320/Luxury.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198067378799211634" /></a>Not that I didn't give it a shot. We took a long road trip by ourselves and enjoyed the freedom of not making plans or reservations, and pretty much wallowed in being childless and carefree again. It was when we got home that I began to notice how quiet it was, just Dave and I and the two cats. He was enjoying this newly found quiet, this relative lack of responsibilities. I missed the kids. Missed the dog. Missed the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">chaos</span>.<br />So, after a few too many long, drawn-out phone conversations with my kids about their future, they started lobbying Dave to let Mom get a puppy, for God's sake! It took awhile. I said I would just look. We went to the Humane Society a couple of times, and debated the merits of girl dogs vs boy dogs. We've had two girl dogs, and Dave thought it was time to try for a boy. I agreed, just needing a motherhood fix. And then I started looking on craigslist.cactus petuniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16114194541917210679noreply@blogger.com0