raisingryder.com

UPDATE: Robot and West.

2006-03-22T23:14:00.000-06:00

DSC00160
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

We thank you for visiting Raising Ryder. This blog has come to an end, but the ride was fun. Please start at the beginning and find out what the first eight months of puppy raising are like.

UPDATE: Ryder and my rug.

2006-03-22T23:07:00.000-06:00

DSC00130
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

UPDATE: Bot and Ryder

2006-03-22T23:06:00.000-06:00

DSC00156
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

UPDATE: Lola and Ryder

2006-03-22T23:05:00.000-06:00

DSC00141
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

UPDATE: Ryder and Lola

2006-03-20T17:42:00.000-06:00

Photo 307.jpg
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

That beige corner is Lola. He's too big to sleep on her butt anymore. But they still know how to share the back seat of my Jeep.

Ryder is officially bigger than my Lola. And as Robot and I were hoping, he has all the glossiness of his mom and the handsome grill of his dad.

Coming soon, VIDEO of Lola and Ryder and everyone's favorite four pounds of fury, Dave! We all had a nice day rolling around in the backyard.

UPDATE: Ryder and West

2006-03-20T17:02:00.000-06:00

Photo 303.jpg
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

A dog blog has jumped the shark.

2005-10-14T22:14:00.000-05:00

Unfortunately, Wayne was indeed the Jump the Shark character for Raising Ryder. Robot has become far too busy to post, and I, West, no longer live with Robot and Ryder.

But if you're interested in a new puppy, Raising Ryder starts here. And if you like that idea, click on the month of February 2005 and scroll all the way to the bottom and work your way up. Then go to the next month and work your way up.

But I do have new, canine-related problems. Post Katrina and Post Wayne, I decided that it was time to fill the new pet slot. I wanted that new pet slot to go to a dog that would possibly have a tough time finding a home. An older dog.

So I guess that's how I found myself on the couch with a snoring Bullmastiff and ... are you ready for this ... A CHIHUAHUA tucked ino my armpit.

I rescued a seven year old Chihuahua from the Illinois Doberman Rescue. He's wee. He's in love with me. He's treat agressive and tried to kill me over chicken. Luckily, he's like, four pounds. But oh how I love him. Read how I put my money where my sidebar is, at here .

Thank all of you, ever so much for following Ryder, Robot, West, Jay and Lola's progress. You have no idea how honored I am to have people ANGRY with me for not posting. I hope you'll follow me on my journey with my tiny rescue Dave, the Anti-Chihuahua.

Robot, West, Jay, Lola, Wayne, Ryder, and Katrina, all thank you profusely. We hope you all find your way home.

SIGNS THAT I PICKED THE RIGHT FOLKS FOR WAYNE:

2005-10-04T08:00:00.000-05:00

1) They carry him around like a tiny Chihuahua too.
2) They're having a Kitty Shower.
3) They gush about him to mutual friends.

Summer is gone.

2005-10-01T01:03:00.000-05:00

Robot and Lola and the only Kong that lasts longer than five minutes.
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

Remember it the way it was.

I wonder if they're gonna change it.

2005-09-26T21:03:00.000-05:00

As anyone who has ever applied to adopt a dog from rescue knows, the application is pretty dang thorough. I had to fill out an EIGHT page application that had harder questions than the freaking SAT. Then I had to gather the following: Copy of my lease, the names of all my sex partners for the past three years, addendum to lease that says that I can have two dogs, my permanent record from school, credit report, note from my mom, Psych evaluation notes, my C.A.T. test scores, printout of all the songs on my iPod, fingerprints, certified letter from Jessie Jackson, a letter from my Rabbi, three references that do not live with me, urine sample, letters from four dogs that don't live with me, copy of Lassie's autograph, one strand of hair, an original ballad that I composed, and the hat of one of the Monks of New Skete. And Lola's vet records for the past five years.

So I called the vet to get them to copy the eight million pages (I was a little overzealous when she was small) and Irene, who has known Lola all her life, suddenly can't find me.

Great. Now the rescue people are gonna think I'm a pirate who is just here to gather rescue Pugs and Bulldogs to ship them off to some small third-world country to make Nikes.

So she looks and looks and asks if I was possibly under Robot's name? Nope. And no, I do not have the kitty anymore, I found him a good home.

"Derek? Payne?" Irene asked. "Do you know a Derek Payne?"

Well that would be the good home I found him. Ah! They brought Wayne to the vet and got his records transferred. YAY! I did find him a good home! And YAY! I'm no pirate! Lola's records just got moved to Derek's file by mistake! And –

"I'm sorry?" I said, "The kitten's name is Wayne Payne?"

That kitten. He's not even here, and he's still making me laugh.

Not MY young lady!

2005-09-25T17:30:00.000-05:00

Lola is sleeping happily on her bed, with my foot on her back. I can tell she's having a dog dream by the jerking and chortling and closed-mouth barking she's doing. Then the jerking gets rhythmic. And mostly located in her hindquarters ...

ARE YOU HAVING A FREAKING SEX DREAM? HERE? IN FRONT OF ME? ON A SUNDAY?

Dog, I don't care if you are thirty-five years old! I'm thirty-three and I don't even hold hands in front of my mother. Is it not enough that you have lifted your leg to pee several times recently instead of squatting like the debutante that I like to pretend you are? That's it. You're wearing your t-shirt to daycare, young lady.

At least it covers up, like, eight of her boobs.

Will you just go outside and catch another stray cat?

2005-09-24T20:17:00.000-05:00

Its not like I have much to do out here, kids.

I keep the squirrels in line. Make sure the goose crap still tastes, "Canadian". Bark at countless hoboes at 3am.
Bark at the kids playing dice since they wont let me in on a set. Wait for the bra circulars from Sears to make it into the mail slot at 2pm and stash them away before Da-dee catches me.

Sometimes I go downstairs to visit Uncle Zach, but he is working with power tools and he makes me sit and stay for twenty minutes, which is, like and hour and a half in my time.

I have to nap now, cant talk, must grow.

So where was I , oh yeah the two brothers laugh at me when I have to, "do math problems in front of the class on the chalkboard". You know what Im talking about? That thing that happens when you never expect it to— right in front of everybody. Yeah well, I bet nobody ever called you "Tijuana Dick" before.
I cant help that when the breeze is just right and I sit down to hang out with the guys that my special bits just have to get a little air. Yeah whatever guys. I dont even know what to do with this thing except occasionaly chew on it right before I give you a lick on your arm or hand.

Anyways, Wayne wouldn't have called me "T-D". He would have said, "hey man, just keep on keeping on." And then clawed me right between the eyes. That guy had class.

"Popeye" Or: I yam what I yam

2005-09-24T20:07:00.000-05:00

If you feed your dog spinach, and you live in cellar-like conditions rivaled only by that flop-flat you rented in college with 5 other guys— be sure to watch your dog to see if he eats it before simply cramming another bushel's -worth of nature's goodness right back into his mouth a consecutive time.

Good intentions. Look at all the leafy greens he wants to eat. OR, look at all the spinach Ryder is chewing with mucho gusto, then spraying it on the floor like a mulching mower only to gallop back happliy to my hand for more.

Luckilly for me I just swept dust and plaster rubble over it, like sawdust over tobacco chaw.
Boys night at the hacienda. Yes, I do wipe my hands on the puppy's coat.

B

ryder , saturday night

2005-09-24T19:46:00.000-05:00

So the boy has been yodeling lately, unbelievably glancing at me when im shaving, now when I am working on the computer at home. Where's Wayne? Where's Lola? Where is my daycare? See since he was a pup he had West and Lola around, and even Jay made a few cameos now and then. Wayne got the daunting task of serving as puppy monitor after Lola and West were gone. Wayne really just wanted to eat and catch the occasional flys buzzing through the house.
Ryder persisted though and by weeks end, Wayne was one of the boys— like it or not.

With the kitten now happily placed into a new home, Ryder has been suspicious of the lack of cat poop smells, and Wayne himself. It seems Da-dee is the only winding-key around the house, and Ryder needs plenty of it.

Yelp! Time to play. No, I mean play n all fours, with your hooded sweatshirt on over your head. Yup like that Da-dee! Now watch me parade my bone around the room. See how I hold it up high in my mouth? It is for meeee. Except , no—yes, wait. No. Yes . see you chase me Da-deee. Yes I have the bone. No wait, okay yes I still have it. Shouldnt I bark a few more times when you sit back down and start to work? How bout we go to the park and I watch squirrels and canadian geese. or the 14 year old kids sell cocaine. yay!
Okay, right now! Yay! You are the best Da-deee ever.

Food, more foood. Ryder sleeps at my feet two hours. rinse.repeat play scenario except repeat in back yard this time.

Look at my pile of toys I run around. Look Da-deee! Look its Uncle Zach to chase me too. Now, yes I want some water from the garden hose. Nope from the algae-filled puddle over here instead. Now let me lick you.

Puppies arent such hard work, its the time it takes to give them the quality entertainment they deserve. Its not extended basic cable tv either. If people see me more and more reppin' my block with my dog, wearing my blue hoodie— I'm going to have to start my own crew over here in Garfield Park.

Robot

Early fall posing

2005-09-24T19:37:00.000-05:00

Lola's de-stanking continues.

2005-09-17T17:41:00.000-05:00

Photo 176.jpg
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

Today the dogs went on a Wicker Park romp - stores, sidewalks and the park. Know how you know Lola's having a good time? Drool on the nose and flowers in her collar. For a dog, it doesn't get better than that.

Not bad for a kitten in a garbage dumpster.

2005-09-16T12:00:00.000-05:00

So after spending another $150 at the vet, Robot and I decided to walk Wayne by one of our favorite stores, Hejfina in Wicker Park. The staff is cute, fashionable and tolerant of our animal harem. The dogs wish us to mention the cool concrete floors which feel good on the belly. Anyhow, we introduce them to Wayne and tell them his story and THEY FOUND HIM A HOME.

The always-fly Jiha got on the phone and called a friend who was looking for a kitty. But you know how that goes. They already found one or they don't want one now or they decide they're into ferrets now. I gave them this URL, but I didn't have high hopes. But they wanted him!

And then I panicked. I wanted to find Wayne a place in a shelter, where people more qualified could screen applicants. How will I know? What if Jiha has actually sold her soul to the devil in order to be so cute, and the devil requires kitten sacrifice? What if I don't like them? What if they'd be able to give him a good home anyway, but I just can't get past a George Bush button? What am I going to say to make them see how special he is, and how I want his worst days to be behind him? ACK!

Well, truth is, the only way I can be SURE that he'll have a life as fine as Princess Lola's, is to keep him myself. There are no guarantees.

So Derek and Susan came over to meet Wayne. I opened the door to a little hipster couple. Susan had the cute blunt bangs that I, a curly-haired girl, can never have. Lola ran right up to her, complimented her bangs and begged for attention. Lola liked them so much that I think they could have taken her too. Robot turns around and says, "Hey," like he knows Derek. And he DOES. They went to school together.

I tried to ask the right questions:

1. Are you allowed to have cats in your lease?
2. Sorry to get in your Kool-Aid, but if you break up, who gets Wayne?
3. If you get a free apartment in the Trump Towers but you can't bring Wayne, will you take it?
4. Do you have other pets?
5. Is this your first cat?
6. May I have a urine sample?

But none of this really matters, because people could easily lie. But then Derek looked me in the eye and said, "I'm going to give him a good, life-long home." And I looked at Susan and you could see that Wayne was breaking her heart with his warm-bellied snuggles and his fuzziness and his triangle-headedness.

And, they'd left themselves an out: They didn't drive over. So they wouldn't impulse-adopt the wrong cat. Derek said he and Susan were going to go on instinct - only if the kitten felt right. I liked that. Choose Wayne. Don't settle for Wayne.

Then Robot and I chattered like crazy people because we knew that Wayne was leaving us. I think we went over his medical records for an hour. Poor Derek and Susan. We told them to take a poop sample to the vet 46 times. And then they left with a ton of food a bucket of litter and three pounds of Wayne.

Ryder was mad as hell that we gave his kitten away. He looks in all Wayne's old cubbyholes – no Wayne. He has taken to whimpering when Robot leaves the house again.

Lola as usual, could care less. One less household item for her to avoid. More about her going to daycare to play with her friends!

So raise a glass for a happy ending/beginning.
Thanks and good luck to Susan and Derek.
And now, back to our regularly scheduled canine blogging.

My God. Please help.

2005-09-15T14:33:00.000-05:00

Click here to help the animals that were left stranded after Katrina.

scrimpin in the jade plant

2005-09-12T23:59:00.000-05:00

scrimpin in th ejade plant
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

The more things change...

2005-09-12T22:56:00.000-05:00

I stop by Robot & Ryder's to do my laundry and I bring Lola over for a romp. As usual, they forsake the sprawling yard for living room wrasslin'.

Lola is now in daycare three times a week - complete with pick-up and drop-off again. Heaven. Expensive Heaven, but hallelujah nonetheless.

Lola is no longer that great with other dogs when I'm walking her. She regularly has her fur up. This, again, is my fault. She hasn't been meeting strange dogs in Garfield Park, so she has to get used to it again. Thus I explain the hackles to the other owner and let them sniff cautiously. So far, so good.

Wayne just leapt into my lap.

It will be hard to let this boy go.

bot equals ROBOT.

2005-09-12T14:24:00.000-05:00

I have handed over major publishing duties to Robot, as we are vacating the house so that it might enter the Fifth Circle of Renovation Hell. Wait, does it get hotter as the numbers increase or decrease?

Anyhow, as he is no longer playing Handler of Contractors to my poignant portrayal of Shrieking Homeowner Shrew, we are no longer playing house. Both dogs are very confused. Wayne? Well Wayne never has any idea of what's going on because last week he was in a dumpster, this week he's got his own physician. But I think I've found a home for small, brown and possessed.

Finally, I would like to point out that Lola would have taken the fall for the following eating of all things round. All those chewed up round things that I gave her the evil-eye for, were clearly perpetrated by Ryder. My bracelet. My Jeep tire. A Krispy Kreme. Cee-Lo.

Ryder is clearly a roundist.

pappas boy left to his own devices

2005-09-11T23:41:00.000-05:00

IMG_2502
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

a little past eight months old, he completed his obedience class and passed the akc good citizen test. it is well hidden or he would have eaten it by now. the boy is having the time of his life with me in one room trying to learn css and javascript, while he plucks treats from atop their temporary moving box habitats. ohh he looks like his pappa though. -bot

the exorcism of wayne the cat

2005-09-11T23:21:00.000-05:00

IMG_2516
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

ryder cant help but befriend such an easily cornered kitten.

wayne succumbs

2005-09-11T23:20:00.000-05:00

IMG_2518
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

ryder is irressistable afterall. they went on a walk tonight together. wayne on my shoulder with ryder in heel. ran into five kids from the hood including a cute shorty in a diaper running circles round ryder shouting at him to sit and shake and speak . my boy just kept gazing at me as if to ask permission for a late night snack. the walk was followed up with a mediated wayne/ryder session and then milk and cookies for all parties involved. -bot

the last roll my friends...

2005-09-11T22:55:00.000-05:00

IMG_2520
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

encore. i see a pattern tonight. anything round may want to respect the enforced curfew. it is for your own good! - bot

the last roll my friends...

2005-09-11T22:51:00.000-05:00

IMG_2523
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

this is fodder for an official iditarod application form for ryder. sunday night 11 pm .what more can one say? mush! mush!

Well, you know I always jump the name gun.

2005-08-27T19:00:00.000-05:00

Thing is, the kitten looks like one of these, with the triangle head and big pointy ears so we wanted to name him something related to this fact but the only cool word we could think of this one and that's not a good name so we thought about this but that's soooo corny and obvious but then there's this but we didn't want to use both names, again, corny and obvious, but he didn't seem like a this so we went to this second one which I like because it reminds me of this guy that I love.

So he's no longer Gus.

Oh lookie! An actual post about dogs.

2005-08-22T23:58:00.000-05:00

Hey West,
I know you and Robot walk Lola and Ryder often, how do you get them to walk nicely by your side? I have a Beagle, he doesn't walk as nicely as I'd like. But the problem is that I wasn't living in a place where I wanted to walk him so now, he pulls on his leash and won't stay on the side I want him on. Any suggestions?

Well, Lola and Ryder were both trained to be walked since they were pups. That's not to say that Lola doesn't occasionally make like she's never heard the word "heel."

So I wrote this long post, pretty much regurgitating what I remember from Lola's training.Then I erased it. Not knowing your situation, I can't give you specific advice here.

However, if you've successfully trained your dog to do other things, you might use the tips here. Modify your previous drills, then you're set.

But if you have never worked with your dog, I suggest you get a few sessions with a pro trainer. Training your dog is only 50% about the dog. It has a lot to do with training YOU to have the right reaction each time. It help to have someone train you both. Also, city walking isn't just walking. It's teaching your dog to be comfortable in close proximity to other dogs. Lola learned that in the company of other dogs in playgroup, as well as on the streets.

But who knows, maybe you'll click on the tips and find out you're a dog-whisperer, a natural at dog training. Robot taught Ryder many things before he even began basic obedience.

My Lola was dumb as a post and stubborn as a rock. I'd taught her nothing. See Spot Run worked for me!

Well, See Spot Run and a prong collar. But I needed See Spot Run to teach me to use it fairly and effectively.

Either way, good luck!

This site IS about dogs. I swear. Just bear with me.

2005-08-21T14:56:00.000-05:00

Just to give you the proper scale of the kitty, here he is the first night:

Tiny.
This morning I slightly disobeyed instructions and brought him up on the back porch where he enjoyed sun, brushing and anti-biotics.

Dog management is simple. Gustav lives in Ryder's crate downstairs where the dogs never go. He sleeps a lot anyway, so I wake him for medicine and love twice a day and just love two more times a day. I wash my hands before petting the dogs after spending time with Contami-Kitty. No direct contact between them yet, but I do sometimes walk around with the cat wrapped in a pilowcase in my arms. The kitty, while nearly grating my entire finger over a Lola sighting yesterday, now doesn't bother to stop kneading his cheese mouse when she lurks below. The cat dog introductions will officially be made when I know I'm not introducing the kitten's fleas.

Funny, when it comes to a battle between our 160 pounds of dog vs. 2 pounds of kitty, my money is on Gus. Because Lola and Ryder won't fight back. They like cats. But Gus will fight for his life, not realizing that he's only fighting to stop a thorough butt-crack sniffing.

Remember that one of the breed selection criteria for both dogs was potential for compatibility with cats. Puppy Lola found it easier to let my 14 year old, feeble cat drink out of the bowl. First. Even if she was trying to get a drink herself.

Jay has given both dogs the what-for. So now they know that he is not to be bothered. Not even the MEMORY of him is to be trifled with, or he'll take the train from his downtown high-rise luxury summer condo and KILL them.

Robot bought the dogs giant bones the first day the kitten was here. Wha? Kitty? Stealing our love? Forget that thing man, WE GOT BONES!You gotta take care of your pets emotionally, especially when there's a new sick pet taking a lot of your attention. The dogs got good walks and fetching these past few days.

And those that are just joining us, I do talk about the Cane Corso and the Bullmastiff. A lot. Robot and I are just nursing a kitty back to health. He might join the cast, or we'll find him a good home. Either way, we thought we'd share his story with you - perhaps it'll help you introduce a kitten to your dogs.

One less homeless animal of any species is the goal.

Introducing...Gus.

2005-08-20T21:25:00.000-05:00

Introducing...Gus.
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

Day 2: Strong enough to become two pounds of RAGE when Lola got too

close. Pooping out lotsa worms. That's good. And best of all, not full

of fleas.

His name isn't really Hambone.

2005-08-19T13:10:00.000-05:00

So my standing policy on stray animals is that if I can catch them, or if they ask me for help, then I help. Last week I broke the policy by CHASING a cat whose face was so striking I wanted to make it mine. I of course couldn't catch it, and she stationed herself in plain sight, just out of reach. Cats know how to make you feel unworthy.

But a few days ago Robot called.

ME: Hello?
ROBOT: I'm in the alley and I'm looking at three half-dead, tiny kittens and one, Hambone (he'd named them) is standing in rotten coleslaw in a strofoam container and garbage and they're all skinny and one, Patches has a milky, crusty eye and he's probably going to lose that eye. It's silver like a fish with all this pus and they're so tired they can barely run away from me and they're too tired to flick flies off, and it stinks and there are probably maggots over here– it's like a cat UNICEF commercial. Awful. You want me to send you a photo?
ME: (calling to find a vet) NO! CATCH them.
ROBOT: Well, they have just enough energy to stay out of reach. Escape by trotting really.

De-pressing.

So last night I'd had a little too much wine and in the middle of my TIVO'd So You Can Dance? I decided to see if the kitties were out.

Hambone was.

He was on the edge of a dumpster, a tiny, dark thing with green eyes who might have run if he could maneuver on the edge of that open dumpster. Maybe. Because he was looking at me like, "HELP ME! DON'T YOU SEE I'M A KITTEN IN THE GARBAGE?". So he might have been headed towards me.

So I plucked his bony body right off the dumpster. Robot wrapped him in a towel, which is the easiest safest way to subdue an angry cat. He gave a token tired hiss, then went limp. We went to the store and got him milk and food and he was the picture of thankful greed. Two tiny paws all greasy with tuna. We kept him crated, away from the dogs. Not because they'd eat him, because I don't know what this kitty has. He was standing in rotten mayo a few days ago.

And sure enough, he has ear mites, worms, and a severe upper respitory infection. None of which would affect the dogs. But the fleas, THE FLEAS! They would have headed right for Ryder.

Two hundred dollars later, I have a two pound, eight week old, remarkably friendly to humans, brand new RaisingRyder storyline that has been saved from slow starvation in a trash can.

We're going back out for his brothers and sisters.

I hope we aren't jumping the shark here...

2005-08-19T09:57:00.000-05:00

I hope we aren't jumping the shark here...
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

But this guy needed help. We got him out of a dumpster last night. This

is his first vet visit, where I just got a load of my first flea.

Robot was playing a lot of San Andreas then, too.

2005-08-15T23:42:00.000-05:00

I keep getting hits on "naming your Cane Corso."

This amuses me greatly. Ryder's original name was 'Roman Jr' with an apt nickname of 'Fat Boy.' I wanted to name him 'Murray.' Robot nixed that. Robot wanted to name him 'Palermo.' I kept trying to say, 'Hey Pal' but it never worked.

One day Robot and I were in a great dog store and this guy comes in with his giant antsy Lab, "Craaaa-aaa-sh? Craaa-aaa-sh?" And that definitely nixed that one. We even temporarily tested names this way, "Rowwwwwwwman?" Then we realised that every name sounds kinda dumb when you say it like that. But cutesy theme names sound worse. I just couldn't ask if he was a Dave Matthews Band fan. I might have had to kill him.

Ryder's name partially came from how well he rode all the way from Indiana to Chicago - such a good rider he was. After all the names we tested, it just felt right. It went nicely with his pop's name too. And it seemed a fine thing to call upon the name of the patron canine saint of Companionable Taffy-Pulling and Snuggly TV Watching. We wanted the puppy to continue to be like him in temprament.

Jay is James. Lil' Half-Ton. Mingus.

I've had cats named Midnight, Chjazz and Katrina. Katrina, in particular, was very Katrina. I have rescued cats and named them Big and Frank and Ernest. I've been trying, unsuccessfully to name a pet Billy Ray Valentine. I guess I haven't met him yet.

I thought Lola was a Chloe or Zoe but something about her rejected a lilt at the end of her name. I was at Pick-Me-Up cafe, when I looked at my friends and said, "Lola?" And it was done. It was absolutely right. She has a fancy AKC name too, but not that many people know it. Not even the AKC, as I never sent her papers in.

Side benefit was that people CONSTANTLY sang to her as a puppy. She was a showgirl. They couldn't understand why she looks like a woman and talks like a man. It goes on.

I forgot both times to watch for the moment the words stop being words and become a name. Just when you think you'll have the only dog that NEVER learns its name, then you mention his name on the phone and he's suddenly standing under your arm.

Then they even answer to nicknames. We rename Ryder Roman all the time. The Boy. Barky McBarklestein. Ryde-or-Die (hip-hop thing). Lola is Hula, Stinkus Delecticus, My Girl, Potato, Sweet Pickles, Hullabalola, Lola Mae, and Lola Spinola among others.

Robot just came up with a new winner for him. I am officially rechristening Ryder, 'Billy Deez Nuts.'

Maybe Ryder's a pimp. They limp too.

2005-08-15T09:29:00.000-05:00

Ryder has a limp.
Puppy limps are mysterious things.
They come and go and change legs.

Most first puppy large breed people FREAK! because that is a sure sign of BAD HIPS and certain PAINFUL DEATH and WE KNEW WE SAW THE MOM LIMP but we didn't say anything. We thought she was just tired. And we have GODDAMN stairs and the dog won't be able to climb them anymore and he'll have to sleep ALONE downstairs in the kitchen with his broken hips. No, no I'll sleep on a cot next to you sweet boy! At least on like, Wednesdays and Fridays! And I'll have to sell my Jeep to buy a nice low-to-the-ground car for geratrics and bad-hipped dogs! And WTF anyhow?! His grandpops is Enzo, he of the best Cane Corso hips in the country!

That's what most first time owners do. But Robot has me, I'm absolutely nonchalant in the face of limps. Especially when five minutes later the limper is vigorously teabagging Lola and doing donuts in the backyard. We have no reason to think his limp is a sign of anything serious - he does come from amazing stock. We think he jumped out of the truck once and might have stretched/twisted something a little. That usually works itself out. Therefore, yesterday, Robot fussed over the boy for half an hour. Then last night he mocked Ryder for like, five whole minutes, limping around the house.

That's a true puppy veteran.

Still, if the limp isn't all gone, from all legs, by Wednesday he goes to the vet. That's a true puppy veteran too.

I'd like you to do three things this week.

2005-08-13T15:44:00.000-05:00

1. Check your smoke alarms.
2. Put up the sticker/sign that alerts firefighters of your pets' presence. Your vet or pet supply store should have them.
3. Imagine losing your pet this way, knowing that you didn't do the first two things. Sometimes you do it all and it happens anyway, but at least you did the things that were in your hands.

I was going to ask you for a fourth thing. I was going to ask that you send warm thoughts to Debbie, Bella Rosa and Little River.

But I know I don't have to ask.

Lola's less stank and Ryder's not dead. Happy Friday.

2005-08-12T13:42:00.000-05:00

The de-stank program is working well. This week Lola went to playgroup only twice though. But I have been heaping extra love on her and when I got my new old bike, she was happy to ride alongside.

This morning, my architect and two builders were here and Lola was an outrageous flirt. Sniffing shoes and sprawling out like a Playboy centerfold. I take that also as a sign that she no longer hates me, and that she knows that these are the men that could save her from the Third Circle of Remodeling Hell. Heck I probably should have given them a few sniffs too.

Not to be outdone, we were talking to the gentlemen outside and Robot allowed Ryder to go blundering through the trash and tall weeds on the other side of the guard rail across the alley. No need for you to try real hard to imagine and evaluate that scene in your head. Trash. Tall weeds. Alley. Equals bad place to let a puppy wander. But boys will be Robots and West will be an overprotective gramma-type.

So we are exchanging pleasantries and I'm preparing to put my head in the upstairs toilet and flush because fixing my house is MUCH harder than I ever imagined, when Ryder GALLOPS toward the street and an oncoming car. The kind of car that you hear going VVVVRRRRR because the driver just realised we have no speed bumps.

You shoulda seen Ryder – a dog-shaped piece of the darkest night doing his best graceless gallop with his legs flying up, ears flying out and his eyes rolling up in his head with the joy of it all. And none of us were going to reach him in time.

"Ryder, STOP!" I screamed.

He stopped.

I crooked a finger at him to commere. He did.

People, train your dogs. It could save their lives.

Then I flung myself into oncoming traffic because it was closer than flushing my head upstairs. Home repair sucks.

Well loved.

2005-08-09T22:39:00.000-05:00

Well loved.
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

My friend Beckham gave Robot this toy for Ryder. It was a hit.

This is what summer looks like.

2005-08-07T17:55:00.000-05:00

Although I have just posted a tirade on easily destroyed dog toys, Robot won't obey the blog and has found some ratty flamingo-leg kids toy that Ryder loves like a play cousin.
If you chew the shit out of your play cousin that is.
Instestinal blockage surgery never tasted so good.

ME: Have you seen these?

2005-08-07T17:54:00.000-05:00

Have you seen these?
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

YOU: These what?
ME: DEEEZE NUUUUUUTS!

Sorry, inside joke for hip-hop fans.

Clowning for the man.

2005-08-02T20:03:00.000-05:00

Robot is in the back with the dogs, running Ryder through his paces - jump and get the Kong, sit, down, heel, shake. And now Robot taught Ryder to bark when he gives a little hip-hop nod of the chin.

The best part is Lola sitting there watching, confused, wondering if Ryder has a twitch or something. Bulllmastiffs aren't much for tricks.

Steph said...

2005-08-01T23:02:00.000-05:00

"hey west! question, how big was ryder at 4 mo? we're fostering a boxer/irish wolfhound/heniz 57 (actually, she is way wolfhound by the look of those giant ass paws) and looking for some comparison. we live in the city and before we commit to adopting, and oh how we would love to sign those final papers, want to make sure frankenpuppy will always have enough room when she grows into her paws. Yesterday she was 4 mo and 28 pounds... today 4 mo, one day and by the looks of her a good 3 inches taller and oh just that much heavier."

Robot says he was like 40 lbs., but that won't help you. Two dogs can look the same but be two totally different weights. Muscle. Hair. Height. They all make a difference. Lola sorta looks the same size as her Golden Retriever buddy Bo, but she outweighs him by thirty pounds. He's all hair and she's all Lola.

I say this to say, an Irish Wolfhound/Boxer puppy is pretty different than a Cane Corso pup. You need an expert.

Call a few professional Irish Wolfhound and/or Boxer breeders. Emphasis on the professional part. Explain that you rescued a mixed breed and you want to learn about her heritage. If you can, take your girl to the breeder and introduce. A good breeder won't mind that she's not purebred, they're partial to helping their favorite kind of dog - as long as you don't want to actually breed her. So you get size and breed temprament estimates AND inside advice on city viability. Thank them profusely and admire their dogs - you just might get the pleasure of access to breeder advice without spending two Gs.

Besides, no matter what kind of dog you have, you want to meet adults. It's important that you get a feel for them. I drove to Wisconsin to fall in love with Bullmastiffs before I got Lola. It was great fun - wonderful dogs, sweet people and excellent advice, all from Valtris Estates. If you go for a Wolfhound breeder, you'll get to see adult Wolfhounds - your girl at her LARGEST. If you go for a Boxer breeder, you'll see her at her most INSANE.

And you might find that size is more than pounds. Lola's mid-size Boxer friend, the debonaire Hank always felt much larger than Lola. Because he was on the couch. On the counter. In the middle of a grudge match with a Mr. T action figure. In my room. Ordering shit on the internet. I was amazed at how he seemed to fill up my condo.

Actual size does matter though.

Understand this: Every puppy is going to ruin something you love at least once. The bigger the dog, the larger the loved item in jeopardy. Ryder is threatening my TV and the back porch.

My apartment size criteria was, I need to be able to yell, "Go away!" And Lola has to have a comfortable place to get out of my sight. You also need a good place to confine your pony/dog during the day where she won't get in trouble. The kitchen was good. And I used to babygate her into my teeny den and a hallway.

I finally have that big yard that EVERYONE was trying to tell me I needed to have in order to make big dogs like Lola and Ryder happy. They could give less than a good goddamn.

Good luck Steph, send photos of Frankenpuppy and let me know how it works out!

Uh oh.

2005-08-01T14:42:00.000-05:00

ROBOT: Um, how old is your Boxer?
GUY: Like, uh, seven months...
ROBOT: Is she in heat?
GUY: Uh, why do you ask?
ROBOT: Because of the humpy conga line of dogs trying to sniff her? I'm sure she's got a nice personality and all, but...

And as he related this tale, Robot got a sly smile and said, "Ryder could tell too."

I was in New York seeing the best band ever. So I missed a great opportunity to add to my deft handling of sensitive male issues. But then again, who could top this, this, and of course this?

You probably should have eaten me at birth.

2005-08-01T13:43:00.000-05:00

A few weeks ago, my mom called to tell me that it has officially become too hard to buy me presents because I am too particular, thus we would be ending any present-giving holiday's present-giving part.

A few days ago, my mom e-mailed AND called to inform me that she bought Lola TEN daycare days PLUS two sleepover nights. Gleeful, she was.

So MY treats are now being passed to the one who CAN'T politely point out that she hates twinsets? If this is a glimpse of gramma-ness, you can just forget me having actual human babies, Lady. I'm far too greedy for this nonsense.

LOLA: Thanks Lady! West is an ingrate! Keep it comin'! Can I have a cookie?

Cane Corso ears and West's Mom.

2005-07-29T23:36:00.000-05:00

A reader, Liz (hi!), asked about Ryder's floppy ears.

You are correct, the breed standard calls for cut ears. But my mother is afraid of dogs and took forever to get used to Lola. If Ryder looked like this, she would NEVER come over. Not even if Ryder just saved Timmy from a well.

Robot also doesn't plan to show him, so he didn't feel the need to trim the ears.

Lola almost was a pug. Same look. Same temprament. I just went big.

In fact, each year in Chicago they have a Pug Crawl, where everyone brings their Pug out to walk a gauntlet of bars - pub crawl. I TOTALLY want to take Lola one year. "SO WHAT? SHE'S A BIIIG PUG! EVERYBODY LAUGH AND POINT AT THE BIG PUG! WELL YOU'RE NOT SO PERFECT YOURSELF MISTER! YOU HAVE SAD CALF MUSCLES AND A LARGE LUMPY HEAD! SEE? AND WE LET YOU WALK AMONG THE REGULAR SIZE HUMANS!"

Also, I luuuuv comments. Occasionally I feel like I'm blogging into the void.

"OW GODDAMN IT! YOU BAD FUCKING DOG!"

2005-07-29T22:15:00.000-05:00

Then I heard a WHAP!
I turn from filling my favorite Ikea watering pitcher to see what would make a freshly showered Robot yell such a thing and actually give a WHAP.
When Lola was a naughty puppy, she got a bonk on the nose. Ask any older dog how they teach a puppy manners and they'll say that a well-timed nip-n-snarl goes a long way. I don't nip. I bonk on the nose or grab a tender Bullmastiff ear. But Robot is all Dr. Phil Positive Reinforcement with Ryder, so I look like Ike Turner. So I really wanna know what could lead to yelling AND a WHAP!
Robot was in the hall, in his underwear, glaring at Ryder.
"He fucking bit at my left nut. Just jumped up and kinda toothed it."
Two hours earlier, I was just talking about Ryder's nuts. Singing, really. It was a song about how happy Ryder was that he had nuts, and how he would have nuts forever and how he was pleased to let his nuts swing like a real man. And Lola and West are clearly defective because they have no nuts. And how he would have them forever, right? NUTS! Just like his Dad! 4Ever! Right? Right? Daddy? You're not saying 'right'. And we laughed at the song because we assumed he didn't speak English. More importantly, we assumed he didn't understand sarcasm.
So it is later in the night, and I just had to get some specifics from Robot on Nutgate. He told me exactly what Ryder did and I said, "You do realize that to a girl, that sounds like he just breathed on your nut and rested his teeth on it for a milisecond? That's not so bad, just gross right?"
Nothing.
"So he bit your nut? Jaws actually closed down?"
"Yes. No. Like he mouths your hand."
Ah. I can see how that'd be scary.
And funny.
And on the internet.

If that were true, they would have stayed.

2005-07-27T23:43:00.000-05:00

The other night it was really hot, coming off a 104 degree day. Only our wee bedroom has air conditioning, so we stuck both dogs in there with us. Ryder promply stuck his hot balls right in the direction of the breeze and went to sleep. Lola was a little stank, so she placed herself in the way of the door so we would disturb her/persecute her as much as possible while we got ready for bed.

In the middle of the night, Ringleader Ryder started giving the polite whine. I started the gentle rocking that wakes Robot up so subtly that I think he thinks the dog woke him up. Bathroom? Okay. And he started fumbling for his keys and the alarm control. He opened the bedroom door and the dogs shot out of the icy air and into the sweltering invisible sludge that was passing for air - Lola to her own bed and Ryder to crate himself.

Robot comes back to bed and curls up next to me. "Damn girl, you must stiiiink."

Chew Toy Budget = National Deficit

2005-07-27T22:54:00.000-05:00

Have I forgotten to tell you the CHEAPEST, BEST toy for a strong chewer?

Plastic soda and water bottles.

Dispose of the potentially trachea-clogging cap and let 'er rip. The bottle goes skittering across the floor and it makes such a pleasing thock...thock..THOCKTHOCKTHOCKTHOCK! Then the capturing and the chewing and the hugging and the slobber. You have to watch them though. Strong chewers will make quick work of it. You don't want them pulling bits of plastic off and swallowing them. Lola, if given enough alone time, could eat an entire Corvette.

The thing is, two liters don't last long, but they're figuratively free. I have purchased MILLION DOLLAR toys that Lola has destroyed in two seconds flat. Literally.

Here are the worst toys for strong chewers: ANYTHING IN THE GROCERY STORE. NOTHING IN TARGET. Nothing in the pet stores that does not read, "For the suckers who bought dogs that require the toughest, most expensive chew toys ever created."

Nylabone Galileo. Lola's fave. To chew and to drop on my toe. Twenty bucks.
Nylabone, Thing That Looks Like a Fist. Ryder thinks that's okay too. But the puppy one is getting eaten by Lola. He likes Lola's big dog one. Twenty bucks.

But worth it. See, chewing gives dogs a pleasure that humans can never quite understand but should never question. Like men and Three Stooges movies. It relieves stress, helps with teething and quite frankly keeps them busy and in one watchable place. And they're gonna gnaw something.

Better chew toy than Knoll couch.

Also, Ryder totally farted.

I'm just saying.

Lola is a little less stank with me.

2005-07-27T19:12:00.000-05:00

This morning she got up when I called her to go, and trotted happily past me!

That, my friends, is an improvement.

And when I came to pick her up, she only looked like I was taking her back to a dog labor camp to be pinched repeatedly with Chipotle tweezers while she is forced to pull a sled with a Hummer on it.

I'm considering sticking one of those "Mom's taxi" bumper stickers on my once cool Jeep that used to be used for driving to work and making out. But, three days into the whole daycare drop off routine, I haven't yet had to kill myself. Not even today when I'm wearing skyscraper YSL wedges! I typically don't walk more than two sidewalk squares in those!

But it's worth it for that slightly less stank dog smile.

My how they grow...

2005-07-26T19:23:00.000-05:00

Also, my how we make them suffer the exact same indignities we made them suffer when they only weighed like, three pounds and couldn't kill us in our sleep. Poor bastard.

Lola will have an Old Style please.

2005-07-25T15:16:00.000-05:00

Lola's life BEFORE: Sleep in air-conditioned condo. Food. West and Lola sing songs in our underwear. West goes to work. Cute sitter picks Lola up, takes her to Place of Fun where she hangs with her dog homies. She is praised. She and four other bitches run the yard. Boy dogs tell her she is pretty. She is returned to air-conditioned condo. West returns. Lola is walked. Trade stories with Dukie, the neighbor. TV is watched. Food is begged for. Sleep is had.

Lola's life NOW: Sleep in hot house. Food. Ryder hangs from her jowls. Go out in yard. West goes to work. It is hot. Robot lets the dogs into the yard. Be bored unless someone comes to throw a ball. Robot comes out to play! But Ryder steals the ball and wants to be chased. Lola is bored again. Ryder gets fed like fifteen small meals during the day. Lola is hot. Lola wonders what happened to her friends and the Place of Fun that she used to visit five days a week. Perhaps she is being punished. Robot wants to play again. Lola is sad and doesn't want to. Is Ryder eating again? West is home. TV is watched. There's no kitchen in the house so no food is begged for. Sleep is had.

Dogs are emotional. Lola's life changed drastically when I moved into my fixer upper home in Garfield Park. And generally speaking, she dealt with the change well. Until now. I'm a little worried. She isn't quite herself. She doesn't like to leave the house when you get her leash and call her. She pouts. Like she don't wanna go. She's a little short with other dogs besides Ryder sometimes. Anne from See Spot Run told me that she is a little cranky when she is bathed and a little cranky with other dogs. She's gotten a teeny bit chunky without her daily hour of play. And, she just seems, well, sad.

I can't have that.

So my Lola Emotional Management Plan is this:

1. Although I moved closer to See Spot Run, I'm the only client in this direction. So they won't do pick-up and drop off like they used to. Not even if I pay extra. Not even if I offer sexual favors. So I have to drop her off in the morning (when I'm always late) and pick her up before seven thirty. I drive her there, park my car for free then grab the train in to work. Then I take the train back and grab Lola. I'm going to try hard to do this every day.

When I wait too long between playgroups, Lola has to re-establish her position in the pack all over again. And by the time she lets the Bitches know what time it is, I wait another week.

And she's lonely. Ryder doesn't count as company. Lola is five (35). Ryder is six months (three and a half). Would I like to suddenly live in a house with a three year old brother and HARDLY EVER get to see my adult friends when I used to see them every day?

Daycare was never really cheap. Now it's not cheap and not convenient. That sucks. BAD. But Lola is my girl. And until I can figure out something else, this is how it goes.

2. More baths at daycare. Lola hates water sprayed on her. A lot. But she's adaptable. I just can't let her get used to NOT having a bath. I'm also going to give it a go with the hose.

3. More me and Lola time. No Ryder. Not Robot. Which will be good for them - no Lola. No West. I can reinforce her commands. Play fetch. Take her to the park more. Go on walks. Visit her buddy Bo. Bo is nine. Lola can really talk to Bo.

The other day I dropped her off at daycare and this guy goes, "Hey there's my buddy!" But when he got to the half door his face fell because it was just Lola and not Ryder. "Boys and Ryder," I said. "LOLA IS A MOTHERFUCKING ROCK STAR you BITCH!" I thought. And if I felt it, then Lola smells it too - Ryder the favored puppy.

You will always have to help your dog be a good dog for you. Picking the right breed in the first place helps. Bullmastiffs aren't really a high maintenence dog. But I made her a very social dog by sending her to playgroup every day. I didn't see any reason for that to ever change - but it did. I took away a major part of her pack. And added two strange new ones. So I have to put in some work right now - to figure out how I'm gonna get her back to a routine that makes up both happy. And the extra time I have to spend won't be so bad. You can take Lola to a bar, buy her a beer and she'll totally be thrilled to sleep on the floor.

Riding Ryder.

2005-07-24T14:45:00.000-05:00

Meet Dakota the boxer puppy.
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

Meet Dakota. One bouncy Boxer puppy. But then again, I guess that's redundant.

Momentarily crazed.

2005-07-24T14:42:00.000-05:00

Momentarily crazed.
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

He's always much bigger than puppies his age, but they know a kid when

they see one and proceed to jump on him.

I'd like to thank the Academy...

2005-07-23T20:41:00.000-05:00

Apparently if you search Yahoo for giant turds, I'm like, number fourteen on the list.

Garsh, I didn't expect to even be nominated for the site with the most giant turds. I don't have a speech ready...I'll just say that this was awful nice and I hope those in search of hot balls find Good Ol' Hot Balls McGuillicutty.

Reason #296 that West is a BIG NERD:

2005-07-23T18:45:00.000-05:00

Let me begin by saying that once, when desperate for approval from a cool, hardcore, girl who was all hard-ass and making her way in a male-dominated profession, I RAN up to her, squealed and wiggled and screamed, "I have tattoos too!"

Ugh. I swore to never verbally share personal similarities with anyone again. At least not without rehearsing it first.

What did I do today? The same thing. Except out my car window to a guy with a cute Bullmastiff.

Driveby nerding.

The owner at least smiled. The Bullmastiff looked disappointed and worried about me. Girl, don't you ever learn?

Humiliation.

2005-07-21T19:20:00.000-05:00

Humiliation.
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

This is for chewing up my flip-flop, puppy dog. Okay. It isn't. Robot

told me Ryder chewed my shoe but I haven't noticed which one yet. So I

probably won't be mad.

I'm just evil.

Good Ol' Hot Balls McGuillicutty

2005-07-20T22:44:00.000-05:00

Good Ol' Hot Balls McGuillicutty
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

File this under West's extreme sensitivity to adolescent male issues:

Giggle at the poor overheated boy, yell a silly genitalia-related

nickname, take a photo AND post it on yer blog.

I can feel all the potentially male eggs shrivel inside my ovaries.

Fifteen Minutes in Dogland.

2005-07-17T17:25:00.000-05:00

Ryder has been giving these mighty sneezes that blast a nasty, thick green-ish mucus that would send a box of Kleenex running for its mother. One of these blasts is on the side of the bed. I sat in another on the back porch.

As I write, Lola and Ryder are engaged in one of their spontaneous WWF matches, crowded right between my perhaps broken toe and the bed. I sneeze and Ryder stops the battle long enough to give me a "You too?" face.

Then they both trample Robot on their way outside.

One minute later, Ryder is on a wild galloping spree: Outside the house. Inside the house. Outside the house. Inside the house. Each time surfing a few feet on my Rya runner.

Here comes Lola, trotting fast with a look that says that Ryder is about to get in serious trouble and she wants no part of it.

I am too slow to act.

Here comes Ryder, the son of Cups Chester, doing that thing he does with any unsupervised cup-like object. He has picked up Lola's gigantic stainless water bowl and is galloping through the house with it.

It is half full.

He flings it on the carpet, upside down, con mucho gusto.

It is funny.

Mostly because Robot will be mopping, not me.

Robot just starts grabbing leashes, and mumbling about "melting me some dogs."

These are the Dog Days of Summer people, you won't last without a sense of humor.

Darree, Darnell, Naz and one nasty tennis ball.

2005-07-17T14:39:00.000-05:00

Darree, Darnell, Naz and one nasty tennis ball.
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

I hate to tell the kids, but the reason their mom is so unafraid of

disgusting dog fluids is, well, because she's a mom. Of two boys.

She's hardcore.

Darree isn't so down with this dog park thing.

2005-07-17T14:35:00.000-05:00

Darree isn't so down with this dog park thing.
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

My best friend Naz from middle school is visiting with her kids, so out

of all the amazing sights to see in Chicago, where do we go?

I'm a rotten tour guide.

Naz was amazed at how rough and tumble boys suddenly get all Matha

Stewart at the thought of grabbing a drooly, dirty dog toy.

Lola is so not sneaky.

2005-07-17T14:28:00.000-05:00

Lola is so not sneaky.
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

She likes to abruptly end a game of fetch, claiming she is too parched

to continue. Then she flops down on the wet asphalt by the water

fountain. But if you go over there for a look, you discover that she has

a tennis ball hidden away, waiting for you to start jabbering away with

some other owner so she can swallow the tennis ball goodness whole.

Nice try bitch.

Urban Bullmastiff and Cane Corso Petting-Fest 2005

2005-07-14T21:51:00.000-05:00

There's one part of socialization that is particularly scary for me: My dog and other people's kids.

ME: Hello ma'am, I have a puppy that to you, probably looks like a giant Pit Bull. She and her huge teeth need to get used to irritating kids. She must be exposed to this in a controlled situation, so that I can gauge her tolerance and be sure that she knows that little people are still high in the pack.

SOMEBODY'S MOTHER: (blinking) What?

ME: Great. I am also going to need your kid to hold my dog's food bowl, which is the size of a Volkswagen Bug. She LOVES food, so don't be alarmed when I say free and she charges at your toddler. She will immediately stick her head in the bowl and inhale kibbles up her nose, then make rhythmic snorting noises like an angry bull on Soul Train.

SOMEBODY'S MOTHER: Are you crazy?

ME: (chuckling) Not at all. It's socialization. And I don't have any kids of my own, so I'm gonna need you to risk your kid...What? You have two! Now who's your least favorite? He's probably the one who's most naturally irritating.

Mothers. No sense of humor.

But seriously, I worried.

When your dog is in the baby tooth stage, when his teeth are like little needles and you think that he will NEVER EVER STOP BEING BITEY. It takes a healthy dose of the three lessons that make a dog a "good" dog to get them to understand that teeth on a human are never acceptable. But still, you're also trying to fit kids in as a good early socialization experience.

But I never had to ask for volunteers because for some reason, people would let their kid come toddling right up to a giant strange dog walked by a strange girl. That always amazed me. I'd turn my head for a second only to realize that some nut with a hamburger in one hand is basically stuffing their kid's hand down Lola's throat, "Pet the DAWGIE!"

Anyhow, to make do, I used to pull Lola's ears and squeal. I took her to playgrounds so she could see little humans from afar. If a friend with a kid was over, I'd seriously explain what I was trying to do and I'd closely supervise a kid feeding Lola. Or petting her. And it paid off. Her limited kid encounters were enough to make her very reliable as an adult.

Okay, but Ryder the Alderman of Garfield Park? Whole different thing. Robot loves to let kids pet the dogs. And Ryder LOVES to meet his constituents.

We were all talking to our neighbor and her dog Sweetie when all the kids on the entire block came to pet the dogs. But Ryder was the star. They pet him. Fed him grass. Told me that he's better than Lola. (!!!!!) Made Ryder shake like he was running for re-election. I was thinking, "Yeah kids, he can shake BUT HAVE YOU SEEN MY DOG FETCH? HAVE YOU? SHE'S POETRY IN MOTION!"

But I said none of that and just smiled as a four-year-old boy kept trying to impress a four-year-old girl by coming up to the seated Lola (who was easily as tall as he was), touching her, then running for his life. He was excited. The little girl looked impressed. Lola was bored. So of course the kid gets bolder, and giddier.

Lola Roulette.

At one point, he ran over and touched me instead of Lola, but never noticed because he was looking at the four-year-old girl to be sure she was getting all this manliness.

In addition to watching the tiny urban version of the Crocodile Hunter, we had to answer eight million simultaneous questions: She's a girl. He's a boy. Five years. West. Robot. Ryder. Lola. No she never had babies. Neither of them can have babies. Seven months. NPR. Ear lobes. Dog food. Harriet Tubman. They were free. 34B. They're just mutts. Dogs are a lot of work. Sweetie. No relation. No she won't shake. No they don't bite, unless you want to kill me. Are you planning to kill me? West. Robot. Pod-casting. Ryder. Lola. They like cats. Why do you want a Pit Bull? Billie Dee Williams. What's your dog's name. She's a girl. No that lump doesn't hurt. Five AM. In the house. Training. Love. No this is not my real hair color.

But know what? The work pays off. Our dogs are so good with kids they could open their own daycare. When you teach your dog to be very good with kids, you'll feel a totally new kind of pride that you taught one of the most important lessons well.

Robot and his Official Cane Corso.

2005-07-14T20:55:00.001-05:00

Robot and his Official Cane Corso.
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

Today we got Ryder's ICCF papers. Robot celebrates by dancing about

with, ahem, West West Ryder Roman. I always suspected that two dogs

would turn the house into a kennel. Now it's official.

Son of Cups Chester

2005-07-14T20:55:00.000-05:00

Son of Cups Chester
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

Also known as Roman, he of the tiny lipstick.

Hold Ryder up to the screen please.

2005-07-14T16:36:00.000-05:00

I feel a problem approaching.

Robot has had the luxury of being a stay-at-home Robot. So Ryder is frequently hanging out with his beloved DUH-DEE. Doing all the things that Robots and dogs like to do - barking at crackheads, going to the park and biting themselves about their naughty bits. All this extra attention is great.

Until you put that fool in his crate. Then shady memories of MONKEY WITH SHINGLES BEING SHAVED BY CHEESE GRATER come shrieking back. Nobody can scream in his crate like Ryder. I challenge any of you with a puppy to a Canine Scream-Off.

We put Ryder in the crate. Fine. I drop a sack on Robot and drag him out to my car, driving recklessly to Iowa. Not so fine. As soon as Ryder realises he won't be going, the whining begins. And it's worse now. Now, now in this time of sensitive male issues like dropped nut-sacks and a penis that is getting uncomfortably large for my my belly rubbing tastes, now his voice is getting deeper. So now it's a like a GORILLA WITH SHINGLES AND A MEGAPHONE BEING SKINNED BY A CHEESE GRATER. AND SALTED.

There was a Beagle-Jack Russell mix that lived over my friend Duane's condo. This dog had severe issues with being alone. This dog barked, I kid you not, for six hours straight. I was ready to shoot holes in the floor. I'm not ashamed to say that I wanted that dog dead. At once.

Ryder? You reading?

It is time to work on our Separation Anxiety. Now. While we're in the house. Because if you ever have to live in an apartment, there might be a me below you.

Fuck yeah! Whatever the fuck you are!

2005-07-04T12:57:00.000-05:00

Lola loves to bite elaborate geometric figures.
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

Fuck yeah! Water!

2005-07-03T15:28:00.000-05:00

Fuck yeah! Water!
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

Dogs. Such simple emotion.

Fuck yeah! Catch!

2005-07-03T15:25:00.000-05:00

Fuck yeah! Catch!
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

Lola in Hejfina.

2005-07-03T14:33:00.001-05:00

Lola and Ryder in Hejfina.
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

Everytime I paused to look at something Lola would fall down like she'd been shot by a sniper crouching behind the stacks of Habitual jeans and super soft t-shirts. The cool concrete floor was too irresistible for her not to put her belly on. Cool store. Cool staff.

And I'm always so proud that my dog didn't ruin it for every other dog by doing something completely dog-rational but human-crazy. Like having a BIG OL' WHIFF off the crotch of somebody buying $5,000 worth of merchandise. Or crawling under the changing room door and dragging some girl's underwear out and parading it through the store. Or causing a you-break-it-you-bought-it situation by eating a pair of designer jeans that are now artfully distressed but not in my freaking size.

When you know what normal looks like for a dog, sometimes you gotta thank her for NOT living up to her canine potential.

Ryder in Hejifina.

2005-07-03T14:33:00.000-05:00

Lola and Ryder in Hejfina.
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

Okay. Anthing that smells like this store is off limits at home. In other words, I WILL MURDER YOU WITH NO REMORSE IF YOU EAT MY GRAY ANT TUNIC. You have been warned puppy.

The Buddha just made Jesus blow milk out of his heavenly nose.

2005-06-29T10:59:00.000-05:00

I like to think there's some unknown presence(s) out there in the universe that is gets a really good belly laugh at our human antics. I'd also like to allege that they have a mischevious streak – occasionally nudging things into the comedic for a giggle. Exhibit A:

So last night Robot goes to help his friend E-the-Cop. So E is one of Robot's buddies from way back, so he went to help him move into his brand new condo. And he took Ryder. Robot figured he'd let Ryder hang at E's while it is still empty. Nothing to chew/knock over. Cool? Cool.

Things were going well, then Ryder peed on the floor. Then they put him outside and he BARK. BARK. BARKED. Not wanting to make E's new neighbors cranky, Robot brought him in the house, put him in the bathroom and they went to run an errand. When they got back, Robot said he opened the door to the bathroom, and Ryder had gone all Lord of the Flies again and FLUNG HIS POOP ALL OVER E'S NEW BATHROOM.

The epicenter was in the center of the room, then it spead. He pooped in the tub. He sat in it. He ran around the room, and smeared it on the floor, the cabinets, the toilet, and up the walls. There was poop in the sink. Did this dog wash his paws? Poop up by the towel rack. In the grout. Robot says he might have to paint. And I will bet that our boy reverted back to his LIVE MONKEY BEING SLICED INTO LUNCHMEAT screams, which is his favorite soundtrack for distributing the poo all over a bathroom. Trust me. I know.

Worst of all, because E-the-Bachelor was just now moving in, he didn't have cleaning supplies yet. And it was too late to go get any. So Robot had to clean a crap-encrusted puppy, the bathroom and eventually himself, ALL with TOILET PAPER. He said it took two rolls.

THEN he had to strip down and shower with the dog after he'd finished the bathroom because they were both going to make a mess of the place again if they didn't. And after that, the bathroom needs cleaning AGAIN because now you've got dookie crumbs everywhere.

Right here I'd like to explain something to those seeking a puppy for the first time: At some point, you will look that puppy in the eye and call him a motherfucker. And mean every syllable.

At the very least you will want to dump him off in a neighborhood where all the dogs are chained in dusty back yards so he can SEE how good he has it with you. You read about his breed on the internet so you can take the very best care of him. You didn't have to do that. You could be surfing porn but nooo! You're finding out what food will make his coat shinier. You spend at least a small leather good at Louis Vuitton's worth of money each month on him. Daycare. Food. Vet. Fancy collar and home made treats. And now he does THIS in your friend's new condo? You lit-tle mu-tha-fuc-ka!

Your puppy can and will embarrass you. Especially if you're raising him right. If you're raising him right, he'll be in a lot of new scary situations that aren't always the most comfortable for him. And one response to fear or nervousness is to poop. Or pee. Or fart. Or bark. Or hump. Or any number of things that make humans want to be incinerated by Zeus on the spot.

Puppy raising isn't all cute cuddles. Frequently you have dog shit under your fingernails. And FYI? My dog *still* takes dumps in anything that seems like a basement, so no garden apartment visits for Lola.

So back to Poor Robot. Poor Robot slinks home at 2 in the morning and I could tell by the sad clumpy way that Ryder went into his cage that it was a TENSE ride home. And Poor Robot falls into bed and tells me this awful tale of woe. He. Was. Mortified. And although I know he wanted E-the-Cop to shoot him and his unruly dog to end the misery, E is cool and I'm sure will forgive. And one day this story will be a big laugh over a cold imported beer purchased by Robot.

The beer will be on Robot for like, the next 700 years.

But right now, given this thing, these famous last words, plus this incorrect assumption of a jinx fulfilled, me and the celestial studio audience almost peed our robes writing this.

I TOTALLY jinxed myself.

2005-06-27T22:55:00.000-05:00

Wha'd it take? Like two days flat? He peed on the floor tonight. Then he peed for like five minutes straight outside.

Next time I want to tell you that Ryder has made a significant housebreaking breakthrough I'll say a code word. Like, "First the Fat Boys break up, and now this." No wait. That suggests that housebreaking is a bad thing.

I got it. JINX-FREE CODE PHRASE: "Ladies and Gentlemen, Sexual Chocolate."

Ryder vs. The Sprinkler

2005-06-26T15:36:00.002-05:00

Ryder vs. The Sprinkler
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

Ryder vs. The Sprinkler

2005-06-26T15:36:00.001-05:00

Ryder vs. The Sprinkler
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

Ryder vs. The Sprinkler

2005-06-26T15:36:00.000-05:00

Ryder vs. The Sprinkler
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

It's not that they wrassle.

2005-06-26T02:08:00.000-05:00

It's that they wrassle in the freaking house. I have a huge backyard just for the two of them, and they play in the four feet of the Remodeling Circle of Hell that Robot and I have cleared for our own. I'm not sure why, but look at that look on Ryder's face. That's love, passion or possession by Satan. Either way, until they break something, knock yourself out dogs.

I'm gonna go ahead and jinx myself.

2005-06-25T14:21:00.000-05:00

But Ryder seems to be fairly housebroken.

I delayed writing this post because you KNOW he's gonna make a turd mountain in my YSL shoebox just to show me he's the boss of my destiny. Whenever I would make the declaration that Lola had finally realized the insanity of making puddles inside, she, without fail, would fall off the wagon.

I still remember when she was like, 10 months old, she ran into my bedroom, picked up a toy, looked me in the eyes and lovingly peed on the floor. What? Oh dang! That was an accident.

Most of the poop that hits your floor from your puppy is not an "accident" - they don't even understand that the bathroom is outside. So that's job one. Inside 101 and Outside Goddamn You 101.

So anyhow, when we're home, we usually have the back door open, giving the dogs access to the yard. Ryder takes himself out when he has to go.

MOM-MY WOW! I'm a big kid now!

That leaves us to only enforce mandatory bathroom visits just before we leave him cratebound.

And speaking of the crate, remember when Robot did the exact opposite of what you're supposed to do and took the divider out of his ULTIMA crate for GIGANTIC dogs? He hardly EVER had an accident in this crate that is pretty much like an apartment for him. HE should be peeing and pooping freely in there.

Maybe he wasn't ready to be left alone for more than five seconds when we were trying to teach him in the smaller crate. Maybe when he had a growth spurt in there it felt like the trash compactor scene in Star Wars. In any case, he's a champ now.

There's a place that a dog gets to, where he becomes a part of the home and not a TINY, SCREAMING, LEAKY, CHEWY, BITING MARAUDER. They have to be raised to that place. And even if he lets loose on my Rya rug five minutes after I post this, I still know that he's on his way there.

Um...

2005-06-18T20:09:00.000-05:00

Um...
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

Puppies are work.

2005-06-18T20:06:00.000-05:00

Puppies are work.
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

You have to make them listen to you every time. Or else they only will when they feel like it.

Robot is yelling, "Stack! Stack!"

2005-06-18T18:57:00.000-05:00

Robot is yelling, "Stack! Stack!"
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

Sunburst Ryder

2005-06-18T18:53:00.000-05:00

Sunburst Ryder
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

Like what? Fifty pounds?

2005-06-18T18:50:00.000-05:00

Like what? Fifty pounds?
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

Robot and Lola and the only Kong that lasts longer than five minutes.

2005-06-18T18:47:00.000-05:00

Robot and Lola and the only Kong that lasts longer than five minutes.
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

Dogs love trucks.

2005-06-17T19:16:00.000-05:00

Dogs love trucks.
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

The old Nissan adage is true. But Lola loves Jeeps.

--sigers

The back seat of my Jeep

2005-06-14T18:39:00.000-05:00

The back seat of my Jeep
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

Sharing is going well so far. Ryder just sleeps on Lola's butt.

Do unto other dogs...

2005-06-09T06:43:00.000-05:00

Inspired by the previous post, I'm sharing the grossest thing I've ever had to do for someone else's dog:

So last year I was staying at my homegirl Dwayne's house until I could move into the Third Circle of Remodeling Hell. I came home and her Golden (Bo) was there, Lola was there and Dwayne's boyfriend NordikTrak's dog Cooper was there. Poor sweet Cooper had an upset tummy a lot then. Poor sweet Cooper had taken a COLOSSAL RUNNY DUMP ALL OVER THE FLOOR AND IN DWAYNE'S RUG. And other dog poop is different than your dog poop. Your dog poop, after a while, will be an expected stink. Other dog poop smells like the first time you ever had to pick up dog poop.

I won't lie. I considered just backing out the door and pretending I wasn't the first person home. But then you could have tracking issues and Dwayne is the sweetest, sweetest do anything for you friend that a girl could have. But wait, Bo didn't poop - it was Cooper. And I really like NordikTrak but I dunno...

As I write this, I am embarrassed to remember that I went through all that deliberation. Dwayne is a friend of mine and Coop is a friend of Lola's. Just get to cleaning. And I did. And at least they got home for the disinfecting part.

Three days later I get a call from Dwayne.

DWAYNE: Hey. We're even. I just pulled a plastic bag out of your dogs butt. Bye.

See how this works?

Ladies & Gents - possibly the grossest Bullmastiff story yet.

2005-06-09T05:56:00.000-05:00

Successful dog ownership requires that you dog-proof the house and learn to keep it that way naturally. Before I lived in a remodeling disaster scene, I used to have a routine I went through each time I left the house. I'd make sure the bedroom door was shut - no dog on the bed when I'm gone. I'd make sure she has water. Check her immediate area to make sure none of my precious Elle Decor UK magazines were in her reach.

ELLE DECOR UK = Wendy's Triple w/cheese.

Then I'd babygate her into her safe area.

This whole thing was just my best way of insuring that I wouldn't return home to a big mess. Now have I forgotten and left something awry? Yup. And sometimes Lola made me pay, but many times she didn't. In fact, right now, she has access to the bed when I'm out, but doesn't goes on it without being asked up. Probably because Jay the Babysitting Cat took her head off if she tried to share his territory.

I say all that to say that I am off my game. Things with Lola ran much smoother - not perfect, just smoother - before I moved into remodeling disaster scene. There's nowhere to block her into that doesn't have something that could be ruined. She has access to my ENTIRE collection of expensive British home mags. The occasional shoe. A wooden statue that even to me kinda looks like a chew toy. And she is good. Until two days ago.

This is the part where you shouldn't have food anywhere near.

No, put that sandwich down.

Phone rings.

ROBOT: Uh, hey, ummm...does Lola have any...strange...tastes for any...
WEST: (using her mental Robot link) Well there was this.
ROBOT: ...no, more like, I mean, well...
WEST: Well Robot, she's a dog. Name your poison here. She drinks out of the toilet. Then there was the whole eating cat turd thing, but Jay is still at his summer home. And you tried to get her to eat a rat but she wouldn't do that but she will eat bugs and roll in dead cat–
ROBOT: No. Like she went in the garbage? In the bathroom?
WEST: AH.
ROBOT: (SO relieved that I got it before he had to get more descriptive) Yeah. All over the floor upstairs.

Ladies, let me tell you that one of the best investments you can make in general, are garbage cans that have a lid, or that can be secured in some way. Because there are...*things*...like PERSONAL SANITARY THINGS that you don't want your boyfriend to come home to. Especially when you're out of the delightfully thin Always with wings and are forced to use those mattress sized Stayfree ones that come in a BOX. That's a LOT of material for a dog to work with.

Remember, dogs don't think like you. There's something about certain earthy smells like shoes and panties and socks and dead cats that turn them on the way you liked Scratch n Sniff stickers when you were a kid. So while we think, "Hmm, I'll discreetly tuck this into bottom of trash can wrapped in an entire roll of Charmin." Lola thinks, "Ah, a teeny pillow with a mighty interesting vaguely West smell. Must inspect and devour."

So I told Robot to just leave the mess and I'd get to it when I got home. I think I could feeeeel his relief through the phone. And when I got home, I was mad as hell because she does know better but I've read all the books that say that if you don't catch them right away, they have no idea why you're mad.

And many times, I think that's bullshit. Look at her when I pick up that trash can. She knows and she is soooo mocking me. SHE KNOWS she did something wrong. And she does know that she did *something* wrong - but she's reading it from my body language. Not connecting it to the Stayfree that she set free. If I just happily picked up the debris, Lola would have wagged her tail and followed me around. But because she can probably smell my emotions, she knew something was brewing.

I think she thinks that the garbage can got her in trouble - stupid garbage can! But she doesn't know why. So she understands to kind of maybe stay away from that particular thing maybe, depending on the risk/reward factor.

Either way I yelled at her and shook the can at her and bonked her on the nose. Will it help her not dumpster dive? Eh, maybe not. But I felt better. YOU KNOW I'M CLEARLY EMOTIONAL RIGHT NOW PEOPLE!

And from now on, I'll be securing the trash can in the bathroom.

BTW, she has done this once before, but left no trace. Until her poop came out in a neat wrapper with dri-weave.

I TOLD you to put down your lunch.

Lola at the vet.

2005-06-07T19:03:00.000-05:00

Lola at the vet.
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

Lola loves her doctors at North Avenue Animal Hospital. She worries

about shots though.

The Housebreaking Rollercoaster!

2005-06-06T06:41:00.000-05:00

Ryder peed going down the hall and doused my Rya rugs, but it was on the way to the back door at least. During the day when the back door is open, he usually gets up and takes himself to the bathroom. I have gone out on the balcony many times and seen Ryder on the lawn doing his patented Walking-Squat-Extra-Wide-Leg-Spread poop stance. He likes to kinda stroll the poop out. I don't know why, because that makes it really hard to read. But when I see him going outside, it isn't hard to cheer.

Then we got delayed and left him in the ULTIMA/Death Star crate for TEN HOURS. And I'm sure you know that if you leave your puppy alone for that long, you leave him in a crate or room that is large enough for him to poop-n-pee on the other side and still have room to sleep. It's only fair. I used to check Lola into the Ramada Inn.

And you don't get to fuss if they go. It's YOUR bad - YOU didn't let them out. But Ryder is currently occupying the entire ULTIMA crate that is bigger than a Volkswagon Bug, so we were just prepared to get to cleaning when we got home.

I went last up the stairs, sniffing. Nothing. I opened the door and there was a grinning Robot and a dry Ryder. He didn't go. He was fine for TEN HOURS.

Then, we left for two hours and he peed.

Moral of Story: Puppies. Go Figure.

Theory Number 001

2005-06-03T15:27:00.000-05:00

Why won't the dogs go roll around in the grass outside?

'Cause it's SHITTY out there! As Robot and I go on a poop-hunt like, once a week. And we pick up the doo-doo in the house much faster than that.

So carry on with your wrasslin' in the four square feet that aren't full of boxes. Three inches from my glass table. Mock-snapping teeth about a foot from my bare toes. Carry on, canines.

Mind you, he HATED this crate before.

2005-06-02T11:48:00.000-05:00

Against all proven knowledge, giving Ryder the entire ULTIMA crate is working. Ryder hasn't had a shit grindin' accident in there since we took the divider out. He's also closer to us than he was, so that has something to do with it too I'm sure.

That whole dog that wants to be in your butt at all times is so odd to me. Now Lola does enjoy your company, but I have had to beg her to sleep in my room. And she certainly didn't care if you put her in her crate in the living room. Unless you were eating a huge steak dinner and drinking beer without her. Then she'd pout. But Ryder WANTS TO BE WITH HIS DADDY DO YOU UNDERSTAND?

Sometimes I look up and Robot is IN the crate resting with Ryder.

Robot is not so good with the separation anxiety treatments.

But they say that your dog will be just like you - with your faults and all. I find that to be true. Lola is a stoic, hard-headed, smart but hard to train, funny, leggy (by Bullmastiff standards she's a supermodel) confident girl who would prefer you to do it her way. That's me!

By that logic, Robot will be a clever, people pleasing boy who is quick to learn, and likes to show off all that he knows, but will wither and droop if he doesn't stay close to humans he can talk to. That's Robot!

Jay? Jay is his own Cool Motherfucking Self. Cats always are.

Disgusting but true.

2005-05-30T18:40:00.000-05:00

I was going downstairs when the smell of poop on the wrong side of the wall hit me. And I knew it was Ryder. By the smell. I can tell the difference by the smell of their poop now.

Help.

I really couldn't have a teacup anything.

2005-05-28T19:40:00.000-05:00

West and ryder and lola
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

Ryder is a third of Lola's weight. And when they wrestle, they of course wrestle in the house. Nevermind we are crowded into the top floor during renovations. Nevermind the EXTRA LONG LOT AND A HALF that I bought with dogs in mind. Nevermind poor Robot who is trying to play San Andreas. They must play in the house.

But when they wrestle and bump the bed that I am sitting on blogging, I think they might flip the entire thing out the window. Me and my Serta right on the sidewalk. These fools could flip a Volkswagen.

Should I mention again that we have a hundred more pounds of Ryder to go?

Yorkies. Looking better and better.

Ah the stripes.

2005-05-28T19:31:00.000-05:00

West and ryder and lola
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

One Baby Hound of Hell.

2005-05-28T19:28:00.000-05:00

West and ryder and lola
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

Here he is, the King of Crapping in the Crate! The Baron of Pushing a Bowl Around with his Nose! The Cane Corso who has the nerve to WHINNY during my precious Bo Bice performances which almost made him the Duke of Dead Dogs...Ryder!

I have lost track of how old he is, like the lazy blogger I am, but I think he's like sixteen or seventeen weeks. He's unbelieveably shiny, even when he isn't in the sun. Every day he gets another stripe in his coat, but they're beautifully subtle. And those far set eyes give him his Hound of Hell look.

Robot is hoping his snout doesn't get too much longer. I think it's a toss up - Tea had more snout, Roman has a shorter snout. Won't know till all the dust settles.

But here he is, in all his Afternoon Sun Makes Me Sleepy glory.

Ryder and Lola are sharing. Sorta.

2005-05-28T19:19:00.000-05:00

West and ryder and lola
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

Lola and me!

2005-05-28T19:18:00.000-05:00

West and ryder and lola
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

Lola is playing at being stuck up.

2005-05-28T19:16:00.000-05:00

West and ryder and lola
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

It makes you wonder what's on the wind.

If it has a weapon, it's a Boo-Boo Beam.

2005-05-28T15:35:00.000-05:00

Robot is now reassembling Ryder's Big Crate, the ULTIMA XXL, which Ryder put out of commission last week. (See Shit Stompin' and Failed Escape Attempt Resulting in Choking and Shitting and more Shit Stompin'.) He keeps whistling Darth Vader's Theme because he says it's like assembling the Death Star. Since Ryder keeps shitting in there anyway for some reason, we just decided to take the divider out. I know that's counter to what you're supposed to do, but I don't know if Robot can take one more ground up turd episode...

Wait. Maybe I'll suggest the opposite, since he rarely poops the teeny crate...

Give him less space than you think he needs, and move it into the adjoining room in place of teeny crate.

Ryder is like, thirty five pounds and rising now. His new nickname is HoH, short for Hound of Hell. Cane Corsos, even with their ears intact, are scary looking dogs. But I'm not afraid at all. Ryder gets uppity, I'll show him video of him Riverdancing and embarrass him to death.

Plus, I followed the Three Lessons, essential to raising a dog who knows you're the boss.

Aw. I thought the Gods had smiled upon me.

2005-05-27T13:35:00.000-05:00

Nothing like being reaaaaally hungry and coming upstairs with a delicious plate of curry and the BOO-BOO scent says hello at the door. And then you have Boo-Boo with rice. Luckily I had two of those cute little Sophia Coppola Mini champagnes in my paws or I'd possibly have cried.

Lola also had gas, probably from stealing some other dogs' food at playgroup. Sudden change of food = fart.

This morning:

WEST: OMG Robot! The Gods have built some sort of adobe mud dream palace in the front yard. I went inside, there were rooms and spiritual leaves and symbolic markings. Maybe it's some sort of sweat hut? Maybe we are the chosen ones!

ROBOT: Nope. That's Ryder's doo-doo mound.

WEST: AWWWWW! I put wallpaper in there....

Yes. The good news is that Ryder woke him up twice to go to the bathroom. The bad news was that it was like three and four in the morning. If you have an older puppy and you want to sleep the night through my friends, the secret is simple. Adjust food and water. Give him small meals in the morning and early afternoon. Then no water after a certain time of night.

Or, let your boyfriend get a puppy and perfect the art of gently rocking him awake to go take care of it.

Out here you dumb ass.

2005-05-26T15:33:00.000-05:00

A few days ago, after taking himself outside for a poop, Ryder almost peed on my foot...in the house. He just got all happy and let it rip. He's too big to pick up, so I kinda shoved him across the linoleum and out the back door.

One more reason that the next entry is kinda funny. Maybe Lola was trying to show Ryder where to do it.