The English (Lab) Patient

Talk about a sad puppy dog face…

I’ve long thought that Moose would play himself to death if given the chance, and my suspicions were half-confirmed this weekend after Joey took the dogs down to his buddy’s country house where there were acres to run on and the bay to swim in. I don’t know if there were shells in the water or what, but Moose came home with not one, not two, not three, but ALL FOUR paws blistered and skinned. Poor guy’s walking around like the ground is made of hot coals. And I don’t know what hurts more — his feet, or my heart to see him so uncomfortable.

After work I decided to play nurse, and picked up a cocktail of Bactine, antibiotic ointment, gauze and baby aspirin to try and heal his feet and take away some of the pain.

Not quite sure how effective these are, but Moose doesn’t seem to mind and it puts a little barrier between his sore paws and the ground.

Oh, and little brother is doing a great job of keeping our patient company.

Hope your week is off to a more comfortable start. If there are any dog people reading this who have dealt with similar paw issues, let me know if I’m on the right path!

The Big Fat North Carolina Post

It may be in part because every time I go to North Carolina it’s for vacation, but I truly believe that state has a certain calming quality about it. There’s something about life by the ocean that helps put everything in perspective. Waking up to a light filled room, stepping out onto a private balcony and watching blue herons land in the marsh — a girl could get used to that.

Despite the drama of Moose deciding to go skinny dipping when it was pitch black out (anyone know ways to help with doggie anxiety???), we filled our Cup’O’Life to the freakin’ brim this weekend by way of cocktail cruises and beaching boats on private islands…

Picnic lunches on the beach, dipping toes into warm ocean water and endless games of fetch with four big labs…

And what better way to balance the Beach than with the Barn, so we took a visit to the stables where our friend’s keep their horse. I should have taken a look at their job board while I was there…

We said goodbye with happy hearts and left relaxed, content and with farmer’s tans sun-kissed.

Riggo and Moose on the other hand left comatose…

24+ hours later and they’re still¬†nursing their fun-hangover. Girl could get used to that too ūüôā

Yeah, So About That…

Lets talk about the time I got really freakin’ excited when I realized Rita’s was giving away free Italian Ice to celebrate the first official day of spring. It was about, oh, give or take 45 minutes ago. And if you know me, then you know nothing gets me moving like the prospect of free dessert.

My plan, like all poorly hatched plans, came together in about 30 seconds. I’d throw the kids in the car, run over to Rita’s and have free Italian Ice for dinner. Hello spring!

Step one, load up! Now, we rarely transport the dogs in my car because two 80 pound labs in a ford mustang with slippery leather seats isn’t exactly comfortable. Although it sure is a sight to see…

And since Rita’s isn’t far from our house, I figured I could deal with the jumping back and forth as they decide which window is the best to hang their heads out of. What I didn’t anticipate and couldn’t deal with though was the line! I had somehow convinced myself that most people were eating dinner right about now, and therefore I’d be ahead of the crowd with my brilliant plan.

Wrong. Clearly I’m a free Rita’s virgin. The line wrapped clear around the back of the building and the only parking was across the street in the 7-11 parking lot. Now if it was Free Rita’s Custard I may have considered waiting in line, but instead I made one big circle and home we went. Yeah, so about that time I tried to go on a little evening “celebrate the season” adventure. Total fail.

Pizza’s in the oven.

Pet Adoption Rules

Happy Gotcha Day Riggo! Today marks the one-year anniversary of the day we adopted Riggo! Another reminder of how quickly a year goes. I’ve shared Riggo’s homecoming story before (check it out here), so I wanted to use today as an opportunity to say how awesome pet adoption is, and how highly I endorse it. We found Riggo through The Lab Rescue of the LRCP¬†, an amazing all-volunteer run non-profit, that rescues, fosters and places homeless, abused or abandoned Labs (and lab mixes). Each year they give around 850 dogs new and loving homes. How awesome is that?!

The passion these folks have for animals is inspiring, and my goal is to one day be in a position where Joey and I can volunteer and possibly help foster animals on their way to finding their forever home. By now you know we’re a Lab house through and through, but whatever the breed you may be interested in, please please please consider looking into a rescue group, or local shelter first. Without going all Sarah Mclachlan on you, my point is that there are so many animals in need, and through pet adoption you may just find your perfect match. We definitely did.

God Made Yellow Labs Cute For a Reason

Labs are notorious chewers. And now that I have experience raising two yellow lab puppies, I’m convinced that the reason they are so darn cute is because their survival depends on it.

Ever since I posted this you all have been asking, “What did Riggo do???” ¬†I’ll start by saying that it’s definitely the proverbial “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me,” scenario. You all remember what happened to the wooden arms of our chair when we first started leaving Riggo out of his crate (find a reminder here). Well after that incident it was back to the crate. Then as time went on, we thought we’d give it another go around.

Everything was going great. He spent all week out of the crate, and the worst thing we came home to was a moved chair and some blankets from his crate chewed up on the floor (no doubt from a game of tug-o-war). We thought we were in the clear.

Famous last thought.

After going up to New Jersey for the afternoon for my cousin’s graduation party, we came home only to find pieces of leather sofa scattered about the room. That’s right. Leather. Sofa. Lets survey the damage…

Every time I tell the story, the first question is, “How do you know it wasn’t Moose?” Well, for one, Moose has never ever, in all his chewing escapades (shoes, tupperware, books, pot holders), gone after furniture. And two, definitive confirmation came as Riggo pooped leather couch for the next couple of days. Honestly, I am fully aware of how lucky we are that we haven’t had to spend $5k on emergency surgery for either of these dogs. (Yes, I just knocked on wood, rubbed a rabbit’s foot and stuck a horseshoe in my pocket.)

The culprit and the crime scene…

Needless to say, Riggo won himself a one-way ticket back to crateland. Which is fine because, like Moose, he really does love and feel safe in his crate. We’ll try again when he turns one. And because we know that there are still no promises that when we try again, it won’t happen again, we’ve opted to cover this multitude of sins with the good ‘ol Redskins blanket…

Why do I feel like WE are the ones in the dog house?

Redecorating Dog

Riggo is about 7 months old now, and growing bigger by the day, so¬† Joey and I decided it’s time we stop crating him when we’re gone. You all remember how well that went a few months back,¬†so we also decided we¬†need to give him a liiiittle¬†bit of freedom at at time. Cue today, Friday, when Joey doesn’t work but had to go get new tires on his car.¬†We¬†decided leaving Riggo loose with¬†Moose (ha, rhymes) for a few hours would be a good test.

Well, lets just say the chair that’s in the middle of the room in the picture above isn’t some¬†modern furniture arrangement.¬†Riggo went all HGTV on us and decided he wanted to redecorate¬†by¬†moving the chair across the room!!! How he even did that is beyond me. All I know is that when Joey called and said, “YOU’RE NEVER GOING TO BELIEVE THIS,” my immediate response was to die laughing and tell him to send me a photo asap.

Stay tuned for more…because I’m certain this won’t be the last one of us has a “WHAT THE….” moment when we get home. I swear we’re going to find Moose hog-tied to a kitchen chair one day with a note pinned to him saying something like, “Took the car. Going to see a movie with the foxy terrier two doors down. – Riggo