Bedtime.

Relaxing, in bed, with the dogs, watching Grey’s Anatomy reruns…

Sick.

I am home sick today. Which means it’s a lazy day for everyone in the house…

please ignore my messy room. Oscar is the only one not pictured, but that’s only cause he is under the blanket.

Chicago Bears.

Preseason Chicago Bears!! Ahhhh!

I’m a huge football fan. Well, that’s not true. I am a huge Chicago Bears fan. I really don’t care about any other team. The first Bears preseason game is on and all my friends know you do not bother me when the Bears are on. Preseason or not. I’m busy. I’m concentrating. I’m yelling.

Meatloaf does not understand the concept behind don’t bother me during a Bears game.

Bear gets it. But that’s only because I am not yelling or clapping or banging the coffee table. He should sleep as much as he can now; when regular season starts he will be shaking in the corner because I yell. A lot. Poor Bear.

Vet.

I took off work today because I have to take Bear to the vet to get his teeth cleaned. They put them under, and it’s a whole ordeal so I want to be home when they say I can come get him because I know he’s scared to death there and I don’t want him to stay any longer than he has to.

It was almost like he knew something was up this morning though, he kept faking going to sleep, wouldn’t look at me, didn’t want to cuddle…

My brother came with and we finished getting Gravy all her needed things. She is bat-shit crazy. It will so nice when she is out of this puppy phase… She was basically bouncing off the walls! Thank goodness for treats too; Eric held her, I gave her yummies so she didn’t even realize she was getting shots at the same time! She was good in the truck ride over though. So that’s something, right?

Foot.

What do you do when you want to cuddle but mom decides to be lazy and eat her Subway sandwich in bed? You cuddle with her foot instead.

Tattoo.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the mothers out there! For Mother’s Day this year, I got my first babe’s paw-print tattooed on me! Bear has deformed feet, and I always thought it would be cool to get his gimpy foot tattooed on my because it really doesn’t look like a paw print at all. So I would know what it is but everyone else would have to ask. I like that. It’s like a secret between me and Bear.

Sure, it looks like a birthmark, but I love it. And if Bear knew any better he would be proud.

Nick Names.

So, I can never just call a dog (or person, for that matter) one name. It bores me. So usually there are a few names that all my pets go by, besides their given one.

Bear: Pooper. Poopy. Pooper Dog. Pooper Dooper. Baby Bear.

Oscar: Kid. Stinky Butt. Mr. Wiggle Butt. Kiddie.

Meatloaf: The Loaf. Meat. Meathead. Loafer. Buddy. Loafy.

Gravy: Graves. Baby. Pup Pup. Puppy.

Tess (who is no longer with us): Tessy. Messy Tessy. Baby Girl. Baby. Tesser.

Now, when I was growing up, we had a Daschund named Pippen (Yes, after Scottie Pippen, who happened to be my favorite basketball player) and I think that’s when the nickname thing started. He was the original Poopy Dog. Then when I got Bear he became *THE* Poopy Dog. God, I love that dog. 🙂

The Bear.

Before I start sharing stories about my furbabies, I feel like I should tell you a little bit about them and introduce them to you. Like any good Doggie Mom I could talk for days about my babies so I decided I would talk about one per post. I don’t want to bore anyone right from the start with my rambling on how wonderful and adorable my dogs are… which they are. But I digress…

Bear is my eldest. He will turn nine at the end of November and I have spoiled him rotten since the moment I picked him up from a breeder in Lincoln Nebraska. I had actually been watching the dog show on TV and was talking with my mom about wanting to get a small dog. I was living at home at the time and thinking about moving out, and having a dog would keep me company, etc. So I went to the computer and started researching types of dogs, prices, where breeders are located and there he was! A posting on Petfinder.com and all the title said was deformed puppy. Deformed?! I NEED him!

When I opened the picture, he was just the cutest thing I had ever seen. So little, huge ears, looked scared to death. So I emailed the poster and she got back to me right away. Apparently he was born with deformed feet, the breeders vet wanted to put him down but she said he was healthy in all other ways and she just wanted him to go to a good home. No charge. She said she would ship him to me, but that it had to be above 40 degrees in Denver in order to ship him… and it was Feb! Yeah right! So I asked if I could pick him up, she said yes, and that weekend my mother and I set out to pick up my new baby.

He was so little, with the biggest ears, and just the sweetest thing ever. I have spent the last (almost) nine years making him into a whining brat dog that only likes a handful of people and wants to eat everyone else. Good job, Rikki! Despite his little man syndrome, he loves me very much and I will have to be sedated when the time comes and I lose him.