Tag Archives: Dogs

This Post Is A Complete Waste of Time

Is there anything that you do that you know is a total waste of time, but you do it anyway?

Of course there is.

Mine is to take those stupid little quizzes that are all over the internet.  I have no idea why I do it.  But I always do.

In fact, just now, as I turned on my computer to do some work that didn’t get done at work yesterday, I continued to not get it done.  Because my old bloggin’ buddy, MJ Monahan, posted a piece.  I hadn’t planned on checking out any blogs, because I have work to do.  But MJ hasn’t posted in a million years or so, and he is really good.  So I figured, well, what’s the harm.  How long could it take?

MJ posted Who Am I — 12 Buzzfeed Quizzes and reported what they revealed.

So I had to take the 12 Buzzfeed quizzes.  Because I have an incredible amount of work to do and no time to waste.

And now I have to report what they revealed.  Because I have an incredible amount of work to do and no time to waste.

However, I plan to steal the entire format from MJ.  Because I have an incredible amount of work to do and no time to waste.

1. The fruit I’m most like:

I’m not entirely sure that in this day and age that this question is politically correct.  Nevertheless, I took the quiz:

http://www.buzzfeed.com/joannaborns/what-fruit-are-you#.esQO73nXO

Like MJ, I am a strawberry.

Strawberries are tiny berry bosses. When the strawberries come in, it’s serious. SERIOUS FUN. Is there anything more fun and flirty than a strawberry? Everyone loves them. But not everyone can have them, especially when they’re not in season. You’re IN DEMAND.

Strawberries are OK; I have wonderful memories of strawberry picking with Jacob when he was young and we lived near a farm.

2. What I should have been named:

Also like MJ, I like my first name, Elyse.  I didn’t as a kid, though.  I wanted to be named anything common — Mary or Marie.  Anything that folks could read, pronounce, and spell.  But I came to like it a lot, and I love the fact that I was named after one of my coolest relatives, Tante Elise.

http://www.buzzfeed.com/joannaborns/what-should-your-name-actually-be#.pn8vNJwDv

I got FLOSSIE.  FLOSSIE! WTF Buzzfeed?

You’re Flossie! Congrats — this name is amaaaazing. It was more popular at the turn of the 19th century, but you’re bringing it back!

No.  No.  A thousand times No.

3. Which season I would fall in love:

While we knew each other for years, John and I started dating in January, moved in together in April, and married in September of the following year.

http://www.buzzfeed.com/emmamariemusic/which-season-will-you-fall-in-love-11sp6#.hjNNzL2GN

For this question I got Autumn

Autumn is a time for new beginnings, and this will be the biggest one of all. You and your new boo will flirt with each other over yummy fall-themed drinks and steal each other’s sweaters and basically live the beautiful autumnal clichés of your dreams while falling slowly and sweetly in love.

Not exactly, Buzzfeed.  And Buzzfeed? It should be “IN which season would I fall in love.”  Grammar matters.

4. My most annoying office habit:

Me?

http://www.buzzfeed.com/tabathaleggett/what-is-your-office-thing#.dbd8kwNb8

I got: Asking people what they had for lunch

You like to keep tabs on your co-workers, and what better way to do so than asking each of them individually what they had for lunch? What people eat says a lot about them, and you consider yourself somewhat of a lunch detective. Keep on questioning!

Um, No, Buzzfeed.  In my tiny office, you can smell anything anyone is consuming down the hall.  So there is no need to ask.  And I have far more annoying habbits.  Trust me!

5. My personality type:

I’m a wanna-be laid back person who isn’t really as laid back as I think I am or as I want to be.  At least that’s what my husband tells me.

http://www.buzzfeed.com/danmeth/ink-blot-test#.viw5ejOv5

I got: Passionate

You are a blustery and sentimental ball of emotion. You live hard and love harder. It’s just one adventure after another and you despise those who can’t let themselves chew on the meat of existence. “LIVE, YOU BLOODLESS AUTOMATONS!” is a phrase you have said or will say in the near future.

Well, I do tend to get a bit worked up, now and then.  But only when pushed to it.  Ammirite?

6. What other people find attractive about me:

I would have guessed my sense of humor.  But I was wrong.
I got: My Independent Nature

Some people are made into leaders, but you were born one. You’re driven, ambitious, know what you want, and know how to get it. You’ve always done things on your own terms, and you’re a BO$$ in your own right.

Ummm, somewhat.  If I were more so I would be rich and famous.

7. My ACTUAL personality type:

To quote from MJ, “Because just knowing one’s personality type isn’t enough, one needs to know their ACTUAL type.”
I got: Type B

You like to play things by ear and have always been a carefree person. You’re all about achieving balance and living life to the fullest. You’re relaxed, take things as they come, and always aspire to live a life full of happiness.

I’m probably Type B unless you’re working for me on this project.  Then I come earlier in the alphabet.

8. My favorite color:

Who Am I, Favorite Color
Image stolen from MJ’s post.
Blue is in fact, my favorite color.  Sky, clothes, eyes.  Blue.
I got: Green

You are practical, down-to-earth, and like your favorite color implies, you love nature and the outdoors. You tend to wear your heart on your sleeve and connect well with people, which sometimes makes others “green” with envy.

Green’s OK.  Except that horrible lime green that is so popular now.  And I was once in a play about the 8 deadly sins and I played envy, so OK.  I’ll go along with green.

9. What’s my sixth sense:

Clearly it’s procrastination.  Because I really have a lot of work to do.
I got: Magically knowing when someone hot is near

That’s partially because you, yourself, are also hot. This hidden sense then comes from your own hotness, as well as your desire to be around other hot people.

Buzzfeed, you’re just messin with me now.

10. What color is my aura:

Chartruse.  I’m not even sure what color that is, but that would be my guess.
I got: Orange

You’re energetic, outgoing, and fun to be around. You’re a people pleaser who also enjoys being the center of attention. Still, you are highly attuned to others and sensitive to their needs. Your enthusiasm might lead you to start too much too quickly; if you can focus, you will succeed.

So I am an extroverted suckup?  Thanks Buzzfeed.  And don’t you try to suck up to me by telling me that if I don’t screw up I might succeed.

11. More right-brained or left-brained:

Sometimes I figure I am just plain hairbrained.  Or is it harebrained?  Bugs?  Bugs?  Can you answer that?
I got: Right-brained!

Well, hello there, naturally creative person! You’re super curious, and have a wicked imagination, which means you’re drawn to things like art, performance, and music. You can also be impulsive, and tend to follow your heart more than your head. People love you for your creativity and independent spirit — never lose that!

Well, I’ll go along with the right-brained much of the time.  Except when I’m not.

12. Where should my next vacation be:

064

Wonderland, Mount Dessert Island, ME. I think. It’s in that general area anyway. And it is lovely. My picture, from god knows when.

Most of our vacations involve driving up to Maine. So I was quite interested to see what this one would show.

I got: Road Trip!

You’re spontaneous, inquisitive, and all about experiencing new things. Exploring is everything to you, and you don’t need a big city to do that in. Eat at local diners, stay in tiny motels, and snap photos along the scenic routes. Small details matter to you, and getting there is half the fun. Potential trips you should take include winding your way through Italy’s Amalfi Coast, riding through Alaska’s Seward Highway, discovering Kentucky’s Bourbon Trail, or taking the 113-mile drive from from mainland Florida to Key West.

Well done, Buzzfeed.

Hope you weren’t doing anything important today …

75 Comments

Filed under Bat-shit crazy, Bloggin' Buddies, Conspicuous consumption, Driving, Extra Cash, Humor

Devil Dog

As a kid, one of my very favorite snacks was a Devil Dog.  A Drake’s Devil Dog.

Google-lishous

Google-lishous

 

Folks who live in Maine, or whose moms baked know them as Whoopie Pies.  But every day after school, I’d come home and open that plastic package, inhale the chocolate-y goodness, smush the two cake pieces together, and lick the cream inside. Kind of like a giant Oreo.

Devil Dogs were wonderful, although I’m pretty sure my memory is selective.  I hardly remember the taste of plastic from the package at all, although I know it was there.

Some time in my 20s though, I realized I had to stop eating them. Because, when I DID eat them, I couldn’t stop eating them.  So I stopped eating them.  (Life begins to get complicated in your 20s, doesn’t it?)

Giving them up was a smart decision.  Because about 5 years ago I had a cupcake that tasted just like a modern non-plastic-y Devil Dog.  I still dream about it.  And I am afraid to ever have another because, well, I can’t stop.

Still, even with out the chocolate-cream goodness, I still have a Devil Dog every day.

My Current Devil Dog Picture taken by Jacob

My Current Devil Dog
Can you see his horns? (Picture taken by Jacob)

 

Duncan is now nearly 9 months old.  He is mostly sweet, but sometimes his horns show.

Don’t worry, though.  I love him differently than I loved Drake’s Devil Dogs And I never lick the cream out of him because I  am not a perv.

89 Comments

Filed under Bat-shit crazy, Dogs, Duncan, Family, Farts, Huh?, Humor, Maine, Pets, Wild Beasts

Pretty Please?

Until this morning, I’ve been dreading 2016.

Politics, to me, is a spectator sport.  And so the idea of Hilary (ho hum) v. Jeb (ho ho ho) sounded like it was going to be about as much fun as cribbage.  Watching cribbage.

But this morning, I read that we may have some entertainment value to our next presidential race after all.  Whooeeeee!!!

Mitt Wants to Run Again!!!

And you know what idea he plans to run on?

POVERTY!

Yup.  According to this article in the Huffington Post, Mitt is going to tackle poverty:

Romney, who made a fortune in the financial sector and was cast by Democrats in 2012 as a heartless businessman, wants to make tackling poverty — a key issue for his 2012 vice presidential running mate, Rep. Paul Ryan — one of the three pillars of his campaign.

Tell us another one! (Google image)

Tell us another one!
(Google image)

I wonder if Ann Romney knows she might have to eat tuna and pasta again.

63 Comments

Filed under 2016, Adult Traumas, Bat-shit crazy, Climate Change, Criminal Activity, Disgustology, Dogs, Driving, Elections, Farts, GOP, History, Huh?, Humor, Hypocrisy, Politics, Stupidity, Voting

Draining

Today’s the day.  D-Day.  “D” for Duncan.  “D” for Dog.  NOT “D” for Draining.  Duncan, if he knew what was in store would consider it “D” for “DON’T” or maybe “DAMN!”

 

You're Gonna Do WHAT?

You’re Gonna Do WHAT? To ME?????

I’ve grown up considerably since I first had to take similar action.  And I am now a fake medical expert and a professional Googl-er.

But the old days produced much better stories.  Like this one.

Dogs and Other Nuts

You’ve already met my psychotic German shepherd, Goliath.  The one with the stupid name and the drinking problem.   The manic of a dog I was crazy to take into my life.

As you can probably guess, from the moment I put him in my car that first night, all life immediately revolved around Goliath.  Morning, after-work and evening walks became a ritual.  It was good for my health, which was otherwise pretty crappy.  It was good for my psyche, which was also not tops.  It wasn’t so good for some of the other dogs at the park, though.

Mostly outside Goliath was quite friendly, he liked to play with other dogs.  He made many doggy friends, and their owners liked him too.  But more often than I liked to admit, Goliath listened to his darker angel:

Gotta bite a dog.  Gotta bite a dog.  Gotta bite a dog NOW!”

He would then race across the park towards his would be victim, dragging me behind him shouting:

“No!”

“Stop!”

“Heel!”

God Damn it — STOP!

Goliath was about 18 months old when I finally admitted that something had to be done.  When I knew I had to “fix” the problem.  When he pissed me off so much that there was only one solution:

I had to cut off his balls.

Yup.  Castration.  Dr. Jane, Goliath’s vet, had been telling me to neuter him for months.  Carlos, Goliath’s dog trainer told me to do it, too.  The owners of Goliath’s ‘frenemies’ suggested it less politely.

But I’d never had a neutered dog before.  It seemed harsh.  Cruel.  Unfair.  Plus, I’d always hoped for grandchildren.

Of course I read about what happens to a dog after-balls.  I learned that neutering lowers a dog’s testosterone level – makes him less likely to act like Rocky Balboa at the park.  Less likely to fight with other dogs.  And way less likely to drag me in front of a bus while rushing to attack another dog.  All good things for me.  But for him?  Not so much.

I learned that it’s best to neuter your dog at about six months of age.  But six months was right after I brought home my traumatized, abused dog!  It just didn’t seem nice to turn around and say:

“You’re home now.  Nobody will ever hurt you again.

Oh, except when I cut off your balls.”

And really, I empathized.  I was young, unmarried, childless.  I didn’t want anyone to neuter me.  So how could I do it to my best friend?  I just couldn’t.

At least not until he ticked me off once too often.  (I’m telling you, do not mess with me.)

Goliath

We were at Lincoln Park one night for our after-work walk, when Goliath got that urge to fight.  I struggled to hold him, to keep him away from the other dog, to make my maniac behave.  He didn’t.  He wouldn’t.  It took all my strength to keep him from hurting that other dog.

That was it, the last straw.  I’d had enough.  It was time.  And feeling very much like Alice’s mad Queen of Hearts, I made the decision –

“Off with his balls!”

Goliath and I arrived at the animal clinic that Tuesday.  Unfortunately it was our regular vet Dr. Jane’s day off.  A young vet I hadn’t seen before called my name and led Goliath and me into an examining room.

Handsome vet

(Google image)

I have to admit, I was embarrassed.  Dr. Jane was a woman, and, well, I’d hoped to be discussing my dog’s testicles with her — with a woman.  Instead, here was this handsome young guy who I had fallen for immediately.  And rather than flirting with him, there I was talking to him about castration – hardly the best way to get a date.   My heart sank knowing that my chances with the handsome vet were also being nipped in the bud.

Dr. David quickly sensed my discomfort.  He knew I was wavering.  He could tell that I was about to chicken out and change my mind.

“He’ll be fine,” said the vet, looking Goliath over.   “It’s very routine.  He won’t even notice the difference.  But you’ll be much happier with the results.”

Of course I couldn’t look Dr. David in the eye.  Because naturally I was wondering if he would notice if someone cut off his balls.  I was pretty sure he’d notice.

“Now, I don’t know how much you know about this procedure, but there are actually two different ways of doing this.  We can either castrate him completely –basically cut off his testes — or we can drain the fluids inside.  That has the same effect.”

Drain them?” I said hopefully.

“Yes, we essentially drain him, lowering the testosterone to a more manageable level.  It’s less radical, less risky.  Dog owners are often more comfortable with this procedure.  Now which of those options do you think makes the most sense for this big guy?” he said, looking Goliath right in the eye.

“Draining them sounds much better,” I said, feeling relieved.  I was feeling so good, in fact, that I could actually look Dr. David in the eye again.  They were deep blue …

So I left Goliath with Dr. David and what I envisioned to be some sort of sterile siphon.   I no longer felt even a smidge of guilt.

You know what?  Even doing the procedure late helped.   After the surgery, Goliath was less interested in killing other male dogs.  From time to time one of them really ticked him off and led me to believe that those sacks hadn’t been completely drained, after all.  But the newly drained Goliath was a huge improvement over the old testosterone-filled maniac.  For the rest of his life he was considerably less aggressive.

The draining also left him with his pride.  He kept a bit of flesh in between his legs to chew on.  It eased my guilt — after all, they’d only drained some fluid from him, and doctors and vets do that sort of things all the time.  Goliath was still a man.  He kept the semblance of his balls.  Something to chew on.  He was still alpha dog. I had not turned him into a pansy.

In the intervening years, I married John, a man who quickly became devoted to Goliath.  A few years later, when we had all moved out of state, I took Goliath to a new vet.  Goliath was then about nine years old –getting up there in doggy years.  The poor old guy was having problems urinating and needed some attention.

But when I gave the new vet, Dr. Joe, the rundown of Goliath’s health history, I got an unexpected lesson when I mentioned to the man how Goliath had been “fixed” at 18 months.

“I don’t know if it makes any difference, but I should probably tell you that, you know, Goliath wasn’t actually ‘castrated,’ he was ‘drained.’”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah, at the time the vet said that either they could castrate him, ummmm, cut off his, ummmm, testicles, or drain them.  I chose to have him ‘drained.’”

I’m pretty sure that all of Dr. Joe’s medical training in delivering disturbing news culminated in this one moment with me.  Every cell in his face solidified so that there wasn’t even a hint of a smile.

“Ummmm, Ma’am?”  he said without so much as a hint of humor,  “There is no such procedure in veterinary medicine.  We don’t “drain” the dogs.  We surgically remove the testes.  All that’s left is the skin.”

“Oh,” I replied.

I’ve never told this story before.  Somehow, I bet both vets have.

79 Comments

Filed under Adult Traumas, Bat-shit crazy, Dogs, Duncan, Family, Goliath Stories, Health and Medicine, Hey Doc?, Huh?, Humor, Pets, Stupidity, Wild Beasts

Vote Early — For Duncan!

He forced me to do it.

“Mom,” he said, “I’m a shoe-in to win the calendar contest.  When have you ever seen a cuter puppy?”

“Well, that’s true,” I responded.  “But you rarely stand still for pictures.”

Duncan laid down and started chewing his butt.

“I know!  Put the one of me in the basket!  The cute one!”

And so I did.  I entered Duncan in the Animal Welfare League of Arlington’s annual pin-up competition:

Their 2015 Calendar Competition!

Duncan in his toy basket

You can vote for me, or you can turn the page. I mean, click on another blog.

If you can, please click on the picture which will send you to my fundraising page.  Each vote costs $1.00 — any critter with 100 votes gets into the calendar.

Click here to vote/donate.

Or on Duncan’s Picture.

Or on the line above the picture.

Wherever.  I’m easy.  So is Duncan.

 

All proceeds go to help needy animals.  And to help make my puppy a star.

Vote Early and Often!

And to get you into the campaign spirit, here’s one of my all-time favorite songs.

Remember, ELECTIONS MATTER!

58 Comments

Filed under Awards, Bloggin' Buddies, Campaigning, Dogs, Duncan, Family, Huh?, Pets, Taking Care of Each Other

Duncan — Back By Popular Demand

I have been remiss.  A bad girl.  No treats for me.

Yes, it’s true.  Today I was reminded that I haven’t posted any pictures of Duncan recently.

You remember Duncan, don’t you?

Toy Basket

Here he is right after we brought him home, sitting in his toy basket.

He doesn’t quite fit inside it any more.

No Room!

Duncan is quite camera shy.  We get loads of pictures of his butt, which, in my opinion, is not his best feature.  The face doesn’t stay still long enough for photo-ops.  Apparently, he will never run for Congress.

But the little guy has had quite a good time.  He is love, played with, pampered.  He has even had a vacation at the shore.  Here he is on a rocky beach in Maine.  When the rocks are wet, looking for Duncan is very much like playing Where’s Waldo.

When the rocks are wet, looking for Duncan is very much like playing Where's Waldo

Got any Sushi?

Now, let’s see if I can do this.  I took some video inspired by Will of Marking Our Territory, alerted me to a fast and easy way to destroy my iPad.  So naturally I tried it!

And I uploaded my very first YouTube video.

Shit, I’m a rotten videographer …. but I’m a great dog mom!  How many dogs get $300 dog toys?

Anybody got an extra iPad?

73 Comments

Filed under Bloggin' Buddies, Dogs, Duncan, Fashion, Health and Medicine, Humor, Pets, Wild Beasts

Angel/Demon

My mother used to caution me:

“Be careful what you wish for,” she’d say.

“Why?” I’d ask.

“Because you might just get it.”

Her response usually baffled me.  As a kid growing up in what I thought was abject poverty (ummm, not even close), I felt like I never got what I asked for.  Or if I did, one of my four siblings had used it first.  Or “it” didn’t really live up to my expectations.  Or getting “it” not precisely what I expected.

Getting what I asked for always held a surprise.

You know what?  Mom was right.  And it is just as annoying now as a grownup as it was when she was right when I was a kid.

You guys know that recently I got what I asked for:

A Puppy! !!!!!!

Yup, here is an update on Duncan, that fluffy little guy who gave us such a scare last week when we brought him home.

You know what?

He came with teeth!  I knew that he would, but I had forgotten what it felt like to have razor sharp puppy teeth inserted into my arms.  Or my legs.  Or, during one memorable cuddle, into my nipple.

He came full of energy!  I knew that he would.  But I had forgotten just how much.  And how much energy went into those teeth.

He came determined to destroy my house.  I knew he would.  But I had forgotten just how many times I can say “no — chew on this”  during a single hour.  4,682 times to be exact.

Yes, this is a brief Duncan update — he is doing great.  He is full of mischief, sharp teeth and a desire to rule the world — or at least the household.  John, Jacob and I are holding our own, but it is only a matter of time before Duncan realizes that he is King Duncan.  And while none of us would ever murder him, I’m not sure I want Duncan to know that just yet.  At least not until he loses those teeth.

Who you gonna believe? I’m an Angel. (Well, except when I’m a Demon.)

 

Thank you all for your concern about the cute little guy.

I really did get what I asked for.  And Mom?  He’s wonderful!

 

72 Comments

Filed under Adult Traumas, Dogs, Duncan, Family, Huh?, Humor, Out Damn Spot!, Pets, Taking Care of Each Other, Wild Beasts