Stink, Stank, Stunk

I recently returned from the scene of the "armadillo incident." Apparently, I was not a very animal friendly person in a past life and I am now being punished for all the prior sins of my former self.

The weather here has turned cool and breezy, giving the girls an extra dose of, in my opinion, unnecessary energy. Since they were being fussy, I packed them up in the car and we headed out to play. For some reason, lately, every time we go to this particular location, Lulu becomes quite disobedient, not listening, running off, and generally being a pain in the behind. Nearing the end of our walk, I could tell that she was considering taking off, so I leashed her and headed back to the car.

I hadn't really given much thought to Bella, as she usually sticks pretty close. I called her and she was pretty far back, obviously enamored with something sure to be gross. I told her to "leave it," which she usually obeys but not so much today. So I, being too lazy to go all the way back and get her, proceed to watch her somersault into God Knows What on the ground and rub around in it. Now Bella isn't really known to roll in disgusting things so I am thinking this must be super special for her to partake in. Finally, after about 10 minutes, she comes trotting up, happy as a clam.

Well, I am not so happy. I am already annoyed and then get the joy of smelling her coming about 15 feet before she gets back to us. I look her over and notice that she is covered in what I can only describe as smelly, smelly goo. I still, two hours later, can not figure out what this goo actually is and, in order to not have to make myself gag more than I already have today, have decided not to delve any deeper into this mystery.

I have these wipes in my car and spent a good ten minutes wiping her down. I thought I had done a decent job until I closed the door to my car and dared to breathe. The stench, which I will spare you from describing, was unbearable. I swear if we were a little closer to home, I would have made her trot along side the car. Of course, to keep "Bella pace" I would have had to drive about -2 mph.

Once we arrived home, I tried to scurry her into the bathroom, bribing her with her favorite treats, the equivalent of dog crack. She ran into the bathroom, grabbed the treat from me, and hauled ass back down the hall and into her fort. Bella's "fort" is underneath the dining room table. That is her safe place and where she goes when she is feeling scared, vulnerable, or just plain doesn't want to do something.

Getting Bella out of her fort is almost impossible. There are a few tricks that sometimes work and I tried all such tricks to no avail. I have given up for now, which may sound lame but, believe me, is just a matter of being realistic. She may have won this battle but just wait until Scott comes home and BAM, we win the war. You will be bathed you stinky stinky dog. Until then, I will just concentrate on breathing through my mouth.

Happy HOWLeween

Here's wishing you a Happy Howleween from Bella and Lu. Yes, I am aware that I need to update my technology and that not everyone enjoys watching sideways dark videos but I figured it would be in the spirit of Halloween.

Have a howling good day!

Misunderstood

Yesterday, I was at the dog park and a woman started a conversation with me about the girls' collars. I told her that it was my business and we chatted. She called over 2 of her friends to show her the collars and I noticed that one of the women was carrying a leash that I had made. She was a very nice older woman with a thick German accent. The next part of the conversation went something like this:

Me: "Oh, that is one of my leashes."

Her: "No it isn't"

Me: "Hmm, can I see it?"

Her: "Sure"

(So I look at the leash and absolutely know that I made it and hand it back to her)

Me: "Are you sure. I really think that it is"

Her: "No, my daughter bought it for me"

Other lady: "I think she got it at Petsmart"

Me: "I don't think they carry these at Petsmart"

Other lady: "Oh yes they do, they have several cute designs"

At this point I feel like I am in an episode of the Twilight Zone but don't know what else I can do to convince these ladies that, in fact, it is one of my leashes. So I think to myself, "Whatever crazy ladies." I tell them to have a nice a day, and continue on our walk.

A couple minutes later, I run into the woman with the leash and she says to me that she thinks there was a misunderstanding. Apparently she thought that I was literally saying that the leash was mine, as if she had taken my leash. So, while I thought they were crazy for not understanding that I really did make her leash, they thought I was accusing her of stealing my property. I guess in the kingdom of crazy, that would make me the Queen.

Roadkill

For all of you non-Texans, let me introduce you to the armadillo. Be sure and take a close look at this beautiful creature. It is kind of like a possum (and who doesn't love a possum?), but with a lovely shell. It also somewhat resembles a shelled rat. I don't believe that I have ever seen an armadillo alive, only as quintessential roadkill splayed on the side of the highway. 

I saw an armadillo today and, while it had already met its demise, it wasn't on the side of the road, nor was I in my car. Nope. While on our evening walk, Lulu proudly pranced up to me with a dillo hanging from her mouth. I had the joy of spending 5 minutes wrestling one of God's most stunning creations from her mouth only to have her run back 2 minutes later, giving me the opportunity to repeat the process.

So, while my dear husband was somewhere in Boston, presumably swilling cocktails and having a fabulous dinner, I was spending my evening extracting rodent roadkill from Lulu's jaws.

Good times.

For Anyone Thinking How Much Fun It Would Be To Have Rhodesian Ridgebacks...

Consider this fair warning. This is what Ridgebacks like to do when they are not busy lying on their pillows, basking in the sun, or trying to steal food from unsuspecting victims. They also enjoy displaying these types of shenanigans when people come to visit. I can be sitting at home having a perfectly peaceful afternoon, the dogs snoozing away and having shown no signs of any action, beyond lifting their heads to check for treats that might be falling from the sky, in hours. Then, someone will come over and all bets are off. 

Apparently, to the average Ridgeback, having a stranger enter the house is secret code for, "READY? GO FOR IT! New person in the house. Let's make it good! " Now, unless the visitor has a Ridgeback or two of their own, they usually look at you with 1. shock, 2. bewilderment, 3. dismay, and 4. pity. At this point I will try and explain that, no, they aren't always like this, that in fact, it is sometimes hard to even get them up off their pillows to go outside and go potty. They will usually nod and look at me like, "um hmm, sure." Hasty exits tend to follow shortly thereafter.

Sometimes I think back to the pre-Lulu days. Everything was so much simpler (and quieter) back then. Then I look at the two crazies, rolling around on the floor, howling/ barking at the top of their lungs, and a huge smile comes across my face. I wouldn't trade it for the world.