Halloween Fun

Our Halloween 2011 pumpkins.  If you haven't already figured it out, they're characters from The Nightmare Before Christmas.  L-R: Zero (the dog), Jack Skellington, and Oogey Boogey.  Justin and the kids did these and I have to say, this is one of my favorite years.  Every year we carve several pumpkins.  We have people who remember that ours tend to be elaborate and visit just to see what we've carved.  This year was no exception.

Halloween on our street is a big deal.  Every year we get over 200 kids.  Most of the houses decorate for Halloween, and there are simply kids galore.  It is such a busy event that instead of shutting the door between kids, we rearrange the front porch furniture and hang out there.  We adults get dressed up as well, of course.  This year I was a witch, Justin was a priest, Shannon was a scary hooded guy, and Tristan was a skeleton.  Justin's brother Matt came over and we dressed him up as a zombie, make up and all.  (Really, I think I should start a Halloween Make-up business!!)

Along with the three pumpkins we had an "eyeball tree," the door to the house decorated with lights & usually open, the inside of the house decorated, and pumpkin & skull candles lit on the front porch.  Oh yes, there was the scary music that played as well, of course.  We always invite friends and family over for a Halloween party on Halloween, and so, as usual, we had a couple of kids who thought that our house was set-up as a Haunted House given the decor and the people coming and going. 

While the guys (and Justin's Mom & sister) took the kids trick-or-treating I assumed my role to hand out candy.  I had a goblet that I was drinking from, and took delight in playing up the role.  Most of the kids were very well behaved this year.  A couple of kids I saw darting across the road, not a wise idea on our road, and darting through people's yards, ignoring any landscaping that was there.  When they got to our house I was in full witchy mode.  I slowly took a sip from skeleton goblet, setting it down on the edge of my chair.  I turned my gaze (with my heavily made-up eyes) to them just as slowly and then fixed my gaze on them.  As I handed them their candy I had my voice eerily-pitched and scolded them gently, creepy, and with my gaze not leaving their eyes for darting into the road and for running through yards.  I warned them that they could get hurt.  I got two nervously sincere "yes ma'am"s from them.  I think the point was made.

So, a little after eight we got the kids in bed and took the party inside.  I left the lights outside on and even went back and relit the pumpkins when I realized kids were still coming by.  This is where it starts to get fun.

Normally I don't care so much for older kids, and I will readily refuse candy to those who don't dress up.  Also, we always put the dogs up in the crates during Halloween.  With the door being open so much it would be easy for them to get out. Also, and our main reason, Halloween can be a scary time to be a dog.  People in scary costumes make it hard to tell friend from foe and can scare a dog.  Any dog with an instinct to protect could easily assume there was cause to.  So, to be safe, our dogs stay up.  However, once we shut the door we let the dogs loose.

Older kids kept coming by, knocking on the door.  The dogs would go nuts.  And, though all dogs' barks are impressive and can be scary, Foster does have a .. well .. massive Mastiff bark. 

At first I would try to block the dogs as I went to the door, but with one group Layla, our 1 year old Bulldog, slipped by me and out onto the porch.  I shut the door behind me and went to get her.  She wasn't scared, she was curious as usual and simply walked around the kids.  No growling, nothing.  The kids were older middle-school or high-school age kids (hard to tell), and one boy simply FREAKED OUT.  It was hysterical.  He started jumping back when he realized she was a bulldog.  "She's a bulldog" he yelled, "those things will kill you!!!" 

I couldn't resist.

"Oh, no" I replied calmly and reassuringly, "bulldogs won't kill you. Mastiffs will kill you."  And with that I opened the door, shoved Layla in, and let Foster take a step or two out. "See?" I said. 

The kid tripped over himself running back to the sidewalk, while his friends, who initially jumped back as well, roared with laughter. 
Foster never growled, never showed any aggression, just took a couple curious steps through the doorway, with me holding his collar. 


BWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

Good Morning

These photos were taken with my cell phone, thereby a little fuzzy. But I find when I first wake up in the morning, life is a little fuzzy ... just like the photos. Here is a quick look at some of the beings I wake up to in the morning.

Good Morning from Foster. Our 17 month old, at least 140 pound, English Mastiff. He likes to cuddle. He isn't allowed on the bed. Luckily for him, his back legs are on the floor. Our bed is queen size and he, as you can see, can reach nearly fully across it. With his hind legs still on the floor.


See how tired he is? He has sleepy-goop still in his eye. The poor thing. It's tough being a Mastiff who thinks he's a carry-along 2lb dog. In case you're wondering what his head is resting on ... that's Justin's leg under the blanket.

Then there is Layla, our little 9 month old English Bulldog. For many months now, under our bed has been her refuge. When it is hot out, she hides under the bed. When Foster is chasing her after they've been playing, she runs into our room and does an impressive dive & slide under the bed, where he can't reach her. When Foster greets us in the morning though .. well, she just isn't as tall and can't command the attention. So .. under the bed she goes.
The sound of her crawling under the bed, her ID tag clanking against the wooden floor and her legs attempting to propel her forward make it sound like she is swimming. So, that's what we call it. We'll look at each other and say "Oh, Layla's gone swimming again." "There Layla goes, swimming under the bed." It isn't a graceful performance out of her to say the least.
However, our little pup is growing as little bullies do. Normally she'd swim under the bed, pop up on my side (closest to the wall) and paw for attention. Now ... poor Layla, she's a bigger bully.

......

Layla gets a little stuck under the bed during her morning swim. .... It probably doesn't help that she does this swim after she's eaten her breakfast, when her belly is nice and full. Apparently she never bothered to read the memo about not swimming after you eat.

As you can tell here, Foster is just SHOCKED that Layla is stuck, once again, under the bed. He's simply shocked.
Actually, he's likely more concerned and offended. When Layla gets stuck she doesn't give up on her swim. She reaches her paws out, hoping to make it through. Which usually ends up with her pulling the nearby plug out of the wall. That turns off the tv (which isn't on in the morning anyway), the clock (which is on and will have to be reset, but which Foster doesn't care about), and ... worst of all, the fans. THIS is VERY offensive to Foster. One of the perks of being able to lay across the bed like he does is, aside from the morning cuddle, the breeze from both of the fans.
So ... in this photo Foster is shocked that Layla is stuck ... again. And concerned that this will wind up in his breeze being disrupted. Which just completely ruins the beauty of morning.

Here's wishing you all a happy holiday weekend. However you spend it. However you wake up, or whomever/whatever you wake up to.

Meet Layla

This is Layla. Layla Pillow to be precise, but to be honest she's also been lovingly nicknamed 'Piglet.' She was my Valentine's Day gift from Justin.

After my grandfather's funeral we were all up at his house and my cousin arrived with his English Bulldog, Lilly. Lilly had originally belonged to our uncle Chuck and so my cousin wanted them to have a chance to visit.
I love English Bulldogs. Always have. That was one reason we had gotten Jomo, because he had that bully breed (American Bulldog) in him. Seeing Lilly was too much for me. I walked inside and announced to everyone that I HAD to have an English Bulldog.
I signed up on rescue lists, thinking that I would rather have an adult than a pup given that we already have an enormous puppy, two little boys, and ourselves to deal with. I contacted breeders to see if they had any females they were ready to retire (or males, I wasn't terribly picky). I found a breeder who had one and I made arrangements to come meet & get her on a Thursday. The next day I got an email that they weren't ready to give her up just yet. They were waiting for her pup to sell, but they also had an older pup that needed to sell before they even listed her pup. It could all happen tomorrow but they didn't expect it to take more than 3 or 4 weeks.
So, I continued looking around. I found a 5 year old rescue bulldog down in North Carolina. At the same time, I happened to stumble onto Craigslist and saw someone locally wanting to re-home (don't you just love that term? It reeks of b.s) his 15 week old English Bulldog pup.
I talked to him on the phone. He told me he was "re-homing" her because he worked a day job & then nights he was a fireman. He and his wife/girlfriend/female (I don't remember & don't care) had just bought a house and the pup was in her crate all the time. He told me she was housebroken and that they had an appointment with the vet for her last set of puppy shots & her rabies shot already lined up. He said she came with her crate, bowls, food, toys, collar & leash.
I met him that day. Really, it wasn't a 5 minute drive from my house. The kids and my mom came out too to see what they thought. Instant love on their part. And, oh, were those puppy eyes big and sweet.
I began asking him questions. First he told me that he had gotten her from a lady named Sarah out in Gladys, VA. I asked if the lady had a kennel and he said no, that she had just bred them. He had met the mother & father though. As I stood there, petting the pup, I inquired what he knew about the general health of 'Sarah's' dogs, since English Bulldogs can be known for health problems. It was then he fessed up that she, the pup not Sarah, was 1/8 Boston Terrier. Papa was a full-blooded English Bulldog, Mama was 3/4 English Bulldog & 1/4 Boston Terrier. I almost walked away, but the pup was cute and he was willing to come down in price. So, we brought her home. I later asked him if he had 'Sarah's' phone number as I would like to see photos of the parents, he told me he thought he still had it and would try to find it. I've never heard back from him. When we bought her from him she came with her crate & toys. No bowls or food and he tried to keep the leash and collar, which I politely asked him for.
Within a couple days I had managed to track down the breeder. Her name was 'Lisa' not 'Sarah.' Yes, he had been out there and seen all her dogs. Yes, she owns a kennel! Yes, he knew all this because 1) he had only had the pup for a WEEK and 2) he had called her to let her know he wasn't going to keep her (gave her the same reasons he gave me)!!!! Also, no .. she wasn't 1/8 Boston Terrier, she is 1/4. The lady calls the breed an English Boston Bulldog and said that was how she had advertised them, so he knew full well what the pup was. Papa was pure English Bulldog, Mama was 1/2 English Bulldog & 1/2 Boston Terrier. I've since seen photos of both. Lisa asked how much I paid for the pup and I told her. He had been trying to sell her for the price he had bought her for and I had haggled him down. She said "Good for you! I hope that teaches him a lesson!" It also turns out he hadn't yet taken the pup to the vet. So, for whatever reason (hopefully a benign one of being a young fool) he was a lying bastard. I guess that's what you get when you venture onto Craigslist.
Layla has now been to the vet. She's in great health. The vet said she would've believed she was full English Bulldog too. Her breathing is fantastic, heart is too. She went on about what a gorgeous pup she was and then gave her all her shots.
And, just for the record, that older bulldog down in North Carolina that we had been considering has a new home too. My mother adopted her. We all drove down there (Layla too!) to get her. We couldn't bear the thought of her having to stay in a kennel one day longer. Now Mom's Standard Poodle, Anya, has a friend too.

So, now we have a new pup. I still just call her a Bulldog, or an English Bulldog, though I'll admit to her Boston roots too. I'm just Southern that way.
Foster is in LOVE. Absolute heavenly love. He plays and plays and plays with her. Or at least tries to. She is 25 pounds and comes up mid-shin, he is 136 pounds and comes up to my hip (and I'm nearly 6' tall myself). He kinda runs circles around her. But he plays gently, as English Mastiffs are known to do. She keeps him in line. They are best of buds now.

More stories to come ...

Foster the 8 month old Mastiff

~Hello, I'm only 8 months old. I am still growing & will get a lot bigger!!~

Foster is our first English Mastiff. I grew up with St. Bernards but, let's be honest, my mother was the one really raising them, I just lived in the house with them. Raising a giant breed dog, no matter how much we love him, comes with it's unique "challenges."

Let's start with the basic stats:
*At 7 weeks old (when we got him) he weighed 17lbs.
*At 8 months old he weighs 114lbs. -- Yea, he's put on almost 100lbs in 6 months.
*Height from the floor to his shoulder ~ roughly 29". It's a little hard to measure accurately when he keeps turning around and trying to chew on the measuring tape.

Your puppy plays with tennis balls, ours like to drag pumpkins around the yard. The sizes range from a nice cantaloupe size to as big as a basketball. Oh yea, he also likes basketballs and soccer balls. Actually, he prefers soccer balls. It must be the English in him.

Foster likes chasing his tail. He LOVES it. That would be a fine thing usually. It would be a fine, self-sustaining activity. And, to some degree it is. Except Foster likes to be close to you. And when that mouth comes around, regardless of it chasing the tail & nothing else, and it grazes your knee instead ... well, needless to say you might just think JAWS swam by. Luckily his adult teeth have pretty much grown in, so your knee doesn't actually look like JAWS has been there. But still, cuss words tend to quickly fly.

He also doesn't seem to realize how big his body is in proportion the the room that he is in. He spins around and whacks his head on the edge of the kitchen island (you can see a corner in the photo above), and repeatedly knocks his noggin on the underside of tables.
Having survived almost 7 years of Shannon I am ready to respond to the WHAMS!! with 911 or at least a quick call to the emergency vet. Surely, his head must be split open. It hasn't been. He seems unfazed. I am amazed. I look at him in awe. He looks at me with those big brown eyes, unfazed and curious as to why my jaw is dropped.

We have a rule about no dogs on the bed. Ironically enough, I'm allergic to dogs (and cats, and so on). However, the allergies don't normally bother me. It is when they're allowed on the bed and near my pillow that I begin to not be able to breathe. So .. no dogs allowed on the bed.
There is a minor exception, we've always allowed them to put their front paws on the bed and say "hello." In fact, after Jomo passed that was what I missed so much - being able to wake up to a friendly face, waiting to be petted. So, Foster is allowed to put his two front paws on the bed.
Of course, this isn't a little dog. This is a dog who can stand on the floor at the right hand side of the bed and reach me ... with his paws .. and his head .. far .. far away .. on the left side of the bed. On the left EDGE of the bed.
If I've rolled over to nuzzle on Justin's side I'd better watch out. I've nearly woken up to black eyes a couple of times, paws whapping me in the face. He also has figured out about blankets ~ you know .. there may be people under them. That's ok, just start nosing around till you get your cold, wet nose & slobbery jaws under there.

Typical of Mastiffs, he sleeps a lot. Which is wonderful. We can sit around the living room in the evening, with him snoozing away soundly. And loudly. Mastiffs snore. And .... well, with a lot of aroma. Foster is a gas-bag. We actually bought some digestive enzymes to help decrease the nuclear attacks of farts (it worked some). Of course, he also likes to sleep under feet. And, if you've decided to raise your feet in the recliner, that's ok. He'll just sleep under that. Of course, if you want to get up ... you better be a yogi or gymnast.

And, when he isn't asleep, he is always on guard, also typical of Mastiffs. Apparently there is a reason we should all be on edge. There is this other Mastiff that, from time to time, goes and stands outside our living room window. It's amazing .. it looks just like Foster. And it only seems to appear in the window when Foster is looking out!! IT MUST NOT BE TRUSTED!!! We must growl at it to let it know it better not try to enter. And .. sometimes, these things appear above this other Mastiff's head. Weird floating hands. I mean, how can you possibly not go nuts over this!?!?! RED ALERT FOLKS, RED ALERT!!!!
Luckily, he hasn't gone through the window yet after this dastardly other Mastiff.

The rest of it all is standard stuff. You know, a 114 (and growing) pound dog that is timid about going out into the yard ... in the rain .. in the snow .. at night. Any of that.
And he likes to cuddle. In fact I think he thinks he might be a lap dog. A large, slobbery lap dog.
Speaking of slobber, our island was sporting a rather nice, several inch long, slobber-cicle last night.

Just part of another day with a Mastiff pup.

The boys & Foster

Foster, our English Mastiff, turned 6 months old today. He's 28" tall (up 2" from less than a week ago) at the shoulder and now weighs roughly 100lbs. That's more than both our boys put together! Needless to say, the kids and the pup don't always see eye to eye .... though as big as he is, they almost literally do.

For those who are unaware, English Mastiffs slobber. They have big floppy jowls (I actually, accidentally, stepped on Foster's today!) that hold food, water, and drool long after they've left the dish behind.

This isn't Foster, it is his father Samson. Look close at the mouth. In all fairness, Samson had just finished off a pig's ear and was extra slobbery. They usually aren't that bad. But they DO drool & slobber.

Shannon HATES the slobbering and drool!! I really can't emphasize enough how much he hates it. If he gets any slobber on him he throws a fit about needing to change his clothing. So, this evening we're sitting in the kitchen and Shannon spots a wet spot on the floor. ~ Cue the ominous music ~

The truth of the matter is that it was from where Foster had been chewing on a piece of ice, dropped it, and then went back to trying to get it.

Shannon begins screaming about their being a puddle of pee on the floor. I tell him it isn't pee, but just .. well, what I said above. He then starts screaming about it being slobber and on & on about how much he hates slobber. So I ask him "Well which do you hate more, slobber or pee?"
"Slobber" he replies. "Well then, that's pee on the floor" I say.

With that, the kid hops down and announces with great significance "I have to clean up that pee!" He then continued on saying "I am ALWAYS prepared to take care of pee!" And he got out the vinegar & water, a clean cloth, and cleaned up the alleged pee. All the while he starts muttering and complaining "THIS DOG is making me mad!" because every time he would clean up one spot, there'd be another spot since Foster was following him around with great curiousity and nosing the floor behind him. Absolutely hysterical to Justin & I, absolutely maddening to poor Shannon, and absolutely interesting to Foster.

And then, there is this. Foster tends to think the kids are puppies and his litter-mates. If the kids hop up on the bed you can guarantee that Foster will soon appear at the bed as well, expecting to be let up. If the kids play trains, Foster follows them around, nosing at the trains and sitting on the tracks. Every time Foster sits on the tracks Shannon has begun saying "Foster, get your tush off the tracks!" ~~ It's rather cute.

Tristan on the other hand doesn't so often find Foster cute. Foster is still 6 months old, which means he plays like a puppy. And Tristan is only 4, which means he can get knocked around by Foster's leaning against him or his tail knocking into him. Tristan is NOT happy about this.

But he does love him. He hugs on him and pets him. Foster walks with me when I get the boys down for their naps, often trying to stay in there with them. They both give him a hug and kiss goodnight.

And, with one being 6 months old, one being 4 years old, and the final one being 6 1/2 years old, this is how our household runs. At least between the three of them.

Two of a Kind

This is Tristan.

He's our youngest, he'll be 4 this Summer. He weighs between 35 & 39 pounds.

This is Foster. He is almost 2 1/2 months old now. He weighs 30 pounds .. but that rapidly changes.

I swear ... the two of them are peas in a pod. And not because Tristan loves on Foster so very much. ... He really doesn't. Foster tends to bite him on the butt. Tristan screams. We make Foster "apologize" .. which means we make him sit and Tristan pet Foster so they get along again. But, I digress.

They slobber. ---- Mastiffs are known for slobbering and drooling. We prepped for this by buying lots of little washcloths (thank you Walmart for that cheap-ole stack of washcloths!). Tonight we took the kids to Burger King for dinner (yea, yea, get off my ass .. it's hot, they have AC and needed a playground to burn off some energy on). SEVERAL times throughout "dinner" I had to get Justin to wipe the drool off of Tristan's mouth. You know, before he managed to wipe it up .. over his nose .. onto his forehead .. and into his hair. I really had those "flashback scenes" of Foster's face after drinking water as I watched slobber chocolate milk drool drip from Tristan's mouth.

They chew on weird things. --- Like electrical chords. You expect this from puppies. Not from almost 4 year olds. Tristan informed me the other day that his mouth "hurt". Turned out he had been chewing on the chord to the phone. Electrical chord, phone line chord .. I'm not sure. I've also had to ask him to please not chew on his shoes. Same with Foster, though I ask him not to chew on my shoes. I've had to tell Tristan not to eat the dirty snow off the bottom of his boots. Foster hasn't seen snow yet. We'll see how he reacts to that.
Tonight when we got home, as we were getting out of the car, I had to ask Tristan to please not chew on the metal part of the seat-belt clasp. (What the hell do you call that particular piece?)
---- Also along this same line here is that they eat weird things. It's pretty much the same thing, same examples. You get the idea.

Other ways I think they're very similar?? They both sleep weird. Though, Tristan just tends to roll around and sometimes under the furniture. Foster curls up beside the toilet or sleeps in that weird Spread-Eagle kinda way.
Tristan spills about every beverage he comes into contact with. Foster, quite literally, FALLS into his water dish.
They both aren't .... how can I say this with utter love and without sounding mean at all .. always completely present in the moment.
Examples:
1st) We were eating dinner a while back. I heard someone kicking the table. I assumed it was Shannon (at this point in time it was a fair assumption) & asked him to stop. He looked under the table towards Justin, as the kicking noise continued. Justin looked under the table. We realized it was Tristan. I said "TRISTAN (trying to get his attention), QUIT KICKING THE TABLE!" (really, this was more to get the kid's attention .. it wasn't yelling). Tristan suddenly looks up and exclaims "WHAT!?!?! I didn't pee!!!!" ------ ummmm ... OK.
2nd) I am standing on the deck, Foster is in the yard. I call to him and try to call him to come up. He walks through the sunflowers and up to the deck (not the stair side, the yard side) and looks up at me with this expression of "now what?". I keep calling to him, encouraging him to come up ONTO the deck. He FINALLY makes his way to the steps ... tangling himself up in the hops in the process .. and then he TRIPS up the stairs. --- cuz, you know, going up a small flight of stairs is so damn tricky.

There are likely more examples. Somewhere I do have photos of Tristan hanging out in Whiskey's old dog crate when he was about 18 months old. We didn't put him in there, he just thought it was fun to go in there and shut the door and hang out. I would post it, but I am sure Social Services would come down pretty hard on shit like that. ---- C'mon .. don't all kids do silly things like that??

We'll see how they grow together. We'll see if Foster keeps biting Tristan's butt. We'll see if Tristan keeps chewing on weird things. Until then, at least there is potty training. Tristan's gotten Foster beat on that one. At least he doesn't pee in the hall .... or the front room .. or the bedroom .. or the kitchen .. or .. well, you get the piddle picture.

Where's Foster?

This is kinda like Where's Waldo. Or maybe it's just a fun game of 'Spot the Mastiff.' This game wouldn't be so much fun if it weren't for the knowledge of just how big Foster will get. For those not in the know, male English Mastiffs are 30" or more in height (Foster is already 18", height measured from the floor to his back end while standing), and weigh anywhere between 160 - 200+ pounds. Foster is 2 months 12 days old and weighs 30 pounds already. His father was a skinny 180 pounds. So, now you know, and now you know why this is so funny.



Are you ready??? Here we go ...

This is our newly-tiled 1/2 bathroom, off of our master bedroom. Can you Spot the Mastiff??



Do you see him yet??


THERE HE IS!! Hooray for you!! You've won this round of 'Spot the Mastiff'!!! Congratulations!!!!

If this is any help in truly seeing how tiny this bathroom is, I am leaning WAY back against the sink (my back was against the glass shelf above the sink), and you can see my left foot in the photo.

Also, for any of you who think I cheated and took this photo when we brought him home and he was only 7 weeks and 17.6 pounds, just itty-bitty tiny, these photos were taken on June 21st.

Also, for the record, he loves laying like this:

..... Yea, try maneuvering around THAT when you have to go to the bathroom!! (Perhaps one reason he's taken to curling up around the toilet itself, he's out of my way and gets less pants dropped on his head.)

These last two photos were taken on June 13th. He was 2 months and 2 days old. Now, close your eyes and imagine how he'll fit in there when he's full grown. Or a year old. Or just in another month.

It's a good thing you're cute

Some Facts:

~ Puppies, like babies, do not sleep through the night. They cry at various hours, wanting something like being taken out to go pee.

~ Unlike babies, puppies are used to sleeping with other puppies. Of course babies don't arrive in your home expecting to sleep with puppies, that would just be silly! I didn't think I would actually have to explain that one to you! ..... Puppies are NOT thrilled to suddenly be forced to sleep ALONE in a crate at night. Babies are kinda cool with a crib. It isn't wise to try to put a puppy in a crib or a baby in a crate.

~ Big puppies make big noises. Happy, sad, mean, whatever. The noises are big.

~ If you're trying to sleep & the puppy is making loud noises, it is actually impossible to stuff a pillow between your ears like they do in cartoons. Can't do it with one pillow, much less two.

~ After taking the pup out at 5 am, you realize you can do one of two things: put him back in the crate, let him wail & wake the kids up (who will then be wide awake at 5 am) OR put him in bed with you & hope he goes to sleep.

~ Puppies, again like babies, are used to nursing and have an innate ability to seek out a teat.

~ Being suddenly awoken by sharp little puppy teeth biting your boob is NOT the best way to start your day.

~ The puppy biting your husbands tit next IS funny and helps heal your own wounds much quicker.

~ Stocking up on treats, chew toys, and pig ears before you even get the puppy is a wise idea. A puppy that is ready to chew everything at 5 am seriously needs alternatives to your 1/2 asleep limbs.

~ A puppy that randomly sticks out his tongue at things is too cute & funny to stay mad at for very long. Puppy breath, wrinkly head, and overall cuteness help a lot too. These things prove especially beneficial when one is running on very little sleep and has bite marks on their boobs.

Meet Foster

Because sometimes life isn't crazy enough. In fact, I find that when life seems to crazy, adding a little bit more crazy to the pile seems to balance it all out perfectly.

This is Foster. He's 7 weeks old and weighs in at 17 lbs. He is a very big lump. Except when you go on curvy roads. He whines about being rolled around in the crate and his sleep disrupted. Or when you don't let him play in the pond which he discovered today. He went a little berserk - a toddler trying to demand his way is THE way in the world and not being happy when he finds out that isn't the case. Pretty much par for the course for a pup. But a VERY big lump.

Justin and I took a drive down to Kentucky this past weekend to get Foster. He had been living the life on a 100 acre farm. Mom & Pop were there. Mom (aka - Baby Doll) is a tiny 130 lb. fawn mastiff. Pop (aka - Samson, aka - Sam) is a 180 lb. apricot mastiff ~ very tall, but still small on the weight end of things.

This is Baby Doll. She's a little over 3 years old, is AKC & CKC registered, weighs 130 lbs., and seems kinda tiny for a mastiff. She earns her name well though, she was unbelievably sweet and gentle. She came right up to us and said hi, happy to meet new friends and get petted. This was her 3rd, and likely last, litter of pups.

This is Samson, aka Sam. It was harder to get a clear shot of him, as he was very excited that there were new friends to be made and played with. Mr. Imes, the gentleman we got Foster from, had pig ears in his pockets for Sam & Baby Doll. Sam could smell them. New people to meet, pigs ears to eat ... who has time to stop and pose for photos??? Sam is also 3 years old, a little younger than Baby Doll. He is CKC registered and weighs in at 180 lbs. His height was much more impressive than his weight though. As you can see in the photo, he comes up to hip-height on us. And we're both almost 6' tall.

We went down to Kentucky on Saturday, stopping in Nashville to visit a brewery and a brew pub (check out http://www.soulonebrewery.blogspot.com/ for reviews!). After checking into the hotel we headed over to see the pups. Sunday morning we went back to pay the man, get Foster & head on home. We were well prepared with a collar & tag already made (Walmart in Kentucky on a Saturday night, folks), a leash we brought down, food, toys, blankets, and etc.
It was 9 hours each way. We were prepared for a long drive home, stopping often to let the pup out to potty. Turned out the lump slept most of the way. We stopped to wake him up to potty and try to entice him to eat some. Getting home was much quicker than getting down there.

For the fun record: On the way down there on Saturday, we spent 2 hours driving through VA before we hit TN. We saw 9 cops and one 50' tall cross. Driving through TN we saw one cop as we went through Knoxville. In Kentucky, on Saturday, we saw 0 cops. Sunday morning we saw the only cop we would see in Kentucky, and he was stopped at a car wash, washing the cruiser. We DID see 2 live turtles by the side of the road though (and one big dead one). It's odd, coming from VA, when you see more turtles than cops sitting by the side of the road.

Although Whiskey & Foster got off to a little bit of a rough start (he wasn't too wild about meeting her), within an hour or so they were cool. Here they are, out walking in the yard. Whiskey turned 10 in February, is starting to show signs of dementia, and weighs about 50 lbs. Mostly this photo was taken just so we could remember that Foster was once tinier than Whiskey.

The boys weren't told that we were getting a new pup. They spent the weekend with Grandma & Grandpa while Mommy & Daddy went out of town. I wish I could've captured their faces when we walked inside with Foster in our arms. They are in love. Tristan kept saying "he's cute!" This is a sigh of relief since Tristan is often wary of new dogs.

As usual, we had spent a lot of time reading everything we could about English Mastiffs before getting the pup. It surprises me how many people have reacted with"do you know how big he'll get?!?" as if we wouldn't know that he is going to be a big dog. Yes, we know. Male Mastiffs can weigh up to 200 lbs, and it isn't shocking when they weigh more than that.
They're also VERY gentle breeds. They're known as 'Gentle Giants.' They LOVE children (and not as snacks!). They are guard dogs, but they use their sheer size as intimidation, and are more likely to block an intruder or pin them down than to bite. They rarely bark, only when they think there might be an intruder or other need to, and are actually known as being good dogs for people who live in apartments. Really people, not all big dogs are CUJO.

Also for the record, for anyone curious, just how did we come up with the name "Foster"? We have Whiskey, named not for the drink but for the song 'Whiskey in the Jar'; and we had Jomo, named 'Jomo Lager' after the beer from Starr Hill Brewery in VA. So why "Foster"?? Couple reasons.
1) Bud Foster. -- We're big Hokie fans here. Bud Foster is the defensive coordinator for Virginia Tech. Our defense tends to kick ass. Bud Foster is the man.
2) English Mastiff are good guard dogs, making them good defense. Bud Foster = Good Defense. English Mastiff = Good Defense.
3) Foster is "Australian for BEER." -- Ok, I'm not really a fan of the beer, but it is a beer. And yea, so is Bud. (At least in theory -- please remember we are beer snobs and I wouldn't drink Budweiser if you paid me).
So there ya go. Foster it is. He will be in need of Hokie duds by the time football season rolls around. The Campus Emporium welcomes you bringing your dog in there to try on things, and since I didn't see a "MASTIFF" size in their selection, I think we'll have to do that.

If you'd like to see more photos from our trip to Kentucky, please click here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/funkymamataney/sets/72157624050524157/