An experience in spaying ..

Life With Dogs:

Our bulldogs Layla and Cupcake were spayed yesterday.

Layla, on happier days

As usual, Layla complained the ENTIRE way to the vet.  "I don't like car rides!" "Cupcake is the one in heat, why am I being punished too??" "The Jeep is too cold!" "I want to go home!" "This isn't fair!!" and so on. She politely threw up on the ride up to Christiansburg (I only know this from seeing the crate later on).

Foster, our Mastiff, spent the day wandering around looking for them. If you've never seen a curious Mastiff it is quite a site. Demanding, repeatedly, to check each side of the back door, despite the cold temperatures and rain. Finally he went to sleep on the couch - his worry wore him out.

As you can see, the stress took a toll.  It is so hard being so caring.

We were called to pick them up in Christiansburg yesterday rather than back in Salem this morning because of them being bulldogs (more chances of problems). So, the kids and I met Mom and Barry (aka Grandma & Grandpa) up there. Mom watched the kids while Barry helped me load the crates and dogs back up for the ride home.

When they brought out Cupcake they were carrying her. Apparently she thought she couldn't walk. She also thought she couldn't walk the other night here at home when she had to wear underwear. Apparently her back legs only work under the best of circumstances, in all other cases, she MUST be carried.

It is also hard being a little princess.  This is her "perch" on the couch.

Layla, once we got back to Salem & despite the anesthesia, once again began letting us know how much she resented the general mistreatment she was experiencing.  "That was awful!" "When will we be home??"  "Does Daddy know you let them do this to me?" "I want to go home!"
We EVENTUALLY (so Layla said) made it back home.  Justin took off a minute or two early so that he could almost meet us there.  You can tell he was worried sick.  Layla was the first to be taken out of the car, per her demands and since Cupcake still didn't think her legs worked anyway.

I walked her into the front yard while Justin took her crate inside.  Layla didn't need to pee so we walked to the front porch.  Now, there is A step.  Just a little step up.  We weren't sure if she could do this though given the circumstances.  She put her front paws on the porch and then hesitated.  ... And then she sat down on the front walk.  .... And then she rolled over onto her side .... into the lavender bush.  ... Where she stayed until, on her side, until Justin picked her up and carried her into her crate. 
She spent the rest of the evening pretty much sound asleep, though every now and then she would let us know she was still alive by giving us a gripe or two about her mistreatment.  Even a sedated bulldog can still complain, just groggily.

Cupcake we carried, because you know her legs don't work, inside and into her crate.  It is amazing how bulldogs can demand, and get, the literal Royal Treatment. 
She did fine the rest of the evening, though she did get up to let us know she needed to go out a couple of times.  OF COURSE, she was carried to and from.  Her butt and paws wiped (not at the same time), before being put back into her crate.  Mountain View Humane Society had given both girls a soft towel for their crates for the trip home, just in case.  Apparently our gals convinced even them they were Royals. 

The rest of the night was pretty uneventful.  Layla threw up again later when her pain pill finally hit her stomach (thankfully late enough afterwards that she didn't throw it up).  She's been sick again this morning, but, being Royalty she DOES have a sensitive stomach. 

Cupcake decided she really liked her new towel in her crate.  She smooshed it up against the crate door.  Then, this morning, she began nibbling on the tag.  I called to her and she quickly looked up and around, certain that it wasn't her who was being scolded.  She, of course, hadn't been doing anything.  ... right ...

Foster on the other hand has had the hardest time adjusting.  He's been very upset that the girls are being carried and he isn't. After-all, even though he weighs a good 150lbs now he still is certain that he is no more than the size of a bulldog.  And if they can be carried then he most certainly should be as well.  He's gone to the back door several times, out onto the frozen porch, only to look back at me with eyes that say "Well, are you going to carry me down these steps or not?"  ... not.
So, since he's had to endure such stress and trauma, and since he's not one to be out-done by any other dog, he's decided his stomach is now upset too.  He got given a gas pill and some rice in his food, which he didn't eat.  He's now back on the couch.  It is all that darn stress ...

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 ...