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.

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/