woofersnouts.com

As some of you may know, we adopted Steve as an older dog.  He was also a stray, so we have no idea how old he really is (we have a guess of 5), and we have no idea when he was born.  Now I’m kinda into astrology.  I’m a virgo (today’s my birthday in fact) and I feel that my astrological sign matches me perfectly.  Also, Mister is a pisces, and I think his sign suits him really well too, although he thinks it’s a bunch of b.s.  However, when he said that the traits that I said described his sign could describe anyone, I tried to trick him by reading scorpio’s characteristics and told him they were his; to which he responded that they were nothing like him…so I believe there’s a little bit of truth in the whole thing. 

Anyway, back to Steve.  We were talking about the whole astrology thing, and thought that we could use that approach to finding out what Steve’s birthday is.  I looked at the traits of all the astrological signs and determined…dun, dun, daaaah…Steve’s a taurus.  Here are some of the highlights:

 Now some of these traits aren’t quite right (placid for example only applies when he’s sleeping), but overall, I think this is pretty much a clear picture of Woofers.  Next, I looked at celebrities that are tauruses (tauri?), and tried to find the one with the closest matching personality.  So, Steve now shares an April 22nd birthday with…

Jack Nicholson.  I figure with his penchant for overindulgance, love of females, and ability to steal the spotlight, Woofers matches Johnny to a tee.  And all work and no play makes Steve a dull boy.  All work and no play makes Steve a dull boy.  All work and no play makes Steve a dull boy.

What astrological sign matches your dog best?

Let me tell you a little story boys and girls.

Once upon a time, a young couple had a nice little day out.  They went to a cute little store and bought some wine and cheese and crusty bread.  They bought crafty supplies at Ben Franklin for a nice evening in.  The boy in the relationship liked fun, and very annoying little trinkets, like bells that one would find at an old-timey library or a bed-and-breakfast that has a sign next to that says “Ring once if no one is at the desk”…bells like this one.

The boy decided it would be fun to buy the bell, and ring it “whenever something inappropriate is said” in the couple’s home.  It was rung a lot by the boy, much to the girl’s chagrin, because it was annoying to her.

Two days later, their dog became reclusive, and hated being downstairs.

The next day, being upset with the incessantly bell ringing taking place in the house, the girl picked up the bell and said to the boy, “one of these days, this bell is going to mysteriously disappear,” as the dog looked on in horror at the bell in her hand and then ran upstairs.

The couple then leashed up the dog, the boy picked up the bell, and they made a huge display of throwing the bell in the dumpster, making sure the dog was watching the whole time.

The house was then free of the dinging, and the dog was back to his old loving snuggly downstairs self.

The moral of the story:  Don’t buy a bell, unless you want to drive your dog and significant other insane.

THE END.

I’m worried about Steve. He seems…well, he seems depressed. I know that seems weird to say about a dog, and I know that people say that dogs can get depressed, but I never really thought those words would come out of my mouth.

It all started about 4 days ago. I said to Mister, “I think Woofers might be depressed.” He just chuckled a little and said that he was fine. (I may need to preface this story by saying that I’m more than a little paranoid when it comes to the health of my dog. He’s been to the vet for more imaginary ailments than I care to discuss here.) He just seemed a little…off. He’s normally such a people dog, and super outgoing, and growly and barky when Mister and I show any kind of affection for each other, because, well, love going on in our house that doesn’t include him is just WRONG. Anyway, he’s been going upstairs by himself. He just lays on the bed or in the corner that he likes to sleep in at night sometimes. It’s getting to where it’s difficult to even hold his interest downstairs, even when we are both down there. He hangs out for a few minutes, then heads up the stairs on his own.

We gave him a once over, and it doesn’t seem like anything is overtly wrong. Nothing seems hurty. He’s eating and drinking and peeing and pooping normally. He’s up to date on all of his shots, so after my Google search of “dog reclusive suddenly,” seeing one of the results was rabies, that’s not possible, thankfully. He’s going up and down the stairs fine, he just seems completely reluctant to be downstairs at all.

I thought about temperature. But it’s hotter upstairs than it is downstairs. If the heat is bothering him, I figure he’d want to be downstairs, not up. The only possible thing that I can think of is that when we leave, he gets crated…downstairs. Perhaps when we were gone on Sunday something happened that spooked him? There were no storms or anything, but maybe a neighbor in the next apartment made a loud noise or something? I don’t know. If it continues, I’ll take him to the vet on Monday. Anyone have any thoughts?

Mister’s parents got Steve a gift for Christmas.  We actually may have asked for it…I can’t be sure, but we probably did, knowing our interest in all things ridiculous.  I don’t know if anyone remembers this, but last year, there was the whole “Tailgate Approved” campaign by Bud Light.  They had a dog tailgate companion.  It’s basically like a saddle with pockets on the side for various condiments and grilling accessories.

I have no idea how Mister’s ‘rents acquired this thing, but it’s amazing.  We totally forgot about it until the other day.  Everyone, please meet Steve, the BBQ mule.

We still have tail missing from our tailgate, but we have a bunny butt, which is way better.

Steve gets dressed up. Pretty frequently. All of his own accord of course. Yeah, he totally asks to be dressed up. He loves tacky things too.

This is Woofers’ Snuggie. It was given to him by a close friend, and he loves it.

This picture was taken just after he put down his book (complete with pop up reading light) and the tv remote. His arms were snuggly warm and his hands were free. He hadn’t gotten around to going to a cold sports game and sitting in the bleachers or raising the roof with his friends in it though.

Steve also has a pair of Crocs he likes to wear around too. He only wears them in the house though. We won’t let him wear them in public…I think they make him look a little like Mario Batali.

He’s tried to use Bump Its before, but the plastic shows through. I think he doesn’t tease his ears enough before he tries to use them. So we’ve retired them.

He also has an ugly Christmas sweater that he never takes off during the holiday season. I have too much respect for him to post a picture of him wearing it though.

Little Woofers and his poor fashion sense. Clint and Stacy would surely tell him to wear something that helps create the illusion of longer legs. Look for his “What Not To Wear” style intervention (stylevention). Coming soon to a tv near you.

Mister and I are a huge fan of Antiques Roadshow.  We watch it and play an over/under drinking game.  Rules are as follows:  one person guesses how much something is valued at, the other guesses over or under that amount.  Whoever is wrong drinks.  Then the other person guesses.  We also do Price is Right rules where, if we are both over, we both drink.

ANYWAY, we were thinking, what would Woofers be appraised for if we took him in?  I wonder what they’d say about him.  So we did.  We took Steve to Antiques Roadshow, and this is what they had to say.

Appraiser:  This is a vintage Welsh Pembroke Corgi.  Where did you get him?

Randi:  We got him in Dartmouth, MA.  He was a stray, and we paid $200 dollars for him two-and-a-half years ago.

Appraiser:  Ok.  How much do you know about this piece?  (Because they call EVERYTHING a piece.)

Randi:  He didn’t come with any paperwork or anything to authenticate him, so we don’t know much.

Appraiser:  Well, all of us here were really excited when we saw him come in.  We’ve never really seen anything like him.  Let me tell you a little more about him.  He is a Welsh Pembroke Corgi.  He’s from about 2005.  We’re not really sure who made him, because if we turn him over…

you’ll see there’s no markings on the underside.  Usually artists that work in the Corgi medium will stamp their pieces, but we have no distinguishing markings on him.  He looks like the works of the New England Corgi artists, so that’s where we believe that he originated.

The body is classically styled Corgi.

He has the typical Corgi short legs and bunny-like butt.

His ears are also perfectly balanced and symmetrical.  The artist did a really good job with them.

He also has this wonderful foot spot that gives him some added value.

There are some condition issues here though.  If you look at his snout, you can see that it’s starting to discolor at the tip where the nose meets the snout.

Also, if you look at the underside of the snout, it’s a different color than the top.

It looks like the top of the Corgi may have been replaced.  Have you replaced any part of him?

Randi:  No, we haven’t done any work to him at all.

Appraiser:  Ok, well, if I were you, I would put a few hundred dollars into some restoration, and perhaps if you can find the original top, it would add some value.  Overall, for insurance purposes, I would value this Corgi at $500,000.

Randi:  WOW!  Really?!?

Appraiser:  Yes, and with a some minor restoration, he could be worth significantly more.

Randi:  Oh my gosh!

Appraiser:  You really made a great buy with that $200.

So that was Steve’s appraisal.  Of course we’re keeping him.  We were approached by an auction house as soon as we got the appraisal, but we are keeping him in the family.  I’m told he is one of the most amazing and rare items that the Roadshow has ever appraised.

So I took Steve to the vet a while ago.  And…he’s a little overweight.  Well, to quote the vet, he’s too “sausage-like” around his middle.  Uh, sausage-like?  I’m sorry, but I’m the only one that can call my dog names, and I do it in fun, Dr. MeanVetPants.  I was a little irritated, but I want Steve to live a long time, so I did take this to heart.  Also, sidenote, Mister and I are trying to lose some weight for the wedding.  So, we’ve been trying to walk Woofers more and feed him (and ourselves) a little less. 

It seems to be working.  Today I weighed myself alone, then with him, and he’s lost about 3 pounds.  I think he probably needs to lose another 4 pounds or so (according to what the vet said he should weigh), but I’m ecstatic that he’s doing so well.  Me, on the other hand…well, let’s say that I really like ice cream…and nachos…and wine…but not together, because that’s gross.    

At this rate though, Woofers will be Speedo ready in no time!

Mister and I went to upstate New York this past Saturday and Sunday.  His family lives up there, and although the visit wasn’t under the best circumstances, it’s always nice to see his family and their puppy.  And by puppy, I mean 90 pounds of pure, unadulterated puppy energy ball…but more on that later.

Let me start off by saying that Steve is not the best car rider.  He’s okay on short trips, but always tries to climb into the front seat, and at the very least, he puts his front paws over his hammock in the back seat onto the center console to try and “hang out” with us.  He’s also super, crazy, ridiculously antsy on long car rides.  This car ride was no exception.  I tried to pass the time taking what we like to call “MySpace photos” of Woofers and I.  If you are unfamiliar with the MySpace genre of photo, a loose description of it is: a picture taken by one of the people posing in said photo (by flipping the camera backwards), with posers generally making faces trying to look cool.  Sometimes these photos include flashy things like money, booze, jewelry, dangerous weapons, etc. in an attempt to make the person/people in the photo look more rich, gangsta, hot, what have you.  Ours did not include any props of this kind, and didn’t turn out so well.  If  Woofers still had a MySpace, he would not have posted them.

Mister thought it would also be a good idea to get Steve some beef jerky at the convenience store.  I was hesitant to feed him beef jerky, and in the car, but I thought Steve might enjoy it…and he did…thoroughly.

We got to Mister’s parents house, and were immediately greeted by Cole the black lab puppy.  Steve’s met Cole before, so no real surprises, except Cole has gotten bigger since we last saw him a couple of months ago.  Just to give you an idea of the scale of this dog, I’m 5’9″, and when standing on his hindlegs, and he can put his front paws on my shoulders…and what front paws they are.

That’s my hand there.  His paw is about as big as my hand.  Wanna see the big guy?  He’s A.DOR.A.BLE!…

He’s a big goof, and he’s FULL of energy.  He loves to play and chase, and if I were into dog wrestling, (but I’m so totally not) he would be an awesome dog to wrestle with.  (Yeah, so I am totally into dog wrestling, but I didn’t want to do it in Mister’s parents house, you know, future in-laws and all…don’t want to put my crazy on display just yet.)  Steve’s not much of a chaser or wrestler, unless it’s with me.  Steve spent the first 2 hours or so that we were there just trying to avoid Cole.

At about 3 pm, we all got late lunch and were sitting at the kitchen table when I turned around to see what Steve was preoccupied with.  He had puked…beef jerky parts.  It was awful and I would really, really like to say he wasn’t trying to eat it, but I’d be lying.  I cleaned that up, and let the two dogs out so Steve could avoid Cole in the fresh air.

Steve spent the rest of Saturday and Sunday growling at Cole whenever he got close to him.  At one point, Cole put his paw on top of Steve’s head.  I know it wasn’t purposeful, but it was a cute reminder of how small Steve really is.  Cole also wound up trying to steal Steve’s toys and Mister had to curtail Cole’s molesty advances toward Steve about 3 times, which was an improvement from the last few times we’ve visited.  I can imagine that if they were the only two dogs left on earth, and no people were left, they would join forces to save themselves, but until that day, they are very different.  (I also believe that if they were the last two dogs on earth and there were no people, they would somehow fashion themselves capes to wear…Why capes?  I’m really not all that sure myself.) His behavior towards Cole (and most other dogs) pretty much solidifies my belief that he thinks, no, KNOWS, he’s a people, and cannot be bothered with the inconvenience of playing with other dogs.

Overall take home:  I guess Steve’s not much of a dog’s dog, and don’t feed him beef jerky ever, ever again…

Steve decided that he wants to get back out there and start dating again (seriously, don’t ask about his ex…very sore subject), so he asked me to help write an online personal for him.

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WoofersBoston11

When they made me they broke the mold.

Hey there!  This is my first time doing this sort of thing.  The bar scene just isn’t really working for me anymore, so I figured I’d give this a try.

Let me tell you a little more about me.  Things I like: sleeping, napping, sitting on laps, stepping on my people, laying on my people, Snausages, steak, air conditioning, getting my picture taken, barking for no apparent reason, relieving myself on trees, pooping on mulch, pooping on hills, kicking my back feet after I poop, playing with my toys, walks, the movies Fargo and Donnie Darko, going down stairs, car rides ending at the park, and getting my undercarriage dirty.

Now for the things I don’t like…I know, I don’t like to be pessimistic, but we all have things we dislike.  I’ll make it short.  I don’t like:  SQUIRRELS!!!, people dancing, people touching, staring, singing, having my feet touched, being disturbed while sleeping, going up stairs, people walking by my house, car rides ending at the vet’s office, when the cat is getting attention and I’m not, seeing dogs outside while riding in the car, dogs barking on TV, and being alone.

Things that I’m good at?  I’m okay at learning new tricks.  I know most of my toys by name.  You want Giraffe?  You get Giraffe, brought to you!  What?  Changed your mind and want Christmas Bear?  I got you!  I sneeze a lot, and pretty much on command.  Touch my nose, get a sneeze.  Two different doctors said that’s okay though, so it’s all good!  Oh, oh, and I’m awesome at tag.

Now that all that’s out of the way, I’m looking for a drama free chick, 2-4 years old looking for, well, someone like me.  Hope to hear from you soon!

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I hope he gets matched with someone soon.  He’s a great guy, so if anyone knows a lonely girl out there, let us know!

When we went to Petco on Saturday, we picked up some Stevey-snax.  We (read that as I) went a little nuts and bought way too many treats.   We got cookies from the a-la-carte bins, bones, bones with meat, and Bil-Jac liver treats.  I’ve gotten these before for a dog that my old roommate and I got together.  He’s a cockapoo we named Marty McFly.  (Why, yes, we grew up in the 80′s, and proud of it!)  I’d forgotten how these little meaty nuggets are pretty much perfect for training, since they’re small and easy to break in half if you want to stretch them out more. 

Anyway, we also bought a bird-feeder this weekend.  It’s on our back patio, and you can see it from the living room through the sliding glass door.  Even if you’re low to the ground, you can see it.  Did you know squirrels trump birds while dining at bird-feeders?  And did you also know that squirrels tag team bird-feeders?  Because we didn’t.  That being said, let me add that Steve HATES squirrels with the intensity of 1,000 suns.  So, Mister and I decided to put him on squirrel patrol.  We taught him the command “window.”  This command means he needs to go to the patio door and touch his nose to it.  We were hoping in the process of touching his nose to the window, he’d inadvertently look out the window, see the squirrels and scare them away by barking. 

To teach this command all I did was have a liver treat in my hand and call out “Steve, Window!”  I held the treat next to the window and he touched his nose to it.  It worked.  After doing it a few times, he did it on command without a treat and saw the squirrels and barked!  Score!  Now we have a built in squirrel alarm for whenever we see one out there, robbing us blind.  Now let’s just see how long before the squirrels get cocky and decide that they aren’t scared of a stubby-legged dog barking at them from behind glass.  But until that day, hurray for Steve and take that squirrels!  Think you’re stealing from this house?  Not on Steve’s watch!