<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348214008976997977</id><updated>2012-02-11T06:37:14.999-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Jake the Dog</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16805186892101396335</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>38</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348214008976997977.post-755973944489497970</id><published>2012-01-08T12:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-08T12:04:29.205-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Last Post</title><content type='html'>Well, this is one post I didn't expect to write for a long, long time.&amp;nbsp; Jake had&amp;nbsp;some health issues for quite awhile. &amp;nbsp;He had an autoimmune disease but in the last 2 weeks he became very sick.&amp;nbsp; He quit eating, he slept all the time.&amp;nbsp; He went to the specialist twice.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Lots of tests and waiting for results.&amp;nbsp; Finally, they had to admit him to their hospital.&amp;nbsp; Was it cancer?&amp;nbsp; Was it a systemic infection?&amp;nbsp; We kept waiting for answers but in the meantime, Jake was getting worse and worse.&amp;nbsp; I kept thinking he would beat this but when&amp;nbsp;we went&amp;nbsp;to visit, he looked a little more down, a little more miserable.&amp;nbsp; Finally the vet said his kidneys were not working.&amp;nbsp; We kept him in the hospital one more night to see if the antibiotics would kick in and he would show improvement.&amp;nbsp; The next morning we all went in.&amp;nbsp; I was really half-expecting him to see us, wag his tail, and the vet would tell us he had turned the corner and things were improving.&amp;nbsp; Unfortunately, when the vet came in she told us his kidney function had declined even&amp;nbsp;more, his chances of survival were now very slim.&amp;nbsp; The selfish part of me&amp;nbsp;just wanted to&amp;nbsp;keep trying, keep plugging in the drugs, not give up.&amp;nbsp; But when she brought him in to see us, we all knew.&amp;nbsp; He was tired.&amp;nbsp; He had fought as long and as hard as he could.&amp;nbsp; It was time to let go.&amp;nbsp; I won't go into details, it's too hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the end, we don't know what it was that took our strong, young dog down so quickly and&amp;nbsp; I don't really care at this point.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; The vet had her theories but was unable to completely diagnose it&amp;nbsp;without doing some invasive tests that, at the time,&amp;nbsp;could have proven fatal to Jake with his platelet count so low.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, here we are.&amp;nbsp; I'm wondering when&amp;nbsp;I'll be able to walk in the door without expecting Jake to come running to us, tail wagging,&amp;nbsp;expecting&amp;nbsp;us to sit on the floor with him and scratch his belly.&amp;nbsp; (our ritual every single time&amp;nbsp;we walked in the door).&amp;nbsp; What will it be like tomorrow when I pick Abigail and her friend up from school, and Jake isn't riding with me?&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just a couple of weeks ago I started to write a post about our Thanksgiving trip with Jake.&amp;nbsp; It's really a pretty funny story.&amp;nbsp; I started the post with a resolution to&amp;nbsp;write more often on Jake's blog.&amp;nbsp; I didn't finish writing it and just a couple of days later, Jake started getting sick.&amp;nbsp; I'm going to miss writing this blog.&amp;nbsp; I'm going to miss the funny things that Jake did that made me laugh.&amp;nbsp; I'm going to miss the way he loved to play tug of war, the way his tail would wag the second&amp;nbsp;he&amp;nbsp;saw Abigail walking toward&amp;nbsp;our van after school, &amp;nbsp;the way he would run back and forth alongside the pool everytime Jeff swam laps, our visits to Pine Gully Park when he and I would just sit on a bench and look out at the bay.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know there are lots of people out there that think "he's just a dog".&amp;nbsp; But Jake wasn't a little dog to sit quietly in the corner and come out and play with you when you wanted. &amp;nbsp; From day one, he wound his way into every aspect of our lives and he was not going to be left behind.  He had decided he&amp;nbsp;wasn't going to be&amp;nbsp;an ornament in our house, he was going to be a part of our family.&amp;nbsp; And he truly was a part of our family.&amp;nbsp; We miss him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5348214008976997977-755973944489497970?l=jake-the-dog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/feeds/755973944489497970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2012/01/last-post.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/755973944489497970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/755973944489497970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2012/01/last-post.html' title='Last Post'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16805186892101396335</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348214008976997977.post-4200218466643661889</id><published>2011-10-23T09:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-23T09:57:20.250-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Well, it's time to update on Jake's condition again. &amp;nbsp;After the last post, I thought Jake was going to be fine. &amp;nbsp;He had perked up and was doing quite well. &amp;nbsp;Then it started again. &amp;nbsp;He quit greeting us at the door, quit wanting to play at night. &amp;nbsp;I knew where this was headed. &amp;nbsp;I called Wonderful Vet and took him in again. &amp;nbsp;WV had said all along that he believed it was either a toxic reaction, or if it continued, he might have an autoimmune disease. &amp;nbsp;I kept praying for toxic reaction because that was something he would get over. &amp;nbsp;An autoimmune disease meant more of a long term treatment and I just didn't want either of us to have to go through that. &amp;nbsp;WV did some blood work and I talked to him the next day. &amp;nbsp;He thought that since his symptoms came back and he was severely anemic (he was thisclose to needing a blood transfusion) it was probably an autoimmune disease after all. &amp;nbsp;He couldn't be sure without more extensive blood work and that meant going to a specialist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I worked in the medical field for many years. &amp;nbsp;I worked at a couple of really big hospitals. &amp;nbsp;I used to feel in my element there and nothing phased me. &amp;nbsp;But walking into a veterinary specialist hospital kind of freaked me out. I made the appointment and had to print out some forms and fill them out before I showed up with Jake. &amp;nbsp;When we walked in, I wasn't sure what to expect but&amp;nbsp;I thought there might be some cute cartoon pictures of dogs and cats like Scooby&amp;nbsp;Doo and Garfield.&amp;nbsp;Little bowls of milk&amp;nbsp;bones, a few chew toys.&amp;nbsp; In hindsight, I guess I was was confusing a vet hospital waiting room with a pediatrician's waiting room.&amp;nbsp;There were sign-in desks for internal medicine, cardiology, oncology, dermatology, etc. &amp;nbsp;The waiting room had chairs and coffee tables just like you would see at a people hospital but next to the "Time" magazines were copies of "Dog World".&amp;nbsp; They even had a coffee pot and below that was a little cupboard with&amp;nbsp;bottled water.&amp;nbsp; I got a bottle of water while I was waiting.&amp;nbsp; Then I&amp;nbsp;saw someone get a bottle of water and pour it in&amp;nbsp;a little dish for their dog.&amp;nbsp; Oh, was this just for the&amp;nbsp;pets?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Had I just committed a doggie hospital faux&amp;nbsp;pax? &amp;nbsp;I drank the water&amp;nbsp;quickly so no one would see me drinking it (I wouldn't&amp;nbsp;want to be judged by other dog owners) &amp;nbsp;and decided to stick to coffee if&amp;nbsp;we had to go back there.&amp;nbsp; (I was being optimistic that we&amp;nbsp;would just be there the one time....not true)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After awhile they called us back to an exam room and Internal Medicine Doc came in and examined him. &amp;nbsp;He asked some questions and left. He mentioned everything from autoimmune disease to liver cancer.&amp;nbsp; It was all so clinical.&amp;nbsp; About this time, I was really missing our WV and his staff.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Internal Medicine Doc's assistant (I guess that's what she was, I'm not really sure since we were never introduced....a pet peeve of mine. &amp;nbsp;No pun intended) came back with a grocery list of what the doctor thought would be necessary to properly diagnose my Jake. &amp;nbsp;Cue the tears. &amp;nbsp;I was sure my Jake was going to die and it would be a slow and painful death. &amp;nbsp;The poor vet tech looked terribly uncomfortable as I simultaneously tried to pet Jake, get my thoughts together, apologize, and not get snot all over my shirt.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;We started with the least invasive procedures first:&amp;nbsp; blood work and urine sample. &amp;nbsp;I won't go into details about how they get a urine sample from a dog but it does not involve sending him to a room and asking him to pee in a cup. &amp;nbsp;They brought Jake back to me and all he wanted to do was get out of that place. &amp;nbsp; Side story......when Abigail was 3 or 4 years old, she had to get&amp;nbsp;some&amp;nbsp;immunizations. &amp;nbsp;That was the checkup&amp;nbsp;where they do a ridiculous number of shots at one time.....I believe she had 5 shots. &amp;nbsp;(I would never allow that now) &amp;nbsp;Anyway, when we were leaving the building and walking in the parking lot, Abigail stopped, turned to the building and yelled at the top of her lungs, "I HATE THAT PLACE AND I'M NEVER GOING THERE AGAIN!" &amp;nbsp;I had to apologize to 2 moms who happened to be in the parking lot dragging their&amp;nbsp;now thoroughly&amp;nbsp;scared kids in.&amp;nbsp; Anyway, I have a feeling that's pretty much how Jake felt at the time.&amp;nbsp; In fact, when we left&amp;nbsp;the building, Jake walked about 5 steps from the front door, stopped and peed.&amp;nbsp; Right there on the sidewalk, right there at the entrance.&amp;nbsp; It was a big&amp;nbsp;enough puddle that&amp;nbsp;the next&amp;nbsp;people walking in our out were going to have to take a big step over. &amp;nbsp;He didn't even try to go to the shrubs that were about 2 feet to the side of the door.&amp;nbsp; Nope.&amp;nbsp; That was Jake yelling, "I hate that place!"&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After an agonizing wait, I got a call from the hospital and they said Jake did, indeed have an autoimmune disease.&amp;nbsp; They put him on a large dose of prednisone and antibiotics for 2 weeks to start.&amp;nbsp; It turned out, it was going to be a longer treatment than that, but I'll get to that in the next blog.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5348214008976997977-4200218466643661889?l=jake-the-dog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/feeds/4200218466643661889/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2011/10/well-its-time-to-update-on-jakes.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/4200218466643661889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/4200218466643661889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2011/10/well-its-time-to-update-on-jakes.html' title=''/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16805186892101396335</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348214008976997977.post-5783517965431176876</id><published>2011-08-08T17:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-08T17:15:50.074-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Waiting Room Observations</title><content type='html'>It's been an interesting summer. &amp;nbsp;As I mentioned in the last blog, Jake was a pretty sick little pup. &amp;nbsp;Then Jeff went to Hong Kong for a week and Abigail had surgery on both of her feet. &amp;nbsp;I'm tired and I haven't really done anything all summer. &amp;nbsp;But enought about me, here's the latest on Jake.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the first round of antibiotics, steroids, and "geritol", Jake improved. &amp;nbsp;I took him back for another round of blood work last week and Jake was his old perky self while waiting in the waiting room. &amp;nbsp;Instead of hiding behind my legs, he was trying to make friends with every other person and dog that walked in. &amp;nbsp;Jake is just a friendly kind of guy. &amp;nbsp;I like to think he takes after me because when I sit in a place with other people around, I'm usually going to find someone to talk to. &amp;nbsp;I like to talk. &amp;nbsp;A lot. &amp;nbsp;So I started chatting with the lady sitting across from me. &amp;nbsp;She was a petite lady with blond hair and was holding the cutest little white dog. &amp;nbsp;The lady was dressed nicely and her dog had a little bow in her hair. &amp;nbsp;This is the type of lady that doesn't just cross her legs or slumps. &amp;nbsp;She sits up straight and only crosses her legs at the ankles. &amp;nbsp;Picture perfect. &amp;nbsp;Another lady came in and sat down next to her. Lady #2 was very talkative and made a running commentary on everyone and everything. &amp;nbsp;I like those kind of people. &amp;nbsp;(since this blog is about Jake, I won't write about the time I spent 4 hours sitting on a bench at the Kemah Boardwalk talking to possibly one of the funniest ladies I have ever met. &amp;nbsp;While we were both waiting on our kids, she made comments about everyone at the Boardwalk that day. &amp;nbsp;No one was spared....and it was hysterical) &amp;nbsp;Anyway, lady #2 had brown hair and a cute brown and white pekingese who seemed to be making his own commentary about the other dogs. &amp;nbsp;He let out little yelps and yaps whenever he thought it was appropriate. &amp;nbsp;Next was a man bringing (actually, he was dragging) a cute little shih tzu. &amp;nbsp;When it was obvious the dog wasn't going to come in on her own, the man picked her up and put her over his shoulder like a baby. &amp;nbsp;So cute. &amp;nbsp;He sat next to me, patting the dog on the back like he was burping her. &amp;nbsp;Jake pretty much ignored her, he was still trying to get to the talkative pekingese. &amp;nbsp;The man was interesting because he was wearing black shorts and a black and white t-shirt and his dog was black and white. &amp;nbsp;He had black hair and a beard and his dog was in dire need of a haircut herself. &amp;nbsp;When he was holding her, she almost just blended in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then it hit me. &amp;nbsp;Wait a minute, that dog looks just like her owner! &amp;nbsp;Then I looked at the petite, well groomed, blond lady and her petite, well groomed blond dog. &amp;nbsp;Then I looked at lady #2 with her brown hair and running commentary and her brown little pekingese with his running commentary. &amp;nbsp;Unbelievable! &amp;nbsp;Dogs really do look like their owners! &amp;nbsp;I've written about people at the dog park and how some dogs and owners seem to share certain personality traits, but this was different. &amp;nbsp;These dogs really did LOOK like their owners! &amp;nbsp;While I was pondering this, a man that looked like and was built like the famous fighter Oscar De La Hoya came in carrying a laundry basket. &amp;nbsp;A laundry basket can only mean one thing...puppies! &amp;nbsp;The puppies got everyones attention and we all had to get a look. &amp;nbsp;Pekingese lady (of course) asked what kind of puppies they were. &amp;nbsp;No kidding....they were boxers! &amp;nbsp;Ok, at this point I was starting to giggle a little. &amp;nbsp;Then, in walked a thin, frail, timid looking little lady. &amp;nbsp;She had a puff of bleached blond hair on the top of her head. &amp;nbsp;She pulled in a thin, frail, timid looking poodle....with a puff of white hair on the top of his head. &amp;nbsp;She signed in and sat down. &amp;nbsp;Her poodle was a "standard", easily the biggest dog in the room at this point. &amp;nbsp;But honestly, it looked like the pekingese could have snapped him like a twig if he wanted to. &amp;nbsp;While poodle lady was filling out paper work, Jake thought he would go over and welcome them. &amp;nbsp;Poodle did not like it one bit and let out a hefty growl, then hid behind his owner's legs. &amp;nbsp;Pekingnese lady kept saying, "Oh, you're not a friendly dog at all are you? &amp;nbsp;Not a friendly dog. &amp;nbsp;You don't want to be friends, do you?" and other things. &amp;nbsp;The poodle owner was totally ignoring her dog's growling and Pekingese lady's comments. &amp;nbsp;Actually, I think if she could have growled at Pekingese lady, she would have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After all these case studies, I had to seriously look at Jake. &amp;nbsp;Just how much did I favor him? &amp;nbsp;Or maybe he doesn't look like me. &amp;nbsp;Maybe he looks more like Abigail or Jeff. &amp;nbsp;He's their dog, too. &amp;nbsp;When I look at him, I think he has a cute, happy, slightly stupid look about him. &amp;nbsp;Then I started to really worry. &amp;nbsp;Do I look slightly stupid? &amp;nbsp;One thing I did notice: &amp;nbsp;because of his schnauzer/beagle coloring, he has dark roots. &amp;nbsp;Ok, we do share that feature. &amp;nbsp;But then it was time to go back and visit with Wonderful Vet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WV took more blood from Jake and we got the results the next day. &amp;nbsp;His blood levels had improved all across the board. &amp;nbsp;Still not where they should be, but they are improving. &amp;nbsp;WV is now pretty sure he ate something he shouldn't have. &amp;nbsp;The plan for now is keeping him on antibiotics for another 2 weeks and continue with the geritol. &amp;nbsp;We go back in a few weeks for another check up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I left, I thought about asking WV and his staff if they have ever noticed the whole "dogs look like their owners" myth. &amp;nbsp;But then in my mind I pictured them looking at me, looking at Jake, looking back at me and decided I better not ask.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5348214008976997977-5783517965431176876?l=jake-the-dog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/feeds/5783517965431176876/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2011/08/waiting-room-observations.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/5783517965431176876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/5783517965431176876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2011/08/waiting-room-observations.html' title='Waiting Room Observations'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16805186892101396335</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348214008976997977.post-2141965308836538148</id><published>2011-06-26T20:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-26T20:30:49.142-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sick Little Guy.....</title><content type='html'>Sometimes things happen so slowly, you don't even realize it's happening. &amp;nbsp;For a couple of weeks, Jake had been getting slower and slower. &amp;nbsp;We blamed the heat. &amp;nbsp;I mean, it's been in the upper 90's with a few 100's thrown in there. &amp;nbsp;It's hot! &amp;nbsp;We all slow down when it gets that hot. &amp;nbsp;But, even when it's hot, Jake will still perk up when he's in the nice air conditioning. &amp;nbsp;And that's when we started to notice that things weren't quite right with Jake. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every evening, rain or shine, Jake will sit and stare until one of us gives in to the gaze and takes him for a walk. And if we aren't quick enough, he'll start whining. &amp;nbsp;I can handle lots of things. &amp;nbsp;I work in a preschool. &amp;nbsp;I'm used to yelling, crying, complaining, etc. &amp;nbsp;But I don't handle whining. &amp;nbsp;And Jake has figured that out. &amp;nbsp;So he gets a walk every evening. &amp;nbsp;Then, he will come home from his walk and get his rope or Blast (a stuffed dog that Abigail named Blast Hardcheese) and start running around the sofa with it just to go ahead and get that extra bit of energy out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thing he always does is meet us at the door when we come home. &amp;nbsp;I don't know how he does it but sometimes when we drive up, we see him looking out the window, like he heard us coming. &amp;nbsp;He's always so happy to see us. &amp;nbsp;Who doesn't love coming home to that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then over the course of a week, it just stopped. &amp;nbsp;He quit whining to go for a walk. &amp;nbsp;He quit playing with his toys. &amp;nbsp;He quit meeting us at the door. &amp;nbsp;Finally one day I actually had to go look for him when I got home. &amp;nbsp;He was upstairs, asleep behind the recliner. &amp;nbsp;He just didn't have the energy to go downstairs to greet us. &amp;nbsp;The other thing we noticed was how he would sit and stare at us but close his eyes and start falling asleep. &amp;nbsp;While sitting up! &amp;nbsp;That was it. &amp;nbsp;Time to take him to see his Wonderful Vet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I drove him to the vet and instead of being happy that he was going for a car ride, he just sat there with his head hanging. &amp;nbsp;The vet checked him out and noticed he was anemic but his lungs and heart sounded clear. &amp;nbsp;I was afraid of heartworms, courtesy of Channel 2 doing a story about dogs getting heartworms even when they're on preventative medicine. &amp;nbsp;Anyway, Wonderful Vet checked everything and poked Jake in places he didn't appreciate and then took some blood and said we would find out the results the next day. &amp;nbsp;After we got in the car to come home, I saw a side of Jake that I rarely see...he was mad! &amp;nbsp;He got up in the passenger seat of the van and sat, facing forward the whole way home. &amp;nbsp;Not looking out the window, not looking at me when I talked to him or patted his head. &amp;nbsp;He just looked straight ahead. &amp;nbsp;When we got home, instead of jumping off the seat and getting out on my side of the van, he just sat there, looking straight ahead. &amp;nbsp;I walked around to his side of the van, opened the door, and again, without looking at me, he jumped down. &amp;nbsp;He came in the house and went straight upstairs for the next 3 hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stress is a funny thing. &amp;nbsp;Sometimes I handle it, sometimes I don't. &amp;nbsp;This time I didn't. When I got home, I prayed, I cried, I asked people on Facebook to pray, I prayed some more, and I hugged Jake until he would have growled and snapped at me if he had the energy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day, with my stomach in a huge knot, I called the office for the results. &amp;nbsp;Basically it could be 1 of 2 things. He either got into something toxic or he has some type of auto immune disorder. &amp;nbsp;Suddenly, I'm really hoping Jake ate something toxic since that would be the easiest to treat. &amp;nbsp;I mean, come on. &amp;nbsp;This is the dog that ate a razor blade one time. &amp;nbsp;I wrote a whole post on this blog just about things that he has eaten. &amp;nbsp;The treatment for either one of these is sort of the same. &amp;nbsp;(there are lots more details that I understood at the time WV was explaining it to me, but now...not so much) &amp;nbsp;So I took him back that morning and he got 3 shots (an antibiotic, a steroid and a B12) and 2 bottles of pills (antibiotic and steroid) and a bottle of liquid stuff that WV called "doggie Geritol". &amp;nbsp;He also gave me 2 cans of prescription dog food made especially for diabetic dogs or dogs having GI trouble and I was to give him a tablespoon of that every hour just to keep something going through his tummy. &amp;nbsp;Again, on the way home, Jake was mad. &amp;nbsp;This time, instead of looking straight out of the window, at one point he actually stood up, turned to the side and faced the side window. &amp;nbsp;He rode home with his back to me the whole time! &amp;nbsp;Anyway, this was on Friday and WV said we should see a slight improvement by Saturday and he wanted me to call and report. &amp;nbsp;Have I mentioned that Wonderful Vet is the best vet around? &amp;nbsp;By Saturday morning, Jake was a little perkier. &amp;nbsp;I was cautiously optimistic. Later in the morning, he did the familiar "sit and stare" until I told him I would take him for a walk. &amp;nbsp;He came home, grabbed his toy and ran around the sofa! &amp;nbsp;I was so excited! &amp;nbsp;I called WV's office and told them what was going on. &amp;nbsp;However, I was also told, this doesn't mean he doesn't have the autoimmune thing. &amp;nbsp;But if he does, at least we know the treatment would work. Again, there are many more details than I'm giving you but my brain is tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then Saturday night, it happened. &amp;nbsp;Abigail and I went somewhere and when we drove up to the house I looked, and there was Jake, standing in the window! &amp;nbsp;Even from the street, I could see him wagging his tail. &amp;nbsp;I almost cried, I was so happy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, Jake seems to be on the mend for now. &amp;nbsp;He still doesn't have his energy back all the way but as I write this, Jake is at the front window, watching the neighborhood and wagging his tail. &amp;nbsp;Say a little prayer for him if you don't mind and I'll keep you posted......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5348214008976997977-2141965308836538148?l=jake-the-dog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/feeds/2141965308836538148/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2011/06/sick-little-guy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/2141965308836538148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/2141965308836538148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2011/06/sick-little-guy.html' title='Sick Little Guy.....'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16805186892101396335</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348214008976997977.post-2183937174895475740</id><published>2011-04-09T09:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-09T09:01:34.228-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Going to the dogs</title><content type='html'>Wow, it's been awhile since I've written anything about Jake.&amp;nbsp; He's been busy, though.&amp;nbsp; Some of it good, some, well, not so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jake survived the winter.&amp;nbsp; He actually likes the cold weather of winter.&amp;nbsp; He likes to run around outside enjoying the cold.&amp;nbsp; My Dad used to always say&amp;nbsp;our dog Snoopy was "feeling his oats" whenever he was running around outside.&amp;nbsp; I have no idea what it means but I've used that term also.&amp;nbsp; I hope it's not anything bad.&lt;br /&gt;One of Jake's favorite things to do while the weather is nice and cool is to go to the dog park.&amp;nbsp; It's a really great place for a dog and it's not such a bad place for people, either. &amp;nbsp;I've been taking him lately, usually on a Friday or Saturday morning.&amp;nbsp; Friday's are nice because it's not too crowded and I'm still a bit nervous walking into a park with my happy-go-lucky, "I wanna be friends with everyone" kind of dog.&amp;nbsp; We've never had any problems but I'm afraid the day will come when Jake comes across a dog that just doesn't want to be friends with him and doesn't appreciate all the backside sniffing that goes along with new found friendship.&lt;br /&gt;A dog park is also a great place to just sit and watch other "dog people".&amp;nbsp; I've decided that most people really are like their dogs.&amp;nbsp; Or their dogs are like them.&amp;nbsp; Whatever.&amp;nbsp; So, after much observation and entirely too much thinking, I've come up with the basic master/dog combos you, too can witness at your local dog park.&amp;nbsp; You have:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Overachievers:&amp;nbsp; These are the really energetic people that show up with frisbees and tennis balls and always have Border Collies, Australian Shepherds, or some other hyper type of dog.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;They go around the park and show off all kinds of skills the rest of us wish we had the energy and time to invest in our dogs.&amp;nbsp; They can put on quite a show but the&amp;nbsp;rest of us just watch and hope our dog doesn't pee on someone's leg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Families:&amp;nbsp; These are the owners that make going to the dog park a family outing.&amp;nbsp; They have anything from shelties to bulldogs.&amp;nbsp; The parents are always a little on edge.&amp;nbsp; They have their kids and dogs running around the park.&amp;nbsp; Sometimes they're chasing the kids, sometimes the dog.&amp;nbsp; It's a little like trying to herd chickens.&amp;nbsp; I just have a feeling there is a big sigh of relief when they get the right kids and dog in the car and buckled up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The exercisers:&amp;nbsp; They have labs or retreivers,&amp;nbsp;carry water bottles, and are always dressed in name brand exercise clothes.&amp;nbsp; No old t-shirt and raggedy shorts for them.&amp;nbsp; They&amp;nbsp;walk laps around the park while their incredibly fit dogs run alongside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Cool Dog Owners:&amp;nbsp; These are the people that are obviously important and way too busy to walk the dog but they come occasionally because it's the right thing to do.&amp;nbsp; They always have a phone to the ear (or in their ear) or sometimes they're texting.&amp;nbsp; If they're not texting, they usually have a cup of Starbucks.&amp;nbsp; I've seen people spend the entire time on their phone or texting and never look up.&amp;nbsp; I'm amazed at their coordination.&amp;nbsp; I tried to slip into their group once.&amp;nbsp; I showed up with a cup of coffee and my phone.&amp;nbsp; Ok, well, it was McDonald's coffee so I was already down a few notches.&amp;nbsp; Jake was so excited to be at the park, he pulled away from me when we got out of the car.&amp;nbsp; My hand jerked and coffee went all over the front of my shirt.&amp;nbsp; So, as Jake is running through the parking lot, dragging his leash behind him, I'm running after him (still holding my coffee) and trying to get close enough to step on his leash.&amp;nbsp; I ran a few steps and then jumped to try to get my foot on his leash.&amp;nbsp; I did that all the way through the parking lot.....with coffee all over&amp;nbsp;my shirt.&amp;nbsp; Any hopes of joining the Cool Dog Owners vanished right then.&amp;nbsp; I didn't even bother to pull out my phone and pretend to text anyone after that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The My-Dog-Is-Nothing-Special-But-I-Love-Him-All-The-Same People:&amp;nbsp; These are the people that just go to the park with their average and untrained but happy dogs and sit on the benches and watch the dogs and other people.&amp;nbsp; That's the category I fall into.&amp;nbsp;I usually walk around the park for awhile because Jake won't stray far from me.&amp;nbsp; If I'm moving , he's moving.&amp;nbsp; When I sit, he usually sits close by.&amp;nbsp; Sounds like a good boy, huh?&amp;nbsp; I don't know why he's this way at the park where he has free reign.&amp;nbsp; If he gets out at home, he runs off and it takes half the neighborhood to finally trap him and bring him home.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've met some interesting people at the park.&amp;nbsp; We always start by talking about our dogs.&amp;nbsp; Sometimes it ends with that, sometimes it moves on.&amp;nbsp; The other week I talked to a very nice man.&amp;nbsp; I'm guessing he is retired.&amp;nbsp; He said he didn't really want the cute little beagle that was digging in a really big hole while we were talking.&amp;nbsp; He was talked into it by his granddaughter.&amp;nbsp; Now he said, he wouldn't take anything for his little friend.&amp;nbsp; I think that's how most people become dog owners.&amp;nbsp; We started out talking about our dogs and ended up talking about how the area had changed in the last 30 years and then about his really great trip to Branson.&amp;nbsp; He told me about the shows he went to and the nice places to stay.&amp;nbsp; I know this sounds like a boring conversation but I was really enjoying our talk.&amp;nbsp; As usual at the dog park, I got his dog's name, but not his.&amp;nbsp; But I hope to see Sam and his owner at the park again sometime and sit on the bench and chat for awhile.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5348214008976997977-2183937174895475740?l=jake-the-dog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/feeds/2183937174895475740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2011/04/going-to-dogs.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/2183937174895475740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/2183937174895475740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2011/04/going-to-dogs.html' title='Going to the dogs'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16805186892101396335</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348214008976997977.post-2052738638190037607</id><published>2010-12-18T19:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-18T19:16:35.667-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas decorations....</title><content type='html'>Ok, it's been quite awhile since I've posted anything on Jake.&amp;nbsp; It's not because he hasn't done anything post-worthy.&amp;nbsp; There are the 3 ink stains on the living room carpet, for example.&amp;nbsp; No, Jake has been as busy as ever.&amp;nbsp; But when I think about writing about his exploits I start to worry about what people are thinking about me.&amp;nbsp; Like the ink stains.&amp;nbsp; People might wonder how he can get his mouth on 2 pens.&amp;nbsp; Yes, 3 stains but he used 2 pens to do the damage.&amp;nbsp; I'm afraid people will think I leave ink pens just laying around the house.&amp;nbsp; To be honest, I'm not sure how he got the pens.&amp;nbsp; I'm pretty sure one of them was on the coffee table in the living room.&amp;nbsp; A big no-no.&amp;nbsp; Usually, before we leave a room, we do a quick scan and make sure everything is up.&amp;nbsp; And by everything, I mean remote controls, phones, pens, pencils, shoes, small pillows, etc.&amp;nbsp; In fact, we pretty much just have furniture and&amp;nbsp;17 chew toys in the living room.&amp;nbsp; And the living room and kitchen are the only rooms he has access to.&amp;nbsp; All the other doors in the house are closed.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; And still, he is able to get pens and leave 3 sizeable blue spots on our beige carpet.&amp;nbsp; And they're not even in a place we can cover with furniture.&amp;nbsp; Right in the entry way.&amp;nbsp; Oh well.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;In any case, please don't think my house is in that bad of shape.&amp;nbsp; I don't have a maid so our house looks like a maidless family lives here.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;And now it's Christmas.&amp;nbsp; I love Christmas.&amp;nbsp; I love the decorations, the tree, the food....everything.&amp;nbsp; Last year, Jake didn't bother the tree too much.&amp;nbsp; He found it interesting, but he didn't bother it.&amp;nbsp; We put our presents under the tree and he didn't do too much damage with them.&amp;nbsp; This year is a little different for some reason.&amp;nbsp; He's a lot more sneaky.&amp;nbsp; We have the tree up and he left it alone for a whole week.&amp;nbsp; Then one day, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him walk to the tree and then run off.&amp;nbsp; When Jake runs from something, that's the first indication that a crime has been committed.&amp;nbsp; I chased after him and he had a little plastic ornament from one of the bottom branches.&amp;nbsp; Then he left everything alone for another week.&amp;nbsp; I put a few presents under the tree, off to one side, to see how he would do.&amp;nbsp; They are on one side of the tree because he has decided he likes to sleep under the tree.&amp;nbsp; Everytime he goes under there or come out from under, the whole tree shakes and just when I think it's going to topple over, he's out and it stops.&amp;nbsp; Anyway, he left the presents alone for a few days and then decided one of the curly bows looked like fun so he tried ripping it off.&amp;nbsp; I caught him before he could do any real damage.&amp;nbsp; But now, he's back to the ornaments and has tried the "grab and run" with them in the last week.&amp;nbsp; So, the rest of you out there with your beautifully decorated homes, picture my living room this Christmas.&amp;nbsp; As you enter the house, you'll notice the window ledge next to the front door that has half of the ledge chewed off from Jake's puppy days.&amp;nbsp; Walk past our pretty entry way tile to the start of the carpet entering the living room.&amp;nbsp; This is where you'll see the blue ink stains.&amp;nbsp; They are now various shades of blue because of all the different things I've tried on them to get the ink out.&amp;nbsp; Nothing works.&amp;nbsp; I don't care what anyone says or suggests.&amp;nbsp; It won't work.&amp;nbsp; As you look straight ahead to our lovely, slightly lopsided tree,&amp;nbsp; you'll see a few presents under one side with our red hassock in front of that side of the tree.&amp;nbsp; Jake is afraid of the hassock ever since it rolled when he ran into it so he avoids it.&amp;nbsp; The tree skirt on the other side of the tree is most likely messed up because he likes to move it around when he's laying under the tree for his nap.&amp;nbsp; Other than that, I'm sure our house looks just like yours this Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Here's Jake in his new favorite nap spot.......&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; MERRY CHRISTMAS, EVERYONE!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/TQ10l9BUOgI/AAAAAAAAAFo/Fm6ti6sEV7w/s1600/003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/TQ10l9BUOgI/AAAAAAAAAFo/Fm6ti6sEV7w/s320/003.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5348214008976997977-2052738638190037607?l=jake-the-dog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/feeds/2052738638190037607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2010/12/christmas-decorations.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/2052738638190037607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/2052738638190037607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2010/12/christmas-decorations.html' title='Christmas decorations....'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16805186892101396335</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/TQ10l9BUOgI/AAAAAAAAAFo/Fm6ti6sEV7w/s72-c/003.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348214008976997977.post-1187890539067283669</id><published>2010-09-19T13:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-19T13:18:56.244-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jake's Diet (Part 2)</title><content type='html'>A couple of months ago I wrote about Jake being a little "husky" and I resolved to put him on a diet.&amp;nbsp; I started feeding him less of the canned food and more of the dry, hoping that would fill him up with less calories.&amp;nbsp; I still feed him some table scraps, but not as much.&amp;nbsp; Well, I hope it's not as much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I thought it was time for a grand weigh in.&amp;nbsp; Weighing Jake is no easy task.&amp;nbsp; Holding him and balancing on a scale is tough.&amp;nbsp; Last time I weighed Jake, he weighed 42 pounds.&amp;nbsp; This time he weighed....drum roll, please......42 pounds.&amp;nbsp; What?!&amp;nbsp; All that work and nothing to show for it?&amp;nbsp; Jake wasn't upset by it at all.&amp;nbsp; He was just happy when I got off the scale and put him down.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I got my daily email from a pet website I subscribe to.&amp;nbsp; The topic happened to be about overweight dogs.&amp;nbsp; I opened it right away to see what I'm doing wrong.&amp;nbsp; The first thing it said is that in the world of pet owners, a common name for an overweight dog is "chunky monkey".&amp;nbsp; Even the vet didn't know how the term started but there it is.&amp;nbsp; He also said between 25 and 45% of dogs in the US are overweight.&amp;nbsp; Is that really surprising?&amp;nbsp; Look at the US in general.&amp;nbsp; Why should our pets be any different?&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was sure this article was going to have all the answers and hopefully a diet plan I could rigidly follow.&amp;nbsp; I do well with plans.&amp;nbsp; I was hoping for a Weight Watchers for dogs.&amp;nbsp; A Jenny Craig, with the prepackaged meals for dogs, would be even better.&amp;nbsp; But first it said that all members of the family must admit that the dog is overweight.&amp;nbsp; Immediately I pictured myself standing in front of a room full of people and shamefully saying, "Hello.&amp;nbsp; My name is Cindy and I have a Chunky Monkey".&amp;nbsp; Ok, we're past step one because my family has been telling me for months that Jake is overweight.&amp;nbsp; They acknowledged it way before I did.&amp;nbsp; After that it said to check the food intake versus the exercise.&amp;nbsp; Jake gets plenty of exercise.&amp;nbsp; He gets at least one good walk everyday, sometimes two.&amp;nbsp; Jeff takes him to the park and walks him at least 1 or 2 miles and then through the neighborhood.&amp;nbsp; Some nights I take him to see his pals down the street and they run in their backyard.&amp;nbsp; Really, isn't that enough for a dog?&amp;nbsp; I've been told that people in my neighborhood have dogs but I couldn't tell you what they look like because those dogs never get out of the house.&amp;nbsp; Are their dogs overweight?&amp;nbsp; If not, then what's their secret?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I'm pretty sure exercise isn't the issue.&amp;nbsp; It must be his diet. He's eating the same food as always and like I said, I've cut down on the canned food.&amp;nbsp; I'm trying to think about the table scraps.&amp;nbsp; I can't imagine not giving a dog the occasional bit of people food.&amp;nbsp; Would you want to eat the exact same food everyday?&amp;nbsp; Dogs need variety too.&amp;nbsp; Now that I think about it, the table scraps might be the problem.&amp;nbsp; Yesterday he had part of my pizza (the dog loves pizza!), some King Ranch Chicken casserole, a bite or two of cheese, some crackers.&amp;nbsp; Yeah, that's not sounding too good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The article went on to name several things that obesity can cause in dogs, like diabetes.&amp;nbsp; Ok, now I'm scared. I think I will make that appointment with our wonderful vet and get Jake checked out.&amp;nbsp; I also think I'm going to have to get tougher on the table scraps.&amp;nbsp; But in the meantime, if you know of any&amp;nbsp;overweight pets support groups that my little&amp;nbsp;Chunky Monkey and I could attend, let me know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5348214008976997977-1187890539067283669?l=jake-the-dog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/feeds/1187890539067283669/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2010/09/jakes-diet-part-2.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/1187890539067283669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/1187890539067283669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2010/09/jakes-diet-part-2.html' title='Jake&apos;s Diet (Part 2)'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16805186892101396335</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348214008976997977.post-475711482222161700</id><published>2010-08-21T18:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-22T05:09:46.617-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dog Proofing</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Dad had some minor surgery last week.&amp;nbsp; Nothing serious, just foot surgery but to those of you that know my dad, anything that would keep him off his feet is not good.&amp;nbsp; My dad likes to move, likes to keep going so keeping him off his feet was not going to be easy.&amp;nbsp; He takes his dogs for walks several times a day, whether they want to go or not.&amp;nbsp; During his surgery, Lela and I thought it would be best if I brought their dogs, Fritz and Freddie, back here for a visit.&amp;nbsp; Jake would be ecstatic.&amp;nbsp; He loves playing with Fritz.&amp;nbsp; And Freddie....well, Freddie would enjoy sitting on the couch with me.&amp;nbsp; We got Dad back home and in bed after the surgery and "the boys" were jumping all over him.&amp;nbsp; That made the decision even easier.&amp;nbsp; I packed the dogs up:&amp;nbsp; crate, bag of food, bag of their favorite toys, some rawhides, dog bed, leashes.&amp;nbsp; Check.&amp;nbsp; Abigail and I grabbed the boys and drove home.&amp;nbsp; Interestingly, the second we turned into our neighborhood, Freddie went nuts.&amp;nbsp; He was barking, growling, and clawing at the window.&amp;nbsp; I wasn't sure if that was good or bad.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Everything went great.&amp;nbsp; They played until they were tired, took a little nap, then played some more.&amp;nbsp; Fritz likes to get in the pool so we got a float and put him in it.&amp;nbsp; He would stand with his front paws on the inflated pillow and honestly, I thought I could hear him say "I'm king of the world!"&amp;nbsp; While Fritz was floating, Jake was running around barking at him and anytime Fritz would get close to the edge of the pool, Jake was there trying to paw&amp;nbsp; him out&amp;nbsp;of the float.&amp;nbsp; In the meantime, Freddie was hiding under one of the patio chairs.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;In my house, dog proofing is pretty much the same as preparing for a hurricane.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Everything is off the floor at least 5 feet.&amp;nbsp; But I still don't trust Jake or Fritz,&amp;nbsp;mostly Jake, to be out unobserved and not chew up everything in sight.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;So, anytime we go anywhere, we put them in the bathroom.&amp;nbsp; To make their time in the bathroom more comfortable, we put in 2 dog beds, numerous toys, a few Milkbones, and a bowl of water.&amp;nbsp; I also always lock the closet doors with a childproof latch to keep them out of there and, more importantly, away from all shoes.&amp;nbsp; The first time we left them in the bathroom, this is what we came home to:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/THBnljpXdyI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0Ogm4vUZSlA/s1600/8-20-10+139.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ox="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/THBnljpXdyI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0Ogm4vUZSlA/s320/8-20-10+139.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Jeff said it looked like a frat party had taken place in here.&amp;nbsp; Neither of the beds were in the same place I originally put them.&amp;nbsp; Not sure how they pulled the&amp;nbsp;rug back.&amp;nbsp; The white paper on the floor is the label that was on the back of the rug.&amp;nbsp; But the doors to the closet.&amp;nbsp; That's what really got me.&amp;nbsp; Here's a close up of the door knobs:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/THBoFvzSLKI/AAAAAAAAAFI/oim8k0RzSbM/s1600/8-20-10+140.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ox="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/THBoFvzSLKI/AAAAAAAAAFI/oim8k0RzSbM/s320/8-20-10+140.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;The latch was still attached but it pulled one of the doorknobs off.&amp;nbsp; Don't know how they did it, but they did. Amazingly, they didn't destroy anything in the closet, including my cute little bunny slippers that were on the&amp;nbsp;floor in there.&amp;nbsp; Why is it I can't walk across the room&amp;nbsp;with those&amp;nbsp;slippers on without Jake&amp;nbsp;trying to play tug-o-war with the&amp;nbsp;little bunny ears&amp;nbsp;but they were sitting in plain sight and not one of the dogs bothered them?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Anyway, I got the doorknob&amp;nbsp;on and fastened tightly (it involved using a bobby pin) but that doorknob wasn't going anywhere. So I locked it again, checked it twice and it wasn't budging.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;When we got home, the closet&amp;nbsp;doors were open.&amp;nbsp; The doorknob was still on.&amp;nbsp; The&amp;nbsp;weird thing is that the latch was gone.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Totally gone.&amp;nbsp; I&amp;nbsp; looked all over the bathroom, in the dog beds, everywhere.&amp;nbsp; Nothing.&amp;nbsp; I looked in the closet.&amp;nbsp; Nope.&amp;nbsp; Granted, our closet is a mess.&amp;nbsp; We have 3 clothes&amp;nbsp;baskets in there.&amp;nbsp; Maybe they buried it somewhere in the closet.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I even thought maybe they ate it but I'm sure there would have been little plastic crumbs on the floor.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Fortunately, &amp;nbsp;I buy the economy packs of these things since Jake has broken several of them off (but never with the doorknobs attached).&amp;nbsp; So the next time we left, I put 2 latches on the doorknobs and Fritz's kennel in front of the doors, hoping to block the doors completely.&amp;nbsp; When we got home, the doors were still locked. But the kennel was across the floor, the blankets and pillows were out of the beds and the rug was pulled back again.&amp;nbsp; Next time, I think I'll take my chances and just leave them out.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;And I'm still looking for the missing latch.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Here's Abigail with Freddie (left) and Fritz.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/THB4UssJ9UI/AAAAAAAAAFY/TaQh388MIpo/s1600/8-20-10+142.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ox="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/THB4UssJ9UI/AAAAAAAAAFY/TaQh388MIpo/s320/8-20-10+142.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5348214008976997977-475711482222161700?l=jake-the-dog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/feeds/475711482222161700/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2010/08/dog-proofing.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/475711482222161700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/475711482222161700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2010/08/dog-proofing.html' title='Dog Proofing'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16805186892101396335</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/THBnljpXdyI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0Ogm4vUZSlA/s72-c/8-20-10+139.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348214008976997977.post-2060385664978328683</id><published>2010-07-19T18:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-20T06:51:01.840-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jake's Diet</title><content type='html'>The day we got&amp;nbsp;Jake, the people we bought him from told us they thought Jake would get to be about 25 or 30 pounds.&amp;nbsp; Sounded like a good, manageable size to me.&amp;nbsp; Then Jake started growing.&amp;nbsp; And growing.&amp;nbsp; I thought he was such an odd dog.&amp;nbsp; He has&amp;nbsp;these tiny, petite feet but such a big body.&amp;nbsp; His feet just don't match his body.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I've been enlightened.&amp;nbsp; Well, not so much enlightened as I've had my eyes pried open by concerned family, friends, and neighbors.&amp;nbsp; My dog is fat.&amp;nbsp; It's not that his feet don't match his body....his body is too big for his feet.&amp;nbsp; He probably would be about 25 or 30 pounds if I hadn't been feeding him pizza crust and graham crackers and other assorted goodies.&amp;nbsp; I blame myself.&amp;nbsp; Jake's actions say it all.&amp;nbsp; When we sit down to eat or snack or do anything where food is in front of us, Jake comes to me.&amp;nbsp; He doesn't go to anyone else.&amp;nbsp; When I run out of graham crackers, he doesn't move on to Abigail or Jeff, he just gives up and walks away knowing he won't get anything from them.&amp;nbsp; Yes. It's my fault I have a fat dog.&amp;nbsp; Jeff says he's "chunky".&amp;nbsp; So does one of our neighbors who then laughs as she reminds me how I said he wouldn't get over 25 pounds.&amp;nbsp; I like the phrase "husky" because there's still a doggie connotation there.&amp;nbsp; But then again, when I hear the&amp;nbsp;word "husky" I remember walking through the boys "husky" section of Sears when I was kid.&amp;nbsp; At least they didn't call it the "chunky" section.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, what to do about it.&amp;nbsp; I looked up a few articles about "overweight dogs".&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; None of the articles say "fat", just "overweight".&amp;nbsp; Let's see.&amp;nbsp; One way to tell if your dog is fat, I mean, overweight, is to see if you&amp;nbsp;are able to feel his ribs.&amp;nbsp; Ok Jake, let's check it out.&amp;nbsp; Well, I can feel his ribs if I push down really, really hard.&amp;nbsp; Yes.&amp;nbsp; I'm sure there are ribs in there....somewhere.&amp;nbsp; Another way to tell is to stand over your dog and look down his spine.&amp;nbsp; He should have a curved indentation right below the ribs.&amp;nbsp; Well, since I can't see or feel his ribs, how would I know where that indentation is supposed to be? &amp;nbsp;He shouldn't be "a straight line or bowed out".&amp;nbsp; Jake falls in the bowed out range which I always thought was cute when you walk behind him.&amp;nbsp; He kind of waddles. &amp;nbsp;Really...it's cute.&amp;nbsp; But back to the test.&amp;nbsp; Not doing so well so far.&amp;nbsp; Ok, next is to check the area above the base of the tail.&amp;nbsp; Overweight pets have extra padding or folds in this area.&amp;nbsp; I always thought the little padding was a congenital anomaly.&amp;nbsp; But I have to face the facts....Jake is fat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Jake is on a diet.&amp;nbsp; I weighed him today and he's 42 pounds.&amp;nbsp; Considerably higher than the 25-30 pounds the breeder said he would be.&amp;nbsp; I reviewed what he eats in a typical day.&amp;nbsp; He eats a bowl of&amp;nbsp;dry food with 1/3 of a can of dog food mixed in with it twice a day. &amp;nbsp;When Jake was a puppy, his vet said he could have table scraps.&amp;nbsp; In fact, according to the vet, table scraps are good for dogs because it helps with their immune system.&amp;nbsp; But I'm not sure I was supposed to give him as many table scraps as he gets.&amp;nbsp; It's just so convenient sometimes.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I like pizza but not the crust, so we share it.&amp;nbsp; I like grilled cheese sandwiches but not the crust, so we&amp;nbsp;share it.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;You get the idea.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The vet said both brands of dog food I use&amp;nbsp;are fine but he did mention mixing in some bran flakes so he would feel fuller and not eat so much.&amp;nbsp; So far, I haven't tried&amp;nbsp;it since I keep forgetting to buy bran flakes and I'm not sure Chocolate Life cereal would be a good substitute.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;This morning&amp;nbsp;I made some oatmeal for breakfast and thought I would mix some in with his dog food and&amp;nbsp;hopefully that would fill up him.&amp;nbsp; I know he likes oatmeal because he had to eat it for 3 days after he ate a razor blade last year.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;So, I gave him a smaller portion of his food and mixed some oatmeal in it.&amp;nbsp; He loved it.&amp;nbsp; Totally licked the bowl clean.&amp;nbsp; Ok, that should&amp;nbsp;keep him satisfied&amp;nbsp;until dinner time.&amp;nbsp; After about 15 minutes he was whining.&amp;nbsp; Surely he wasn't hungry already.&amp;nbsp; I checked him out.&amp;nbsp; "Jake, are you ok, boy?"&amp;nbsp; Then he threw up at my feet.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Jake felt pretty spry after his purge and I was on my hands and knees cleaning oatmeal and dog food out of the carpet.&amp;nbsp; Day one of the diet wasn't off to a great start.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By lunchtime he was pretty hungry.&amp;nbsp; Remember how I said I share things with Jake?&amp;nbsp; Today for lunch I had a chicken pot pie.&amp;nbsp; I love chicken pot pie but I don't like the chicken, I just want the crust and veggies.&amp;nbsp; Jake loves the chicken so I had to share it with him.&amp;nbsp; It's chicken.&amp;nbsp; That can't be bad for him, right?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Yeah, I realize I may have kind of blown the calorie count on lunch since I added a little bit of crust in with the chicken.&amp;nbsp; Now that I think about it, I gave him a little ham mixed in with his dog food at dinner time.&amp;nbsp; Hmmm, not so sure that was good for him either.&amp;nbsp; The good thing is that the responsible dog owner in this family&amp;nbsp; (Jeff) makes sure he gets enough exercise everyday.&amp;nbsp; He took him for a nice 1 mile walk around the park this evening.&amp;nbsp; I think I need to start over and come up with a better eating plan for him.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;I wonder&amp;nbsp;if Animal Planet has a "Biggest Loser" for dogs.&amp;nbsp; I may have to sign Jake up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5348214008976997977-2060385664978328683?l=jake-the-dog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/feeds/2060385664978328683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2010/07/jakes-diet.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/2060385664978328683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/2060385664978328683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2010/07/jakes-diet.html' title='Jake&apos;s Diet'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16805186892101396335</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348214008976997977.post-8997732784583134592</id><published>2010-06-27T18:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-27T18:36:00.818-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jake's Haircut</title><content type='html'>As I've said before, Jake is a Schneagle. A beagle/schnauzer mix. He has the coloring of a beagle but the coat of a schnauzer, which I love. It's soft and doesn't make my arms break out when I pet him. He also doesn't shed very much. Our guinea pig used to shed more than Jake does. But...Jake has to be groomed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Abigail and I first started lobbying for a dog, I kept telling Jeff &amp;nbsp;"dogs don't cost that much. I mean, buy a bag of Kibbles 'n Bits, get their shots once a year and that's pretty much it." &amp;nbsp;I'll admit, I wasn't even sure I believed that but I was desperate. We never thought we would have to pay for things like taking him to the vet after he had eaten a razor blade, dog obedience classes, or.....grooming. When we bought Jake, we saw his mom (the beagle) and Jake kind of looked like her, but softer. So I never even thought about haircuts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me preface this by saying I know grooming has to be a really hard job.&amp;nbsp;The clients are not too happy about it, they may bite, you have to clip hair in some not too pleasant places, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first time I got him groomed, we went to &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;Petsmart&lt;/span&gt;. I didn't know where else to go and I had a coupon. What better reason to go there? They did a decent job on him and they trimmed his nails nicely. I took him there a few more times with great success. The last time I took h&lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;im&lt;/span&gt; there, his regular girl wasn't there and the person that did it, cut way too close on his head and caused a "burn". (I know that's what groomers call it because I watched a whole season of "Groomer Has It" on Animal Planet. Yes. I am that addicted to reality TV.) So, I called around and decided to try&amp;nbsp;a real &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;Doggie&lt;/span&gt; Beauty Parlor. &amp;nbsp;They did a great job a couple of times and they&amp;nbsp;seemed very professional. But one time I took Jake and they took him around back, loaded him in a van and drove him down the street to another grooming place. When I asked about that, they said they didn't have a groomer at the moment so they were "outsourcing" their grooming business. What? I could have driven him there myself and saved him a van trip. The only good thing is that the place they sent him has a &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;webcam&lt;/span&gt; and you can watch your dog being groomed. So, of course, I spent the better part of my afternoon checking the computer to see if my baby was on camera. I finally got him on there. Poor guy. He looked so pitiful. He was a brave little soldier though. I was proud of him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, it's summer now.&amp;nbsp; S&lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;ummer&lt;/span&gt; in Texas.&amp;nbsp; I'm hot in my swimsuit in a pool so I know Jake is hot in his fur coat that is getting increasingly longer every day.&amp;nbsp; I made an appointment for him at the &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;Doggie&lt;/span&gt; Beauty Parlor last week and checked to make sure they did indeed have their own groomer. I was going somewhere that morning so Jeff took him and dropped him off. I told Jeff to tell them we wanted a short summer cut and trim his beard. I hate it when his beard gets in his food.&amp;nbsp; When I would say trim his beard, I made a motion with my hands like I'm chopping off imaginary hair under my chin. Don't know why, I just always made that motion. Jeff said he told them exactly what I told him but apparently he forgot to make the hand motion because they not only shaved his beard, they shaved his whole head!&amp;nbsp; I also said to tell them&amp;nbsp;to do a cut all over and not that goofy schnauzer cut they always want to give him.&amp;nbsp; That's where they want to leave the hair on his legs long.&amp;nbsp; But since there's no defining point on his body where it should start, they just made this insane lightning bolt design on his side and then half of his back legs have long hair and half has short hair.&amp;nbsp; Really?&amp;nbsp; That's what you come up with?! Of course, I didn't really say anything when I got him, he's always so glad to see me and get the heck out of there that we just head right for the nearest lamp pole (apparently he's had lots of water but no potty break) and then into the car.&amp;nbsp; When I got him home and got a good look I was stunned.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;A lightning bolt?!&amp;nbsp; He's not Harry Potter!&amp;nbsp; I thought I was on "Candid Camera" (or "&lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;Punk'd&lt;/span&gt;" for those of you under 30)&amp;nbsp; I did have to call them the next morning because he had some terrible burns on his ears.&amp;nbsp; Their vet took a look at him and gave me some ointment for it.&amp;nbsp; I don't think we'll being going back there.&amp;nbsp; In the meantime, I went to the library and got a copy of "Dog Grooming for Dummies".&amp;nbsp; I don't know if I'll be able to do any better but at least he won't have a lightning bolt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this is Jake before:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/TCfxkb2h7aI/AAAAAAAAAEo/RXCLQMcVVpY/s1600/jake+before.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ru="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/TCfxkb2h7aI/AAAAAAAAAEo/RXCLQMcVVpY/s320/jake+before.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;This is the usual summer haircut I want for him:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/TCfyiwkuZ_I/AAAAAAAAAEw/QmewFUlgoGg/s1600/Jake%27s+haircut" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ru="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/TCfyiwkuZ_I/AAAAAAAAAEw/QmewFUlgoGg/s320/Jake%27s+haircut" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;And this is what he came home with.&amp;nbsp; I don't have pictures of his lightning bolt...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/TCfyqhIMCUI/AAAAAAAAAE4/ubhM-cF_nss/s1600/jake+after.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ru="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/TCfyqhIMCUI/AAAAAAAAAE4/ubhM-cF_nss/s320/jake+after.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5348214008976997977-8997732784583134592?l=jake-the-dog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/feeds/8997732784583134592/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2010/06/jakes-haircut.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/8997732784583134592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/8997732784583134592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2010/06/jakes-haircut.html' title='Jake&apos;s Haircut'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16805186892101396335</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/TCfxkb2h7aI/AAAAAAAAAEo/RXCLQMcVVpY/s72-c/jake+before.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348214008976997977.post-2954711419920669679</id><published>2010-04-12T19:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-12T19:35:51.470-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jake and Fritz and Freddie Part 2</title><content type='html'>In my last post I said we were dogsitting my Dad's dogs, Fritz and Freddie.&amp;nbsp; It was a long, long night.&amp;nbsp; Not because of F &amp;amp; F but because of Jake.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fritz is just a little puppy and sometimes still has to get up in the middle of the night.&amp;nbsp; Having a puppy is such great preparation for having a baby, but that's another story sometime.&amp;nbsp; Anyway, Jeff went to bed at 10 but I kept the boys up and let them play.&amp;nbsp; I mean, after all, I'm an experienced owner and know all about puppies now, right?&amp;nbsp; But there was one thing I forgot....don't let puppies (or dogs) drink water after a certain time in the evening.&amp;nbsp; The dogs played out in the back and drank pool water.&amp;nbsp; I didn't&amp;nbsp;catch them before they started slurping but it was early&amp;nbsp;enough in the evening, I&amp;nbsp;thought it would be ok.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;But then when it was&amp;nbsp;getting late,&amp;nbsp;I&amp;nbsp;made a rookie mistake.&amp;nbsp; I forgot to take the water bowl up.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Picture it in&amp;nbsp;kind of&amp;nbsp;a slow motion sequence in a movie.&amp;nbsp; I heard the heavy slurping of the dogs.....I turned my head....jumped off the couch and yelled, "Nooooo!"&amp;nbsp; I ran to the bowl, but ahh, too late.&amp;nbsp; Oh well, maybe they could hold it during the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At around 11:00, I was pooped and put Jake in his kennel, Fritz in his kennel and Freddie on our bed.&amp;nbsp; (did I mention that Freddie is an incredibly spoiled dog that likes to sleep on the bed?&amp;nbsp; But really, once he's asleep, that's it.&amp;nbsp; We don't hear from him until morning).&amp;nbsp; Anyway, I'm not&amp;nbsp;a good sleeper and finally dozed off around midnight.&amp;nbsp; At 3:30 am, I heard Fritz squeaking.&amp;nbsp; Yes, it was potty time.&amp;nbsp; I let Fritz out of his kennel and Jake out of his and they both go outside.&amp;nbsp; I have to go outside with Jake at night because he barks.&amp;nbsp; He barks at his shadow, he barks at the dead palm tree (stupid freeze), he barks at the patio chair.&amp;nbsp; And barking at 3:30 in the morning will not get&amp;nbsp;a person a friendly wave from their neighbors the next morning.&amp;nbsp; Fritz&amp;nbsp;went out, squats, comes right back to me and squeaks to be let inside.&amp;nbsp; Jake decided it's pretty nice outside and there's a leaf floating in the pool that needs to be checked out.&amp;nbsp; He jumped in and immediatley got spooked by the leaf and jumped back out.&amp;nbsp; It's 3:30 in the morning!&amp;nbsp;Get out of the pool! &amp;nbsp;I started whispering his name in the most firm way I knew how but that got me nowhere.&amp;nbsp; I kept whispering/screaming "front!" which still doesn't work for him unless he's hungry and he's 100% sure I have a treat in hand.&amp;nbsp; I got the flashlight and was trying to coax him in.&amp;nbsp; Nothing.&amp;nbsp; Then he started barking.&amp;nbsp; Oh, that's just great.&amp;nbsp; Sorry neighbors, please don't hate me.&amp;nbsp; I was actually hoping maybe they thought it was someone else's dog.&amp;nbsp; Maybe I could casually say, "Hey, have you heard so and so's dog?&amp;nbsp; What a pest, huh?" &amp;nbsp; Eventually, after threats and bribery, I got him back in the house.&amp;nbsp; At some point in all this, Freddie came out of my bedroom to join the fun but he just looked at all of us with a rather bored "you silly, silly people" look on his face and yawned alot.&amp;nbsp; Ok, everyone has peed, time to go back to bed.&amp;nbsp; It's 4:00 in the morning and I've only had&amp;nbsp;3 1/2 hours of sleep up to this point.&amp;nbsp; Fritz was ready to go back into his kennel and Freddie will go anywhere I go, but Jake, no way was he going in his kennel.&amp;nbsp; He'd had a nap and was ready to go.&amp;nbsp; I chased him around the living room table a few times and thought, fine, he'll just play a few minutes and settle down and I'll put him back in.&amp;nbsp; Eventually Jake got Fritz to play with him and they ran around and played tug of war with a toy and other things that would have been cute had it not been at some insane hour of the morning.&amp;nbsp; I tried watching tv for awhile but since I didn't need Melissa Gilbert's hair products or a machine that will give me super abs in just 10 days (well, ok, I do need that) I gave it up.&amp;nbsp; The next thing I knew, I woke up at 6:30 on the sofa, scrunched up in a little ball with Freddie on one foot and Fritz on top of my leg.&amp;nbsp; Jake was asleep by the fireplace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Dad and Lela came to pick up the dogs that afternoon, Dad started apologizing when he walked in the door.&amp;nbsp; He was sure Fritz kept me up all night.&amp;nbsp; I kept trying to assure him, his dogs weren't the problem.&amp;nbsp; As they were leaving, Dad said anytime we wanted them to keep Jake, just let them know.&amp;nbsp; I tried to get them to take him that night but for some reason, they thought I was joking and drove off without him.&amp;nbsp;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5348214008976997977-2954711419920669679?l=jake-the-dog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/feeds/2954711419920669679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2010/04/jake-and-fritz-and-freddie-part-2.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/2954711419920669679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/2954711419920669679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2010/04/jake-and-fritz-and-freddie-part-2.html' title='Jake and Fritz and Freddie Part 2'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16805186892101396335</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348214008976997977.post-6395191262224972509</id><published>2010-04-10T18:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-10T18:37:02.956-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jake and Fritz and Freddie</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/S8EnAorLy8I/AAAAAAAAAEg/f6dBwdpsNpM/s1600/011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/S8EnAorLy8I/AAAAAAAAAEg/f6dBwdpsNpM/s320/011.JPG" wt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have another puppy.....for 24 hours.&amp;nbsp; Lela surprised Dad a few weeks ago with another dog to keep their dog,&amp;nbsp;Freddie, company.&amp;nbsp; Dad named him Fritz and he's a mini dachshund like Freddie.&amp;nbsp; Several posts ago I wrote about Jake and Freddie's personalities and if Freddie could talk, he would sound like a stuffy Frenchman.&amp;nbsp; I still think that.&amp;nbsp; But Fritz is just the opposite.&amp;nbsp; I think he would sound like Barney Fife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dad and Lela have gone to visit friends for 24 hours.&amp;nbsp; It's Fritz's first night away from home.&amp;nbsp; I think Dad is way more worried about him than any of us are.&amp;nbsp;Dad walked in with enough supplies to last the dogs a week.&amp;nbsp; I actually thought I misunderstood and maybe they were going to be gone longer than one night but no, it's just one night.&amp;nbsp; After he unloaded a dog bed (with an afghan big enough to be a queen size bedspread), a kennel, a bag of toys, a plastic container with at least 5 days of food, 5 rawhide bones,&amp;nbsp;and 2 leashes, he walked slowly out the door and I'm not sure, but I might have seen him tear up a bit.&amp;nbsp; Freddie stayed at the window next to the door and watched (he may have been tearing up too).&amp;nbsp; Fritz, on the other hand, was ready to play and Jake was thrilled, thinking we got him a new, living, chew toy.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;And off they went.&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;But Freddie, in his true&amp;nbsp;stuffy Frenchman attitude, just jumped up on the sofa next to me and&amp;nbsp; watched them running circles around the living room.&amp;nbsp; He looked down on them as if he believed he was far too superior to behave in such a manner.&amp;nbsp; Fritz and Jake didn't seem to care about what he thought.&amp;nbsp; Fritz was too busy trying to hang from Jake's beard and Jake was too busy trying to bat him around like a dirty sock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, they've been here 6 hours and so far, so good.&amp;nbsp; But we haven't gone to bed yet.&amp;nbsp; Dad warned us that Fritz squeaks alot at night.&amp;nbsp; We'll see how it goes.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5348214008976997977-6395191262224972509?l=jake-the-dog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/feeds/6395191262224972509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2010/04/jake-and-fritz-and-freddie.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/6395191262224972509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/6395191262224972509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2010/04/jake-and-fritz-and-freddie.html' title='Jake and Fritz and Freddie'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16805186892101396335</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/S8EnAorLy8I/AAAAAAAAAEg/f6dBwdpsNpM/s72-c/011.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348214008976997977.post-8914754691004468278</id><published>2010-02-05T18:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T19:13:12.028-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas with Jake</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/S2zYP2G3SII/AAAAAAAAAEY/sLMc6rWFe7I/s1600-h/pictures+from+christmas+2009+038.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/S2zYPUD43DI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/4WRp1g1CBdM/s1600-h/pictures+from+christmas+2009+016.JPG"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434956607924001842" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/S2zYPUD43DI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/4WRp1g1CBdM/s320/pictures+from+christmas+2009+016.JPG" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434956617063286914" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/S2zYP2G3SII/AAAAAAAAAEY/sLMc6rWFe7I/s320/pictures+from+christmas+2009+038.JPG" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, here it's February and I'm just now posting about Jake's second Christmas with us. Either we've been very busy or Jake just hasn't been that interesting. I think, mostly we've just been very busy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jake's first Christmas last year was kind of like having a toddler around. He didn't really get what was going on. A tree was in the room but he didn't really even seem to notice it. This year, Jake was the equivalent of a 4 year old. He saw the tree, knew something was up, and he was all nose and paws around it. He couldn't help himself, he just had to check it out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we first put the tree up, Jake walked by it and would take a quick side glance at it. He made a circle around the room and walked over to it again, this time a little closer to the tree. By the fourth lap, he actually rubbed up against it a bit but kept walking. I didn't say anything yet, I wanted to see where he was going with the next lap. The next time around, he kind of crouched down and walked under the tree. I didn't know what was up with that. Then, one more lap and he tried to crawl all the way under it. I don't know what kind of dog instinct led him to do any of this but it was interesting. All in all, it took him about 5 minutes to make all these laps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the tree was fully decorated and we started putting the presents under the tree, Jake got a little more bold and nosey. We would occasionally catch him running up, grabbing a present and running off with it. So fast! Then we would chase him around the room yelling, "Leave it!" (the command we learned in doggie school....he still doesn't know what it means) and eventually we would pry the slightly soggy gift out of his mouth. I only had to rewrap one present this year. On the other hand, he stole several ornaments and destroyed 3 of them. We would walk into the living room and see part of a snowman here, some pieces of felt over there. We would eventually figure out which ornament it used to be. Years ago, I bought a metal ornament shaped like a Christmas tree and had 5 glass bells hanging from it. I would put it on the bottom center branch of the tree so I could hear if Abigail was getting too close. She never did. This year I put it up so I could hear if Jake was getting too close to the tree. Even though he still snagged a few ornaments, the little tinkling of the bells usually sent one of us running and we saved many more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So on Christmas morning Jake got to open a couple of presents too. Abigail insisted on buying him a couple of new toys and she did a pretty good job picking them out. The first one was a rawhide that's about as big as his leg. We thought it might keep him busy for awhile. She also picked out this rubber toy with a rope through the middle of it. Two of his favorite chewing items. I can report that he has chewed the rawhide in 2 but he still has both parts around here and he's working on them. The rubber toy no longer has the rope through it. He managed to chew the knot off and pull it out, but he still likes the little rubber thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day after Christmas we took the ornaments off and put the tree up. I think Jake is still pouting about not having that little corner of entertainment in the living room. Next year we're going to save ourselves a lot of trouble and just put up rawhide and chew toy ornaments. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5348214008976997977-8914754691004468278?l=jake-the-dog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/feeds/8914754691004468278/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2010/02/christmas-with-jake.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/8914754691004468278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/8914754691004468278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2010/02/christmas-with-jake.html' title='Christmas with Jake'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16805186892101396335</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/S2zYPUD43DI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/4WRp1g1CBdM/s72-c/pictures+from+christmas+2009+016.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348214008976997977.post-7141967688517093182</id><published>2009-12-16T16:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-16T17:26:36.994-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Jakey Boy Rock</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/SymHYpFx1II/AAAAAAAAAEI/4cE9_SpcY0w/s1600-h/jake.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416008884306433154" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/SymHYpFx1II/AAAAAAAAAEI/4cE9_SpcY0w/s320/jake.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's Christmas. You know, the most wonderful time of the year! I love everything about Christmas. I love that it's when we celebrate Jesus' birthday. I love the food....maybe a little too much. I love the lights. And I love the music. I usually whistle "Jingle Bells" all year long. (Well, that's what I call the sound that comes out from between my lips when I blow. Jeff just calls it annoying) Anyway, Abigail and I love Jingle Bell Rock and one day we just started adding our own lyrics to it. Eventually, we came up with this song. And, let's remember, Abigail and I are NOT professionals. So, making it's debut......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Jakey&lt;/span&gt; Boy Rock&lt;br /&gt;(sung to the tune "Jingle Bell Rock")&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Jakey&lt;/span&gt; Boy, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Jakey&lt;/span&gt; Boy, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Jakey&lt;/span&gt; Boy Rock&lt;br /&gt;He's our little dog and he loves to chew socks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Dancin&lt;/span&gt;' and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;prancin&lt;/span&gt;' , he gets in our way,&lt;br /&gt;each and every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's a nice dog, he's the right dog,&lt;br /&gt;to chase our blues away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Jakey&lt;/span&gt; Boy dog is a swell dog&lt;br /&gt;to go &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;runnin&lt;/span&gt;' in the park today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Giddy up &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Jakey&lt;/span&gt; Boy pick up your feet,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Skatin&lt;/span&gt;' around the block, *&lt;br /&gt;He licks and he tinkles and he likes to eat,&lt;br /&gt;That's the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Jakey&lt;/span&gt; Boy, that's the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Jakey&lt;/span&gt; Boy,&lt;br /&gt;that's the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Jakey&lt;/span&gt; Boy rock!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Abigail added the "&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;skatin&lt;/span&gt;' around the block" as a reference to when he would pull her on her skates around the block. They did that until he took off after something once and circled around her, causing her to fall and we ended up in the urgent care center having her finger x-&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_14" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;rayed&lt;/span&gt; and splinted. Oh well, at least we got a lyric out of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5348214008976997977-7141967688517093182?l=jake-the-dog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/feeds/7141967688517093182/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/12/jakey-boy-rock.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/7141967688517093182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/7141967688517093182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/12/jakey-boy-rock.html' title='Jakey Boy Rock'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16805186892101396335</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/SymHYpFx1II/AAAAAAAAAEI/4cE9_SpcY0w/s72-c/jake.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348214008976997977.post-6235024211497845482</id><published>2009-12-02T16:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-13T18:08:51.793-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My cousin Stan</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/SxcWxg8uzQI/AAAAAAAAAEA/zUXyuz1VhTw/s1600-h/Stan+003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410818517223001346" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/SxcWxg8uzQI/AAAAAAAAAEA/zUXyuz1VhTw/s320/Stan+003.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I first started this blog in February. I had wanted to do a blog for quite awhile. I just wanted to write something fun about our dog. But the reason I started it on that particular day was to try to distract myself from worrying about my cousin Stan.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have many, many cousins. Both of my parents come from big families and both were the youngest in their families. I have cousins out there I don't even know. But I have some that I grew up with. Not in the sense that we were the same age and we grew up together, but they were part of my childhood and I grew up with them around me. Stan is one of those cousins. He's one of the sons of one of my dad's older brothers. When I was a kid, we lived in California and that's where this batch of cousins lived. Stan's sister Marlene and her husband Reuben lived around the corner from us with their boys Brad and Terry who were my age. Stan and Marlene's sister, Jolene and brother, Dennis and their families lived nearby also. It was fun growing up with family close by. Marlene and Reuben were like another set of parents, which could be good or bad, depending on if I was doing something wrong or not. We shared lots of meals and holidays and just day to day stuff.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Stan was a single guy. He worked at the VA hospital and he would come over alot on Tuesdays. That also happened to be the day my mom did the baking for the week. When I came home from school on Tuesdays, I could always count on Stan sitting at the bar in the kitchen eating a piece of pie or a cinnamon roll that had just come out of the oven. Since Stan was single and living the "bachelor life" my brother thought he was the coolest.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My family moved back here to Texas but Stan came and visited us. There was a period of several years when we didn't see Stan or Marlene and Reuben but just kept in touch by phone or letters or the family grapevine. After Jeff and I married, I introduced him to Corn, Oklahoma, the center of the universe for all Nikkels. We all met up again at some kind of Corn celebration years ago. I don't even remember what the occasion was but Corn always knows how to throw a great parade. Anyway, meeting up again, it was like we hadn't ever been apart. We all talked and laughed and had a great time and left with an unspoken agreement to stay in touch. I could email Marlene but Stan has never been one for computers. He liked to talk on the phone. He would call here or I would call him but one thing I could always count on was at the end of the conversation, he would always say, "it's nice to hear you voice". I always thought that was a great way to end a phone call.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, back to the reason this blog is here.....In February of this year, Stan had a scan that showed 2 tumors in his brain. He was having brain surgery so they could do a biopsy. I spent the day pacing the floor and sat at the computer for awhile. As I said, I had wanted to do a blog about Jake for awhile and thought it would be a nice distraction so I sat at the table and typed and waited for the phone to ring.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When the phone rang, it was bad news. Stan's tumors were malignant. The following months were such a rollercoaster ride. He responded well to the radiation and chemo and I thought if anyone could beat this, it would be Stan. He took a bad turn and ended up in hospice. Then he got better and they discharged him. I had never heard of anyone being discharged from a hospice before. He eventually went to a specialist in San Diego and moved in with Marlene and Reuben. During this time, we still talked on the phone and he still always ended our conversations with "it's nice to hear your voice". He always liked to hear Jake stories. I sent a picture of Jake to Stan last Christmas and his neighbor saw it and did an oil painting of him. Stan said it was in an exhibit somewhere in California. Jake in an art gallery. Who would have thought? Marlene would pull this blog up and they would see more Jake pictures and read the stories. My quilting group made him a beautiful black and red quilt and I sent it to him. He knew the kind of work that went into making a quilt and he sent them a huge gift basket filled with chocolates. Even with everything going on, he wanted to show his appreciation. That was just the kind of guy he was.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then a few weeks ago, he went into hospice again. Two weeks ago, I got a call early in the morning from Marlene that Stan had passed away. He was such a great guy. Quick with a joke and so thoughtful. This past summer he had said he was hoping to be well enough to visit us at Thanksgiving. When Thanksgiving rolled around last week, I was thinking about Stan and I could still hear him say, "it's nice to hear your voice". He will be missed by many, many people.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5348214008976997977-6235024211497845482?l=jake-the-dog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/feeds/6235024211497845482/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-cousin-stan.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/6235024211497845482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/6235024211497845482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-cousin-stan.html' title='My cousin Stan'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16805186892101396335</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/SxcWxg8uzQI/AAAAAAAAAEA/zUXyuz1VhTw/s72-c/Stan+003.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348214008976997977.post-1905791251165428739</id><published>2009-10-11T12:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-11T13:36:47.198-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Harmful Things Your Dog Shouldn't Chew</title><content type='html'>Today is a nice, cool, lazy kind of day. When I took Jake to the park this morning, the wind was blowing and there was a very light mist. Just enough to make me cold. All morning I've been cold so I thought I would take a nice long, hot bath. Just to warm the bones as my mom used to say. Jeff isn't home, Abigail is in her room studying for a big test (at least that's what she's supposed to be doing....maybe I should go check on her) and Jake looked pretty tired. How much trouble could he get into?&lt;br /&gt;While I was in the bath, Jake was sniffing around and suddenly ran out of the room. Not a good sign. He came back moments later so whatever he had taken earlier, he had either lost interest in or eaten so I went back to relaxing. When I was thoroughly waterlogged, I got dressed and went into the living room. There, right outside my bedroom door, were a pair of underwear, a sock, a new spool of dental floss, and a potholder all in various stages of deconstruction. I was only in there 15 minutes! I didn't see him get any of this. And how did he get a potholder? I keep those in the drawer in the kitchen! After I picked everything up and threw away what seemed like miles of dental floss, I got on the computer and found an email from Dr. Jon.&lt;br /&gt;I keep getting newsletters from Dr. Jon and I don't know why. Dr. Jon is from a website called Pet Place. Somehow I got on their list. I haven't gotten off of it because it usually has some pretty interesting information. But the email I read today was titled: "Harmful Things Your Dog Shouldn't Chew". That got my attention. Let's see what the good doctor has to say.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He starts by saying chewing is a natural behavior for dogs. But there are certain things that should be off limits to dogs since it could be harmful to their health. Ok, at this point, a small giggle starts. Let's take a look at Dr. Jon's list...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;Items that grind away his teeth:&lt;br /&gt;Rocks&lt;br /&gt;Wires&lt;br /&gt;Recreational balls meant for people&lt;br /&gt;Any chew item that can't bend&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Hmmm, I wonder if "rocks" includes the little fireplace rocks that Jake likes to sneak out of the fireplace and eat. Fortunately, he's never done it the 3 times the fireplace is actually on during the year, but I'm not going to relax just yet. For the "wires" category, I have to wonder if the razor that he ate counts. I wasn't half as worried about it grinding his teeth away as I was that it would slice his intestines up. But, 3 days of feeding him oatmeal seems to have taken care of it. "Recreational balls"...he has a tennis ball that has seemed to withstood him and his teeth don't look too bad for it. "A chew item that can't bend"...like a hanger, hairbrush, keys, phones? (oh wait, those bend). Nope, after looking at his teeth, I'd say he's in pretty good shape so far. Let's see what else the doctor has to say.... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;Items that can be swallowed whole and block the intestinal tract:&lt;br /&gt;clothing, socks, gloves&lt;br /&gt;washclothes&lt;br /&gt;strings and ribbons&lt;br /&gt;rubber bands&lt;br /&gt;children's toys (Legos, dolls)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;Ok, so according to this, my dog should be really sick. He's eaten everything on this list. Everything. Well, except Legos because we never had any of those but we still have Abigail's old Tinker Toys and he's eaten a few of those so I guess that qualifies.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;Items with small/dangerous pieces that can be chewed off and ingested:&lt;br /&gt;shoes&lt;br /&gt;slippers&lt;br /&gt;handbags&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Ok, now I'm full out laughing. Forget the small/dangerous pieces that can be chewed off and ingested...Jake has eaten whole heels off of shoes. He's pulled the insole out of every one of Jeff's shoes. Why is my dog still walking around?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, as I get to the end of Dr. Jon's email I realize what a bad pet owner I am. My poor dog is probably walking around with bad teeth and a horrible digestive tract. He should, in fact, be dead by now. What can I do to save my dog??? Wait a minute, as I get to the end of the email, he writes that the best thing for a dog to chew on is a specific dog toy. A toy that he just happens to have a link to. I click on the link which leads me to another site with a YouTube video of a dog happily running around with his chew toy. Looks like a good dog. The kind that doesn't eat rocks out of fireplaces and dental floss. Forget the toy, can I order the dog?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5348214008976997977-1905791251165428739?l=jake-the-dog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/feeds/1905791251165428739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/10/harmful-things-your-dog-shouldnt-chew.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/1905791251165428739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/1905791251165428739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/10/harmful-things-your-dog-shouldnt-chew.html' title='Harmful Things Your Dog Shouldn&apos;t Chew'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16805186892101396335</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348214008976997977.post-5149342169204928223</id><published>2009-09-12T16:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-02T18:44:15.449-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Few of Jakes Favorite Things....</title><content type='html'>Here are a few of Jake's favorite "chew toys".  And no, I don't have any pictures of the 2 cell phones he chewed up.  Just couldn't bring myself to take pictures of them.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This used to be a Sonic Kid's Meal toy.  I think it was a Frisbee.  See the half chewed plastic hanger on the floor next to Jake?  I didn't even notice that until I posted it on here.  That must have been the appetizer......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/SsaponIlu2I/AAAAAAAAADw/BPJcqmA-cL4/s1600-h/185.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388180519360248674" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/SsaponIlu2I/AAAAAAAAADw/BPJcqmA-cL4/s320/185.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is why I can't mop unless Jake is outside. Truthfully, I don't blame him. I hate that mop too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/SsapCzHXj6I/AAAAAAAAADo/hiso-r2TwD0/s1600-h/096.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388179869741322146" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/SsapCzHXj6I/AAAAAAAAADo/hiso-r2TwD0/s320/096.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/SsaoDvrZk-I/AAAAAAAAADg/pywkCsYg3GM/s1600-h/096.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is Jake playing tug-o-war with his rope.   He looks just a little scary in this picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/SsanAVHV2BI/AAAAAAAAADY/CgM9PfPgrxg/s1600-h/222.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388177628305152018" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/SsanAVHV2BI/AAAAAAAAADY/CgM9PfPgrxg/s320/222.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I used to love these shoes.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/SqwzJat6_KI/AAAAAAAAADQ/UQfLkWl80vI/s1600-h/229.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380731891684670626" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/SqwzJat6_KI/AAAAAAAAADQ/UQfLkWl80vI/s320/229.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Abigail used to love these slippers.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/SqwzIxqpeGI/AAAAAAAAADI/k6uJw_gBP54/s1600-h/227.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380731880665086050" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/SqwzIxqpeGI/AAAAAAAAADI/k6uJw_gBP54/s320/227.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Probably the first pair of shoes I ever bought just to match one dress.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/SqwzILqYscI/AAAAAAAAADA/rkqaZ_Un0fs/s1600-h/225.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380731870463439298" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/SqwzILqYscI/AAAAAAAAADA/rkqaZ_Un0fs/s320/225.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My glasses......I'm now wearing an old pair. So if you see me somewhere and wave to me and I don't wave back, it's because I CAN'T SEE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/SqwzHX8xGlI/AAAAAAAAAC4/cvY2eu4cLlY/s1600-h/224.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380731856581892690" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/SqwzHX8xGlI/AAAAAAAAAC4/cvY2eu4cLlY/s320/224.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was his favorite chew toy. Abigail named him Limpy because Jake chewed off one of his legs right away. I eventually just tied it at the bottom to keep the stuffing from falling out. Alas, since I took this picture, poor Limpy is no more. All that was left was the little face with the smile. It was kind of creepy looking when we found it.&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/SqwzG0CZWSI/AAAAAAAAACw/3EKHaal1GNs/s1600-h/226.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380731846941825314" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/SqwzG0CZWSI/AAAAAAAAACw/3EKHaal1GNs/s320/226.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could also take pictures of the dining table leg he's chewed on, the laptop, the recliner leg, the carpet on the bottom stair, about 300 pairs of underwear, numerous dishclothes and towels, Jeff's wallet, a few old Polly Pockets and much more.....but you get the idea. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5348214008976997977-5149342169204928223?l=jake-the-dog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/feeds/5149342169204928223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/09/few-of-jakes-favorite-things.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/5149342169204928223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/5149342169204928223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/09/few-of-jakes-favorite-things.html' title='A Few of Jakes Favorite Things....'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16805186892101396335</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/SsaponIlu2I/AAAAAAAAADw/BPJcqmA-cL4/s72-c/185.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348214008976997977.post-4242391465836994046</id><published>2009-08-19T14:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-12T16:24:06.724-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Walk in the Park with Jake</title><content type='html'>Jake loves going to the park.  &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, Jake loves going anywhere but he really loves the park.  We have a great park by our neighborhood with a big soccer field, a playground and a track.  Lots of people walk their dogs there.  Usually the other people are walking for exercise and they're just being nice and taking the dog with them. I just walk there to walk Jake. I have a treadmill under the AC and a TV mounted in front of it for my exercise.  But, with Jake, a walk in the park is never just a walk in the park.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I first started this blog, I introduced Jake as a &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Schneagle&lt;/span&gt;. A &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Schneagle&lt;/span&gt; is a schnauzer/beagle mix. Back in the old days (&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;ie&lt;/span&gt;, up to about 5 years ago) Jake would have been known as a mutt. Now he's a "designer breed". Really. Just Google "&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;schneagle&lt;/span&gt;" and you'll see. When I was reading all the puppy training books when we first got Jake, one of the books actually said not to call your dog a "mutt" in his presence. According to the author, the word "mutt" has a certain negative connotation and dogs will pick up on that. I would love to tell that author that I have a dog that barks at his own shadow so I really don't think he's bright enough to pick up on the negative connotation of a word.  But desiring to be politically correct, I refer to Jake as a &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;schneagle&lt;/span&gt;. But I digress. I really think Jake is more beagle than schnauzer. He loves to stick his big nose to the ground and follow it. Jeff or I take him to the park just about every morning and every evening. Once we get close to the park, his nose starts working. When we get to the park, his nose goes into overdrive. Sometimes, instead of just making him walk around the track, I give him a loose leash and follow him. I'm sure it looks funny to anyone watching us. A woman following a dog making a crazy, increasingly circular path that always, eventually, leads to a pile of dog (or deer, rabbit, possum, raccoon) poop. After a good sniffing, we can continue our walk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other thing Jake likes to do in the evening is play with his friend Trixie. Trixie is another mutt, uh, designer dog, that loves to run. Some evenings I take Jake there, let him loose in their backyard and then visit while he and Trixie run until he's about to collapse. Anyway, when I take Jake to the park, sometimes he decides he would rather play with Trixie than sniff around the park that evening. He communicates this the same way each time. He just stops walking. I'll be walking along, daydreaming, and suddenly there's a tug on the leash from behind me. I turn around and Jake is standing there staring at me. He always looks for a second and, I promise I'm not making this up, he tilts his head a bit in that cute way that says "pretty please, may I go see my friend Trixie?" then he turns his head and looks back to the neighborhood. If I say, "come on", he just pulls back on the leash more. (really, I'm not making this up!) Usually, I give in and let him lead the way. He always goes straight to Trixie's house. I've tried taking a picture of him when he flashes "the look" just to show everyone that I'm not crazy, but I never seem to get it. (Side note: As I sit here writing about how cute Jake is and how smart he is, a very unhappy Jeff just walked in and showed me his reading glasses that had been chewed on by the cute, smart dog. Yikes!  Run, Jake!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, on the days that Jake decides he does want to walk in the park, we have to go see the bunny. We have bunnies that live around the park and I'm pretty sure they live there just to torment dogs with big noses. When we get to the back area by the trees, I tell Jake to "look for the bunny". There is one huge rabbit in particular that I've named Bruiser.  Judging from the size of Bruiser, he must eat small dogs for breakfast....after toying with them a bit.  So Bruiser comes out in the evenings and waits for us. Yes, I'm sure he's waiting just for us. Jake sees him, runs a little ways, stops, does kind of a weird crouching position and then runs full blast at Bruiser...dragging me behind him. Bruiser waits until Jake gets within a few feet before he easily bounces off into the woods leaving Jake very frustrated. We then have to spend the next 5 minutes sniffing the entire area and, once again, tracking down some rabbit poop. I'm sure if Jake could, as we walk away he would turn around, shake his fist and say "I'll get you tomorrow!"  It's the Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote all over again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the bunny hunt has changed this past week. Bruiser and his buddies are at the back of the park close to a huge utility pole with big lights on top for evening soccer games. There's nothing special about the lights, they're just big silvery lights. The other day Jake and I were walking and for some reason he looked up at the light.  It totally freaked him out! He growled, he barked and then he ran behind me and hid. Thanks, Jake. No birds up there, no squirrels, Bruiser wasn't up there taunting him, just lights. It was daylight, they weren't even on! I kept pulling on him to get past the pole but he wasn't going to walk past those lights. He kept trying to run the other way so I just turned around and left with him. Jeff has walked him the past couple of mornings and he said he doesn't want go to the pole. He said he keeps trying to walk by them because Jake needs to face his fears. I asked him if Jake was smart enough to understand the concept of facing his fears and Jeff said, "No, but I just want to walk around the park and get exercise".   (See the first paragraph.  And yes, Jeff has access to our air conditioned treadmill but chooses to walk the park with the others.  I just don't get it.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jake also likes to go to the Dog Park, which I'm pretty sure is his version of heaven.  But that's a story for another time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5348214008976997977-4242391465836994046?l=jake-the-dog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/feeds/4242391465836994046/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/08/walk-in-park-with-jake.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/4242391465836994046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/4242391465836994046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/08/walk-in-park-with-jake.html' title='A Walk in the Park with Jake'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16805186892101396335</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348214008976997977.post-6017522381475337234</id><published>2009-08-12T15:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-12T19:11:45.951-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dog Show</title><content type='html'>I have always loved going to the Houston Dog Show. It has a much longer name than that but, it's just the Houston Dog Show. Jeff and I started going to it back when we were dating and back when it was at the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Astrodome&lt;/span&gt;.  Jeff really doesn't care too much about dog shows, but he's always been a good sport about going with me. Going to the show this year felt different. Now that I'm a dog owner I felt like I was one of "them". Of course, I was &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;deluding&lt;/span&gt; myself because "them" have very expensive, well trained, well groomed dogs and I have a $50 marginally trained, scruffy mutt.  But the dog show is a celebration of those regal canines, those dogs that are true to their breeds.  &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;, I know.  The dog show is fun but it just seems a little like those little girl beauty &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;pageants&lt;/span&gt;.  Just a bit over the top.  I can't go to the dog show without thinking of the movie "Best in Show".  But I still like it.  I would really like it if I could take Jake to a show and let him see what these well mannered dogs are capable of.  But that would probably destroy his self esteem.  Or mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every year I go to the Dog Show, I always say I'm going to take Abigail and her friends one day and go by myself one day. My idea of a perfect Dog Show itinerary would be to get to the show, browse the breed &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;judging&lt;/span&gt; and see which breed I want to check out.  Since &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;flyball&lt;/span&gt; and the agility trials run continuously, I would see those in between.  They have something called canine musical freestyle which is dogs dancing with their owners.  Sounds silly but I've seen clips of it and I've always wanted to see it there.  I can't dance at all so I think dancing with a dog would be very difficult.  Anyway, they had 2 dancing dog shows scheduled and I wanted to see one of those.  Then, I would go by the "Meet the Breed" area and see which dogs are there.  Then go through all the vendors and get free samples and head on out.   Yes, that's the way I would do it....if I had been by myself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year Jeff and I took Abigail and 2 friends.  When we got there, immediately the girls wanted to walk through and see what the vendors had to offer.  They all had money in their pockets and it was burning a hole.  After walking up and down every aisle and getting all the free stuff we could, the girls decided on their purchases.  Abigail's friends both bought something for their dogs.  Makes sense.  We were at a dog show, get something for the dog.  Abigail bought an ankle bracelet.  For herself.  It didn't even have a dog charm on it.  I think the charm said something like "dream" on it.  Anyway, we got that out of the way.  Jeff took the bags out to the car for us.  Next, I thought it would be great to go watch the Jr. Showmanship competition.  What could be better than kids showing off their dogs in the ring?  The dogs don't even have to be pedigree dogs!  &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, kids, we're going to watch Jr. Showmanship.  We went to the ring and sat.  They were judging toy poodles (probably one of my least favorite breeds) but I thought they were just a little behind and would finish quickly.  We waited 40 minutes....still judging toy poodles.  The kids were saying they were hungry and wanting lunch for 35 of those minutes.  We finally gave up and went for lunch, spending an exorbitant amount of money for some little pizzas and sodas.  After lunch was over, so was the dancing dog show.  &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, well, maybe next year.  We decided to go watch some &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;flyball&lt;/span&gt;. We watched that for awhile and the girls loved it.  Then we went over to the agility trials.  We watched 2 dogs go through the course and then everyone walked away.  I guess they were done.  We heard the music at another arena and decided to get some seats and see what was going on.  It was Frisbee dogs.  That's always fun.  We got through the people, got some seats and watched one guy and his cute Border Collie perform before the announcer thanked everyone for coming.  I hadn't even settled back in my seat.  At this point, the girls were tired, I was hungry (Jeff and I had split one of those little pizzas) and Jeff was still being patient.  I asked the girls if they were ready to go and they were.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I mentioned earlier, we got some free stuff at the show so I was anxious to try it out on Jake.  The market area at the dog show is interesting.  They have booths for dog food, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;accessories&lt;/span&gt; and treats, jewelry, teeth whitening (people, not dogs) and the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;ShamWow&lt;/span&gt;.  Some of the people at the booths try to talk to you about their products, while others know you're just there for the sample so they're not going to waste your time or their breath.  They just hand out the freebie and let the product speak for itself.  Those are my favorite booths.  One booth's biggest selling point was that their food wasn't made in China.  I suppose that would have been a big deal several months ago but I really wondered if that was the best selling point they could come up with.  Several places offer all natural dog food now.  I think if I wanted to feed Jake all natural dog food, I would just make it myself.  Anyway, I came home and tried giving Jake and Freddie (my dad's &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;doxie&lt;/span&gt; that we were &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;dog sitting&lt;/span&gt; that weekend) some of the samples we received.  One of the all natural ones said it was made out of whitefish and sweet potatoes.  That didn't even sound good to me.  Jake wouldn't touch it.  He likes sweet potatoes but he didn't like this version of it.  Jake and Freddie's favorite one was from Natural Balance.  I had never heard of it before but they ate it up.  Natural Balance was "developed" by that world renown dog expert.....Dick Van Patten.  Huh?  Not Cesar Milan or Victoria &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_14" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Stilwell&lt;/span&gt;.  Dick Van Patten.  He's the guy from "Eight is Enough".  I think they had a dog on that show.  He and his son Tim came up with this food.  They must know what they're doing cause Jake loved it.  I was fortunate to snag 2 bags of their food at the show and each time I put it in the bowl, Jake didn't just eat it, he devoured it.  The bigger news is that so did Freddie.  Freddie is the pickiest eater I have ever known, of people or animals (and I work with 3 year old preschoolers....I know picky eaters).  He will only eat if you hand feed him or if it's in the cup holder/dog dish in my dad's pickup.  But he ate this food.  I think Jake could do a commercial for them.   Then maybe next year he would be invited to the Houston Dog Show as a &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_15" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;spokesdog&lt;/span&gt;.  That would be one way he could get in there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5348214008976997977-6017522381475337234?l=jake-the-dog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/feeds/6017522381475337234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/08/dog-show.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/6017522381475337234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/6017522381475337234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/08/dog-show.html' title='Dog Show'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16805186892101396335</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348214008976997977.post-6247830005536609693</id><published>2009-07-21T18:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-21T18:45:58.451-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dogs Don't Need Phones</title><content type='html'>Last week I wrote about "The 3 Stages of I-Can't-Believe-You-Did-That".  Jake did not have a good week last week and I got to go through those stages more often than I care to admit. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jake loves to chew things.  We all know that.  You've read the stories or heard about them.  I made the mistake of leaving my cell phone on my bed.  I know I can't leave things on the bed anymore because Jake can jump up there now.  But I forgot.  A little later I walked into the living room and there's my phone, open, on the floor with the back panel off.  I entered stage 1 at that point and I freely admit, the concern I felt was not for the dog, but for my phone.  I like having a cell phone but this has not been my favorite model.  It flips open but has smooth sides and it doesn't have that nice little notch to slide my thumb into to flip it open.  So, how does a dog without &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;opposable&lt;/span&gt; thumbs manage to open my phone?  The same goes with the back panel.  The 2 times I tried to open it, I had to really work at it.  Why was it now lying 2 feet away from my open phone?  I tried the phone, and it didn't work.  At this point I had skipped stage 2 completely and went right to a very strong stage 3.  There was nothing amusing about it and I was highly annoyed now.  My once cute little phone had huge holes in it.   Jeff wasn't happy either and mumbled something to Jake about how he's lucky we're not getting rid of him so I thought I better get the dog out of the house for a bit.  We went on a long, long walk.  I think we all calmed down a bit.  The good news is that here it is a week later and as I was leaving to take it into the Sprint store to see if it could be fixed, I tried it one more time and....it worked!  It's a miracle!  I was happy and the dog was off the hook.  It still has some huge puncture holes in it but it works.   But I still don't find it very amusing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jake got himself into some other predicaments later in the week that I could write about but as I sit here typing, he's running back and forth by the pool as Jeff swims laps.  Sometimes he just follows Jeff on the side of the pool, sometimes he takes his tennis ball and drops it in the pool for Jeff to pick up and throw across the yard.  He gets the ball, runs back and drops it in the pool again.  Aww, he's so cute!  Really, he's not such a bad dog.  I think we'll keep him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5348214008976997977-6247830005536609693?l=jake-the-dog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/feeds/6247830005536609693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/07/dogs-dont-need-phones.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/6247830005536609693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/6247830005536609693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/07/dogs-dont-need-phones.html' title='Dogs Don&apos;t Need Phones'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16805186892101396335</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348214008976997977.post-5755562692662146088</id><published>2009-07-14T18:05:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-14T19:15:35.276-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Banisters and Bones</title><content type='html'>When I was a kid, I remember going to some kind of electronics store, like a Radio Shack, and wandering around while my parents were looking for a new radio or something. Part of this little store had an area that was a couple of steps up and was divided from the rest of the store by a little wrought iron banister (early 70's decor). For some reason, my little 8 year old mind thought it would be a neat idea to stick my head through the bars of this railing. My head went right between the bars but coming back out wasn't so easy. I tried to pull my head out before my parents, or worse, my brother looked over and saw my predicament. Panic set in and I started crying. My family, the sales guy, other shoppers, all came over to see what a stupid, stupid thing I had done. Then I remember my mom looking at me and going through&lt;br /&gt;The 3 Stages of "I-Can't-Believe-You-Did-That!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stage 1 is Concern....my daughter's head is stuck, she's crying, is she hurt? Then when she saw I wasn't really hurt, she quickly (maybe a little too quickly) entered....&lt;br /&gt;Stage 2: Amusement. I can't believe she did something so stupid. Why, oh why, don't I have a camera with me so I can taunt her with this for the rest of her life. She's got her head stuck in a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;banister&lt;/span&gt;, for Pete's sake! Wait till the neighbors hear about this!&lt;br /&gt;Then comes Stage 3: Annoyance. The timing and severity of stage 3 is directly &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;proportional&lt;/span&gt; to either a) the amount of time is being wasted on such nonsense or b) the amount of money that is being wasted on such nonsense.&lt;br /&gt;Happy to say, between my dad and the sales guy, I was able to get my head out and, other than giving my brother a lifetime of "big head" jokes, I wasn't harmed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which brings me to my latest Jake story. Since it's summer, Jake gets his morning walk whenever Jeff or I get up, wake up a bit, maybe have some breakfast, etc. Yesterday as I was reading the paper and taking my time, Jake had a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;sad sack&lt;/span&gt; look on his face that I thought meant he wanted to go for a walk. I asked him if he wanted to go but he just looked at me and drooled a bit. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, he's not really a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;drooler&lt;/span&gt; so that was a little weird. Jake has some bones that he chews on. I had read it was a really good idea to get the round beef bones that have been cooked and still have the marrow in them for dogs to chew. They chew out the marrow, leaving a hallow center and you can put peanut butter in the middle for a nice little treat. So all around the house, we have these round donut shaped bones that he likes to chew on. Somehow, he managed to get a bone over his bottom jaw. I can only describe it as slipping a small ring onto a fat finger. It was pushed back over his back teeth and his tongue was stuck underneath it. How? I have no idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeff and I saw his problem and I tried to pull it off, thinking it would come off right away. Anytime I touched the bone, Jake went nuts. At one point, he ran up the stairs, behind the recliner and was trying to climb the wall....literally. Jeff and I tried to pin him down and pull it off but he yelped and scratched and the bone wouldn't budge. At this point, I was in Stage 1. I was so worried about my little pup. I called our Wonderful Vet and they said to bring him right in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the time I got to the vet's office, I was in Stage 2. As we walked into his office, the absurdity of our situation hit me. I was walking into the waiting room with a dog that had a bone stuck over his lower jaw. Why didn't I take a picture of him before we left the house?!  Knowing I was around animal lovers in the office and waiting room I tried to look like I was concerned (stage 1) but I just couldn't help it and started laughing when I got to the desk. One lady in the waiting room took a look at him and said, "I think he better go in next". Yup, he was that pitiful looking. Jake's Wonderful Vet had me bring him right in and put him on the exam table. He had me hold his head while he injected him and then said, "Hold him, he'll start falling over". About 5 seconds later, Jake just kind of fell sideways and was out. Again, I thought this was all very funny. Wonderful Vet took what looked like bolt cutters and wedged it between the bone and his jaw and snapped the bone right off. Poor Jake had a cut up tongue and lips but was really no worse for the wear. Wonderful Vet said this wasn't the first time he had seen this, which in an odd way, made me feel better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stage 3 hit me when I realized Jake was going to have to stay in the office and sleep off the anesthesia and I would have to go back later in the afternoon to pick him up. Not exactly how I planned to spend a Monday but that was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;. I just wanted him to be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; so stage 3 didn't last too long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got Jake home in the afternoon and he slept most of the day. Today he's fine and playful like usual. And all the bones are in the trash.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5348214008976997977-5755562692662146088?l=jake-the-dog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/feeds/5755562692662146088/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/07/banisters-and-bones.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/5755562692662146088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/5755562692662146088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/07/banisters-and-bones.html' title='Banisters and Bones'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16805186892101396335</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348214008976997977.post-4429154840711519043</id><published>2009-06-30T11:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-30T12:12:03.937-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Dog the Graduate</title><content type='html'>Well, he did it!  Jake graduated from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Doggie&lt;/span&gt; Kindergarten.  I'm so proud.  I keep saying Jake isn't the brightest dog out there and he's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;alot&lt;/span&gt; of trouble sometimes and his looks have saved him more than once and.....where was I going with this?  Oh yeah.  I'm proud of him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he first started the class, I thought we would end up dropping it out of shear &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;embarrassment&lt;/span&gt;.  Either that or the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;DT&lt;/span&gt; would throw us out out of shear frustration.  But between the genius of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;DT&lt;/span&gt; and the perseverance of the handler (me) we made it.   Jake now knows who the alpha is in this house.   &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, it's still him.  But now he throws us a bone (pun intended) and follows a command every so often.  My favorite one is "front".  I can say that word, and Jake comes to me from where ever he is in the house.  That command alone was worth the money for the class.  The funny thing is that he's supposed to come right to me and sit.  Sometimes I think he's doing his own "I'll show you who's boss" and he'll head toward me and then sit...about 10 feet from me.  Then we have a stare off.  The worst thing I can do is walk to him and give him his treat.  So I just stand there and stare.  He sits and stares.  Eventually, he'll sigh, get up slowly and walk the rest of the way.  The turkey jerky treat is just too tempting for him to pass up  just to make his point. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's pretty good at the other commands too.  He's great at fetching, sitting, and down.  He needs some more work on heeling but that's because I need some work on it.  He can do a sit/stay as long as his attention span will let him.  I don't think they make &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Ritalin&lt;/span&gt; for dogs but I think it would help him with his stays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another valuable thing we learned in class was getting him to drop whatever it is he's chewing on at the moment.  He used to get something and run around the living room while one of us chased him.  Then we would have to call for backup and two of us would trap him and pry the item out of his mouth.  He still gets things he's not supposed to but now he'll take a couple of steps, we say "leave it" and he drops it.  I know we've taken a huge chunk of pleasure from his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;puppyhood&lt;/span&gt; by doing this but I'm pretty sure it's lowered my blood pressure by at least 10 points.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So at the end of the last class, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;DT&lt;/span&gt; handed us our diplomas.  It had both of our names on it.  I was very excited and was considering having it framed.  Maybe even place it over the mantle.   I  left the diploma in the van (I leave everything in the van) and Abigail and I went to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Walmart&lt;/span&gt; the next day.  As we opened our doors, a gust of wind came along and blew the diploma off the dashboard and out the door.  It flew across the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Walmart&lt;/span&gt; parking lot.  I walked around in the Texas heat for 20 minutes trying to find it.  I went back into the store to see if some kind dog lover who understood the blood, sweat and tears that goes into training a dog may have turned it in.  No such luck.  I just hope it's not an omen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5348214008976997977-4429154840711519043?l=jake-the-dog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/feeds/4429154840711519043/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-dog-graduate.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/4429154840711519043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/4429154840711519043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-dog-graduate.html' title='My Dog the Graduate'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16805186892101396335</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348214008976997977.post-3276475573770875659</id><published>2009-06-19T09:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-19T09:17:53.402-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jake's summer haircut</title><content type='html'>Jake got his summer haircut.  He went from shaggy to smooth.  The groomer left his tail alone though and now it looks like he has a feather duster for a tail.  But he still looks cute.  I think I like the shaggy look better but I know he's much cooler now.&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/Sju5qOrFiTI/AAAAAAAAACo/pZ7h1q_JP3Y/s1600-h/6-19-09+002.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349073117577054514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/Sju5qOrFiTI/AAAAAAAAACo/pZ7h1q_JP3Y/s320/6-19-09+002.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/Sju5eyAMpHI/AAAAAAAAACg/7DyYN3RA54k/s1600-h/6-19-09+010.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349072920902411378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/Sju5eyAMpHI/AAAAAAAAACg/7DyYN3RA54k/s320/6-19-09+010.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5348214008976997977-3276475573770875659?l=jake-the-dog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/feeds/3276475573770875659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/06/jakes-summer-haircut.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/3276475573770875659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/3276475573770875659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/06/jakes-summer-haircut.html' title='Jake&apos;s summer haircut'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16805186892101396335</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/Sju5qOrFiTI/AAAAAAAAACo/pZ7h1q_JP3Y/s72-c/6-19-09+002.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348214008976997977.post-1791468092121460314</id><published>2009-06-16T14:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T17:37:24.845-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dogs and GPAs</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, I'll admit, I'm not the smartest person in the world. I'm no rocket scientist, which is tough since I live in the Johnson Space Center vicinity and many neighbors and friends ARE rocket scientists. I mean, I did as well as I wanted to in high school. I hated high school and dreamed of nothing more than the day I would graduate. I did what was expected to maintain a solid B average, nothing more, nothing less, except in classes I really loved and then I put all my effort in it and would easily pull out an A. (Don't tell Abigail any of this, I expect more from her) In college, I graduated with a good GPA. I don't remember what it was but it must have been pretty decent because I was awarded a silver tray sponsored by some &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;unpronounceable&lt;/span&gt; company for having the highest GPA (the coveted silver nacho tray....which is now wrapped in newspaper, tarnishing, in my closet)  Granted, it was in Radiography, I wasn't getting a Masters in Business or anything but to get that tray I had to pass classes in physics and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;radiobiology&lt;/span&gt; and such. So I'm not a complete &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;numbskull&lt;/span&gt;. (I know my physics professor is out there somewhere, so I won't say anymore)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But there are certain situations and certain people that make me feel like a complete moron. It's not their fault, they're just very intimidating to me. I won't name names, and I love them to death, but I'll say something and get a look (usually accompanied by a smirk) that makes me feel like a very stupid person. Which leads me to last week's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;doggie&lt;/span&gt; school class with Jake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jake's dog trainer (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;DT&lt;/span&gt;) is a great guy. Very smart and extremely patient. He has this really great voice, like a radio psychologist. Jake and I have learned &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;alot&lt;/span&gt; from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;DT&lt;/span&gt; but whenever he asks me a question, or I ask a question, I feel like a dope. Example.....we were doing our automatic sits last week. We're walking around the yard, we slow down and stop and the dog is supposed to sit automatically when we stop. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;DT&lt;/span&gt; is watching us as we go around the yard. One time Jake actually sat when I stopped. I was so proud! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;DT&lt;/span&gt; asked, "Did he sit on his own or did you say 'Sit'?" I looked up and honestly couldn't remember if I told him to sit so I just said, "I don't know. Did I say 'sit'?" &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, the man is halfway across the yard from me and I'm asking him if I told my dog to sit. He said something like, "well, he's doing great." I'm sure he was really thinking "Idiot can't remember if she just spoke to her dog." Then I had a question about practicing the automatic sits in the afternoon. Jake really hates walking in the afternoon since it's so hot and he will not sit on hot sidewalks. Can't say that I blame him. I asked &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;DT&lt;/span&gt; if it's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; to have him sit whenever we come to a shaded area or will that train him to sit &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;everytime&lt;/span&gt; he sees shade. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, I know, quit laughing. That really was a stupid question. But &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;DT&lt;/span&gt; stared at me and said, "I don't think he'll do that. I don't think he's that...." and he paused. I said, "smart?" He said, "No, I don't think he would be that observant." Oh. After that I thought I would just not talk anymore in class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is our last week for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;doggie&lt;/span&gt; school and Jake will graduate so I'll keep my mouth shut. I don't want to embarrass my dog. But I'll be really proud if he gets a silver nacho tray.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5348214008976997977-1791468092121460314?l=jake-the-dog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/feeds/1791468092121460314/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/06/dogs-and-gpas.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/1791468092121460314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/1791468092121460314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/06/dogs-and-gpas.html' title='Dogs and GPAs'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16805186892101396335</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348214008976997977.post-3717135593629697213</id><published>2009-06-07T17:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-07T17:20:36.395-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Too smart?</title><content type='html'>Jake had his 5th week of doggie school and he did brilliantly.  Well, mostly.  DT used him as an example of an automatic sit and Jake learned it very quickly.  Of course, I've been working with him at home and somehow, he's forgotten how to do it.  I'm not sure why he does this, but then I saw this quote and thought maybe it summed it up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You may have a dog that won't sit up, roll over or even cook breakfast, not because she's too stupid to learn how but because she's too smart to bother." - Rick Horowitz, Chicago Tribune&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5348214008976997977-3717135593629697213?l=jake-the-dog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/feeds/3717135593629697213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/06/too-smart.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/3717135593629697213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/3717135593629697213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/06/too-smart.html' title='Too smart?'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16805186892101396335</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348214008976997977.post-7041514212287571461</id><published>2009-06-02T13:42:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T14:50:41.463-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Week 4 of Doggie School</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Well, we've now had 4 weeks of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;doggie&lt;/span&gt; school. I guess it's time for an update. I would love to say Jake is brilliant and the dog trainer (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;DT&lt;/span&gt;) has never seen such a talented dog. Yup, I would love to say that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually, as I wrote before, the first week was fun. Jake did better than even I expected and I had high hopes. I still have high hopes. The second week, we worked on some more basic commands and I realized this was going to take some work. On the first day of class &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;DT&lt;/span&gt; said we would get out of this what we put into it and it was during this week that I realized what he meant by that. But the third week, unfortunately was a wash. Totally my own fault. We had Jeff's parents in town for part of the time and didn't work with Jake much at all. It really showed when we took him to class that week. We had to do things that we supposedly learned the previous week and supposedly had been working on all week. When Jake didn't respond much to any of my commands, I was busted. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;DT&lt;/span&gt; even asked if I had practiced the lessons the week before. I fudged just a bit and said yes. I really had worked with him...a couple of times. Anyway, doing the sit/stays was nerve wracking. Jake does not like doing that. At all. I was telling him "sit" and he just looked at the cute little sheep dog and decided it would be much more fun to go over to her. I'm supposed to correct him immediately and make him sit but by the time I got back to him, his 2 second memory span had probably forgotten why I was pushing down on his butt to make him sit. Of course, by this time all the other dogs have done their sit and stay and their masters are already praising them and giving treats. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, we always do these things 3 times so I have 2 more tries.  Here we go again, I say "sit" and silently pray that Jake is paying attention to me. I took one step away and he's up again. I sigh, go back to him and start pushing down on his butt again. Jake looks totally befuddled. I imagine him thinking "what's the deal?" This time, while I'm pushing down on his butt, he is pushing back against me. He is not wanting to sit at all but I finally get him sitting again. By this time, again, all the others are back to their dogs, giving treats. Show offs. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;DT&lt;/span&gt; comes over to me and tells me to take a deep breath. Is it that obvious? I was starting to wonder if there are remedial classes available. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, here's our last chance. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;C'mon&lt;/span&gt; Jake, we can do it. I say "SIT" and he sat down. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, so far so good. I say "STAY" and he stayed and looked at me. I walked away, just waiting for him to go to the sheepdog (or the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;german&lt;/span&gt; shepherd, or the great &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;dane&lt;/span&gt;...) but he just sat there. Wow! I walked back to him, gave the release command and gave him a treat. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;DT&lt;/span&gt; came over and said, "You know why he stayed that time?" I said, "Because he was tired?" Why else would he not run after the other dog? "No, because the tone of your voice let him know you meant it." Great. I was so aggravated and tired of wearing the figurative dunce cap that I wasn't paying attention to how my voice sounded. Was I loud, stern, mean sounding? Did I use my Mom voice or my preschool teacher We-don't-hit-our-friends voice? &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Argh&lt;/span&gt;. Note to self: pay attention to your voice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After sit/stays I was exhausted but it was on to "retrieving", or "fetching" if you were born before 1980. I was thinking "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, we have this one locked up." We didn't need to practice this one because we play this everyday in the backyard. I even brought Jake's favorite ball. Now my dog was going to shine. Jake and I waited patiently while the amateurs took their turns and then we were up. I showed Jake the ball and did a light toss about 8 feet away from him. I didn't want to show off too much. Why make the others feel bad? Jake took off after the ball. That's my boy! He ran to his ball and picked it up. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Awww&lt;/span&gt;, good dog! I'm patting my legs "Bring it here Jake". He turned around, dropped the ball and ran to a rope that was on the ground. A rope. This rope had been on the ground the entire time we had been there. He decides now is the time to check it out?! I wanted another chance to show that my Jake could do this but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;DT&lt;/span&gt; was very diplomatic and said something about Jake being distracted. We could practice it more at home and do it again next week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've been working on other commands too, like "front". For "front" they're supposed to come to you and sit in front of you. Jake can do "front" if I happen to call him at a time when he feels like coming over to me for a treat. Yeah, we have to work on that one still. He just doesn't see any point in coming over to me if he doesn't have a reason. I guess I can see his point. We'll work on it some more tonight. I'll let you know how it goes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5348214008976997977-7041514212287571461?l=jake-the-dog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/feeds/7041514212287571461/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/06/well-weve-now-had-4-weeks-of-doggie.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/7041514212287571461'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/7041514212287571461'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/06/well-weve-now-had-4-weeks-of-doggie.html' title='Week 4 of Doggie School'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16805186892101396335</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348214008976997977.post-1324082508010897084</id><published>2009-05-09T08:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-09T14:46:22.157-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jake's First Day of School</title><content type='html'>This past Thursday was Jake's first day of school. I don't think he had first day of school jitters or anything, at least not as bad as I did. I actually considered getting a picture of him in the front yard in the traditional spot where we take Abigail's picture on the first day of school every year. Then I realized that would be, well, stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we got in the car, all Jake knew was that we were going for a car ride. He didn't care where we went, he was happy. I was getting more nervous the closer we got. I'm not sure why. Lots of things were going through my mind like, "I hope he gets along with the other dogs" and "I hope his teacher is nice". We got to the parking lot and there were 2 really cute dogs already there. You know how you look at your dog and you think he's the cutest one ever? And then you get around some other really cute dogs and they make your dog look not so cute? Yeah, that's what happened. These dogs should be in commercials with their cute faces and smooth coats. Here's our Jake, all scruffy and tongue hanging out. I had given him a bath in the afternoon (I wanted him to look his best) but he jumped in and out of the pool several times after that and didn't get brushed so his coat was having a bad hair night. The Dog Trainer (DT) came over and looked at Jake, held his hand out and patted him on the head. Ok, sigh of relief, Jake didn't bite, bark or pee on him. He passed the first test. Way to go, Jake! Other dogs got there and we went around back to the fenced in area where we would be working for the next several weeks. After we were told a few basic rules, we let the dogs off their leashes and let them "socialize". Yup, Jake was going to like this. I do have to say, Jake is a friendly dog. He wants to be friends with everyone. Even when dogs don't want to be his friend and they let him know in a rather forceful way, he just doesn't get it.  I mean, why would anyone not want to be his friend?  He ran around with the other cute little dogs and at one point ran to us and looked up like "hey, thanks guys, this is great" and then ran off to play with his new friends.  Our dog made his first friends on the first day of school.  I was so proud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then it was down to work.  We sat down and listened to DT talk.  He gave us some exercises we need to work on and, while it all made perfect sense, I kept thinking "this just isn't going to work with our dog".  At one point, he asked to use Jake for a demonstration.  It's a leadership exercise (I thought only people in big corporations had to do those) where you have to hold your dog on his back in your arms and keep him there.  I cringed when he took Jake because I thought, there's no way Jake will do this.  He's going to claw DT's face, we'll probably be sued and there goes my hopes of Jake's future in dog food commercials.   DT sat down, took Jake, flipped him over and stared at him in the eyes.  Who would blink first?  Jake squirmed a bit but got a firm uh-uh from DT and then just stayed there.  He looked away and then just....relaxed.  What??   He held him a little while explaining the procedure and then let Jake go.  Wow, can I really do that?  Abigail and I couldn't wait to get home and try it.  Jeff just took it all in I think, waiting for the class and, most likely, the whole seven weeks to be over.  He just wants a dog that will behave. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We learned a few more things and then the question and answer session.  We all got to ask questions and our question was about Jake chewing things.  DT asked how old Jake was and I told him 11 months.  DT said, "And he still chews things?"  Wait, what does that mean?  Is my dog exhibiting behavior that is not age appropriate?  Will he have to be held back?  Will he not be in the GT group of dogs someday?  Ok, Cindy, reign it in a bit.  DT then asked if we have enough toys for him.  Jeff was sitting next to me and I could actually feel him smirk on that one.  We have more dog toys than most kids have.  Of course, some of his toys didn't start out that way.  Like Abigail's purple slippers and the tupperware lid but after he got them, what else was I going to do with them?  Now, they are dog toys.  Anyway, he told us what to do when he chews on things he shouldn't.  Again, I thought, ok, makes sense but it will never work with this one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never say never.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The very next day, Jake was chewing on something and I did what DT told me to do.  About 15 minutes later, Jake had something else he wasn't supposed to have.  I went through the same procedure and this time, Jake dropped it right away.  Are you kidding me?!  Ok, that was a fluke, I'm sure.  About an hour later he got something else and again, he dropped it right away!  Wow!  DT is brilliant!  Someone call the papers, call Animal Planet, call Oprah.  This guy knows his dogs!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, our homework this week is to do the leadership exercises we were taught.  We've all been doing them with him and if nothing else, he seems to tolerate it well.  Actually,  now that I think about it, I haven't seen Jeff do the exercises yet.  I'm not sure if he's not doing them or if he just doesn't want us to see him cradle Jake in his arms and stare into his eyes.&lt;br /&gt;We'll see how it goes next week.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5348214008976997977-1324082508010897084?l=jake-the-dog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/feeds/1324082508010897084/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/05/jakes-first-day-of-school.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/1324082508010897084'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/1324082508010897084'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/05/jakes-first-day-of-school.html' title='Jake&apos;s First Day of School'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16805186892101396335</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348214008976997977.post-1123712653699120291</id><published>2009-05-04T09:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-04T10:32:46.098-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jake's surgery</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/Sf8dDuLQFKI/AAAAAAAAABw/hcYOz83QPD0/s1600-h/020.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332012433601991842" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/Sf8dDuLQFKI/AAAAAAAAABw/hcYOz83QPD0/s320/020.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Well, Jake survived his "procedure". He is now a neutered pup. Neutral pup? He has been rendered harmless to all female dogs. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;His wonderful vet did such a great job. He calmed me, reassured me that I was doing the right thing, listened to my questions....oh, and he did a great job with Jake, too. When I picked Jake up that afternoon they brought him out with the funny little cone head thing around his neck. He warned me that when he starts to walk, if he held his head too low, the cone would catch on the floor. Basically like stubbing his toe only he would be stubbing his neck. I put him down on the floor and he looked miserable. I was sure he was accusing me in his eyes and I could swear I heard him sigh like, "ok, let's get out of here before you let them do anything else to me." Then he took 2 steps and stubbed his neck. Poor baby. On the drive home, he did something I've never seen before. He stood on the floorboard and put his head on the front seat and dozed off. Oh well, at least he wasn't looking at me with those eyes anymore. The vet said I could take the cone off as long as we were around to make sure he didn't lick his stitches (ewww) so I took it off and he slept. Yup, just slept and slept. We were going to let him sleep in our room so I could listen for him so he was nice and comfortable in the bathroom, just sleeping away....until midnight. Then he was awake. He wanted in, he wanted out, he wanted to play (sort of) then he wanted in again. He wanted to go out and potty but couldn't lift his leg or squat so he just stood there and let it go. I would have laughed at the sight of it if it hadn't been 2 in the morning. I gave up and decided I would just stay up with him. I had begged Jeff for this dog and everytime The Dog does something or needs something or destroys something, I figure I had better tend to it. Jeff isn't one to say "I told you so" or "why did we get a dog" (he's much too nice) but, like Jake, I can see it in his eyes. So I stayed up until 4:30 am when Jake finally fell back to sleep. I crawled in the bed and slept until 6. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Then it was time to get up for work and get everyone out the door. Before I left, I put the cone on Jake and put him in the bathroom. I forgot something in the closet and went back in just about 2 minutes later and Jake already had the cone off and was dragging it around the bathroom. Abigail and I tried putting it back on again, a little tighter this time and closed the door. I waited and listened at the door and could hear him moving around a bit. I opened the door and he had it off again. Since he was still bandaged pretty good, I just decided to leave it off and see what happened. Hopefully, he wouldn't chew his stitches off. When I got home, he was fine. But the cone quickly became a favorite new chew toy. A very expensive chew toy.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;It's been 2 weeks now and I think Jake has finally forgiven me. Did it calm him down? Maybe a bit. He's not any smarter so he still is getting into things. Like...everything. Sooooo, he starts obedience school Thursday night. We'll see how that goes. Stay tuned.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5348214008976997977-1123712653699120291?l=jake-the-dog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/feeds/1123712653699120291/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/05/jakes-surgery.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/1123712653699120291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/1123712653699120291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/05/jakes-surgery.html' title='Jake&apos;s surgery'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16805186892101396335</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/Sf8dDuLQFKI/AAAAAAAAABw/hcYOz83QPD0/s72-c/020.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348214008976997977.post-6554970571564307853</id><published>2009-04-19T14:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-19T15:24:28.346-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Going through the change...</title><content type='html'>Poor Jake will have a life changing experience this week.  He's getting neutered Tuesday morning.  I have such mixed feelings about this.  I know, like Bob Barker would say, all pets should be spayed or neutered.  We don't need more stray puppies running around.  However, Jake is an indoor dog and never gets out.  And I know he could get out sometime but there aren't an abundance of female dogs around here that Jake has access to.  The ones that are around here, aren't his type.&lt;br /&gt;I have mixed feelings about it because I'm afraid it will change our Jake.  What if it changes what makes him Jake?  I'm pretty sure Jeff is counting on it changing Jake.  Hoping it calms him a bit, settles him down.  I think he's hoping it will make Jake smarter but I'm pretty sure that's not in the brochure.&lt;br /&gt; I'm not a vet, but why can't they just do a little vasectomy and snip the vas deferens to make him shoot blanks?  Everyone rolls their eyes when I ask this.  Why do they have to do something that's so visual and will change him hormonally?  I'll let everyone know how the procedure goes.....if I go through with it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5348214008976997977-6554970571564307853?l=jake-the-dog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/feeds/6554970571564307853/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/04/going-through-change.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/6554970571564307853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/6554970571564307853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/04/going-through-change.html' title='Going through the change...'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16805186892101396335</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348214008976997977.post-6492001692015505531</id><published>2009-04-10T17:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T18:19:08.373-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Calling Dr. Doolittle....</title><content type='html'>When I was a kid, I loved my grandpa.  He stood about 8 feet tall, always wore khaki colored pants, cowboy boots, a Stetson, and, if he was dressing up, a bolo tie.  He wasn't a drugstore cowboy, he was a country vet and I thought he was the greatest.  When we would go visit my grandparents in their tiny, tiny town in Oklahoma, Grandpa would let me go on visits with him once in awhile.  I can still remember my amazement when I saw him roll up his sleeves and put his arm inside a cow...and I mean waaaayy inside the cow.  At his house, I would always check out all his really cool tools and the glass syringes with really long needles and look inside the refrigerator that was just for all his different medicines.  When I got old enough, I thought I wanted to be just like him.  I was going to be a vet.  I eventually started reading all the James Herriott books because he symbolized my grandpa in so many ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then one day I realized animals can't talk.  It was one thing to treat cows and sheep, they never really seemed to care what Grandpa was doing to them, even when his arm was way up there.  But I had a dog and when he was hurt and whimpering, I didn't know what was wrong with him and I felt very helpless.  It bothered me that we would to take him to a vet and hope the vet could figure it all out without my dog ever saying a word to him.  I decided I didn't have what it takes to deal with hurting dogs and that ended my veterinary career.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which leads me to Jake.  This past week we were walking in the park and he was being his usual  nosey self.  Suddenly he yelped, tucked his tail between his legs and started running off on 3 legs. He was trying his best to drag me and when I finally got him, I was sure he must have been bitten by something.  We were in short grass so I didn't think it could be a snake and I didn't think ants or a bug could cause the reaction he had.  Maybe he stepped on something.  I looked at his paw but anytime I moved his leg, he whimpered.  I kept asking him what was wrong and of course, he just whimpered.  I got him home and called our wonderful vet about it and they told me to bring him right in.  Abigail and I got him in the van and took off.  I kept expecting his foot to swell from whatever bit him or from whatever was now lodged in his foot.   If only I knew what was hurting him!  The vet watched him walk, put him on the exam table and pulled and poked.  I'm still fascinated by the way a vet works.  Looking, checking, and zeroing in on the problem.  Abigail and I kept whispering to Jake that everything was ok but I'm sure if he could have talked, Jake would have assured us that things were, in fact, not ok at all.  After his exam, the vet told me that Jake had injured a ligament in his knee.  What?!  His knee?  He showed me how everything pointed to a knee injury.  Not that I didn't believe him, but I asked how a knee injury could cause this reaction and how could it happen so fast.  (I think I asked that because I couldn't believe I was so far off on my own diagnosis)  He said just like an athlete will suddenly start limping while running, dogs can do the same thing.  Wow.  I never thought of Jake as an athlete.  So, 2 shots and a bottle of pills later, we left with instructions that our athlete was not to jump or run off the leash for at least a week.  He's doing much better now and I'm grateful to his vet for his ability to know what's wrong with my dog by reading all the subtle signs.  But I still wish Jake could tell me when something hurts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5348214008976997977-6492001692015505531?l=jake-the-dog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/feeds/6492001692015505531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/04/calling-dr-doolittle.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/6492001692015505531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/6492001692015505531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/04/calling-dr-doolittle.html' title='Calling Dr. Doolittle....'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16805186892101396335</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348214008976997977.post-8803253891535667242</id><published>2009-04-06T15:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-06T15:35:17.469-07:00</updated><title type='text'>More things that Jake does...by Abigail</title><content type='html'>Since Jake is Abigail's dog too, she wanted to be a part of the blog.  So this is from Abigail:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I am sure that if you read my mom's blog then you know that her name is Cindy. ( I think you should know ) Well I am her daughter, Abigail. Jake is my dog too. Well here are some things that he has done. ( Mostly Idiotic! )&lt;br /&gt;   Once there was a possum in our backyard. Jake didn't even bark! But whenever he goes outside to do his business, and he sees his shadow, He barks!!!&lt;br /&gt;   I think you know Freddie the Doxie, one time when he was over I invited a friend over. Well we gave Jake and Freddie nicknames. Jake was Doofus, the name sorta stuck cause the next day he was my "DoofieBaby".&lt;br /&gt;  I have seen that movie Marley and Me and I guess that Jake is half a Marley. Not as big, still alive, not so much of a dog that eats as much as he chews. Once he actually ate a razor blade though. Jake once chewed up my laptop, my mom's slippers and her cellphone, both of my old slippers are chew toys.  Now he will trot up to my mom and she will play tug o war and then throw it, I shout go get Slipper! I could not use a small blog to describe all of the things that has ever been through my dog's mouth!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5348214008976997977-8803253891535667242?l=jake-the-dog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/feeds/8803253891535667242/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/04/more-things-that-jake-doesby-abigail.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/8803253891535667242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/8803253891535667242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/04/more-things-that-jake-doesby-abigail.html' title='More things that Jake does...by Abigail'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16805186892101396335</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348214008976997977.post-5356890708938143394</id><published>2009-04-03T14:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-03T14:52:23.661-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I've read that one of the worst things you can do as a dog owner is to assign human characteristics to you pet.  We all do it.  We take turns talking like the dog, using the voice we assume the dog would speak in, saying things we think he would say if he could talk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our first dog, Snoopy, was brilliant.  Really.  He was just a very smart dog that seemed very human.  Maybe it was because we got him when I was 5 and I basically grew up with him.  When I was crying for whatever reason, Snoopy would come over, sit next to me and endure me throwing my arms around his neck and boo-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;hooing&lt;/span&gt;.  He wouldn't budge, just sit there and wait for me to cry it out.   Then he would go about his own business.  But it was as if he realized that comforting me was part of his job in our family.  I always thought when Snoopy was born, a dog angel told him he would earn his dog wings after he took care of our family for a few years.   I  believed if Snoopy could talk, he would have let us all know that he was so much smarter than the rest of us humans.   But he took great care of us for 18 years.  He was always there when I needed him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After our angel dog, we had Rosco.  What a vindictive little dog.  He was a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;daschund&lt;/span&gt; that really didn't like me at all.  He did most things out of pure spite.  He always reminded me of that cartoon dog &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Muttley, &lt;/span&gt;the dog of Dick Dastardly.  Remember them?  Rosco could have easily belonged to him too.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Muttley&lt;/span&gt; always did mean things and then had a wheezy little laugh.  Yup, that was Rosco.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad now has a cute &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;doxie&lt;/span&gt; named Freddie.  He's a cute little thing but his personality is something else.  If you've ever seen the movie Monty Python and the Holy Grail, Freddie would be the Frenchman that insults everyone from the top of the castle.  Freddie can look at me and honestly, I hear him say in a heavy French accent, "I blow my nose in your general direction."  I know &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;doxies&lt;/span&gt; are supposed to be German but for some reason, Freddie is French in my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we have our little Jake.  To me, he is Mr. Haney from Green Acres.  All he needs is a straw hat.  I hear him saying things like "Well, folks, today I have a fine deal on a used rawhide.  Why don't we sit down here and talk about it for a spell?"  He never meets a stranger and if he could, I have a feeling he would want to invite everyone over for dinner or coffee.  He might not be the brightest dog out there or the most empathetic but he's very &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;loveable&lt;/span&gt;.  And not once have I heard him insult me in French.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5348214008976997977-5356890708938143394?l=jake-the-dog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/feeds/5356890708938143394/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/04/ive-read-that-one-of-worst-things-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/5356890708938143394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/5356890708938143394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/04/ive-read-that-one-of-worst-things-you.html' title=''/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16805186892101396335</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348214008976997977.post-7281549914898224758</id><published>2009-04-03T14:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-03T14:14:15.834-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/SdZ6EiqlONI/AAAAAAAAAA8/7TDmF9kFBjo/s1600-h/abigail+019.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320574228228290770" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 259px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 208px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/SdZ6EiqlONI/AAAAAAAAAA8/7TDmF9kFBjo/s320/abigail+019.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/SdZ51mjVoEI/AAAAAAAAAA0/I4AWLuAgLgw/s1600-h/haney.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320573971573612610" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 218px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/SdZ51mjVoEI/AAAAAAAAAA0/I4AWLuAgLgw/s320/haney.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5348214008976997977-7281549914898224758?l=jake-the-dog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/feeds/7281549914898224758/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/04/mr.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/7281549914898224758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/7281549914898224758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/04/mr.html' title=''/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16805186892101396335</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/SdZ6EiqlONI/AAAAAAAAAA8/7TDmF9kFBjo/s72-c/abigail+019.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348214008976997977.post-5751149207920774922</id><published>2009-03-03T18:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-03T19:09:50.848-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Interesting things about Jake.....</title><content type='html'>Jake is an interesting dog.  As I've said before, sometimes I just like to watch him and wonder what he's thinking about. (what does that say about me?)  So, here are some interesting things I've observed about our cute little guy.....&lt;br /&gt;--Jake likes to jump in the pool (on the shallow shelf) and kick around in it and drink some of the pool water but he hates baths.&lt;br /&gt;--I'm not sure if he's afraid of the dark or just afraid of shadows.  Either way, he hates to go outside after dark.&lt;br /&gt;--He can go longer without peeing than any animal or person I know.  Which is probably good since he hates to go out after dark.&lt;br /&gt;--He loves to chew on anything.  Someday, I'll compile a list of things he has chewed on but the latest one (today) was my good, and I mean good, sewing scissors.  Oh yeah, and one of my good Reeboks.  Oh, and a pencil.  And a sock.  And underwear.&lt;br /&gt;--He never met a person he didn't like.  Even the vet.  He's just not bright enough to have enemies.&lt;br /&gt;--When I'm reading my Bible, sometimes I read out loud and he'll sit at my feet, looking at me like I'm reading just to him.  Maybe I am.  We just finished the book of Esther.  I like to think he enjoyed it as much as I did.&lt;br /&gt;--He can sleep all night in his crate and not whimper at all but when we tried letting him sleep in our room, he woke up at 2:00 every single morning, cried until one of us (me) got up and then he wanted to play.  He's back in the crate at night.&lt;br /&gt;--He hates to be groomed but after he's had a haircut, he has a little spring in his step.  He looks good and he knows it.&lt;br /&gt;Ok that's enough for now.  I'll keep observing and report my findings.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5348214008976997977-5751149207920774922?l=jake-the-dog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/feeds/5751149207920774922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/03/interesting-things-about-jake.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/5751149207920774922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/5751149207920774922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/03/interesting-things-about-jake.html' title='Interesting things about Jake.....'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16805186892101396335</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348214008976997977.post-3408930575344012015</id><published>2009-02-25T14:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-25T14:22:13.842-08:00</updated><title type='text'>But he's our dog....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/SaXEVkWDVEI/AAAAAAAAAAU/lVXSAQF-Rvg/s1600-h/Jake_2008_07_30.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306863610738463810" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/SaXEVkWDVEI/AAAAAAAAAAU/lVXSAQF-Rvg/s320/Jake_2008_07_30.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5348214008976997977-3408930575344012015?l=jake-the-dog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/feeds/3408930575344012015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/02/but-hes-our-dog_25.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/3408930575344012015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/3408930575344012015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/02/but-hes-our-dog_25.html' title='But he&apos;s our dog....'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16805186892101396335</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/SaXEVkWDVEI/AAAAAAAAAAU/lVXSAQF-Rvg/s72-c/Jake_2008_07_30.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348214008976997977.post-7795829179395620107</id><published>2009-02-25T13:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-25T14:47:14.002-08:00</updated><title type='text'>But he's our dog....</title><content type='html'>Getting a puppy is alot like having a baby. I know many people will take offense at that, but if you have a kid or a dog, you know I'm telling the truth. When Jeff and I started thinking about having kids, we each had these preconceived notions of what our little bundle of joy would be like. We watched other people's kids and said things like "our child will never behave that way". Or "we'll never treat our child like that. We'll reason with her." And other such nonsense. Then reality hits and you find yourself saying things you said you wouldn't say and putting up with things you never thought you would. And the phrase "pick your battles" has a whole new meaning.&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward to last summer when we decided to get a dog. Everyone we know has a dog. But our dog was going to be different. Not better. Just different. Because we were going to be it's owner and we were going to do everything right. I mean, come on, I read the Monks of New Skete books. I had seen all of the Victoria Stilwell It's Me or the Dog shows. I read at least 4 books on dog behavior/obedience. Yup, our dog was going to be different.&lt;br /&gt;And then we got him. The first couple of days were fine. We were so in love with this sweet bundle that everything he did was cute. Chew on my slipper? Aww. Snag my new shirt? He's soooo cute! Then the cute factor started wearing off. Potty training was in full swing. I followed him around everywhere and the second he sniffed the floor, he was scooped up and taken outside. After he pottied (and all the while I was saying "good potty!") he got a piece of turkey bacon. Everyone should be treated so well for going potty. I have to admit, he potty trained much easier than I thought. We were sure that this was a sign of his superior schneagle intelligence so we worked on other tricks. He learned "sit" very quickly. He learned "shake" even faster. And then I think it was around this time that he realized this was his house now and we just live in it. I had read somewhere that a person should try to think like a dog in order to train a dog. Are you kidding me?! If I could get into his mind, I'm an certain Jake is always thinking just 1 of 4 things: 1. what can I chew now? 2. when are they taking me to the park? 3. when are they going to feed me? and 4. what can I chew now?&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure. Maybe he really is an animal of superior intelligence and I've totally underestimated him. He does seem to have us trained pretty well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5348214008976997977-7795829179395620107?l=jake-the-dog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/feeds/7795829179395620107/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/02/but-hes-our-dog.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/7795829179395620107'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/7795829179395620107'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/02/but-hes-our-dog.html' title='But he&apos;s our dog....'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16805186892101396335</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348214008976997977.post-5889251550006829343</id><published>2009-02-23T15:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-23T15:54:04.572-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Maybe we should have chosen the name Jason</title><content type='html'>I just did my first post of Jake's blog and Jeff let me know that there is a series of books called Jake the Dog books.  They look pretty cute too.  But apparently that dog doesn't have his own blog since I got the address.  I don't know if there are any books about Jason the Dog or Aden the Dog.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5348214008976997977-5889251550006829343?l=jake-the-dog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/feeds/5889251550006829343/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/02/maybe-we-should-have-chosen-name-jason.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/5889251550006829343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/5889251550006829343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/02/maybe-we-should-have-chosen-name-jason.html' title='Maybe we should have chosen the name Jason'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16805186892101396335</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5348214008976997977.post-5551150471870673255</id><published>2009-02-23T12:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-23T13:56:35.238-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Our new addition</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/SaMZ-48a3UI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5VxPVjBBUcI/s1600-h/043.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306113354200964418" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/SaMZ-48a3UI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5VxPVjBBUcI/s320/043.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I started to title this "Happiness is a warm puppy" but I had a feeling that the estate of Charles Schultz had a copywrite on that so I came up with my own clever title. Ok, not much imagination there but it's right to the point.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wanted to start a blog for Jake because I've wanted to have a blog for quite awhile now and I just don't do anything interesting enough to write about. Now, my dog on the other hand has quite a life. Sometimes I just sit and stare at him, wondering what is going on in his mind. What possesses a cute little dog like him to want to eat dirty underwear, a pencil or our palm tree? Why will he bark at his own shadow at night but just stare at a possum? So many questions.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But, back to the beginning. Last summer we were looking for a cute little puppy to add to our family. This was not a spur of the moment decision. Abigail had been wanting a dog for a few years and I had been wanting one since Jeff and I got married. I grew up with a beagle mix that was probably the smartest and most intuitive dog ever born (no, really) and after he died at the age of 18, I got a really stubborn, belligerent dachshund. That one lived 14 years. So, I was not without dog experience. When we finally decided to start looking for a dog, we went to shelters, looked at ads, went online but just couldn't find what we wanted. We knew we wanted an indoor dog and we wanted either a beagle or dachshund. Then one night I did an online search and found an ad for a "schneagle". A combination beagle and mini schnauzer. I thought it was a cute made-up name but wondered why they didn't call him a bauzer. That at least sounded funnier than schneagle. Abigail walked into the room just as I was looking at the picture and right away asked if we could go check him out. After exchanging emails, we went to the bank and then to look at this dog. The nice family that had him said his mom was a beagle and the dad was the schnauzer. They put the puppy in Abigail's arms and she was practically shaking as she said to me "Mom, I just love him so much." Of course, that's all it took. Sales people everywhere could make millions simply by putting their wares in the arms of a 10 year old and have them look up with their cute eyes and tell their parents how much they love---fill in the blank. I asked the man "so you're asking $100?" A price I was totally prepared to pay just because my daughter was still shaking with her love for this dog. He said "we'll take $50 for him. We're not in this to make money. We just want to cover some of the cost." At the time I thought he meant the cost of food, shots etc. Now I know he probably meant he wanted to cover the cost of a pair of shoes the cute little puppy had eaten. He told us his name was Clifford but of course, we could change it to whatever. We gave him his money, got a little bag of food and drove off. Abigail decided within 2 minutes that his name would be Jake. He looked like a Jake. And it was so much better than the other possible names she was thinking of on the way there. Names like Aden and Jason. Those are not dog names. And that's how we got Jake.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5348214008976997977-5551150471870673255?l=jake-the-dog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/feeds/5551150471870673255/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/02/our-new-addition.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/5551150471870673255'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5348214008976997977/posts/default/5551150471870673255'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jake-the-dog.blogspot.com/2009/02/our-new-addition.html' title='Our new addition'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16805186892101396335</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U8u-u-llQxk/SaMZ-48a3UI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5VxPVjBBUcI/s72-c/043.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
