Chocolate Thievery (#186)

A big family and not quite enough food can mess you up for life. My sisters and I learned to eat fast, hunching protectively over our plates. But no matter how fast we ate, Big Brother would finish first. Then he’d inevitably loom over us, asking, “Are you gonna eat that?”

If our mouths were too full to answer, he’d take that as a no.

Fork duels ensued. Continue reading Chocolate Thievery (#186)

Doggone In-laws (#177)

These yogurt-covered almonds don’t look like they produce a deadly gas, do they?

Our rescue dogs learned a lot of commands and tricks — sit, down, stay, roll over, etc. Their favorite command was  “vacuum.” Woofie, our Dane-Lab mix, would eat anything — even rocks. (He couldn’t digest rocks — or cabbage, or corn cobs — but he’d still eat them. And then throw them up, of course. Preferably on the nice carpet. Or my shoes.) Continue reading Doggone In-laws (#177)

Ghetto Elk (#144)

My husband talked me into a dog. A super social dog named Woofie. We loved him, but he kept running off to make new friends.

Which was how Andy talked me into a second dog. He picked another rescue, a female found wandering on the street of South Central Los Angeles when she was about four months old. We met her at an adoption fair on Sunday, signed papers, and waited another two days for a volunteer to deliver her after we cleared a background check.

My neighbor, an officer in the Los Angeles Police Department, was skeptical when I told him our new rescue’s history. “Why didn’t you get a purebred? One where you know where the dog has been and what kind of breed it is?”

“Like your German Shepherd?”

“Exactly.”

“Well, the rescue group did a temperament test on her, and they say she’s great with other dogs and cats. We even watched her playing with a buddy.”

“Yeah, but she’s a ghetto elk!” Continue reading Ghetto Elk (#144)

The Loneliest Number (#143)

Our new rescue dog loved everyone, but Woofie took special delight in youngsters. He didn’t care if they were canine or human. In fact, his greatest day at the dog park involved a pack of ten-year-old boys. The kids didn’t appear to have a dog, just a Frisbee they threw around.

Woofie stole it immediately. They chased him for a half-hour. He’d let a boy get about a foot away, then he’d feint right, dart left, and leave them in the dust.

One kid laughed and shouted, “That dog’s got moves!” Continue reading The Loneliest Number (#143)

Adventures at the Dog Park (#141)

Andy wanted a dog. We adopted a rescue named Woofie.

Woofie wanted to play with everything, including the cats. The cats did not want to play with Woofie. In vain would Woofie bark and prance around in front of them. The cats would only hide, hit, and hiss.

Woofie was sad. Until we discovered the Redondo Beach Dog Park. Continue reading Adventures at the Dog Park (#141)

Would You Like Some Dog With That Whine? (#135)

A few things dog owner's need. Not pictured: patience.
A few things a new dog owner needs. Not pictured: patience.

As soon as we knew we were getting a house with a yard, Andy and I got a dog. Yes, even though it would be a month before escrow closed, we got the dog. We thought he was a mellow half-Great Dane, half-Labrador Retriever. Woofie would let us pick him up, he knew how to sit, and he wasn’t nearly as crazy as some of my childhood dogs.

Woofie walked nicely on his leash and was housebroken. This was important, since our townhouse had no yard. Anytime Woofie had to pee, we had to take him out for a walk:

Woof (whining at the door): “…mmmm…”

Me (packing a box of dishes): “Dude, we went out twenty minutes ago.” Continue reading Would You Like Some Dog With That Whine? (#135)

No Way! A Blogger Award Nomination! (#93)

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I am postponing my promised post on the 10K Turkey Chase for an important announcement!

NO, I am NOT pregnant. Perish the thought. Also, stop thinking that every time a married woman says she has an important announcement. Continue reading No Way! A Blogger Award Nomination! (#93)