Ode to Guinness

Not the beer, the dog.

Lacy's very first puppy pal was a black Lab mix belonging to a co-worker of my wife. He was a rescue animal so was not always sure about his place in strange circumstances, as visits to our home and puppy play-dates with a 5-month old Lab surely were.

According to his owner, he was skittish with all men though by the time he and his mom left Phoenix, Guinness had warmed, at least some, to me and gladly accepted a rawhide or two when he came to visit. All in all he was a mellow little guy and likable as could be.

The Christmas letter from Chris & Patty was late this year and only arrived last night. In it we learned that Guinness had succumbed after a very short battle with cancer in May.

Be good little man.

The New Addition

One-eyed Jack

Through the Blinds

Goes without Saying

This study finds that Dogs are smarter than Cats...well, duh!:

They may have nine lives, but cats apparently just don't have the extra smarts when compared to dogs, according to a new study.

Dr. Britta Osthaus, of England's Canterbury Christ Church University, carried out series of experiments testing the intelligence of domestic cats in order to determine their processes of thinking in terms of cause and effect relationships.

Dr. Osthaus tested the ability of the animals to get unreachable food from under a plastic screen. In one scenario, one string was used with a treat attached. In another, two parallel strings were used with just one baited. And in the third setting, two strings were crossed, with food attached to only one.

The psychologist determined there was nothing to indicate that the animals understood the purpose of the strings. All cats were successful with the single string test, however, none of them consistently selected the needed string in the second setting -- unlike dogs.

In the test involving crossed strings, one cat was constantly selecting the wrong string while the rest performed at chance level.

Dr. Osthaus was surprised by the findings and concluded that cats "performed even worse than dogs."

They are the smarter species...my sock-eater especially so!

My Dogs are Smarter (Or, Better Puppies through Modern Science)

This snippet caught my attention over at the Corner awhile back. Penned by outspoken and well-known dog-lover Jonah Goldberg it pointed directly over to this larger piece here.

The first two 'graphs tell the story. I've written before about how much money a puppy's love is worth. Well, the price tag has gone up. Perhaps I can commiserate with Jonah across the ether. We read of Cosmo-the-Wonderdog that he's been the beneficiary of multiple puppy-surgeries:

Cosmo the Wonderdog recently had ACL (anterior cruciate ligament) surgery on one of his back knees. Last summer he had the same surgery on his other hind leg. When he was a one-year-old he had surgery on a front leg because of an unrelated joint problem. Plus, there have been the usual accidents and mishaps normally associated with active canines.

I read that for the first time two days after Cassie came up lame one night after another round of sisterly rough-housing. The day after reading it we got the initial assessment from the Vet who was pretty sure indeed that we were talking about at least a partially torn ACL.

Multiple phone calls, X-rays and visits later the diagnosis became definitive. One last visit for pre-op blood work over the weekend left only yesterday's D-Day to look forward to.

Tonight we brought her home and she lays with me as I write in the office, unsure exactly what she wants to do and all too-keenly aware that things are not-at-all right. Brave puppy that she is, the only crying has come more as a warning of the impending need to use the doggy restroom than in feeling sorry for herself.

All of which breaks dad's heart no end. She deserves better than more hardship, however fleeting--8 weeks of post-operative care isn't the end of the world for a dog likely to live a dozen or so years.

So we'll muddle through a month of virtual inactivity and another month of a gradual return to normalcy and wait for the new & improved puppy on the other side.

Daddy's a Dummy

What I thought was yesterday, was actually today. How'd I manage to screw that up!?

Happy Birthday to Me!

The Way we Were

My Dogs are Smarter (Or, Has anyone seen my slippers?)

In a surprise move, my wife got off from the shop a bit early and came home to meet me for dinner last night before heading back to close and lock up. Unbeknownst to me, she was greeted with a small surprise at coming through the door (had I been observing the proprieties of cell-phone etiquette and had mine on in the car, I would have learned of it earlier).

She found Lacy tucked under a table with one of my wife's slippers next to her and the other in her mouth. A few feet away there were a couple of tiny pieces from one of my slippers as well.

Dad was a bad man: I hadn't shut the doors behind me before leaving for work. A quick look-through of the closet revealed that mine were nowhere to be found. Though we have our suspicions...

My Dogs are Smarter (Or, What an appetite!)

In his masterful puppy-biography, John Grogan recounts the numerous things his over-grown playmate stole from his family and ate in the 13-years that Marley shared their home. The list was extensive.

I've mentioned it numerous times before but it seems genetic; Lacy will and does eat anything, much like Marley would. While reading of the misadventures of Marley, I recognized immediately how and where he and Lacy shared the worst of all the canine traits.

To date the most bizarre thing that Lacy has managed to consume is still the first thing I wrote of. That harrowing tale of sock-swallowing helped name this venture and I've yet to run across another dog or it's owners who've shared any such experience.

Until I read Grogan's book. His chapter on the culinary habits of the domesticated Yellow Lab begins with a veiled reference to a similar sock-swallowing episode. It is never made clear whether Marley's love of socks led him to a similar fate as Lacy's on that night 3 years ago but by the end of the chapter, I didn't hardly care...so engrossing was the tale of everything else Marley consumed.

Just last week for no reason in particular my mind wandered back to this question of which behavior was stranger...which animal had the more bizarre appetites for destruction. That led me to wonder what was the strangest thing we've ever seen or come home to find destroyed beyond recognition at the mercy of Lacy's jaws.

Though I never wrote of it, the most irritating display of poor judgment from her came about a year ago when she decided to shred a stack of checks that lay interspersed with cash overnight on the dining room table. I awoke one Saturday morning to find the remnants of $1,100 worth of fundraising efforts in pieces on the living room floor. In that year since she's managed not to outdo herself. Until yesterday.

Upon returning from church we found one item and one item only removed from the neat stack of paperwork left on the table. As is usually the case it takes several minutes of study in order for a determination of just what the damage is.

On this day it became clear within seconds that Lacy had grabbed the mortgage statement from the top of the paperwork pile and ripped it to shreds. This would be the first mortgage statement from the new lender. The first payment on the new loan...the new loan that was born from months of agonizing roundy-round with our broker and the lender both.

Thankfully though, apparently only the right half of the statement tasted good as the other remained in large enough parts that we pieced together the customer service contact. And today I honestly did call them to tell them that my dog ate my statement.

My Dogs are Smarter (Or, Prove your love with Cheese)

Small bite-size pieces of cheese are often suggested as training treats for puppies and even as rewards for adult dogs. While training Lacy we went with something less up-scale than the finest block of Tillamook cheddar that money could buy.

The theory was that actual "dog treats" were a healthier choice and would promote fewer bad habits (shameless begging highest on the list). Sadly, that hasn't been the case.

It was my wife who first introduced the puppies to the joys of cheese. Over time we've reached the point now that any trip to the kitchen produces the look: that mix of expectation and rapturous joy. The one that wonders if now is the moment; the one that says "Mommy's getting cheese!"

Earlier tonight as occasionally happens I was volunteered for KP duty as Assistant to the Cook. Tonight's assignment: grate the cheese. Which of course becomes near-impossible once the dogs figure out what's on the menu.

I like to spoil the puppies...to a point. But every so often I wonder how we got to this place where it seems impossible to show them love in any way other than with a 1-pound block of Cheddar.