Posts Tagged With: Dogs

Pregnancy and Bulldogs

Help! I’ve been overcome by a team of midwife bulldogs.

I can’t do anything in my own house anymore without being watched by at least one set of brown, bloodshot eyes. I’m being constantly monitored by anxious bulldogs and although they are well intentioned, they are truly clueless.

As I enter my 8th month of pregnancy, I have found my energy starting to wane. A month ago I could work a 10 hour day and come home and still have enough energy to make dinner, dishes, do 3 loads of laundry, walk the dogs, put away 3 loads of laundry and stay fully awake for an episode of Game of Throne (Hodor!). Now, when I get home from work, I enter the house like someone just dumped me out of a wheel barrow. I make grunting noises when I take off my now too-small shoes. I waddle. I’m usually short of breath. I start wearing my ever-so-comfortable maternity sweatpants at 6 PM. I chant, “BOOM! Ba-ba!” with every step I make. I’m definitely slowing down.

The bulldogs have taken notice of this. The bulldogs are concerned. And now every single thing I do in the house is a fucking family affair.

This week, the bulldogs have come to the conclusion that I need an assistant with everything I do. For example, almost every morning for the past week, as I stared blurry-eyed into my closet, trying to piece together a reasonable outfit for work, Mack stood by my side, also peering into my closet, staring at my clothes with me, pretending like he knew what he was doing.

The  other morning, the whole fam damily was in the bathroom as I showered, including a half-asleep Hubs, trying to brush his teeth around two bulldogs laying on the bath mats, who were anxiously awaiting my grand exit from the shower. I contemplated ripping open the shower curtain with incredible zeal and doing my best sarcastic and naked “Ta Da!”, complete with jazz fingers for my audience. But eh, I didn’t. When I did open the curtain, they both averted their eyes. Peterbilt pretended to inspect the towel racks. Mack licked the side of the tub. My pregnant body is apparently too extreme for bulldogs.

Oh, but that’s not all.

Mack spends every waking moment tracking my whereabouts around the house. From the moment I get home from work, he’s following me around. When he loses track of me (which happens quite often with an almost deaf, 13yo bulldog) I can hear him looking for me, his toenails clacking on the hardwood floors, as he checks the kitchen, the office, then the bathroom and finally the bedroom where I’m laying in bed, getting my ugly eat on with a bucket mini brownies, watching back to back episodes of Restaurant Impossible on Netflix. There’s a lot of ugly they don’t tell you about before you get pregnant.

Peterbilt also wants constant tabs on my whereabouts and even puts my well-being ahead of his food, surprisingly.

The other day, the Hubs and I switched vehicles so he could take my Jeep in for an oil change. When Hubs got home, Peterbilt excitedly circled the Jeep numerous times in the garage, expecting my pregnant ass to roll and plop out of the SUV. Hubs said Pete was inconsolable for like 10 minutes and thoroughly inspected the Jeep and the garage until he finally gave up. All of this before he had a chance to be eat his beloved dinner.

It all started off very sweet but now it’s starting to be a burden. And it gets only worse as time goes by and my belly gets bigger.

In the past month or so, Mack has gone from sleeping downstairs on his beloved couch, to sleeping on a dog bed in the baby’s room, with a baby gate at the door, to now sleeping on the floor of our bedroom. Any attempt to separate him from me is met with loud, constant, belligerent, barking. And I can already tell where this is headed: he will want to sleep on our bed next. So I can get even less sleep.

Have you ever woken up to an audible bulldog fart at 3AM? It’s not funny. It’s not funny at all, actually. No, it’s putrid and the stench will rouse both Hubs and I from the deepest slumber, especially when that fart only has to travel 18 inches to get to your nose because Mack faces the door when he sleeps on the bed. Ass-to-face positioning always means a more concentrated poot. It’s bad enough I already wake up to every single fucking noise this house and its occupants emit during the overnight hours, let alone one of Mack’s face-melting farts.

There isn’t one thing that I’m able to do without supervision anymore and the lack of privacy is getting on my nerves. I always thought that my integrity would remain intact until labor, but the bulldogs constant interruption of even the most private moments is slowly chipping away at it.

With 8 weeks until the baby is estimated to arrive, I don’t have the heart to tell them that  they will have to sit and wait at home when it’s time for me to go to the hospital. I may have to come up with some sort of lie…..or some sort of faux-Sarah decoy fashioned out of pillows for them to fuss over while I’m gone.

Categories: Babies, Bulldogs, Dogs, Farts | Tags: , , , , , | 1 Comment

Movie Night with Mack

Trying to watch a movie with Mack in our finished basement, aka Mack’s Bachelor Pad, is trying and is usually peppered with unnecessary interruptions in forms of certain smells and noises. The older he has gotten, the longer the list of unreasonable demands that pop up as we are watching a movie. Last night, I hid my empty cup of hot cocoa in a spot I thought would be safe from a nosy Mack Truck, but within 15 seconds, he had found the mug and was lapping up the remnants off the rim. Pausing the movie for the 3rd time was annoying, but it was only Grudge Match so it’s not like we were on the edge of our seats. Actually, having a visual break from watching a very saggy and shirtless Sylvester Stallone and an even saggier Robert Deniro box was a blessing in disguise.

Movie night has become an experience and although we better at dealing with it, sometimes company is not. I like to think that if there were ever an orientation video/audio to “Movie Night with Mack” and if Mack could talk, it would sound a little like this:

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Welcome to movie night with your host, Mack Truck the bulldog! Make yourself at home in his downstairs apartment and help yourself to any of his toys in his toy box. Wait, no, you can’t have that one. Or that one. Or his Wubba. No, definitely not the Wubba. In fact, you know what? Scratch the whole toy box thing. Better yet, as far away from the toy box as you possibly can.

To maximize your Movie Night experience, Mack has come up with a few, simple guidelines. These easy to follow guidelines will be read by your overweight and ornery host, Mack. (Mack’s voice is similar to Billy Bob Thornton’s character in Sling Blade, only more angry than handicapped and with a heavy Texas drawl. The producer’s part will be italicized. Warning: Mack has a potty mouth.)

(tapping of the lavier microphone with a paw)

“Hello? HELLO? Are we live? Yes, Mack. It’s on now. What am I supposed to be doing again? Reading your rules about movie night. C-can I have a treat first? Only after you’re done. Fine, dick. ‘The rules of Movie Night by Mack Truck.'”

“Hello! Welcome to Movie night! I’m Mack Truck the Bulldog and I have prepared a few rules so that Movie Night can be an enjoyable experience for all involved. I’d be happy to answer any questions once I’m done but in the mean time, please shut the fuck up. Mack, remember. If you want people to follow your rules, you have to be nice. I AM being nice! I said “please”!

“Number 1: You can sit an any couch in my apartment except mine. How does that saying go? ‘I don’t swim in your toilet so don’t pee in my pool?’ Yeah. Always wanted to use that phrase. Heh! Mack, I don’t believe that’s the correct way to use that phrase. Oh. Ok….uhhh… how about ‘I don’t shit in your yard so don’t sit on my couch?’ Heh! Oh wait, I do shit in their yards, don’t I?….Let’s move onto number two…….

Heh! Number 2….Oh! You mean the 2nd rule! Ok, Number 2: Any movie that you bring will have to be inspected by me first. Expect random sniffdowns of the DVD case and/or your hands for possible treats. Movies with barking dog sounds are highly encouraged. 

Number 3: Unless you plan to feed me, stay the fuck away from my food bowl. Uhhh….Mack? Let’s keep it polite, remember?

Number 4: During the movie, I will most likely grab a toy and ask for you to play a game of keep away or tug-of-war. YOU MUST ACCEPTANCE MY INVITATION!!!!! Mack, forced play during a movie is not being an accommodating host. SHUT UP! *burp*. Scuse me.

Number 5: The odds of you being crop dusted are high. Accept this and have an evacuation route planned beforehand. I…don’t see that one on my script. Mack, are you making these rules up as you go?

Number 6: You can hide your snacks, but I will always find them. Be prepared to have all foodstuffs confiscated by Officer Mack. Officer Mack? Yeah! Officer Mack looks a lot like me, but he’s not like me, or anything. Officer Mack has a mustache and a badge and confiscates snacks n stuff. Mack, do you don a costume to steal snacks? Uhh.. no? Where did you get a fake mustache and badge anyways?

…………….uhhhhhh….the dumpster behind Party City?

Number 7! You are allowed to watch your movie at a reasonable volume from the hours of 8:00 PM to 9:00 PM and after which you must shut all of the lights and noises so I can go to sleep on my couch. And then get the fuck out. Mack? Most movies are at least 90 minutes long. An hour isn’t a lot of time to watch a movie. Maybe we should adjust that time window? Hell no! My bedtime is approximately 9 PM! It’s my apartment and I can do what I want! Actually, it’s funny you brought that up because it appears you are two months behind on your rent.

Moving on now! If the details of Rule Number 7 are not adhered to, the following will result:

7A: I will sit on my couch and commence mournful whining at 9:00 PM. The whining will increase in volume and pathetic tone for 15 minutes and if the room isn’t completely dark and quiet, Stage 2 will commence. Uhh, Mack?

7B: Stage 2: I will get off of my couch and sit in front of you and whine. This may or may not include barks and nudges with my face. Mack! Stick to the script!

7C: Stage 3: I will glare at you in silence. Stink Eye City! MACK! Are you ignoring me?

7D: Stage 4: Crop dust time! Mack! Ma- (sound of Mack eating microphone)

*burp*

Where was I? Ah, yes. Subsection 1 of 7D! If the distant crop dusting is ignored, I will climb up on the couch and fire toots off at close range!

Number 8: Well, at this point, I’m on the couch and probably on your lap. Yeah. That’s 80 lbs of hot farty blubber parked right on  your balls. Try breathing now, fucker. That’s right. Give up and shut her down. Turn off ALL of the lights please…..Ah…..sleep time.

Well, that about wraps it up here. Questions? Comments? Be sure to call 1-800-Mack-Don’t-Care. Heh heh! I’m so funny and awesome, I’m going to lick my paws.

(mlam mlam mlam, slurp, slurp)

Copyright 2014

 

 

Categories: Bulldogs, Dogs, Farts, Funny, Pets, Potty Humor | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Hangovers and Bulldogs.

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Nowadays, there are two ways that I remember times in my life: before bulldogs and after bulldogs.

Before I had bulldogs, I could go out with friends and get rip roaring drunk, come home, fall into to bed and go to sleep without any issue. I could sleep in as long as I wanted the following the morning and be completely worthless the rest of the day without it impacting anyone else. Granted, before I had bulldogs, I was also a single woman so I also didn’t have a husband to feed and nurse morning after because his hangover was worse than mine.

Now that I have a husband, and two very clingy bulldogs, going out and drinking to excess has consequences I could have never imagined six years ago. The following post chronicles the costs of getting drunk and being hungover “After Bulldogs”:

Saturday night, Da Hubs and I attended a friend’s 30th birthday party in downtown Minneapolis at a piano bar. We consciously made the decision that we were both going to get blitzed and take a cab home because you know what? Let’s pretend we’re turning 30 all over again, too. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Six hours and $200 later, we stumbled into our driveway and tipped the cab driver. Laughing to ourselves in our stupid, drunken pride because we were totally “those drunk people” tonight, we opened the front door to be greeted by a very nervous Peterbilt.

The unfamiliar cab that had pulled up in our driveway had scared the crap out of him. Once he realized it was us, his nub was crazily wagging with an “I’m so glad it’s just you guys” expression on his face. His excitable movements and forced sniffing of our feet and legs (I call this Sniff Rape) made it all the more difficult to take off our shoes and coats without stumbling. It seemed he was telling us about every scary moment of our absence. Peter still can’t say his R’s:

“Oh, you guys it was so scawee while you were gones! At first der was dis noise, wight? And I was all like woofwoofwoof and I did dats at every window! Den der was dis squirrel..”

“OKOKOK!”, I said to Peterbilt. “Take it down a notch and why don’t go outside?”

We let Peterbilt out and checked on Mackie who was sleeping downstairs on his favorite couch. We shut the light off and closed the door.

We let Peterbilt in and we prepared to get ready for bed. I moved Peterbilt and his dog bed into the den and shut the doors. It was about that time that Max started shrieking downstairs.

“Great! Fatass is up”, I said to my husband, who when I turned around wasn’t there. He was already in bed fast asleep. Fucker.

Guess my drunkass will just DO EVERYTHING FROM NOW UNTIL THE END OF TIME!!!!!!

So I let Mack outside, me standing at the back door face palming while he took his sweetass time. I marched Mr. Mack downstairs to put him in the bed, but he just wasn’t having it.

Side note about Mack: you can physically put him in the dog bed, but in the end, Mack is going to tell YOU when HE goes to sleep. If you leave him downstairs before he decided he’s tired enough to go to sleep, the shrieking ensues. Mack tells you he’s tired by jumping up on his couch and by giving you one long and exaggerated yawn.

So Mack taking this opportunity to take out every single toy out of his box and chew on each of them, just to piss me off because I was gone for so long. “Go the fuck to sleep, dog”, I said to Mack.

After about 10 minutes of him stalling and me cradling my dizzy head in my hands, he heaved his hefty body up on his old, ratty couch, gave his trademark yawn and decided it was time.

I walked back upstairs, changed into my pajamas and was sinking into a nice bed-spinny slumber when Peterbilt started whining. And whining. And crying. After 10 minutes I finally said screw it and let him on our bed to go to sleep. Desperate times, desperate measures.

Again, I’m falling asleep and all of a sudden I feel a big thump on the bed and hear the sound of a bulldog chewing on a bone. “Oh HELL no!” I said and took the bone away and set it on my night stand. That was the last thing I remembered before going to sleep.

I woke up Sunday morning with my head pounding and a huge weight on my stomach. I groggily opened my eyes to find Peterbilt staring right back at me, his nub wagging so hard the bed is shaking. His head is on my stomach and his feet are on my husband, to create a sort of fucked up looking letter H. Which probably stands for Hell or Hangover or Holy Shit I Drank Too Much.

I sat up, head pounding more so and looked around which was just enough confirmation for Peterbilt the breakfast was near. He lept off the bed and tore ass across the house to his food bowl. I looked at our bed and somehow during the night, another bone and Peter’s stuffed rabbit had made it onto our bed.

I hadn’t even made it out of bed yet when my husband asked me, “Do you have any coffee made yet?”

“……..You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

And then Mack started shrieking.

Peterbilt is singing for his breakfast in the kitchen.

Husband is groaning and asking for Advil.

Did I mention that MY FUCKING HEAD IS POUNDING?!????

15 minutes later, everyone was taken care of. I sat down at the kitchen table and tried to settle my stomach with coffee. This is about the time that Peterbilt took it upon himself to voice his displeasure at our stagnation. Mack added to the effect by finding Peterbilt ‘s stuffed rabbit squeaky toy and proceeding to chew on it. Every squeak like a hammer in our heads.

I looked over at Hubs and asked, “Anything you want to add while we ‘re at it ?” He farted.

Indeed, times have changed. I guess from now on I should watch my alcohol consumption on Saturday because I’m going to have to go right back to being a bulldog mom and wife on Sunday morning. Funny how not too long ago, I wasn’t even a part of this bulldog family. Now, it would literally fall apart without me. But at least I would’ve been well rested.

Categories: Being Married, Bulldogs, Crappy Adulthood Problems, Dogs, Farts, Funny, Pets, Potty Humor | Tags: , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Why I haven’t posted in a few weeks

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Things of been very hectic around my household the last few weeks.

First, my fears about Peterbilt’s injury were confirmed (see Golden Showers post https://houseoffarts.wordpress.com/2013/12/02/golden-showers/ )

Peterbilt was confirmed by the vet that his ACL in his right leg has torn and that surgery was inevitable. Yay! Just how I wanted to spend $3,000! Not on a vacation or anything to escape the -50 windchill…

The picture I just took of him is of him sleeping on our bed, not knowing that this is the last time he’ll be able to jump up on furniture for several weeks.

His surgery is tomorrow. Prayers please!

Also, after a series of falls on New Year’s Eve, I’ve had to put my Dad into a nursing home.

I haven’t gotten much into my parents with this blog, but my dad has had Parkinson’s for about 10 years now. His disease has progressed to the point where he can no longer be safe home alone. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I’ll spare you the gut wrenching details but this is situation is still ongoing. My husband has been my rock through this whole ordeal and even the Bulldogs have pitched in to help by not whizzing in the house or eating any shoes in the last 2 weeks. Hey, I’ll take anything I can get at this point.

So, it may be a few more weeks before able to get back to the blog.

Happy New Year everyone and stay warm.

Categories: Dogs | Tags: , , , , , | 5 Comments

Bulldog Haiku

Guilty Dog

Guilty Dog

 

Pee-soaked bath mats yay!

9 to 5 is a long time

for an anxious dog.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/11/25/challenge-haiku/

 

Categories: Dogs | Tags: , , , , | 14 Comments

You’re a ripe one, Mr. Bilt

Pete’s stinky (and naughty) by nature.

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So last night, the bi-monthly task of bathing Peterbilt, went as expected. The process is almost the same every time. We sneak towels into the bathroom with ninja slyness. Justin hides behind the bathroom door in silence. I, nonchalantly take a piece of beef jerky out of the fridge and pretend to walk around the house eating it, verbalizing how great it tastes, all while totally ignoring Peterbilt. This grabs Peterbilt’s attention right away. He drops whatever thing he’s currently destroying to follow me and tries desperately to make eye contact. He’s so focused on beef jerky that I just tossed into the bathroom, he totally forgets that we’ve played this same trick on him about 30 times before. He runs into the bathroom get the treat, Justin pops out from behind the door with an “Gotcha!” and together we muster all of the strength we can to lift a now deadweight bulldog into the bathtub.

 

For now, we have a pleasant smelling dog, though that will only last another few precious hours before the Stench of Bilt lingers in. Within 4 days guaranteed, we will be back in full on “Stinky Petuh” mode.

 

I am at a loss as to why this dog cannot stay clean and fresh. Bulldogs are indoor dogs. We wash his dog bed frequently. We keep the backyard free of dead squirrels. It’s not a dental issue. His teeth and gums are in fairly good shape. We clean his ears often. Hell, even Mack takes at least 3-4 weeks before he needs a bath.

 

Peter’s special musk is ever changing but is usually one of the following: low tide at the beach, inside of a teenage boy’s gym locker, stinky feet, or sometimes Fritos. (I can’t eat Fritos anymore) Peter loves every stink-filled second of it and loves to “spread the wealth”, meaning he basically gives our entire house a fragrant dry rub:

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Pete loves a good “roll in the sheets”, meaning he enthusiastically rolls all over our bed and blankets. We are constantly chasing him off of our bed and our shooing usually ends up turning into trampoline time on the bed. I don’t think the mattress warranty covers that.

 

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The worst is when he rides in the car with us. We can run inside a store for 5 minutes and come back to a warm, concentrated smell, humid from his incessant panting. It’s like walking into a sauna that was converted from an old Porta-John. And a fart would be the cherry on the sundae. And that’s during the fall and winter months. With the windows cracked. Sometimes we dab Vicks under our noses. He’s cadaver ripe.

 

You’re thinking: “Easy solution! Just bathe the dog more often!”. Yeah no. We don’t hate ourselves enough that we can bathe this dog weekly. Our wounds haven’t even healed from the last bath.

 

I’d like to be able to wrap this story up by telling you how I figured out how to keep the dog semi-clean, but this is an ongoing situation. Does anyone out there have any recommendations on certain dog shampoos or dog hygiene products? Has anyone has this same problem and found that certain foods help? Any input is appreciated.

 

Categories: Dogs | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

Mack can’t stop. Mack won’t stop

Mack did the walk of shame on Sunday:

 

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After months and months of diet dog food, reduced portions and exercise, Mackie fell off of the healthy living wagon, hard. About a year ago, Mackie was 93 lbs. With hard work, he had achieved his ideal weight of 85 lbs. Actually, it was 81 lbs, but it doesn’t matter because it all was flushed down the toilet on Saturday.

 

Saturday morning was Peterbilt’s turn to go with us to Petsmart to get some new dog food. Peterbilt has an allergy to something in kibble that we can’t quite pinpoint (If any of you out there have experienced this, let me know what food ended up working for your dog). His naked polka-dot tummy breaks out in rashes and his ears get all irritated and smelly. We had him on FreshPet Turkey for most of the summer, which cleared him right up. However, that shit isn’t cheap and is very time-consuming to prepare. It comes in giant tubes, like a giant Pimento loaf, and you slice off a 1/2 lb or so as needed. I have to chop each slice up into bits I found, after I watched in horror one morning while Peter unhinged his jaw like a python and swallowed the damn thing whole. Chopping takes like a minute, which to Peter is like an hour. He stands by while I do it, growls and stomps his feet like an asshole.

 

Anyways, we ended up with a Proplan kibble that is gluten and soy free with a fish base. We purchased a small bag to try. When we got home, by husband set the bag by the front door and we both got ready to start tilling my months-neglected garden for the fall.

 

I took out my tomatoes cages, uprooted the petrified broccoli plant and chucked the old, yellowing cucumbers that probably should have been picked 3 weeks ago. My husband busted out our 30 year old, widow-maker garden tiller and I went inside to feed the dogs an early dinner and get our lunch started.

 

About an hour later, I walked past Mack’s food dish to see leftover kibble in the bowl. “That’s odd”, I thought to myself. Fatty Fat Fat usually licks his bowl to a mirror finish every time. Then, I walked up stairs and noticed the new dog food bag was torn open, with a hole about the size of a bulldog face. Knee jerk reaction is always to blame The Bilt, but he had been sleeping in a bedroom for the last hour and a half. Then I looked out of the window to see Mack, devouring the remnants of one of my discarded cucumbers and about to take on a second.

 

“Jesus. He’s had like 5 meals and a 2 lb cuc in the last hour”, I said to myself. Old veggies will make for some vomit-inducing farts later on. Note to self, turn on all ceiling fans now.

 

I wrestled the partially devoured cucumber away from Mack, threw all of the old cucs in the garbage and marched Mack’s old ass into the kitchen to show him what a bad thing he did. “I know. It’s smells delicious. Why do you think I ate it?” was the look I got when I tried to rub his nose in it. Not sorry for a second. I could even sense the faint glimmer of pride. He may be 84 years old in dog years but he can still take down a 15 lb bag a kibble like a 8 month old pup.

 

The next morning, Mack was looking a little bloated. My husband even though he looked fat again. He moved through the house slower than his “I’m old. Pity Me” gait he does when he is trying to avoid a walk. I was concerned. I laid Mack on his side and applied pressure to different areas of his stomach, looking for any reaction of pain. None. Diagnosis? Food Hangover.

 

The farts were 1-2 a minute and as bad as I expected. What made it worse, Peter had also enjoyed about a half of a cucumber and now the dog couldn’t even blink without farting. So now I’m literally being bombarded. For my own health and safety reasons, I went to Target. Drastic times, drastic measures.

 

By dinner time and 8 bowel movements later, Mack was up to his old tricks again and has since been receiving reduced portions of food and more walks as penance. And no more cucumbers. Mack’s back on the wagon…….for now.

 

 

Categories: Bulldogs, Dogs, Farts, Funny, Pets, Potty Humor | Tags: , , | Leave a comment

Back Story II

Our two dogs have a few things in commons but are very different for the most part.

Mack’s Disposition:

Mackie is the type of dog that makes some smaller dogs pee themselves a little

bit when he walks by. You can’t blame them, Mackie looks very intimidating.:

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Mack trots past that yard with the those two pain-in-the-balls border collies like he can’t even hear their hysterics. Doesn’t even acknowledge them. They can all kiss Mack’s brown brindled ass away because he don’t give two turds about anything but three things: Food, Treat Lady and protecting Treat Lady…..

…and I’m Treat Lady.

This name came about after Justin and I had been dating for about 2 years. Mack’s favorite person started to shift from his long time buddy Justin, to me, much to Justin‘s disbelief. This was because I had a higher treat-give ratio than Justin. Only outweighing Mack by 2 lbs at the time, I could not physically lift or move Mack to get him to go potty outside, into the bathtub or to get him off of the area rug I was vacuuming. I started “Trail o’ Treats” to get him to move accordingly and since Mack is HIGHLY food motivated, I soon had a constant bulldog in my shadow, hanging on my every word and move, making sure I’m within eye-shot at all times. Because if Treat Lady dies, who will feed him?

If Mack had any testicles left, he’d give one of them for whatever you’re eating there. He’d perform a song and dance so spectacular for a baby carrot. He’d kill a family of four for a piece of lunchmeat. He once made a complete and total fool of himself for a single Cheerio. And it was actually the generic form of Cheerios, Toasty O’s. And it was stale. Mack has sunk pretty low for the most mediocre of payouts. Even though neither one of our dogs are fed table scrapes and are trained to lay in the living room during dinner, Mack still drools from several feet away, imaging the taste, forming puddles on the floor. His love affair with food is constant:

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I stand corrected. There are actually 4 things Mack cares about. The 4th thing is children and people. Mack is very social and is always up for meeting new people. Mack loves having company and going to parties and festivals. We can’t pass a stranger on a walk without Mackie saying hi. If we tell Mack no, he’ll “throw down the anchor”, meaning he’ll pop a sit in the middle of the road in protest, no matter if cars are coming or what. He especially loves to meet babies and small children and he’s very gentle, knows how to make himself sweet and not look or act so intimidating. He’d guard your children with his life:

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Mack’s Fears/Dislikes

-DON’T touch his paws or toe pads. My husband likes to torment Mack by doing this, another reason Mack is now Team Treat Lady.
-Laying on his back. Too vulnerable!
-Baths. We have to spell that word out in this house. We have to trick him into the bathroom a different way every time.
-Large Breed Dogs. I never saw Mack so scared as the time we saw a bull mastiff at Petco. That mastiff could not have been more docile, but Mack was scared out of his gord.
-Warm weather. He loves the cool linoleum floor in the summer. He gives you a look when you ask him to go for a walk in July.

-Coyotes. We have a few in our neck of the woods and Mack has successfully chased them out of our yard and our neighbors yard a few times.

Mack’s Quirks:

-As mentioned previously, his obsession with laser pointers, flashlights and reflections is of feline level.
-Farts 2-4 times an hour, and they range from tear-jerkers to 5-alarm fire.
-Only command he knows is “sit”. You can forget that paw-shaking bullshit.
-Nurses/suckles on his stuffed toys for hours on end. It’s is happy place 😉
-Actually enjoys going to the vet. Loves the pets and treats he gets from all of the doctors and assistants. That, and the car-ride there. Loves to ride in the car.
-Stubborn. Really doesn’t listen for shit. You pretty much need a treat in your pocket at all times to get his attention.
-Tolerates small dogs, but doesn’t engage with them.
-Mostly lays around the house, does not get too energetic unless there’s food or..
-…he’s just finished taking a dump. Then a “victory run” ensues.

Peterbilt’s Disposition:

You have to give Peterbilt credit. Deep down, he wants to be a big, intimidating watch dog like his dad but just has to much nervous energy for his own good:

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Peterbilt is the type of dog that totally lets those annoying border collies totally get under his skin. He also is a target for dogs that are looking for a fight. I’ve seen Pete get beat up by big and small breed dogs. Mack has bulldozed more than one dog off of Peter, most recently a Jack Russell terrier who didn’t like the way Peterbilt looked/smelled/acted/you talk funny. Yes, even with Mack and Pete’s history, Mackie still sticks up for his son. That Jack Russell took one look at Mack and retreated to his yard.

Peterbilt is just fine on walks during daylight but once the sun sets, everything is big and scary. He’ll bark at night at the same neighbor that pets him during the day. When we are on walks, he usually backs his butt up to me or my husband to bark at true strangers. He once stood his back 2 paws on my feet and did a big boy woof at a group of teenagers, who totally laughed at him. Hell, I laughed at him.

Like his dad, Peterbilt follows me around but his motivations are different. Peterbilt is a mama’s boy, but is mostly looking for security in my presence whereas Mack is providing my security.

Peterbilt mainly cares about these things in the following order: Food, his mom, car-rides, chasing squirrels, trying to be watchdog. Yes, Peterbilt is also Team Treat Lady. I’m a hot commodity.

Peterbilt is a klutz and is still in his energetic stage of this life, a problematic combination. Peterbilt needs several walks a day and verbally complains to me when he is bored. When he wants to be a shit, he tears ass across the house and jumps on the bed:

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He’s torn his ACL once already and we are just counting down the days until he does it again.

Peterbilt likes to be social but takes a while to warm up to you. Once you’re in, you’re his new best friend though. Peterbilt has done well around children but is still a bit wild and crazy, so his exposure is limited.

Peterbilt’s Fears/Dislikes:

-Afraid of the dark, since he cannot see as well. Fear of the unknown, with this one
-Loud noises and most recently, thunder, after a bad storm we had in June.
-Baths, but he is easier to trick into the bathroom that his wise old father.
-His gentle leader. He hates to wear it but he needs to learn not to pull so hard on walks. When we walk him without it, his little nub-tail wags just a little bit.
-Having his temperature taken or anything touching his butt hole. This is most likely the fault of some impatient student vet techs during his 2 surgeries performed at the University. If anything brushes his bum, or if our feet accidentally touch his butt on our bed, he cusses us out and runs away. Poor baby.
-Being left home alone. Peterbilt expresses his disappointment by eating or destroying anything left out and/or urinates in the house. We’ve gotten good about hiding shoes before we leave. That, and we’ve invested in a personal trainer, busy toys and treats.

Peterbilt’s Quirks:

-He completed all 3 levels of obedience classes at Petsmart and knows a variety of tricks and commands including: Sit, Come, Stay, Stand, Leave It, Shake, Down, Roll Over, Wave, High Five, Down and Knock It Off. Despite his destructive nature, he actually listens and responds to commands.
-Has a few dog besties and gets occasional play dates. Loves to run and roughhouse with other dogs that enjoy the like.
-Sleeps on his back.
-The woman who cropped Peterbilt’s tail after birth really docked it short. Instead of a stump, he has a nubbin. We sometimes call him Button Butt:

 

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-Farts 2-4 times an hour. They’re just as bad as Mack’s

-Sometimes enjoys going to the vet. Lives for the car-ride part of it though.
-Loves cold weather, the more subzero the better. He goes insane the first snow of the year. Loves the white stuff:

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-Does the same Victory Run after pooping

Me and my husband:

We were married in August 2012. No kids yet. Both gainfully employed. We live in a house with a substantial yard in a suburb outside Minneapolis, MN. We have a lake house in northern MN which both dogs enjoy visiting immensely:

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So now that you are caught up, stay tuned for stories of farting, feces and other embarrassing moments in dog-rearing!

Thank you!

-Sarah

Categories: Bulldogs, Dogs, Farts, Funny, Pets, Potty Humor | Tags: , , | Leave a comment

Introduction: What you should know about Olde English Bulldoggs

Hola mis amigos !

Aaaaand that the extent of my Spanish.

Before I indulge you with stories of dog farts and folly, panty-eating and subsequent panty-pooping, I’m going to have to give you some background information on Olde English Bulldogges, to better help paint the poopy picture.

I own two Olde English Bulldogges AND YES THAT’S THE CORRECT SPELLING. This breed is not to be confused with English Bulldogs.

Centuries ago, bulldogs were breed for use in bull baiting. A bloody and needlessly violent sport, the bulldogs would use its large jaws to bite the bull’s nose and pin it to the ground. Back then, bulldogs were larger, stronger and received little to no Beggin Strips. Life was not a bowl of cherries for bulldogs. Here is a painting of bulldog from the 1700’s, totally stepping on what looks to be a penis:

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Eventually, bull baiting was outlawed and the American Kennel Club was organized. This took the English bulldog in an entirely new direction, appearance wise. Over time, the bulldog became shorter, the snout became shorter, and the dog was not as strong as its new job consisted of laying around farting all day long. The breeding took a toll on the English Bulldog. This breed is plagued with joint problems, eye problems, allergies and breathing issues due to the short nasal passage way.

That’s when the Oldy came along. In the 1970’s breeders organized to start a healthier breed of bulldog that was supposed to bring the bulldog body back to what it originally was. This took breeding pit bulls, bull mastiffs and the American Bulldog to get the perfect trifecta.

Disclaimer: There are no absolutes and I’m not saying buy one breed over the other. Trends point to a larger incidence of health issues in English Bulldogs vs. Olde English. I’ve seen many, perfectly healthy English bulldogs and have seen Oldy’s with severe hip displaysia. Hell, Peterbilt has been through a few surgeries himself, where as his father Mackie, is just dandy. Although I’m understandably biased towards Oldys’, I’m a fan of any bull dog, boxer, pitbull, mastiff and other bully breed.

Oldy’s are taller/larger than English bulldogs but are smaller than bull mastiffs and American Bulldogs. Many people confuse Oldy’s for American Bulldogs.

This is a picture of my Mackie (Mack Truck):

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Mack is pretty representative of his breed. Although he’s on the slightly shorter side, his build and appearance are pretty standard. Oldy’s lazy demeanor makes them prone to being overweight. This picture is a few years old. At his heaviest (right after we neutered him in 2010) he weighed 101 lbs. However, we switched his to a Nuttro Lamb Diet Dog food and forced his fat ass to go on walks and he is now down to his ideal weight of 85 lbs, but we still affectionately call him Chubs. Our vet could not be more happy with us right now. Way to go Mackie!

Mackie gets bad hayfever in the fall, but allergies are common with any bulldog breed. Otherwise, he’s an ox.

Below is a picture of our other dog Peterbilt, Macks’s biological son:

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Peterbilt is taller than the standard, thanks to his mother. Mack would kill me for telling you this, but when my husband would drop Mack off at his “girlfriend’s house” for a few weeks, the owners of the female Oldy had to provide Mack a small step stool so he could bow-chicka-bow-wow. Otherwise he was throwing it to the wind.

Peterbilt gets mistaken for an American Bulldog all of the time. Occasionally, a misinformed yokel will think he’s a pitbull and shrink back in horror. There’s this teenager on our block that my husband has been totally messing with. This kid saw my husband and Pete on a walk about 1-2 years ago and nervously asked my husband if Peterbilt was a pitbull. My husband, who is as sick of Pitbull-bashing as I am, said “Why yes! Yes he is!”. The kid reportedly crossed to the other side of the street upon hearing his. I snickered when my husband told me about what he did that day but thought nothing more about it until months or years later when I was walking Pete.  I turned the corner to see two teenage boys. One boy grabbed his friend by the collar and dragged him to safety, his eyes wide with fear. After I was done laughing, I waved Hi to the boys, much to their bewilderment.

At age 4, he’s still got a lot of puppy in him, which is something I did not forsee when we got Peterbilt. This breed really takes about 3-4 years to fully mature. This dog has a LOT of energy and requires daily walks, 2-3 walks ideally.

This is also a dog that has had a bouquet of health issues. Petebilt has had surgery to correct cherry eye and a luxating patella, both of which are genetic defects. Peterbilt also hit the unlucky jack pot once again and tore his ACL by slipping off of an icy curb on a walk about 2 years ago. That was another surgery. Mack has never had any joint issues and neither his mother. This goes to show you that you even healthy dog parents can yield pups with problems. Peter also has had UTI’s, at least a dozen ear infections, skin rash issues and a food allergy we have not quite nailed down yet. Sometimes I want to sit down and come up with an estimate of how much $$ this dogs has cost us over the years, but then I would only think of all of things we could have bought with that money instead soooooo it’s best not to know.

Behavior-wise, bulldogs are very bull-headed. They know what they want and you can’t tell them otherwise! Like pitbulls, they are great family dogs and do well around children and babies because these dogs ARE giant babies. They are very loyal and will follow you around where ever you go. I sometimes hid to get a minute to myself. They love to be watchdogs and take that job seriously.

So now you have an overview. Stay tuned for my next posts which will give you more back stories on my two knucklehead. Adios!

Categories: Bulldogs, Dogs, Farts, Funny, Pets, Potty Humor | Tags: , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

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