Posts Tagged With: Pets

Really??? REALLY????

I woke up on Sunday morning fully expecting the day to be uneventful and secretly hoping to get a nap in at some point.

It certainely seemed to start off normal: I woke up around 8 AM to Mack sneezing in my face, his head eagerly perched on the edge of my bed with his nub wagging, hoping to get his breakfast. I got up, let Peterbilt and Mack outside to do their business. They both took their wizzes as fast as they could and raced back to the back door. I quickly opened the sliding glass door as they clamored over each other to be the first one in, both running to the refrigerator where we keep the dog food. That scene in Christmas Story played in my head where that gang of multiple, neighborhood mutts stampede into Ralphie’s kitchen and devour their Christmas turkey.  And Ralphy’s old man though he had problems…the next few minutes would prove his ornery ass WRONG.

Preparing the dog food, I spilled some of the kibble on the floor. This started WW3 between the hungry bulldogs as they growled and fought for their share. I started to yell at both dogs, mostly Peterbilt since he’s the bigger asshole of the two, and my husband ran into the kitchen and dove into the pile. Peter started to run off, with my husband chasing him down. Peter did a quick turn and my husband rolled his ankle. All we heard was a SNAP and him collapsing to the floor in pain, howling.

I ran over to assess the situation. Both bulldogs, over their food rage and clearly feeling guilty, shifted and paced nervously by my husband, who was holding his left foot and rolling around on the floor. Peterbilt even doused my husbands face in a few, sloppy, submissive kisses.

I helped Hubs back to our room, elevated his foot and grabbed an ice pack. The bulldogs hovered over him like nervous, untrained nurses, sniffing and resniffing my husband. Eventually within 5 minutes, things calmed down and they both forgot my husband was injured, going back to their default task of hovering around the pregnant lady. Sorry Hubs. It’s time to play second fiddle again.

After an hour, we decided to take my Hubs into urgent care where we waited 2 hours, surrounded by people with the flu, to be told what we already knew: a broken ankle bone.

Hubs is to wear a brace, use crutches and not put any weight on his left foot for 6-8 weeks.

Baby’s due date is in 2 weeks.

My doctor told me 1 week ago that she doesn’t want me on my feet as much because of the swelling in my legs and ankles.

Hubs started graduate school 2 weeks ago.

Great job everyone and a big thank you, Peterbilt, you fucking assclown. This couldn’t be timed anymore perfectly.

Do you know that bulldogs don’t care if you’re tired or injured? Even when said injury is a direct result of their misbehavior? Nope, much like small children, they want what they want and they want it NOW!

Why am I suddenly not getting walks?!?!?!

Why am I suddenly not getting walks?!?!?!

So now instead of spending my Sunday napping and assembling last minute baby gear, I’m on my feet, letting a belligerent, senile old bulldog outside before he revenge pees the kitchen rug, keeping the bone-snapping-ankle-crushing-maniac-bulldog from humping my maternity body pillow AGAIN and refilling Hub’s glass of juice for the third time.

A couple of very unlucky, Century link sales reps came knocking at our front door not to long after that and let’s just say…..they have probably black listed our address from all future sales calls. I’m the Bitch from Hell in the Tan house. Don’t go there.

So now I’ve got a needy husband, two shrieking bulldogs and baby girl is finding new and painful nooks and crannies to stick her legs into. And then there’s me, looking at the calendar and counting down the days until I can drink white wine again.

Grumpy and tired, I went to bed around 10 PM. As I’m drifting off, Hubs started to laugh. Laughing so hard he’s shaking the bed. “What.”, I said.

Hubs said to me, “I just love so you much.”

“Why?”, I asked.

He laughed ever harder and managed to compose himself after a while to say, “Because your fucking awesome! Here you are: full-term pregnant, taking care of my ass while I snap at you because I’m in pain, Mack’s shrieking for his Kong

Now, woman!

Now, woman!

and Peterbilt’s…..well…being Peterbilt…… and your still keeping this family glued together!”

Well now thanks a lot, Hubs. Because now I’m crying. Again.

February is going to be interesting.

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Categories: Babies, Bulldogs, Crappy Adulthood Problems, Dogs, Pets, Pregnancy | Tags: , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Things that go bump in the night

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The majority of my weekend was spent in the company of my two bulldogs. With my husband up north all weekend for deer hunting, I was on the receiving end of many vocal complaints from 2 very needy bulldogs,  one of which is complaining to me now as I type. I feel like a court jester called to entertain at bulldog’s whim.

Anyways, I usually let one of the bulldogs sleep in the bed with me when my husband is not home. I go in thinking a movie in bed will be the perfect time for us to bond and snuggle, me with a glass of wine. I come out sleep deprived, sore from being kicked all night long and needing to wipe drool off of some part of me. Sharing a bed with a bulldog is not for everyone. Here is a list of things you may hear, see or smell in the night to determine if in fact, a bulldog might be in your bed.

YOU JUST MIGHT HAVE A BULLDOG IN YOUR BED IF:

  • You can’t fall asleep before 1 AM because of Kong chewing noises
  • You get hourly wafts of fart throughout the night
  • You hear a deep, throaty growl every time you change sleeping positions
  • The bed is shaking with enough turbulence to wake you up
  • You hear a jowl flap in exhalation at 2 AM, and you laugh
  • You wake up at 3 AM to slurping noises
  • Kicks to the junk in the middle of the night are not infrequent
  • You feel your feet getting licked at some point
  • You have the sensation that someone is watching you sleep. The hot breath gives it away
  • You get up to pee in the middle of the night and your pillow goes missing
  • and finally, you just might have a bulldog in your bed if: it’s 10AM and there’s a snoring mass underneath the covers that grunts when poked.
Categories: Dogs, Farts | Tags: , , , | Leave a comment

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

Back Story Part I

Onto our back story! For those of you unfamiliar with my bulldog family, this blog entry will allow you to get to know how we came to be one big farty family.

Starting with:

Mack Truck

 

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Age: 12 Years
Weight: 83 lbs
Nicknames: Mackie, Chubs, The Fat Guy, Old Guy, Senior Discount, Mackarena, Macklemore

History:

Mackie is a retired weight pulling champion and father of many illegitimate offspring, the numbers varying depending on what mood and level of sobriety Mack is in.

Mackie was my husband’s first bulldog, or terrier for that matter. Justin found Mack’s early obsession with the laser pointer to be hilarious and entertaining. One day, while Justin was screwing around with Mack with the laser pointer, Mack went off on a crazy tangent and launched himself off of the bed and through a sheet rock wall. Mack was unhurt, mostly amused and slightly hungry, but that was about the time that Justin got the idea that he should enter Mack in weight pulling competitions.

Weight pulling competitions, for those of you are unfamiliar, are a great time for both humans and canines alike. Any dog can enter, as the dogs are classified into different weight and size categories. Basically, they take a 4-wheeled cart and pile on weight. A harness is strapped to your dog and your dog runs like hell to move the cart across a fairly short distance and crosses a finish line, the owner standing by the dog, shouting encouragement and praise. The dogs thrive off of the mid size audience and praise, pets and treats from total strangers. That, and the prime scattered ass these tournaments attract. Back in 2004, you could use even flashlights on the sidelines, much to Mack and Justin’s advantage.

Justin entered Mackie in about 20-30 competitions over the course of 4 years or so. Mack walked away with 8 wins and a record setting weight pull of 2,550 lbs!

It wasn’t long after Mack started entering tournaments when other bulldog owners approached Justin to stud Mack out (most weight pulling dogs are left in tact). My husband set Mack up on a couple of “dates”. It took a bit of practice (and one accidental and embarrassing sodomize) but Mackie soon got the hang of it and sired about 5 litters.

 

Peterbilt:

 

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Age: 4 years
Weight: 87 lbs
Nicknames: Petuh, The Bilt, Mr. Bilt, Meathead, Squishface, White Faced Devil, Crackhead, The Maniac

History:

Mackie and my husband were two peas in a pod. They did everything together! Justin took Mack everywhere: Las Vegas, Salt Lake City and Texas to name just a few places. Everything was just fine and dandy when Justin ruined it all by getting the idea in his head to get a 2nd dog, an offspring of Mack, with one of Mack’s last litters. Mackie had a hot date in early January, the gestation period for Oldy‘s being about 60 days. Then Justin and I met and had our first date on February 28. We didn’t know then that in just two days, all of our lives would be ruined (I keed, I keed).

Peter was born on March 2, 2009, one of 9 pups:

 

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Justin will tell you otherwise, but it was actually him that picked out Peterbilt:

Peterbilt was an adorable puppy. Since Peterbilt was planned out before Justin and I had even met and we had been dating about 5 weeks when Peterbilt was old enough to come home, I became an instant Mom by proximity. I didn’t know what to expect at all, since I grew up with female dachshunds, the antithesis of male terriers. Justin, with the experience of raising one bulldog under his belt, felt confident that he could show me the ropes of bulldog-rearing. However, Peterbilt was different in so many ways from Mack, we both soon learned that owning a Petuh was not going to be an easy task:

 

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Mack was less than thrilled when we brought Peterbilt home:

 

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Peterbilt was absolutely enamored with his old man:

 

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Mack did more than his fair share of babysitting over the next few months and he took it like a sport:

 

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Peter grew, SO FAST. The first weekend we had him, he could fit in the center console of Justin’s truck. By the next weekend he was too big to fit.

This is a picture of Peterbilt trying to eat his Dad’s food when we first brought him home in mid April:

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This is Peterbilt 5 weeks later, being a turd:

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And this is him with me in Mid June. Son of Clifford:

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Peterbilt was a typical puppy. Getting into everything, stealing socks and destroying anything within reach. We could tell from the get go he was going to be a mama’s boy. Mack put up with Peter and Peter did everything he could to get a rise out of his grumpy old dad.

Then things changed.

Late summer came and Peterbilt was now Mack’s size with no intention of stopping there:

 

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This sparked some aggression on Mack’s part.

Mackie had a bad experience at a dog park when both him and Justin lived in Vegas. From what I was told, one dog turned on Mack to pick a fight when mob mentality took over and soon 5 dogs were fighting with Mack. The story ended with Mack and Justin both ending up in the ER with stitches. Since then, Mack acts aggressively towards dogs his size and bigger. FYI, he tolerates smaller dogs just fine.

The fighting between Mack and Peterbilt started out infrequently and was written off as dogs being dogs. But then the fights escalated. Then Peterbilt grew bigger, which propelled them further. Then Peterbilt started fighting back. It got bloody and dangerous. It was one of the most stressful periods of our lives. Justin was heartbroken. They could no longer be in the same room as each other. What were we going to do? Something had to change, but we couldn’t bear to give up either dog.

We neutered Mack, knowing at age 9 his breeding days were done. This caused him to gain about 15 lbs and totally go Val Kilmer on us, but did not change the aggressive behavior.

We took both dogs to see a behaviorist to get a full evaluation. They didn’t give us a good prognosis: only a 50% chance that Mack and Peter would ever get along and that would only be after several thousand dollars worth of rehabilitation, custom made muzzles and several years at best.

We neutered Peterbilt the following spring after a bout with cherry eye and a pending surgery for a luxating patella. With the genetic disorders, our hopes for someday breeding Peterbilt were dashed. However, this too, did not curb the aggressive behavior in Peterbilt towards his dad. Peterbilt was now exhibiting signs of his father’s same fear of large dogs.

We sent Mack to live with Justin’s parents for a few months to cool things off. However, with Justin’s parents leaving for Arizona in the fall for the winter, we had to come up with a plan fast.

With all other options exhausted, we did the last thing we could: separate the dogs. Our house is one level with a finished basement. Mackie got the basement which was soon dubbed “Mack‘s Apartment“, or “Mack‘s Bachelor Pad“. As compensation for living downstairs with most of the action going on upstairs, Mackie got his very own, old and ratty, L-shaped sofa to sleep on. To this day, this is his most prized possession.

Peterbilt, still only 90% potty-trained at the time, got the upstairs with the tile and hardwood floors.

A door and a set of stairs separated the two levels. We used the stairs as a buffer zone. A baby gate was put at the bottom of the stairs to keep Mack from going up the stairs and to the door. To keep Peterbilt from going downstairs, the door was now being kept shut at all times.

It was a very nerve-racking first few weeks with all 4 of us walking on eggshells. However, it wasn’t long until both of the dogs relaxed, as well as us. It became clear that our dogs did not want to fight and live in fear. They just wanted to get along and be happy but couldn’t help themselves when instinct took over. They now looked to us to control the environment inside and to keep them safe from each other.

That was over 3 years ago.

Our dogs still can’t be indoors in the same room with each other, but are now able to get along outside and on walks. Knowing that dogs can hold grudges that can last a lifetime, we have resigned the idea of working with them to get along indoors and have just concentrated on getting them to have as much positive time around each other without incident as we possibly can. They really do appreciate each other’s company on walks and have at times joined forces to chase off unwanted critters off of the property.

We shuffle the dogs around the house so that each gets it’s time with Justin and I. It was a lot of work and stress to constantly have to communicate where the dogs were throughout the house but in time, it became like second nature to us.

So much for brevity. This seems like a good place to stop. Next blog will be lighter I swear. Stay tuned for more bulldog stories!

Categories: Dogs | 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:

 dog

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):

mack

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:

pete

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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