Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Fight the Good Fight

Two warnings about this post: First, I am about to get on my soap box. If you don't want to read about it please skip down to other posts about how adorable my two pups are. Second, this post is NOT a comment about the news report or how the story was showcased. I use to work for KREM 2 and I have nothing but respect for the product they put out on a nightly basis. The reporter, Othello Richards happens to be the best reporter I have ever had the privilege to work with. And no, this is not an attempt to give KREM.com more clicks. Without further ado please watch this.

What happened to that poor little dog was horrible. What is equally as horrifying to me is the comment made by another PET PARENT saying since the OWNER of the pitbull was irresponsible, THE DOG should DIE! WHAT!?! Pissed does not begin to describe how I feel at this moment. How could another pet parent suggest that another animal die, ever? It is the owner who is at fault. It is the owner who should be punished. Give that person a fine, take the opportunity to teach that owner how to better secure their pet. Make that owner into a better pet parent! That is what the city of Moses Lake should do. What should NOT happen is kill the dog. If I went out and hit someone with my car tonight would those same "pet parents" suggest destroying my car since I was not responsible enough to drive it? Of course not! That would be utterly ridiculous. But killing a living, breathing animal who was protecting his or her family should? The pit was probably not socialized properly, was probably not exercised enough, and was probably not trained. Do ANY of those problems sound like they were the DOG'S problem? No. Those sound like OWNER problems to me.

But what do I know? This is just the opinion of one woman. But let me ask you this: If I were to let this face down, you're telling me you'd be OK with killing her?

It is one thing to fight against society's idea of what animals are, but to have to fight other pet parents is just beyond disappointing to me. 

Mornings with Mister

Missy is my best friend, the love of my life, and the greatest dog in the whole-wide world. There aren't enough words to describe our bond. There isn't enough time either. Some people think that I play favorites and that I don't love her and Mister equally. I just tell people the difference is Missy doesn't know she's a dog. She thinks she's a person, equal to me, and Mister is our dog. Maybe I think that way sometimes too. It doesn't help that Mister has been a real pain in the bottom lately. He pooped in the house, chewed the cap to my hand sanitizer after he dug it out of my purse, and then yesterday morning he chewed my favorite pen. What a little mmmmm.... But despite all this trouble he can cause, Mister is the dog that truly completes this family.

Mister is pretty darn adorable. He's the happiest dog I've ever come across. And he is my lap buddy until the end. We have our special moments together on mornings like these. While I update all my Missaroo social media and write for the blog he's usually on my lap trying to type alongside me. Sometimes he's content to just lay on the back half of the chair while I take the front. We sneak kisses and pets without the Missaroo seeing. He sniffs my coffee and I carry him around like he's still my surgery baby. We snuggle, and he rests his tiny little head on my chest while I give his neck a good scratch. I love slow, easy mornings with Mister because these are all the things I can't do with the Missaroo.

She's too big to jump up on my lap. She hates being carried around. She's not always happy (most of the time though) and she's more interested in licking my entire face off and getting her belly rubbed than tiny moments of happiness. Missy is a big dog compared to Mister which means she needs big gestures of affection to match her size. I love Mister for his tiny gestures of love. Sometimes I need both. By giving everything I have to them, they replenish my own soul and I get everything I need to love everyday. I need both, my mornings with Mister and my nights with the Missaroo.

Sunday, December 11, 2011

No Fun For You!

I had been looking forward to December 9th since September 23rd. It marked the last day of the school quarter and that meant the first night I didn't have to worry about getting up early and chasing after my endless to do list. I had planned to have fun that night after work, even if I couldn't spend a dime. I just wanted to not worry about being an adult for a few hours. That's it, that's all I wanted. And luckily that's what I got. I convinced my best friend to hang out, have a beer, eat sour patch kids, and watch a movie with me. By the time all the fun was said and done I fell asleep.

I was gone for a total of six hours overnight by the time I walked through the door at 4:30. Then I came crashing back down to reality. Mister was wide awake, standing in his pee filled crate. My poor baby. I had taken him and Miss out on a walk after work like always. Everybody did their biz, everything would be fine. Or so I had thought. Wrong. Very wrong. Not only did poor Mister pee all over his crate, but all over his bed inside the crate. A bed that cannot be thrown into the washing machine, but instead has to be washed by hand. So my first morning without a to do list quickly turned into me washing his crate and then heading into the tub with Mister's bed. Two days later it's still wet.

I guess this is what I get for six hours to myself. It's like they know I'm off having fun instead of off at work. When I pulled out of the garage that night, I could see Missy standing on the chair in the living room looking out the window and barking at me. It's heartbreaking every time she does that, and she only does that when I leave for fun, not for work. She's my very own soup Nazi, "No fun for you!"

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

My Girl Miss

Today when I woke up this morning I had one thought in my head: I love you shmoo with all my heart. There was the Missaroo curled up around me still sleeping soundly. Well OK, she had one eye on me as if to say "you're not going to make me move are you?" No shmoo, I'm not going to make you move.

I think the reason I woke up thinking this is from fighting with my friend the night before over the phone. I definitely think having guy friends is more difficult than girl friends. Guys are always trying to "fix" things. The only person I call to ask how to do things is my mom. Everyone else I just want to nod their heads in agreement. The more you tell me I'm wrong the more defensive I get. Thank goodness for the Missaroo then. She never argues or tells me I'm wrong. All she does is listen. You can't beat a friend like that!

Tuesday, December 6, 2011


Another thing that came out of our vet adventures yesterday, the dogs are FAT! How this happened I'm not so sure. I'm guessing it's been the treats. They don't eat people food and their dog food situation hasn't changed. But pictures don't lie and neither did the scale:

Mister is 15 pounds! Ouch. That's four pounds more than he was in May. The worst part? His right knee is feeling a little loose. Which means another knee surgery could be in his future. I'm sure the added pounds don't help. No wonder I'm always complaining that his jacket doesn't fit very well. 

Missaroo is 30 pounds! Also up four from our last visit. It's time to start walking more and eating less.

Another Day, Another Poop Test

WARNING: Another one of those gross dog mom blogs. There's a nice little post about why you should help pets below this one. You won't hurt my feelings if you skip down to that one instead. It even has a picture!

Mister and Missy made their return to the vet yesterday to find out what the heck was going on with their icky poop. The good thing about having dogs instead of kids is that they don't ask questions you have to come up with a lie too. Those two had no idea they were headed to the vet. They were just happy to have their coats on:

((the funny thing is that as adorable as my Missaroo is it's usually Mister who steals the show, especially when the camera is on. Missaroo is a little camera shy, Mister is a ham.))

These two were both sooooo cute the vet assistants insisted on taking their pictures when we got there too. They really are celebrities being followed around by the papa-paparazzi.

Anywhoo.... Then it was time for the real show to start.

The vet examined both of them and said they felt fine everywhere. BUT that poop of theirs? Def Foul. Foul being the word the vet used. Not. Good. But not bad either. After a quick poop test, both came back negative.  Which basically just means they got into something, we just don't know what and it gave them diarrhea  More good news: Negative poop test equals shots! Missy needed her kennel cough shot for boarding as did Mister. Poor Mister Man needed two more though. He took it like a champ. Miss, not so much. My poor baby was just not OK with something sticking her in the booty. Can't blame her.

At the end of the day we walked away with a huge vet bill, pills to help harden up their poop, and this:

As long as I don't have to pick up any more icky poop eight times a day, I'll be a happy dog mom. The doggies are happy for a different kind of food, even if it is only for a few days.

Sunday, December 4, 2011

We Shall Overcome

In case you haven't noticed, the No More Homeless Pets 2011 conference pretty much changed my life. I already knew that I liked writing about animal welfare policy for grad school. I already knew I loved my two dogs with all of my heart. But what I didn't know is how much I would truly feel moved by the cause. My passion at first started with trying to get dogs out of the shelters and help them get adopted. It breaks my heart to think what would have happened to Missy if she had been put in a shelter environment. She was a rescue, but she was fostered in a home. That woman saved Missy's life, she really did. Missy was way too hyper, anxious, and barky to get adopted from behind a gate. I have a hard time believing she would have made it out alive. What Missy is great at is interaction with people, especially one on one. That's when you can see her for the beautiful, confident Missaroo she really is.

The conference was full of amazing people doing amazing things for animals of all kinds. It also made me realize why there needed to be so many of us and why we had much to learn in the fight against euthanasia. I've been lucky to have found my dogs and volunteered in shelters here in Washington State. We do a lot better here than in most states. Ohio, for example, makes a habit of killing pit bulls. While North Carolina leads the country in dog fighting cases. That's awful. There is still so much work to be done. 

I believe it all starts with a change in 'tude. It starts in your neighborhood, in your community, in your own heart. It starts with a willingness to recognize God made us all. He gave us this earth to protect. Everything is just on loan. If animals are anybody's "property" ((and I hate that word)) they are God's property, not ours to abandon and kill. We can do this. It starts with us. 

Saturday, December 3, 2011

The Return of the Sicky

WARNING: This is one of those gross-out dog mom blogs most non pet or kid parents can't appreciate.

Missaroo is sick again. For those who are new to the blog, this is nothing new. Missy has come down with something, I'd say every six months are so since I got her. She's had kennel cough twice ((she gets vaccinated twice a year for it)), worms, and the latest was an intestinal bacteria of some sort. Oh and the first bout of kennel cough and the worms were at the same time. On top of all this Missy is an emotional puker. Any noticeable changes to her routine ((mainly noticeable changes to my routine)) and she heaves. And now she is sick again with a vet appointment scheduled for Monday.

So how do I know? Well she had a poop accident inside the apartment. Her third one ever, first time she had worms, second time she had the intestinal bacteria, so you can see my cause for concern. Then when I came home from work today ((poop was yesterday)) she had thrown up. All signs point to a return of the sicky mcsickerson.

Of course, Monday seems like forever from now. Especially when I called at 8am today trying to get her in as soon as possible. I ran the whole gamete with them. Her history, what had happened, that I already had poop samples from her and Mister sitting outside our front door. I was ready to bring them right that very second. The vet receptionists, although very nice, seem to think I'm crazy. I recognized the gal's voice as the one who questioned me sitting there through Mister's surgery. I'm sure she is an animal lover in her own right, but I have her pegged as a cat person. So we wait while I check Missy's nose every two seconds and stare a little too long at their poop for anything that red flags me. As always you can follow us on Twitter @bdollymargaret and @themissaroo for the most updated info. Or you can wait it out too until we update the blog.


I love my neighbors. I know most of them by name, and those that I don't know by name know my dogs by name or I know their dogs' names. For example the gal across the parking lot from me is about my age and is dating the former head coach of Spokane's AFL team. Her dog's name is Winston. He and Mister are buds. I have no idea what her name is. We say hi to each other's dogs. More than neighbors, I love my neighborhood. I live on Spokane's South Hill which is the nicest area of town. I also live in the nicest apartment complex ((at least that's what I hoping considering my astronomical rent)). Of course, by nice I mean safe. I don't take nearly the same precautions I did when living at home. Mostly because I think home is the ghetto, especially when compared to the South Hill.

It was these nice neighbors of mine ((whose names I actually know and their dog's too)) who alerted me that even the safest neighborhood in town can have a creep-o in it. I was taking the doggies for their afternoon walk when Ryan came out and told me the last two mornings at around 6:40 two different people had seen a guy dressed in all black hanging around outside our buildings. I have to be at work at 7:00 and I live 10 minutes away. One time the guy was hiding in the trees and sacred the crap out of another dog mom. The first time it was Ryan who saw him and said the guy took off when he saw Ryan and his dog Harley. WHAT!?! There went my sense of security.

I of course told my mom who was even more freaked out than I was. Then she freaked out to my aunt. Between the three of us I think we've covered the list of what to do in case of an attack. My mom suggests I carry a stick around with me and that my brother fly out here to walk me everywhere. I told my aunt I want a tazer like Pheadra from the Real Housewives of Atlanta. I'm pretty sure she's pricing them for me.

The good news is I haven't seen him, and with the neighborhood banning together and alerting everyone I think we won't have to worry about this particular creep-o too much longer. But it is a good reminder that there are creep-o's everywhere. The even better news is doggie hell really isn't the place for a creep-o to hid out. Missy barks whenever a new decoration appears in a yard. She knows her neighborhood so well. And Mister already has a fear of dudes in general. Every new guy is cause for concern to him and he barks his mean little chihuahua bark to prove it. No one is sneaking up on me with those two. I'm so thankful they are a couple of crazy barkers. Not only that, but I have no doubt that Missaroo would kill for me. And Mister, being the follower that he is, would go along with her plan of attack. I'm not leaving my security all up to them of course ((although I doubt I'm going to start carrying a tazer)) but it's nice to think dogs 1 creep-o 0.