Monthly Archives: April 2012

Bath Time, You Got to be Kidding me.

Dogs don’t like water.  I don’t like water.  What is this, water?! Wait, why are you putting me in there?  Ahhhh!  Oh fiddlesticks, I’m wet now.  Why are you spraying me with water? Where did I go wrong?  Oh, ohhhh, that’s better…hmmm I am liking this massage.  Not sure where you trained and that sure doesn’t smell like lavender oil.  What are you rubbing onto my skin?!  Wait, not the water again.  Ughhhh.

I kept asking them to stop, but they insisted I needed a bath.  Now look at me, I am all wet.  I am cold and I smell like, like, well I don’t know what I smell like but  I don’t like it.

Now you think you can coax me out of my bad mood with a new ball.  Whoosh, there goes the ball.  Well if you are not going to go after it, I guess I will just have to jump on it.  Look at me, I know how to play soccer.  Watch me, I love to bat the ball with my two front paws.  Ah, a new toy.  I love playing soccer.

Here comes my foster sister Terah, she thinks she can take the soccer ball away from me.  I’m too fast.  Wait, Terah, come back with the ball.  Maybe if I jump on her she will stop.  Ah ha, I got the ball back. Ok, let’s play tug with the ball.

Well, it’s bedtime now.  Terah and I are cuddled up on the couch.  I can now jump up here without any help.  I am glad for my new toy.  I love Terah, and she loves me.  Life doesn’t get any better than this, well it could be better if I did not have to take a bath.


Who is That Other Doggie?

Yay, I am feeling better.  I am able to run, skip and play with the other dogs without too much pain in my leg.  I am not as fast as the other dogs, but that is O.K. as they really seem to like me and want to play with me all the time.  My favorite game, fetch.  My foster mom throws the ball and I have so much fun trying to pick it up.  Sometimes my feet get in the way, and I kick it even further.  I love bringing it back to my foster mom, so she will throw it again, and again.

I thought there was only 4 other dogs here, but on occasion I find a 5th.  This dog hides in the fireplace and in the oven, but only when the glass doors are closed.  I have no idea where the dog goes when the doors are open.  I try to speak to the dog, to get him to come out.  I bark and bark at the dog, but he just barks back at me.  Funny, I never seem to hear him bark as he barks at the exact same time I bark.  I guess I bother him when I bark, my foster mom put up towels to block my view.  Then she said this to my foster dad: “Just wait until bath night and he sees the dog in the bathroom mirror”.  I have no idea what it means, but I guess they have a dog named Mirror.

Yesterday some nice people, my foster mom calls them “volunteers,” came over to play with me and foster sister Terah.  We got lovely walks outside of the house, and lots and lots of belly rubs.  I can now jump up on the sofa to cuddle with Terah and my foster mom.  My foster mom said I can start “class” in a few weeks.  No idea what class is, but I think I just may like to try.

A trip to the vet

I enjoyed my first night at my new home.  They tell me it is temporary, but it is warm and dry.  The lady allow me to sit on the sofa with her, my head in her lap.  I don’t know why, but I cannot use my hind leg. It hurts, a lot.  The nice lady is stroking my scabby head.  She gives my bumpy belly some rubs.  She takes me to a crate and picks me up and puts me in.  I don’t mind it so much.  She gives me a chew toy, and I lie down and go to bed.

The next day I get some breakfast.  My leg is still killing me, I do not know what is wrong.  I really do not want to go outside, so I piddle by the back door.  The other dogs are trying to play with me, but all I can do is sit down and watch them go back and forth.  An hour or two go by, and the nice lady is taking me for a ride in her car.

I go into another place.  I hear people talking, I hear them say my name “David”.  They weigh me, 32 pounds.  The nice lady goes into a room with me and sits on the floor with me.  I hobble around a bit, but then I crawl into her lap.  I don’t like the smell of this place.  Some guy in a white coat shows up, he gives me a smile and pets me a bit.  The two of them start talking.  I hear them talk about my demodex and skin infection.  I then hear them talk about the white worms she found in my poop this morning.

The nice gentleman listens to my heart and my breathing.  He then moves my leg around.  It hurts.  He shakes his head, and says I am deformed.  My legs are not in the correct position, and that the grooves for my knees are slanted.  It allows my knee caps to slide in and out.  He calls it a luxation.  He tells the lady he does not think surgery will help me, but wants to give me a prescription to help with the pain and swelling, then said to have a surgeon take a look.

The lady thanks the nice man, and we head back to the car.  She turns to me and says “Sorry”.  I know it is not her, and I know she is trying to help me.  I sure do hope this pain goes away.

My Life, at Least What I can Recollect


I was somebody’s pet.  But one day I ended up on the streets.  I do not know if I started to lose my hair, then ended up homeless, or if I lost my hair on the streets.  I was cold, hungry, and all I really wanted was a warm bed and someone’s lap in which I could place my head.

Instead, I got cold concrete and people shooing me away when I went up to them for food or affection.  I do not know how long I was on the streets until, one day, someone called the guy with the funny truck.  He called to me and I readily came to him.  He was the first person in a long time who wanted to pet me.  He gave me a few things to eat, then put me on his truck.  I bounced around in the truck for a bit, but then we stopped.  He brought me into a building.  Inside – I have not seen inside in a long time.

A lady took me from the nice gentleman.  She shook her head and, for a moment, I think I saw a tear.  I could hear her tell people, “how can someone let him get this bad”.  I did not know what she meant.  She started to poke me with needles. I did not like that.  She ran a blade over my skin.  I did not like that.  She stuck something up my butt.  I did not like that.  In the end, she put me in a kennel.  It was dry.  It had a bed.  It had a  bowl of food.  I loved that.

The next day, I was told I had a heart murmur, graded 2 of 6.  I was told I had demodicosis, a very severe case which has left me with only a few patches of fur.  I was told I had a very bad skin infection and my feet were swollen.  I was told I was underweight.  I was told I was a stray, and I had only a few days for someone to claim me.  I was told if no one claimed me, then they would do what they could, but it would be very difficult to find someone who would want me in this condition.

I spent my time on the medical ward.  I could hear other dogs, but I could not play with them.  People would come into my kennel and feed me, clean-up after me, and even give me some love.  But my owner never showed up.  One day, a very nice lady said she would help me.  She said she had friends.

The next day, she introduced me to two of her friends.  They played with me, they gave me some treats.  They said I was a good dog.  But then they left.  I spent more times on that medical ward.

But then the day came.  One of the nice ladies came back.  She took me to her home.  She gave me a toy.  Another lady took some pictures.  Then they took me to another house.  This house had dogs for me to play with – lots and lots of dogs.  It may not be my forever home, but the beds sure are comfy… and they call me David.