The Life of An International Playboy

His name is Sherlock. No Ship Sherlock Shane Sepahpur to be exact.  And can that boy ever play!!! He plays with my dirty socks. He plays with his reflection in the glass at night. He plays with opossums that are playing dead. He plays with my mind. If it exists he can probably find a way to play with it. He is one of the biggest players on earth. Sorry Charlie Sheen and Tiger Woods. You just don’t have as much game.

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But what makes this dude international? Well, to start with, his father was frozen sperm from Canada flown down to Texas to be “introduced” to his USA mom’s egg. His conception started and finished in two different countries. Now unless you and your honey are going to take a blanket and a bottle of wine and find a nice spot to lay between North Dakota and Saskatchewan, good luck achieving the same multinational start to a life.

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Even Sherlock’s DNA has an international dispute to it. Many sources state the origin of the poodle was Germany where it was know as the Pudelhund – a water retriever.  However, the French absconded with the credit for the poodle saying it was a cross between their breed the Barbet and a Hungarian water dog. Germany was in no mood to go to war over the creation of the breed and let France take credit. Strangely enough, Hungary wanted no part of the debate as they were to busy growing cords on their Komondors to give a flip. So, history clearly shows the Standard Poodle as being German, adopted by the French, and shrunk down by the clever Brits. Sherlock’s genes got around Europe like the plague.

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What has Sherlock done to maintain his history of international origins? He has become a mini star across the oceans and continents.  Sherlock originally appeared nationally in his home country of the US with an odd flash during the NBC sports broadcast of the Belmont Stakes.

His second appearance was only seconds longer a British show called Dogs That Make You Laugh Out Loud. Below is a clip of him barking and reacting to the CD. What a loon!!!

That was followed up by a second US flash at fame on the Jimmy Kimmel Show.

He was back to England where the show Harry Hill’s Tea Time paid for some of his work. I am still waiting to get footage from the production company so enjoy a few pictures of him having tea and biscuits without Harry Hill instead (isn’t it sweet he is sharing his biscuits with Shasta?)

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Then the Netherlands and a T-mobile commercial was where he showed up next. Don’t blink. you will miss him.

And those were just the TV spots. Blogs picked up his video. From Germany to Brazil to the US where the AKC featured it and it was picked up by I ♥ Dogs; he was networking the net.

https://iheartdogs.com/this-poodles-reaction-to-american-pharaohs-big-win-is-amazing-have-you-ever-seen-anything-like-it/

Sherlock’s second video to go simi-viral also had viewers from all over the globe. Below is the video and a screen shot of the last of the 195 pages of countries that the video was viewed in. I don’t even know where St. Pierre & Miquelon are although Youtube says they are in North America. Over 170,000 people managed to view him getting his excitement on for a cartoon. 

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For added fun, one of his pictures was picked up by a group of Photo-shoppers. They did some really fun pics but I only manage to download a few before the link disappeared.  It seems he has spent time on the catwalk in Paris, being an awful au pair in Australian, and appearing on Broadway.

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babies daddy

broadway babie
So this playboy needed to do what international entertainers do: move to a different country other than that of his birth. So here is my German/French Poodle who is half Canadian and half American from the Untied States living in our little Mexico village where he he dines on Italian, Indian, Brazilian, French bakery yummies, Sushi, German, Thai, American burgers, Canadian poutine and of course, Mexican – which he swears tastes better if stolen from someone else plate from a hiding place under the table.

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He truly is a dog of the world!

Not Just Another Day, Not Just Another Dog, Not Just Another Dusty Chicken…

Grooming day!!! The day only day I am dog free and I can go eat at a restaurant that doesn’t allow dogs and get major errands done. I needed furniture. Specifically a sofa. My bony butt can’t handle the willow bench any more that has been the only seating option since I moved months ago to Mexico.

I first headed to treat myself to a lunch at a canine free establishment the Spoos never let me go. I scarfed down a serving of green bean and baby potato salad in an amazing vinaigrette and a steak sandwich with grilled chipotles. Then I remembered I was really craving the chicken mole at another pup banned place. Oh well – the next grooming day.

I went to a few furniture stores before I made the command call that I was going to have to go with the custom made sofa because nothing was ringing my bells. But, in the process I found “the bird.”

The Ajijic Plaza has this one story tall kinetic bird sculpture that I have loved. You can kind of see it in the picture picture of the square in the bottom near center. Not long ago I saw a smaller one at a sale but it had been purchased. I was bummed.

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I believe the bird’s head is missing. That is quite okay. I lose mine a lot. (I could not find the name of the photographer to give them credit. If you know who took this, let me know so I can give them their due.)

But what did I find at one of the furniture stores??? I have named him Cromwell. He is temporarily placed by my table sold to me by a couple because they were moving back to the States. I had gone to their place hoping to buy their sofa 🤪

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Cromwell the bird. I have not named the guy who looks like he is constipated or the horse. I’m working on it.

Celebration of finding my rocking crane called for chicken mole. That’s right. I ate two lunches in a three hour time period. Gangstas need that chow. My solution to my bony butt on the bench is to fatten up that fanny

I still had two hours before picking up the Spoos. I decided to go check out an area I hadn’t explored yet. When I arrived in Ajijic, someone told me it was impossible to get lost. If you went too far one way you hit the lake. If you went too far the other way you hit the mountains. I ended up lost…

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Here is the lay out. Mountain (I call them hills as I have spent my fair share in the Rockies,) to the North. The lake to the South. The lake is 50 miles long so I have yet to get lost and ended up on the other side of it.

…on the opposite side of the mountains. I have no idea still after staring at google maps how I did it. But, all of a sudden I noticed the mountains to the south. Ummm – the lake is always to the south. Time to pull over and figure out if Waze knew Mexico. I pulled up at the groomers right at 5:00 pm and still confused as to where I had been.

The dog’s groom looked great. So that wasn’t going to last. I got home and they went into zoomies. Sherlock went into one of his spin jumps just as Shasta hit him full force. Sherlock slammed into the edge of the steel driveway gate where it rubs on the bushes when it opens. Hence the green line on Sherlock’s hip. He went down with a horrid yelp.

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Speaking of bony butt… A few have messaged me concerned about Sherlock’s weight. He is four years old and has always been skin and bones.  I have tried everything and he has been through countless vets and testing and he has always been extremely healthy. He eats higher quality food than I do and a lot of it. If you go to the movie section of this blog you will see he burns two calories for every one he eats. I promise this is not an abused or sick dog. Just ADHD (emphasis on the H,) deluxe.

I ran over, picked him up, put him in the car, loaded Shasta, and headed to the vet. Sherlock laid still during the short five minute drive. Sherlock laying down is never a good sign.

I got to the vets (where they are also groomed,) jumped out, ran in, and told the vet Sherlock was in the car and couldn’t stand up. She went to the car with me and when I opened the back hatch, Sherlock was spinning and jumping in circles like he always does. If it wasn’t for the stain on his back end I’m sure she would have thought that I was one of the worst over-reactors on Earth. She poked it and moved it around and said to see how he was in the morning. Darn dog!

And this is where the dusty chicken comes into play. There is a roadside stand where a man grills nothing but chicken. The locals call it dusty chicken because it use to be on a dirt section of the road and the passing cars coated the chicken as it grilled making a most yummy crust. It is like crack – meat meth. You have it once and you are hooked

It was a dusty chicken that the Spoos stole off the counter after their their last groom. I was unloading everything and made the mistake of bringing the chicken in first. Spoos are smart. Together their IQ adds up higher than mine. Unless I put a roasted chicken in a vault, it will be theirs. Now, let me add that the dusty chicken comes with some roasted hot peppers and onions. When I finished unloading the dogs were not to be found. I discovered them in the back bathroom like this:

It was clear which one ate the one missing pepper and that they had both shared in the chicken. All that was found was the two onions and one remaining pepper. One thing that was not remaining was the plastic bag the chicken was in. Crud! One or both ate the plastic along with chickens and bones.  I called the vet who recommended giving them white bread and watching them for signs of a problem. They got their bread and so did I as now toast was the only thing left for me for dinner. That night I wearily crawled into bed after being on poop vigil. On my pillow was the inside-out chicken bag. They put the evidence in the last place I would see for the day. They knew my anger would be long gone by then. “I love my dogs, I love my dogs, I love my……”

So fast forward back to the day Sherlock hurt his hip and Cromwell came into our life. The vet/groomers is right across from the dusty chicken stand and the smell has lured me in every time we left grooming or vet care before. But since they ate it – bones and all – last time I had decided there would be no pollo for them that as I had left grooming the first time. But, as I looked in the rear view mirror as I backed out of the vets after his “injury” I saw Sherlock standing with his leg up looking miserable. It might not have been broken but he was in pain. He needed chicken crack to make himself feel better. I stopped for a chicken – minus onions and peppers.

It was only after we got home and dug into our treat that it hit me he was holding up his front leg which he has done since a puppy as one of his cute begging poses. I was sure I had been played.

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“Look into my eyes. You are getting very sleepy. Now count backwards from ten. When you get to one, the bacon will fall from your hands and you will have no memory of making bacon.”

Regardless, after my two lunches, I still enjoyed my share of the score. Birds win the day!

Update:

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I have named the constipated guy Congress. As showy as he is, he hasn’t done a thing since I have known him. And the horse is named A Horse With No Name because I’m just not all that clever these days. 

My dogs will be the death of me!

For three months after I moved to Mexico I didn’t have a car. But, with the lovely weather and amazing visuals, the dogs and I loved the walks to restaurants, stores, and the plaza.

eye candy
Some of the eye candy we pass on walks here in Ajijic.

Wanting the full no-car experience, I decided to carry a load of laundry to the place that was doing my washing as I waited for the remodel to reach the point of building the room for the washer/dryer. The place is up the mountain a short way on a very busy main road but there is a path cut out so you don’t have to walk close to traffic.

I threw the bag of clothing over my shoulder and embarked with the dogs. When we came around a corner there was a horse tied to one side of the path munching.

Horse on path
It seemed we had plenty of room to pass!

I assumed the horse was on a short rope. I assumed my dogs would halfway behave walking past it. I assumed the horse would ignore us. Wrong wrong and wrong again.

As soon as we got about 15 feet away the horse decided to trot over and say hello. The pups were fine until it started running to us. Then Sherlock decided to eat it and Shasta decided to run for cover. I was a wishbone.

Lugging laundry, with Shasta trying to pull me into the weeds and Sherlock trying to get us under some hooves, I tried to drag both of them quickly up the rocky hill – in flip flops. As we passed, the horse suddenly came to the conclusion it didn’t want to be neighborly any more, spooked, and took a poorly aimed and half-hearted kick at the white cotton ball that was pretending it was a wolf. But we came through unscathed.

On the return trip we found the horse still there and would have to do the same dance but I was free of my donkey load, prepared to keep the dogs short leashed beside me, and figured downhill was easier. I assumed it would go better.

Wrong.

This time the horse was ready for bad behavior from the two very tiny horses. It laid its ears back and did a little pawing and a lot of snorting. This for some reason scared Sherlock and made Shasta want to run up to play with it. Sherlock headed for the weeds and Shasta took off for the horse. As I was prepared for the opposite I got wishboned again and this time drug them rapidly down the hill.

I stopped to get a picture of the horse. I was panting and shaking so bad it was hard to dig my camera out of my purse. But when I did, I looked down and saw Frick’n Frack as calm as cucumbers not at all winded. They were looking at the horse like “no big deal!”

No big deal
I’m dying and they are easy breezy 🙁

Horses are part of what makes this place special. The Spoos are just going to have to learn barn etiquette.  Or I am going to have to start working on my upper body strength more. Just another day in poodle and pony Paradise.

double parked horse
Not an unusual site at all here.
big horse
Yes, that horse is as taller than the trucks. And no, it isn’t a parade. It is just another weekend by the lakeside.

 

What I Learned From My Dogs Today – I’m Not Saying Your Child Looks Like a Dog…

Momma Mim being allowed to blog today:

The results are in.  The average dog is as smart as the average two year old human.  So my advice today goes for bare skinned, as well as fur covered, kids. Put this to memory: if you don’t want to do something for the rest of your life, don’t do it even once for your child/dog.

I learned this the hard way with my two footed child. I made the mistake one time of cutting his sandwich in triangles instead of rectangles. Now, I am destined to stress over geometry every time I make one. When I am in an assisted living retirement home and my 65 year old son comes to visit, I will still have to make sure he is not served anything with four sides – three it is for eternity. If you do it and they like it: game over.

No squares

It hit me this applied to dogs as well when I had my dearly departed Shandy.  Shandy would sit at my feet every day while I put on my make up.  One day I decided to let her smell my blush. It was so cute how her little nose went into action. The next day I let her smell my lipstick before I put it on.  Then I got a new makeup brush and, without thinking it through, used the old one and tickled her nose with it.  The monster was born. From then on out, even if I didn’t have time to put my own makeup, hers had to be done. She wouldn’t go pee until she had her NARS bronzer on.  And if she didn’t get to smell check my lipstick for the day she would pitch a fit.  I will admit I would give anything to put a dot of foundation on her nose just once more, but at the time it was heck.

shandy nose

She was such a diva.

bad hair

My current problem I created by not following my own advice involves coconut oil.  I have used this on my face as a moisturizer for decades.  Lately, a blog made it’s way around touting all the great uses for it. The one that caught my eye was that it was good for dogs. So, one night after rubbing some into my cheeks, I called the dogs over to see if they would like the taste. Uggggg. My nightly routine for the last few months is now this: brush my teeth, wash my face, and put coconut oil on my face while being stared at, give Sherlock the opportunity to lick any remaining oil off my fingers, feel sorry for Shasta not getting any and scooping her out some, give into Sherlock’s whining because Shasta got a scoop and he only got a lick and get more for him, give into Shasta’s whining because Sherlock got to lick my finger’s twice and she only got to lick it once and get more out for her, cave to Sherlock’s pestering because Shasta….. you get the drift.

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And it has to be off my fingers. I got a spoon but did not want to put the spoon back in the jar after the dogs licked it and they had no patience waiting for me to wash it. I then put it on little plates, but the idea of me still having a remaining molecule left on my fingers made the plates mute. Now I scoop some with a spoon and let them lick it off my digits. Everyone is happy. Well, except me. I resent the fact every night I am required to become a coconut flavored lollipop.

So the moral of the story is: think about your every action when it comes to your pups/offspring! It may only take a second and not seem like a big deal at the time, but if you do something for your babies once, the 7,529,462 times you will have to repeat it will wear you down.

And for the record – child approved….

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Poodle approved….

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Canine Conversations – New Year Revolutions.

Sherlock: Hello to all. Sherlock and Shasta here to share our New Year Revolutions.

Shasta: It is resolutions, you goof ball.

Sherlock: What fun is that? Watch this – I make at least 20 revolutions in less than a minute in it –

Shasta: As impressed with yourself as you are, it doesn’t change the fact that we are here to make resolutions – not revolutions. I will make the first one. I resolve to not leave balls at the top of the stairs for Momma Mim to trip on.

Shasta and stairs

Sherlock: I don’t like this business. It implies I am doing something I need to change.

Shasta: You have many things you need to change. Let’s start with you resolving not to pull on Momma Mim’s robe when she sits down and gets nice and comfy.   That really is a doggie no-no.

Robe tugging

Sherlock: Nonsense! I do it for her well being. She will get fat if she sits all day. Hey! There is an idea. Let’s make resolutions for Momma Mim. Like, she won’t pick up my toys after I have them nice and scattered.  Do you know how much work it is to get each one in its proper place.

Nice and neat It's a mess

Shasta: {Sigh} I give up. You do your revolutions and I will do my resolutions. My second is I will make sure Momma Mim never has a cold lap.warm lap

Sherlock: You need to do that. Because I’m going to make sure she never has warm feet. Those socks are mine! Bahahahahah!!!!!

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Shasta: Enough of you already. I can see this is not going to work. So I will just bid everyone Happy 2015. May all wishes come true.

Sherlock: Me too! Me too! Enjoy your 2015. And may you all have a poodle grace your life this year. And if not poodles – then fame and fortune (although poodles are the better than F&F.) And don’t forget to treat yourself by running free every moment you get because there are others out there who won’t get the chance in the coming year. Peace – my friends – peace.

run baby run

Tongue Out Tuesday – The Stuff of Legends

Sherlock sharing today.

Me in my Miami

There are many things that earn me the name Super Standard Sherlock – Defender of Poodle-kind. Take my tongue for example.  As you can see from the photo above, it is epic.  My human thinks I have it out so much because it is hot here in Houston, but I am really just showing the world what a fine body part it is. In fact, it is too glorious to be kept hidden in my mouth. So, I share it with my admiring public.

I have heard of this creature called an Ant Eater that is suppose to have a better tongue than I. Let me first say, eating ants is silly. I have eaten a cockroach – was not good – tasted like the rubbish bin.  I have eaten June bugs – not bad – be careful not to get a leg caught in your throat. I have eaten moths – very tasty – wings are a little dry but the flavor is a little “taste like chicken.” But an ant? Why bother. I won’t even waste my time on a cookie crumb that small. So this critter might have a longer tongue than I, but he has questionable taste as to what he does with it.

I will let you judge for yourself as to whether the tongue pictured above is not the best darn licker you have ever seen. And if you want proof, make an appointment with my secretary and bring a jar of peanut butter. I will be happy to prove it in person.

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