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.

2017-11-27 18.15.59
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 🤪

2017-11-27 14.54.07-1
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…

2017-04-12 19.23.07
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.

2017-11-27 18.01.21
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.

point-3.jpg
“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:

File Feb 01, 3 00 04 PM.jpeg
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.

 

The Spoos Move to Mexico!!!!!

2017-07-17 20.16.38

It has been a while since you have heard from me (Momma Mim,) and Shasta, and Sherlock. That is because it hard to find time to peck at a keyboard when deciding where, when, and how, to start a great adventure. The first question I usually get when I tell people my adventure is permanently moving to a new country is “WHY?” This requires a blog post of it’s own and I will address it later. But the important thing is: we are here!!! Our adventure in Ajijic, Mexico is well underway!

Once I decided it was time to leave the USA it was easy to make a list of the “wheres.”  Paris, Rome, Barcelona, Adelaide, Vienna, Helsinki, Melbourne, Singapore, Stockholm, Luxembourg…. Then I started researching living expenses for the places on my list. One by one I saw I would have to choose between the city of my dreams or luxuries like toilet paper and a home with electricity. So I started a new list.

Affordable countries were reveled through research: Croatia, Panama, Portugal, Mexico, Vietnam, Ecuador, and Morocco all made the cut. I loved the idea of Split, Croatia so that is where I started my search. Split is amazingly beautify and is indeed affordable to live in but most of the expats are German and the locals seemed to be either depressed or withdrawn.  I did go in the off-season when the tourist dollars weren’t abundant so that may have had something to do with it. I also decided that the plane flight was too far to be able to go back and forth visiting the states with the dogs as they are so large they have to fly cargo.

The long-flight dread made me cross off Portugal, Vietnam, and Morocco. I was down to Panama, Mexico, and Ecuador. Diving deep into expat forums for Ecuador and talking to people living there, I discovered some deal breakers that I hadn’t seen when just researching the country and reading the glowing articles about moving there. Next on my list – Panama.  Everything about it sounded perfect until I got to the part about the weather. I could not see moving my Spoos to a place so hot and humid year round. We had already struggled in Houston, TX during the summer months as we couldn’t walk on sidewalks except early morning and late evening.  And, they refused to wear the hiking boots I got them. So….Mexico here we come.

I first checked out Mexico City. Love love love!!! The drawback was Mexico City is like any other city – fast paced.  And since I do not know how to speak Spanish, I found myself holding up lines, lost, and frustrated.  A large portion of people in the area I was in spoke English but as they were living the rat race, it was hard to find someone with time to help me out.  Don’t get me wrong. Mexican people are so kind anyone would have stopped and given help if I asked; but, I just didn’t want to be constantly intrusive.  It was clear I would have to find a smaller village to live in while I learned Spanish and then move to Mexico City.

I immediately crossed off any of the tourist beach towns as I don’t like even myself when I’m a tourist in Mexico. The idea of living with a bunch of loud drunk Americans cycling in and out of my town was shudder worthy.  This resulted in a list of four places that appealed to me where there was a large enough population of English speaking expats to assure an easy transition. They were Puebla City, Ajijic, San Miguel de Allende, and Merida.  I bought my ticket for Ajijic because I like to do things alphabetically and off I went.

The minute my taxi drove over the hill and I could see Lake Chapala I felt like I may had found home. The next day, walking the malecon and having coffee in the plaza, I KNEW I was home. The search was over.  I felt it in my heart. The sights, sounds, smells, and tastes delighted me and the friendliness of the people gave me a huge sense of joy.  I looked for the negatives but they seemed so small that a gentle breeze could blow them away.   I started house hunting the second day there, found one the third day, and spent the rest of the week falling further in love with Ajijic (even though I had no idea how to pronounce the name of my new love.)

2017-04-11 19.50.19

The next decision was the “when.” I knew I did not want to move during the heat of summer. I also knew because of the oil recession, homes took about three months to sell in Houston then one month for the buyers to close on the house. I got out my fingers and counted. September would be when it would finally be cool enough to move enough to move.  It was the last week in May. Perfect time to list the house to have a moving date around the end of September. The house went on the market.

That is when all heck broke loose. The first day the house was listed, seven people came to look at it. Five of those seven made offers. Four of those five started a bidding war. The one winner could close in three weeks. Liars!!! Oil obviously was not as recessed and buyers repressed as the news let on.  Oh – and the house I found on day two in Mexico fell through.  I found myself on the internet looking at houses and found one with pretty pictures. So I did what any insane person who was moving to a country where she didn’t speak the language or know anyone would do: I bought it sight unseen.

The buyers of my Houston home sweetly let me back rent my house in Houston for a couple of weeks so I had five weeks to pack/sell/give away my belongings, get a Mexican visa, wrap up business, attend to dogs healthcare, deal with friends and family who watch too much TV (“you will get kidnapped;” “you will die of infection when you go to the dentist;” “Mexicans are rapists and murders [fu$%^&# Trump;]…….) and learn to say, “help me. I have lost my mind” in Spanish.  Somehow I did it all WITHOUT losing my mind or any fingers, (although the finger loss came close.) But of course, I did it all in the heat of Houston’s summer.  I have never been one to time things well. No matter how much effort I put into it.

The “how” to the move was something I changed my mind on daily for the first few weeks.  I knew my belongings would go with a professional moving company as I had no desire to drop box after box on my toes.  But getting the dogs and I down there was problematic. I found out my car could not be nationalized in Mexico, (I envisioned a ceremony with a bunch of cars raising their right tires and swearing their allegiance Mexico roads and mine not being able to because she was of Japaneses descent) so I would have to drive it to the boarder every six months if I wanted to keep it. Heck no. The only time I drive anywhere every six months is when I go to the grocery store (I don’t cook so every six months works well.)

So, I could rent a car, leave it at the boarder, walk the dogs across to Mexico, rent another car, then buy a new one after my visa paperwork was finished. Or I could fly then buy a new car. Options with less steps always have appealed to me so to the sky we were bound. I bought my ticket and purchased two cargo tickets for Sherlock and Shasta. Easy breezy – NOT. I got an email after a few days that because of the crate size of the dogs and the size of the airplanes that flew into Guadalajara, only one could go on the plane at a time. The option to ship one on a flight ahead was given but, that meant the dog flying alone would have to go through cargo customs as opposed to inter-airport customs.  It was not an option for either of my babies to spend the night in a customs office alone. So, since I’m a brain sturgeon, I came up with my flight plan. I would fly someone from Ajijic to Houston to fly back with my one of my kiddos.  After all my back and forth between flying and driving, flying was written in stone.

At first I stressed day and night about flying my dogs cargo. There were so many horror stories – so I thought. Turns out there were just a few horror stories as documented because the airlines are required to keep records of animals being lost or croaking in flight and the numbers were very very low.  People just tend to tell the same stories over and over adding, “a friend of mine” before each to make it seem like millions of animals take off into the wild blue to never return again. It is SAFER to fly your dog than to drive unless you have a short snout dog.  Dogs die in car crashes, are stolen from cars when owners stop to eat, or get loose and ran over at pit stops way more often than being harmed in flight. But no one has a friend who tells the story of how they were side swiped at red light and Fido died when you mention your driving your dog to the dog park with you.

I followed the instructions of doing the paperwork to a tee and even had Spanish speaking vet tech review it all.  I got the proper sized crate and secured it like instructed.  Dropping off the dogs, filling out the paperwork, having them and the crate looked over, and saying sweet long goodbyes was so easy.  The problem came with me flying – not them.  Shasta and the young lady I had flown in to fly with her had zero problems. My flight was the last of the day and I had checked Sherlock in with ease. But when I went to check in, I was told because my gate had changed and my seat was not assigned yet, I would have to go to the customer service counter to get my seat assignment.  The line to customer service was insane because of the “last flight” time period (I stood there for a total of 75 minutes,) and everyone who was bumped or on canceled flights were taking forever to get on a plane the next day.  I waited until 20 minutes before my flight then said, “screw it” and ran to the gate to plead my case (which I had tried once already and was sent back to customer service.) I was told I had no seat on the flight. My dog was being loaded into the cargo hold and United had failed to get me a place on the plane.  I started crying telling them to get my dog off the plane or get me on.  People started taking out their cell phones to record the drama. One nice woman offered her seat as she was a dog lover and couldn’t imagine a dog at baggage claim over night without an owner.  Five minutes before they shut the door, they “found” me a seat. Turns out it was assigned to me all along but hadn’t been synced??? Yeah right 🙁

As soon as I was seated the flight attendant notified me the captain had been told there was a dog in the cargo area and my baby was fine as reported by baggage.  Once again, the dog was SO cared for. I was put through hell. When we got to Guadalajara it was after midnight. Sherlock’s crate was so big it wouldn’t fit through any of the luggage doors so they had to find a person with security clearance to open a people sized door.  I could see through the window and there were a group of people around him sticking their fingers in his crate, and from looking at their body language, making baby talk in Spanish to him. As soon as they got him in, the customs vet looked at his papers then took us to a small room to examine him.  Everything went smooth.  As it was late, the vet even helped me get my luggage and the big crate through the rest of customs.  Sherlock danced out of his crate when we got out of the airport and peed his first Mexico pee on a patch of lovely green grass outside the terminal.

We had our arranged driver take us to pick up Shasta and then we went to our cute Airbnb (I still had to sign papers on the house so we Airbnb’ed it for three days.)  The dogs were no worse for wear from the trip.  The joy of the new smells and new sights had them prancing on air. And they didn’t miss one single night hogging a king sized bed and making me sleep on the edge.  The adjustment to the new house went even better as I think they sensed my ease at being home.

So here we are, six months later and mind boggling happy. I treat culture shock as learning experiences and laugh when things go wrong because they always go wrong in such a way that I feel like I am living a sitcom.  I will add some of the experiences I have been sharing with another forum and keep you all up to date on living and loving Mexico.

La maleza vuela al sur cuando truena. I think that means “Wishing you all happiness and health;” in Spanish. (I have only had time to look through chapter one of “Learning Spanish in One Afternoon.”)

2017-07-16 17.26.31

It’s Not My Fault – Please Don’t Take My Dogs Away From Me!

Momma Mim blogging today.

Let me start by saying I understand. Shasta and Sherlock are without something because of me. But I say what they are missing is a want – not a need.  I feel they can live full healthy lives without owning a cat.

(See http://2spoos.com/2015/02/11/it-wasnt-my-fault-it-was-going-to-be-a-tabby-coon/ for their side of the story.)

My beloved dogs are so determined to get a pet of their own they are now threatening to call PETA or the Humane Society on me. So now I am worried that animal activists are going to bonk me on the head to liberate my 2 spoos.  Therefor, I am appealing to you all: please let me keep my dogs – I do my best to make up for them not having a cat of their own.

For example:

I buy them every toy they put their nose on when we go shopping. This picture shows just the “downstairs toys.”

too many toys

They also have the “upstairs toys,” their “roof deck toys,” and their “garage/dog park toys.”

And then there is their diet. I buy them dog food that has more thought put into it than what I eat. And speaking of what I eat, I share that too.

sharing watermelon

And they have plenty of uncooked bones to chew (this was after I cleaned out both of their hiding spots.)

elephant graveyard

And I make sure they have lots of other kinds of chews.

2013-08-07 19.41.58 spine of small child

They get to choose what channels we watch on TV.

picking channels

And they have their own laptop to use to post their selfies.

thier own computer

They get lots of exercise at dog parks and places I let them “break the law.”

off leash romp           2013-09-23 19.01.29

And as for a comfy place to sleep, I think this says it all – that is MY king size bed.

No room for me

And they have their own spots on the furniture that they begrudgingly share.

2015-07-21 22.22.01

On the furniture

So what do you think? Do you think they have a case?  I love them with all my heart. And my head. So please animal lovers, look into my eyes and see – them not having a cat is not near as bad as us not having each other.

Nothing makes you feel more loved Can you hear him screaming let me go

Rabid Ramblings – That Which Strikes Fear in the Hearts of Heros.

Shasta writing today.

I’m a big girl.  Big boned. Big hearted. And full of big ideas.  But I have a big fear: monsters under the bed.  Momma Mim keeps saying there aren’t any there, but you be the judge.

It all started when I kept feeling like something was starting at me. MM said I was paranoid.

Don't look behind you 2

Don't look behind you photoshop

Then one day I dropped my toy by the edge of the bed. When I went to retrieve it, there was SOMETHING there. At first I thought it was a dust bunny. MM is pretty good about cleaning, but sometimes dust bunnies move in. Then it moved. It seemed friendly enough.

Monster under the bed 1

It gave me a big toothy grin so I moved in to check it out. What a silly looking thing. It seemed like a clown creature – not a monster.

Monster under the bed 2

But then, just as I was about to invite it out to join me in a game of squeaky toy, the beast relieved itself.

Monster under the bed 3

This thing was bat ship crazy.  It was loony and evil at the same time.

Monster under the bed 4

It reminded me of Yosemite Sam – mean to the core with crazy eyes.

Yosemite_Sam

I ran to get MM and she looked under the bed. Nothing she said. I insisted. She got out the flashlight and showed me. It was gone.  But I knew it would be back. MM said I was being silly.  We watched a movie called Monsters Inc. where the monsters were nice. But I knew what I saw. That was not a cute cuddly Sully.  I drew her a picture.

evil poodle

She said that looked like her sister. Again, she said I was being silly. There is no such thing as monsters. And if there were, they wouldn’t want to live under our bed. It is pretty boring under there. I agree. I have wiggled under there a few times myself and there is nothing going on. So I will just chill. I’m sure there is nothing to worry about!

Monster under the bed 5

Right??????

Tongue Out Tuesday – Words Hurt

Sherlock blogging today.

Fudge my life! Last night we were hanging out at bed time waiting for Momma Mim to do this weird thing humans do with getting ready to sleep. [If they would just turn in a circle for four or five times, lay down, and close their eyes, it would go a lot faster.] Shasta had grabbed my spot right beside Momma Mim and was shamelessly hogging all the attention. I looked and saw Momma Mim’s fingers in Shasta’s mouth.

Ah ha! Finally Momma Mim was wondering why Shasta didn’t have a lovely long tongue like mine and was digging around to see what the problem was. I stuck out my tongue so MM would have a good example to judge by.

finger in mouth

Shasta seemed to be kind of gnawing on MM’s finger and MM was talking to her in a baby voice – surely to keep Shasta from freaking on her lack of stellar tongue.  MM rubbed Shasta’s nose and her fingers when back in Shasta’s mouth.  Obviously, MM was concerned. I stuck my tongue out even further to assure MM even if Shasta was sub-par, she still had me.

second touge out

Then, MM looked at me and said, “What are you doing silly dog.”  Silly dog? Here I am trying to help and she calls me silly. I was hurt. I needed my favorite fluffy toy. I left.

sherlock leaving

As I left I heard Shasta say, “I got your spot, silly dog. Ha ha ha!” I was tempted to just run away. But then I heard MM get up to wash Shasta’s nasty slobber off her hands(my slobber is like silk and I’m sure she wouldn’t have washed it off,) the treat bag she keeps on her dresser open, and her say, “Night night time Sherlock. Come get a treat. Let’s go night night.” Being the big hearted dog I am, I forgave them both. Plus, when Shasta got up to get her treat, I got my spot back. I may be silly but I am silly smart.

So remember, words may hurt, but it isn’t anything a good bacon flavored treat can’t fix 😉

Canine Conversations – You Missed the Westminster Boat By An Ocean

Sherlock and Shasta chatting today;

Sherlock: Oh my gosh! Shasta! OMG! Shasta! SHASTA! It’s awful. It’s horrid. It’s unthinkable.

Shasta: Slow down there my favorite Fruit Cake. What is wrong with you?

Sherlock: I missed the Westminster Dog Show!!!

Shasta: It’s okay. Momma Mim can load it up for you on the telly to watch. Chill.

sherlock looking up close

Sherlock: No. You don’t understand. I was suppose to go to the show. I was suppose to be in the dog show. I was suppose to win the dog show.

Shasta: That is ridiculous.  We aren’t show dogs. We are pet dogs.

Sherlock: You may be a just a pet dog. But that is because you were a puppy mill rescue. I am a show dog. Let me go get my papers. My papers prove I am a show dog.

Shasta: I have seen your papers. A million times. {Sigh} You can line a birdcage with them as far as Westminster goes. First off: there is nothing wrong with me. I am 100% spoo. It is true I was rescued from an awful life. But the people at the poodle rescue found me my Momma Mim and now I sleep in a king size bed, have more than my share of toys and chews, and am the boss of you.

I own you

Sherlock: I let you win…sometimes… But my papers show that my dad was a Canadian champion and my mom was a US champion. My grandfather won Westminster’s Non-sporting group. It is my job to carry the torch and win the whole thing.

Shasta: DNA in your case stands for Don’t Notice Anything. For starters, didn’t you notice the poodles at Westminster don’t look anything like either of us? Let’s start with your topknot. A show dog has a long luxurious topknot. Like this:

black poo photoshoped

Your topknot flops. Like this:

Bad flattop sherlock

Sherlock: I can grow a topknot like you have never seen. Just watch me.

Shasta: Then there is they way show dogs carry themselves. See the great posture on this dog? She looks like royalty.

good posture

Now look at your silly self. You look decapitated.

decapitated sherlock

Sherlock: That bow is cheating. I’m a boy. I can’t wear a bow. But I have perfect poodle posture.

Sherlock good posture

I’m down right regal.

Shasta: Do you know to be a show dog, you have to get Momma Mim to get your hair cut like this good looking guy?

silver dog

You can’t show up looking like this:

11111449915_3bfec34f4a_o

Sherlock: Again! No fair. I had just had a “spa” mud treatment. But ohhhh. Look at that cut. He has ball butt. I want a ball butt. Mine will be the roundest fluffiest balls a butt has ever seen. I know Momma Mim will let me have them. She let me have foot balls. (Get it? Footballs – I crack myself up.)

Sherlock foot balls

Shasta: Speaking of balls… As soon as you stop laughing at  yourself, I will give you the last and final reason you can’t win Westminster. Only dogs that can make puppies are allowed. The original purpose of dog shows was to evaluate breeding stock. And; everyone having the same equipment makes judging more fair. You had your boy puppy-making balls removed. I think Momma Mim has them in a jar in the garage. 😉  So there. This fine rescue dog has just as much chance of winning Westminster as you do.

Sherlock: Oh my gosh! Momma Mim! OMG! Momma Mim! MOMMA MIM!!! It’s awful. It’s horrid. It’s unthinkable…….

~

{Shasta: Thank you to Branna, Carmel, and Calder for helping me show Sherlock what a sharp looking poodle is suppose to look like. And no matter if we are black, apricot, red, parti, silver, brown, or white – toy, mini, or standard – show dogs or pet dogs – rescues or well planned litters: we poodles are always canine superstars!}

Canine Conversations – I Rofve You!

Shasta and Sherlock chatting today.

Sherlock: Hey Shasta? Happy Valentines Day. I rofve you.

sherlock heart one

Shasta: No you don’t. The other day, you ask Momma Mim if the circus was in town and needed any brown poodles.

sherlock hate one

Sherlock: Pssst. Oh Shasta? I rofve you!

sherlock hearts 2

Shasta: You most certainly do not. I took one bite of your treat the other day and you went pure evil.

sherlock hate 2

Sherlock: Shasta! Shasta!! Shasta!!! I rofve you!!!!

sherlock kisses

Shasta: No you don’t. You won’t share your toys, you hog the bed and don’t let me have a pillow, and you laugh when I pass unladylike gas……

……

……

{Sigh.} Hey Sherlock? Will you be my valentine? I rofve you too.

Shasta hearts

Sherlock: I knew it!!!!!!!!!!! You and me – best buds forever. Now, let’s go bug Momma Mim.  I’ll distract her and you steal her cookie from the counter. We are the best team ever………

BFF's

It Wasn’t My Fault – It was going to be a Tabby Coon

Sherlock and Shasta giving you the facts here today.

    Dog shame and share 

Sherlock: I wanted a tabby cat.

Shasta: And I wanted a Maine Coon because a cat in this house would need to be able to show you who is boss when you get in one of your “moods.”

Sherlock: We did something we rarely do – we compromised. We were going to get a Tabby Coon. A tortoiseshell colored one to be exact. Shasta had already started to search Craig’s List.

Shasta: I mean, we had this deal with Momma Mim in the bag. She said, if we ever hit 8500 shares with our blog and video’s, she would get us our kitten.  With my smarts and Sherlock’s – errrr – mannerisms, we had this on lock down. 

Sherlock: But then, in typical unfair Momma Mim style, she added the part about staying out of the laundry.

Shasta: I knew we were sunk because of Sherlock’s addictive personality and my OCD but we gave it a try. Sherlock was the first to break.

Sherlock: It wasn’t my fault. I thought it was just socks so it didn’t seem to be a big deal if I took another item instead. How was I to know that thongs were the gateway drug? 

Sherlock and the thong

Besides, you were the one who opened the door to messing with the laundry in the first place with your never ending need to check out the clean clothes.

Shasta: It wasn’t my fault. Momma Mim depends on me when it comes to laundry. Didn’t she say the other day she finds me in the clean clothes as much as she finds dryer sheets? She can’t do the laundry without me and dryer sheets.

snug bug

Sherlock: Well what happened next wasn’t my fault. She left the drawer open to her clean socks. She didn’t say anything about the clean ones, did she? It was like a hit of pure crack cocaine. Socks and more socks!!!

lock jump

Besides, you were the one who first got into the dirty laundry.

Shasta: Well, it wasn’t my fault she left the load of dirty stuff out where she usually puts the clean stuff to fold. I figured it out by the second sniff. That stuff wasn’t right. 

Laundry

But then you put us on the radar when you tried to steal one right off her foot.

Sock

Sherlock: It wasn’t my fault you drew more attention when you insisted to napping on both the unfolded and folded clean clothes. She knew we were about to break then.

2014-04-07 19.41.04

2014-11-16 19.22.28

Shasta: Hold on, it wasn’t my fault you thought you would be clever and try to hide the fact that you had broken down and taken that sock that ruined our chance of fluffy kitty happiness by trying to hide it behind another toy.

sherlock double duty

Sherlock: Okay, I might have been the one that set her off, but when it comes right down to it, it is Momma Mim’s fault. She knows we are hopeless laundry addicts and she set us up for failure. You know she didn’t want a cat anyway.

Shasta: You are so right Sherlock, it is Momma Mim’s fault. See, we can agree on a lot if we try. 

Sherlock: Let’s go check Craig’s List for a pro-bono lawyer and sue Momma Mim. We haven’t lost our chance at a feline of our own yet.

 

Powered by WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: