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!

How Mexicans Treat This Gringa Fool With Kindness

Mexicans know how to do magic. Fortunately they choose to use their powers for good not evil.

I went exploring in the car with the dogs today. I was taking random streets of a village two over from mine and enjoying the vibrant lively neighborhoods. I was paying close attention to directional signs because so many streets are so narrow there is only room for cars in one direction. I saw an arrow pointed the way I wanted to go and went.

I was thrilled to see a painted mural at the top of the hill. The murals here are bright colored eye candy. It even looked like on this one they had painted the road to look like steps. But then I got closer I saw that the street did in fact turn into steps.

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I kept driving upward looking for a place to turn around and it soon became clear there was none. I’m an awful back-er-upper and it was a longish steep narrow road so I decided my tiny car could manage to maneuver turning in just the street area.

If you look at the photo, you will see I managed to get my car at about a 45 degree rotation before I was stuck. Couldn’t go forward, couldn’t go backwards. Oh Sh$& !!! I had no flicking clue what I was going to do. I got out of the car and just stared numbly until the Spoos saw a street dog and barked me back to reality. I regret not taking a picture of how wedged in I was from the outside of the car. It truly was dumbfounding.

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At that point the clock turned two. A very important thing happens every day at two: construction workers take lunch. Four men came out of the area you see with the locked chain fence. A conversation ensued of which I understood zero but did gather they were very amused – with the Spoos…

It took a little miming to get them to see I was asking for them to help me get unstuck. I got back in the car to watch as they told me how far I had until I hit a wall and which way to turn the wheels. But they all seemed to be indicating something different and confusing me so I got out and motioned for one of them to get behind the wheel.

At this time I took the dogs out so the driver wasn’t afraid of getting bit and three of the guys were petting and fussing over them. When I turned around, the fourth guy had my car pointed in the right direction! Magic!!!! I tried to pay them some pesos and they refused. I guess the selfies with the dogs and the story about the dingy American told over the dinner table was enough reward.

I took the dogs home and should of called it a day. Heck, I should have called it a year. Instead I headed to Superlake.

Superlake is a grocery store that caters to people living here from north of the border by carrying US/Canada brands and packaging in English. It also charges an arm and a leg and three toes.

I have tried to wean myself off this highway robbery but my ventures into buying items in true Mexico stores based on the picture on the box can/have been solid fails. I bought cookies that were like communion wafers with Elmer glue filling and tuna that turned out to be a can of oil with four or five seafood chunks that I prayed weren’t dolphin. My only success had been cheese but that had taken a long time to get right. I stood for probably 20 minutes watching what everyone else was buying, comparing it to the rest of their basket, and deducing who had like tastes with me. BTW – all cheese here is white. Just like god intended.

Anyhow, I digress greatly. I finished my Superlake shopping, paid the king’s ransom, and headed to the car with a basket full of good ole USA dyes, trans fats, corn syrups, and artificial additives. I had to park way down from the store so I started my trek. The sidewalk was busy so I pushed my cart down into the street and was clipping at a good pace.

Then I hit the invisible wall. The nice paved street in front of Superlake turned back into cobblestone streets of my quaint Mexican village and three of my cart wheels jammed in the crevices between stones. The video below of the dogs show what kind of street I thought I could push a 20 year old wobbly-wheel cart over.

My purchases were heavy so when I started trying to wrench the basket loose it was having none of it. I was aware a lot of other shoppers were watching this lucha libre match I was having with my trolly. I started looking for a cobblestone crevice big enough for me to hide in. No such luck.

Suddenly two men swooped in and started grabbing my bags. Being an American, my first reaction was that they were vultures swooping down on a dead-in-the-road animal and I was being robbed. Then the bi-lingual man said, “which car is yours?” Lighting quick – like magic – they unloaded the items into my car and freed the cart I now call Willie.

I tried to offer them each a cash reward but again they wouldn’t take it. So I walked over and gave the money to the indigenous woman selling needlepoint cloths by the sidewalk. This action caused the non-English speaker to slap me on the back like I had just scored a goal for the local soccer team and then start talking a mile a minute to me. I understood muy bien so I knew he was okay with my move of giving their reward to the old woman but then I thought he said something about a turkey with chicken pox roller skating in Tibet. I really REALLY have to hire a Spanish tutor.

So these were My Mexican Magicians of Mercy today. Now one more unrelated story…

This morning my Architect came by. The day before I had lost my redhead temper about furniture scratches and all the dust mess the remodelers were leaving. He calmed me down and promised to make everything right.

So, buddies once more I was showing him my new fancy vacuum sweeper. In the demonstration process, he watched as I had a hard time getting two “easy release” buttons to work. Then, in my zealousness of showing off the hand held canister feature, I rammed the vacuum into the furniture, hitting the release button just right, and dumping a very full waste container all down my leg and onto my foot and floor. It was all white construction dust. Again!!! If I had thought to take a picture! My foot looked like Pennywise’s face. Now who needed to be scolded?

All-in-all a day of complete humiliation – but it has me basking in the glow of human kindness. What a warm magical glow it is!!!

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.

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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.

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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.

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Not an unusual site at all here.
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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!!!!!

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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.)

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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.”)

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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 😉

TBT: The Puppy Chronicles – Just Because Dad Was Frozen Sperm Doesn’t Mean I’m Cold Blooded.

Sherlock posting today.

shake it out

Just look at me – a pup born with swag.  As I sat down to write this blog post and went though the pictures, I couldn’t help but think, “some dogs are just born with it – and I am one.”  And it isn’t just the great DNA from my pedigree: I have that resplendent flare.

I began life thanks to Fed-ex. My father was a Canadian stud (as in male breeding dog and as in being hot stuff.) My mother who lived in Texas was the granddaughter of a Westminster group champion.  They never met. Thanks to dry ice, air freight, and a nice veterinarian, my brother’s and I came to be.  There were eight of us – four white and four black. But much to our breeders dismay, we all had nuts.

Sherlock litter

Because so much greatness could not reside in one place, my siblings and I were all sent to live with different humans. I lucked into Momma Mim as mine.  She had two spoos who were rescues from puppy mills, but had lost one six months before I graced her life. The remaining love of her life, Shasta, was one of the biggest darn spoos I had ever seen. The puppy mill had called them Royal Standards but there is no such thing (well, except for me – but I am Royal because of the fact that I am noble, gentle, imperial, kingly, and wellborn.) Naturally Shasta was bummed to see me because she knew the star of the show had arrived on the set. But like everyone else, she couldn’t resist my charm and I grew on her.

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The first months of training my new human was rough. I found the best way to motivate her was with the happy face.

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And that was a no brainer for me.

Path pup

Momma Mim was highly excitable at first. She would get in a tizzy about the funnest things like peeing, chewing, and singing loudly – things that come natural to every creature on the planet.  She seemed to need these things to happen at certain times and in certain places.  I have now learned all humans are OCD, and since monkeys are not allowed to have pets, I just adapted to keep things calm.

To keep this post short (there is a novel to be written about my puppy cuteness and poodle cleverness,) I will sum up that things worked out very well for what started in a deep freezer. There is a lot of warmth in my home and heart.

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I will share more puppy stories in the future – we have a lot of TBT’s to come.

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….

2015-01-13 20.49.50

Poodle approved….

2015-01-13 20.51.11

Explain Our Human – Obamacare and Mental Health

Shasta checking in and writing today.

The woman is nuts! Our owner, Momma Mim is fruit loops.  We all know only a crazy person would cry fire in a crowded theater or yell kitty when there isn’t one. So I am asking you all: does this insurance thingy she has cover mental health? And if so, how do I, a poodle of delicate persuasion convince her to use it?

As you can see in the first video below, her balminess is reeking havoc in our peaceful domicile.  First she sees kitties. Then she sees horsies. Finally, she is seeing birdies. Of course I go into action immediately since I am the official Chaser Off-er of our pack.  But alas – there is no fowl or fur intruder to be found.

Eventually, Momma Mim’s delusions got the best of Sherlock and he went off on me. It may look violent, but I assure you that he means no ill intent to me. He does that growl/teeth thing to me all the time when we are playing. He also does it to the vacuum cleaner and MM’s electric toothbrush. I figure it is because he is so wussy looking that he has to do something seem macho. (He does get teased at the dog park for being rather feminine in his movements and looks – but “hater’s gonna hate” is what I tell him.) He never has any bite with that bark. But I digress. It isn’t nice that MM’s carrying on got him worked up. Note at the end she asked if I’m crazy. Talk about the irony.

In this second video, you can see that I am having none of MM’s insanity. When she whispered kitty the first time, I (for a split second,) went on alert. But you don’t pull the topknot over this poo’s eyes twice. And she keeps going on even though I am giving her the stink eye. It is amazing she thinks, because she is whispering, I don’t know what she is saying. She forgets I can hear her put a spoon in ice cream when I am rooms away.

So it is more kitties, more horsies, more birdies…. She even tries to get me with a “go bye-bye. Hah! I have her number.  If you listen closely, at the end she even admits to being mental.   We have progress with the fact she is recognizing her problem. Now we just have to find a nice doctor to treat her. And I do hope that is covered. I don’t want it coming out of our bone money.

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!!!!!

2014-12-02 21.12.45

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

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