How could nobody out there tell me that someone was breeding lap dog-sized piggies? More importantly, why has nobody given me one? Seriously, is there a person who is a bigger fan of the pig than I am (other than for consuming purposes, because that would be a tough contest)?
So adorable, right? Gimme please. Thanks.
Showing posts with label petting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label petting. Show all posts
Because I obviously have doggie stuff on the brain lately, I'm happy to share this fabulous new dog toy with you. Yup, it's exactly what it looks like. Puppies need lovin' too!
Click to find details (you know you want to) and other cool stuff the company makes.
Today On Thursday* I had to do something that required me to make adult decisions. If you know anything about me, you know that I avoid being a grownup whenever possible.
In July of 2000, I drove out to Long Island in hours of traffic to pick up a little puppy. I had waited months for him to be born, and got pictures from the breeder as soon as he was. I was very specific about what I wanted, and he was exactly it. When I drove up to the breeder's home, I was greeted by a bunch of beautiful sweet Shar-Pei dogs of all ages. I couldn't wait to meet my new puppy.
As we made our way to the puppy area, the yaps and whines from the little ones grew louder and louder. When I approached the playpen, there were so many of them. Two litters had been born within a couple of weeks, and they were all so adorable. There were big, fat puppies, boisterous and jumping up, and the younger puppies fighting their way toward the front. Standing behind all of the ruckus was a little grey puppy. Calm and staring up with his huge blue eyes. That was my boy.
I scooped him up and took him out to the grass, where he shook his sleepy head, peed, then ran full speed at me. To him, full speed wasn't all that fast, which made his efforts that much cuter.
I named him Bubba, an ironic name for such a little guy, and he curled up in my lap for the long journey home. I already had China, my sweet mutt, who was nearly 2. Bubba was meant to be a playmate for her, and it was love at first sight. She mothered him and helped raise him. They were the oddest pair of dogs, and yet so perfect for one another.
Like any puppy, he had his bad moments, including a taste for leather shoes, remote controls, and table legs, but overall, he was a great pup, and outgrew his taste for contraband pretty quickly. The truth is that he was a pretty lazy puppy, and between short bursts of hard core playtime, it was mostly sleepy Bubba who got captured on film.
He was so quiet, we were able to bring him into a favorite brunch spot on Sundays, because he would simply prop his head into the crook of an arm and doze off.
At about 6 months old, Bubba started having severe allergy problems. He also had typical eye issues because of all of his wrinkles, and from that point forward, he was a very high maintenance dog. This was ok with me, because his charming personality and general sweetness made it all worth it. Over the last couple of years, his health got steadily worse, with short stints overnight at the vet's for various stomach ailments, but he'd bounce back and be his sweet self once again. The last of those vet visits, he didn't bounce back quite so readily, and the past couple of months, it's been more about keeping him as happy as possible. I think I was starting to accept that his time with me was not much longer.
Bubba was very sick for the past several days. I knew I could bring him back down to the specialist and he would likely stay there for a couple of days, but as the last time, the chances of him bouncing back were slim. At just a couple weeks shy of his 7th birthday, I couldn't watch him be sick any longer. Shar-Pei are not known for their long life expectancy. Wednesday, I spoiled him rotten; he, China and I had a family picnic feast on the living room floor together, and he curled up in bed with me. Something he was not normally allowed to do. Thursday morning, I said goodbye to my sweet Bubba through a steady stream of tears. It was the hardest thing I've ever done. It was the right thing. It still sucked.
*It took a few days to write this. Emotional stuff, you know.
Goodbye, sweet Bubba.
...the beauty that is this site, thanks to the OCD and brilliant geekness of Placebo, yet again. This should look perfect now, pretty much to everyone. If you're using some really old version of IE, there's nothing I can do for you. Update your software, for the love of god.
The thing that really rocks is that everything was pretty much rewritten, so I think it will be much harder for me to break on a regular basis. Not that it will stop me.
I'm still at home instead of working my creative self in the studio because I was hoping to be picking up a certain high-maintenance dog from the vet. Yup, Bubba is there again. He hasn't been quite right since the Dog Bite Incident of 2006. I think after his initial bravery wore off, he actually got pretty stressed, and because he's a neurotic mess, it has wreaked havoc on him. Maybe he needs doggy Prozac. In any case, he's there, he's getting better, but they still want to keep him until tomorrow. So, with that information, I'm off to visit him, then to work.
Yes, it's Friday. It's 8pm. I should be getting prettified to go...I don't know, somewhere, but it's not happening. I will instead be hanging out here, at home, keeping my eye on the small beast who came home from the vet a couple of hours ago. He's got all kinds of stitches in him and even though he's got one of those snazzy and oh-so-fashionable cones on his head, I still don't trust him to not attempt self-suture-removal.
So, here I sit, and somehow I got drawn into this tattoo (and other body modification) site, because well...because I'm fascinated by people's fetishes. I have a fetish fetish. That's not to say I have the desire to do a lot of the stuff, I'm just fascinated that people do want to. Also, I'm all for self-expression in any form if it makes the expresser happy and doesn't harm anyone else.
I started looking at all these tattoos, which I think at their best, are beautiful pieces of art, and at their worst can just be sad life-long reminders of that drunken night wherever, when the person stumbled into the nearest doorway with a neon light flashing "TATTOO". The particular site*** I was browsing was definitely the former. I've been asked by lots of guys I've dated why I've never gotten a tattoo, and I can definitely see why. I'm the kind of girl who would have a tattoo, if only I could decide what I wouldn't tire of. Ok, whatever. It's a commitment issue. I have a fear of commitment...happy?
But then, I saw this, and it made me really want a tattoo. For real. You're welcome in advance, boys:
So pretty though, huh?
***I directed you to the tattoo portion of the site, though there are some fairly graphic images, because people tattoo ALL parts of their bodies. If you are easily offended, you may want to stay away. Also, if you even had to think for a moment about perhaps being offended by a tattoo somewhere you don't want to see, I beg of you to not go exploring the rest of the site. It's not subtle. In fact, lots of it looks painful. Hehehehe... you totally want to go look now.
I wanted to post Man Notes™ today, a special holiday edition. Unfortunately, life had other plans. It was not a good day. I've made a diagram* to help tell my little story.
If Dog B runs suddenly upon Dog A and decides to make a snack out of him, what is the result of such an attack?
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In the Doctor's words:
Yeah, she said it looked just like a shark bite. He has lots of large jagged cuts all along his side and he spent nearly 2 hours under anesthesia so they could be cleaned and drained and all sorts of gooey stuff.
Bubba took it much better than I did. He pranced into the vet (bleeding) as if we were just there for a visit, tail wagging. I don't think he could figure out why all the perfect strangers in the waiting area were looking at him with such worry, and in the case of one very sweet older woman, with tears in her eyes. I thanked her for being so sweet and concerned, but if she started crying, I'd lose it, and look! He's being so brave about it, it would be totally unfair if I was a big cry baby.
Poor little guy. He should be just fine, he heals really well, and I'm sure he just wants to come home. The owner of the giant dog was actually unbelievably apologetic and did the right thing. She took responsibility completely, offered to take us to the vet. I told her it was fine, I have a car, and she gave me her credit card and all her contact information and was basically as lovely as a person can be after their dog attempts eating another dog. I don't know how lovely she'll be once she gets the bill, but I just can't be concerned about that right now.
*Dog disclaimer: The dog pictured in the diagram was not actually the dog who bit Bubba, and possibly not even the same breed. One of my best friends has that exact kind of dog (Great Pyrenees) and he's the most gentle, beautiful dog, and would never eat Bubba.Updated photo to depict actual breed of dog with Bubba craving.
So, what do you want to talk about today? Me? Oh, ok, if I must.
First, let me just say that the next month or so will be a little stressful. There's the whole holiday thing, which entails the juggling of family obligation, which is usually only slightly annoying with travel details and such. This year, it's a bit more pronounced because I have some decisions to make. Big ones, involving where I live and balancing my career with practical stuff, like retaining the ability to eat and have shelter and such. Being an artist is (I think) a noble, but not altogether the most stable profession. This isn't a pity party, I'm just saying...I may begin living up to the "bitch" part of the title of this blog (more?) as the year comes to a close. It's not because I'm the grinch, it's because I have some stuff on my mind. Ok, that's out of the way.
I'm getting bored with the layout of this site. I like it ok, and I like the ability to change it up as I see fit, but I'd like to be able to add another column (Petunia is lonely down there) and convert it to the very mysterious (to me) new blogger beta "layout", as opposed to the "template" it is now in. I've tried to code it myself, which is hilarious, because in case you don't know this about me...I'm a tech moron. But hey, if anyone out there isn't (a moron, I mean, with the computer stuff), feel free to design me up a newfangled and super cute page I can then tweak until my eyes bleed, as I did with this one.
Oh, you want me to talk about boys? Well, not much to discuss, except that CYB is in town for Thanksgiving break, and he called a few days ago. I haven't called him back because well...I'm not so much feeling it. He's fun for a little while (and a good smoocher), but I tire of him easily, and find it hard to ummm...dismiss him, for lack of a nicer term, when I become bored. Besides, he just lacks the kind of passion I need to keep me interested. Basically, I don't really feel like dating just for the sake of dating, even if getting some smooch time in doesn't seem like a terrible idea.
Oh, and thanks, for those of you who've asked, Bubba is doing much better. Totally fine, in fact, as if the whole rushing to the vet thing was a complete waste of his time. I should know better by now that he just likes to fake his own near-death now and again, just to entertain himself by watching me freak out. Brat.
Why today might suck a lot
Posted by elizabeth at 12:09 PM Labels: annoying, Lillian/Violet, petting1. Because it started with my espresso machine acting irritatingly wonky AGAIN. I did manage to squeeze some caffeine-laden nectar from it, but it wasn't easy.
2. I got to wake up to the maintenance guy at the door. He came to finish repairing the section of floor (which he was supposed to do yesterday), that my dogs destroyed while I was away. If they weren't so damn cute, we'd have serious issues. Oh dogs, how you bring the joy...which brings me to:
3. I have to bring Bubba to the doctor, as he's been puking for the past 3 days. What? You'd like more details? OK, but it's gross. Every morning, during his first walk, he vomits up what appears to be foamy phlegm. Yummy. He's been on medication for about a year now that has had total control over his IBS. I guess we'll find out why it's no longer working. Today, he's on a hunger strike, which means he must be feeling really very crappy. Before he was (finally) diagnosed for this, he would generally still eat voraciously, even if only to upchuck it a few minutes later. What can I say, he's a Shar-Pei. And neurotic. He's ultra high maintenance.
4. I have to find and actually buy something in a WalMart. I understand that this doesn't seem like a huge deal to most people. Everyone loves WalMart and Target, right? Yeah, I don't. I think they're strip mall creating, small business consuming, child laboring in 3rd world country employing, pieces of crap, and I make it a rule to not ever shop there.
*Warning: baby stuff that may be TMI for some of you follows*
Lillian has been breast fed for all of her 10 months, but for the past 2 or so, she's been weaning herself. She is not yet ready to go to milk, so she had to be put on formula. My sister (smartly) won't just give her regular formula, because cows, and therefore all milk products, unless explicitly stating otherwise, these days, is pumped full of all kinds of nasty hormones and crap. That's a discussion for another time. Basically, to avoid little Lillian from reaching puberty at 9, she only eats organic almost everything, but especially anything deriving from animals. Since this is something I am also adamant about, and since my sister buys this organic formula that can only be bought at soul sucker WalMart, I have to go there. It's not wise to just willy nilly switch formula if you can avoid it.
So there you have it. Suckiness abounds today. Sweet.
Go visit the new resident at the bottom of this page. You may pet her and feed her and spray her with water. She likes it. If you are very sweet to her, you may qualify to walk and feed my spoiled rotten dogs next time I go away. Don't all fight at once. It's an honor, I know.
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