Well, I don't know what we did so special to deserve raw beef bones, but I'd do it every day if I could. Mom brought us big joint knuckles with lots of gristle and some meat. Gretchen doesn't get one, because she doesn't like fresh. If it's not ready to roll on and hatch maggots, she doesn't want any. She burried one bone in her crate and left it until Mom started to complain....yelp, mom was steaming over that trick.
Maybe she's still mad and that's why Gretchen doesn't get a bone now. She'll sneak and chew my bone in a few days, when I'm in the house. That'll be about when Sal buries her bone....and forgets where she put it. But ol' Sal generally uses one of my holes for her bury spot, so I find them later and she gets all huffy about it. Sorry, gal. You should hide your stuff better.
Yez, Yukon-o-sluth
Friday, August 26, 2011
Monday, August 22, 2011
spending time with MY BOY
~Yukon here~
Mom was having technical problems getting her book to publish itself....so she went to see Marty at college for some help with the computer stuff. His friend Brandon was there also, and between the three of them, I think the problem was solved. We'll see. But in the meantime, I got hissed at by Theo, who thinks he owns the boys' apartment....what a wazoo! That cat has been in the family less time than I have, but how quickly cats forget!
Just to show him "I ain't afraid of no cats" I drank all his water and cleaned his food bowl while he watched from the back of the couch! Ha! And what did Mr. Pussy-pus do? Nada! That's right. He just watched me make myself at home and chow down on his fancy-pants cat food. The only thing that made it sweeter, was that Martin forgot all about the cat when he was hugging on ME! I love my boy....he takes a heavy-hitter head bump like a champ! He even pats his shoulders for me to rear up and whack my paws on his shoulders, and the kid doesn't fold up accordion style when I do it, either.
But then he had to go to work and mom was still filling water jugs. Marty left her the apartment key so she could lock up. I watched mom pour pitcher after pitcher of water into the jugs until she could hardly lift them and had to have Brandon help her get the jugs into the truck. (Which made me wonder how she planned to get them out of the truck and into the cistern by herself, but oh, well. No one listens to the voice of reason when it comes from a dog....ever noticed that?) Then Mom went to Marty's work--an ice cream store!!! And she had a coupon for FREE ice cream. She came back to the truck with Java Chip on a sugar cone! I could hardly wait for her to get to the last bite, so I could have mine. She was enjoying it enough that I worried she might not remember to share--but I got the last bite as our owner-contract stipulates....guess I was worried for nothing.
Yerz, Yukonobite
PS> Yes, Marty got his apartment key....even in the face of free ice cream, mom remembered.
Mom was having technical problems getting her book to publish itself....so she went to see Marty at college for some help with the computer stuff. His friend Brandon was there also, and between the three of them, I think the problem was solved. We'll see. But in the meantime, I got hissed at by Theo, who thinks he owns the boys' apartment....what a wazoo! That cat has been in the family less time than I have, but how quickly cats forget!
Just to show him "I ain't afraid of no cats" I drank all his water and cleaned his food bowl while he watched from the back of the couch! Ha! And what did Mr. Pussy-pus do? Nada! That's right. He just watched me make myself at home and chow down on his fancy-pants cat food. The only thing that made it sweeter, was that Martin forgot all about the cat when he was hugging on ME! I love my boy....he takes a heavy-hitter head bump like a champ! He even pats his shoulders for me to rear up and whack my paws on his shoulders, and the kid doesn't fold up accordion style when I do it, either.
But then he had to go to work and mom was still filling water jugs. Marty left her the apartment key so she could lock up. I watched mom pour pitcher after pitcher of water into the jugs until she could hardly lift them and had to have Brandon help her get the jugs into the truck. (Which made me wonder how she planned to get them out of the truck and into the cistern by herself, but oh, well. No one listens to the voice of reason when it comes from a dog....ever noticed that?) Then Mom went to Marty's work--an ice cream store!!! And she had a coupon for FREE ice cream. She came back to the truck with Java Chip on a sugar cone! I could hardly wait for her to get to the last bite, so I could have mine. She was enjoying it enough that I worried she might not remember to share--but I got the last bite as our owner-contract stipulates....guess I was worried for nothing.
Yerz, Yukonobite
PS> Yes, Marty got his apartment key....even in the face of free ice cream, mom remembered.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
stranger "danger"
Yukon here~
Sally was barking her fool head off this morning for no apparent reason. Twice, mom went to the door to see if there was a stray dog on the porch, or something of interest, maybe a possum....but no. The second time, she noticed a huge bag of dog food that Dave had set beside the door. Since it was on an empty crate, it looked like it was big enough to be a person, peering through the side window. Maybe Sally was loosing her eyesight? She is getting kinda old. (Her hearing is fine, that's for sure.)
The third time, mom was getting low on patience. She went one step out of the house in her nightie and picked up the 50 pound bag, trying to bring it into the house, but only succeeding in making a trail of dogfood bits. Well, she did get the bag inside, but it was only 49 pounds by the time she got it there 3 seconds later. Sure enough, some "animal" had helped himself to a free snack. (I suspect the porch cats, myself). Sally was like, "see mom? I was trying to tell you." and dancing all around, plus "helping" clean up the spilled kibble, which wasn't helping Sally's diet efforts.
So Sally eventually got a much deserved pat on the head, and mom finally got another few hours sleep. They left it to the big brownie to clean up the mess, but hey! that's what us big brownies are for, right?
Yerz, Yureka da Hoover at your service.
Sally was barking her fool head off this morning for no apparent reason. Twice, mom went to the door to see if there was a stray dog on the porch, or something of interest, maybe a possum....but no. The second time, she noticed a huge bag of dog food that Dave had set beside the door. Since it was on an empty crate, it looked like it was big enough to be a person, peering through the side window. Maybe Sally was loosing her eyesight? She is getting kinda old. (Her hearing is fine, that's for sure.)
The third time, mom was getting low on patience. She went one step out of the house in her nightie and picked up the 50 pound bag, trying to bring it into the house, but only succeeding in making a trail of dogfood bits. Well, she did get the bag inside, but it was only 49 pounds by the time she got it there 3 seconds later. Sure enough, some "animal" had helped himself to a free snack. (I suspect the porch cats, myself). Sally was like, "see mom? I was trying to tell you." and dancing all around, plus "helping" clean up the spilled kibble, which wasn't helping Sally's diet efforts.
So Sally eventually got a much deserved pat on the head, and mom finally got another few hours sleep. They left it to the big brownie to clean up the mess, but hey! that's what us big brownies are for, right?
Yerz, Yureka da Hoover at your service.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Foster Cat "Fumbles"
Well, Yukon here~
That silly tux cat that mom was thinking about adopting just lost her spot, I think. Mom caught her stalking the cockatiel!!! Talk about a HUGE no-no! Eating our fellow housemates is not allowed in this house. Look at how we are supposed to let bunnies--of all things--live in our pantry, with only a baby-gate between us and them....and no problem. Mom barely lets us trade sniffs through the gate, let alone spend time with them....and no--we don't get to play tag. Darn it.
I have seen the one doing laps around the pantry, and that little bugger is FAST! He jumps over stuff and kicks his back feet. Mom says he's happy to be out of his little cage. Heck, I can relate, Brother Bunny.
I'm starting a betting pool on how long mom lets this bird-stalker stay....she's got a vet apointment next Thursday, so I'm betting Friday is the last.
Yerz, Yukon-the-greek
That silly tux cat that mom was thinking about adopting just lost her spot, I think. Mom caught her stalking the cockatiel!!! Talk about a HUGE no-no! Eating our fellow housemates is not allowed in this house. Look at how we are supposed to let bunnies--of all things--live in our pantry, with only a baby-gate between us and them....and no problem. Mom barely lets us trade sniffs through the gate, let alone spend time with them....and no--we don't get to play tag. Darn it.
I have seen the one doing laps around the pantry, and that little bugger is FAST! He jumps over stuff and kicks his back feet. Mom says he's happy to be out of his little cage. Heck, I can relate, Brother Bunny.
I'm starting a betting pool on how long mom lets this bird-stalker stay....she's got a vet apointment next Thursday, so I'm betting Friday is the last.
Yerz, Yukon-the-greek
Monday, August 15, 2011
Too Cool
Yukon here~
The doggone heat wave has finally passed on.....get it? The "wave" passed.....I crack myself up. The weather is perfect for ball rolling all morning. I spend a lot of time fighting with my ball in the dog house....I guess that might sound sort of goofy to folks who haven't seen our dog house.
Dad built a box out of half a sheet of plywood and walls made of the rest of the sheet of plywood. So it's two foot deep and four foot wide by four foot long. Then there is an arch made of steel fence from one side of the wooden wall to the other. That is covered by two layers of bright scarlet shag carpeting. Inside is a lot of straw and fluff from shredded stuff that us doggies have used to make our house soft, cushions, sleeping bags, pillows. Anyhow. There is a step to help get in, from when Bonnie started with the bad arthritis. But on the inside, there is no step to help a feller get out. Putting the ball inside the house is easy--getting it back out is ruff. But it's fun.
Yesterday, Mom wanted me to play with my big red ball, which is okay, but not my favorite. She put my favorite on the roof of the doghouse and told me to get the red ball. Now you may have heard that dogs cant tell color, but that doesn't matter to me, because mom was pointing to what she wanted. We played for about half an hour before mom got tired and went back inside (something about 'work to do' sheesh!) That cussed woman did not give back my favorite!
I had to climb up onto the roof of the doghouse from the couch that lives on our back porch. Then the ball rolled sort of off the doghouse roof and got wedged between the wall of the house and the side of the doghouse. I knelt down on my front elbows with my rump high in the air, but I couldn't roll the ball out of the crack where it was stuck. I tried standing on the ball a little bit, but that just wedged it tighter. Barking at it did not help, but I tried it anyway. Mom came out to see my problem and just laughed. But she also stayed to see how I would fix my situation. I kept poking the ball with my nose and pushing it with my feet. Finally, it fell off the edge of the doghouse, skipped the porch floor and went all the way down to the yard. That would have been about a ten foot jump for me, so I played it smart and jumped onto the couch, then the porch and took the stairs to get down. But then I was free to chase my favorite ball for the rest of the morning.
I deserved my nap that day, I tell you what!
Yukonappster
The doggone heat wave has finally passed on.....get it? The "wave" passed.....I crack myself up. The weather is perfect for ball rolling all morning. I spend a lot of time fighting with my ball in the dog house....I guess that might sound sort of goofy to folks who haven't seen our dog house.
Dad built a box out of half a sheet of plywood and walls made of the rest of the sheet of plywood. So it's two foot deep and four foot wide by four foot long. Then there is an arch made of steel fence from one side of the wooden wall to the other. That is covered by two layers of bright scarlet shag carpeting. Inside is a lot of straw and fluff from shredded stuff that us doggies have used to make our house soft, cushions, sleeping bags, pillows. Anyhow. There is a step to help get in, from when Bonnie started with the bad arthritis. But on the inside, there is no step to help a feller get out. Putting the ball inside the house is easy--getting it back out is ruff. But it's fun.
Yesterday, Mom wanted me to play with my big red ball, which is okay, but not my favorite. She put my favorite on the roof of the doghouse and told me to get the red ball. Now you may have heard that dogs cant tell color, but that doesn't matter to me, because mom was pointing to what she wanted. We played for about half an hour before mom got tired and went back inside (something about 'work to do' sheesh!) That cussed woman did not give back my favorite!
I had to climb up onto the roof of the doghouse from the couch that lives on our back porch. Then the ball rolled sort of off the doghouse roof and got wedged between the wall of the house and the side of the doghouse. I knelt down on my front elbows with my rump high in the air, but I couldn't roll the ball out of the crack where it was stuck. I tried standing on the ball a little bit, but that just wedged it tighter. Barking at it did not help, but I tried it anyway. Mom came out to see my problem and just laughed. But she also stayed to see how I would fix my situation. I kept poking the ball with my nose and pushing it with my feet. Finally, it fell off the edge of the doghouse, skipped the porch floor and went all the way down to the yard. That would have been about a ten foot jump for me, so I played it smart and jumped onto the couch, then the porch and took the stairs to get down. But then I was free to chase my favorite ball for the rest of the morning.
I deserved my nap that day, I tell you what!
Yukonappster
Thursday, August 11, 2011
challenge met!
Hi All, Yukon here~
Mom was tossin the ol' blue ball when she decided that she didn't want to play with that toy anymore. It's my favorite and I didn't want to quit, but she told me "NO" and put my ball on top of the doghouse roof. So, I humored her by chasing the red ball. It's much bigger and more trouble getting up the back porch steps, but I did my best and she kept playing, which is the important thing.
When mom wanted to stop, though, she didn't give my blue ball back to me....it was still on the roof....so I climbed up there and tried to get it down. Unfortunately, it rolled off the side next to the people-house, and got stuck. So there I was, with my rump up and my elbows down, and my head dangling, trying to get the ball un-stuck....it eventually worked, but the ball then rolled off the porch and into the yard while I watched from the doghouse roof. The yard is farther from the roof than it looks when you're up there, as I know from previous experience. I may be a big brown dog, but I'm not a big dumb dog. I climbed off the roof onto the couch and then onto the porch floor...ran down the steps and finally got my blue ball back in the game....score!!!!
Yerz, Yukojordan
Mom was tossin the ol' blue ball when she decided that she didn't want to play with that toy anymore. It's my favorite and I didn't want to quit, but she told me "NO" and put my ball on top of the doghouse roof. So, I humored her by chasing the red ball. It's much bigger and more trouble getting up the back porch steps, but I did my best and she kept playing, which is the important thing.
When mom wanted to stop, though, she didn't give my blue ball back to me....it was still on the roof....so I climbed up there and tried to get it down. Unfortunately, it rolled off the side next to the people-house, and got stuck. So there I was, with my rump up and my elbows down, and my head dangling, trying to get the ball un-stuck....it eventually worked, but the ball then rolled off the porch and into the yard while I watched from the doghouse roof. The yard is farther from the roof than it looks when you're up there, as I know from previous experience. I may be a big brown dog, but I'm not a big dumb dog. I climbed off the roof onto the couch and then onto the porch floor...ran down the steps and finally got my blue ball back in the game....score!!!!
Yerz, Yukojordan
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Road Trip
Yukon here~
Went on a long trip with just mama and me. First her clock yelled before the sun was even up. I figured she'd just tell it to go back to sleep, especially when she reached over and slapped it on the head. But nope. She struggled out of the sheets and actually got up. I wasn't ready, myself, but she made all us dogs wake up and go do our business. (Now, in what universe is this right? If I want to get up first, she tells me to go back to sleep.)
I slept most of the way with my head on mom's leg. The sun was up pretty good by the time she stopped for pancakes. Of course I got the last couple bites and licked syrup off the container. Then she made a phone call and we drove out into the country-side. I could smell cows, pigs, fresh hay. We turned around a couple times, then mom made another phone call and drove some more. Finally, it seemed like we were where we were going, but mom didn't let me out. I wouldn't have minded doing a quick perimeter check, but mom left me in the truck.
Finally, she came back smelling like that wild bunny I chased the week before. I pushed my nose in her tummy and sniffed her good. You aren't going to believe it. I'm not sure I do, either, but mom just got two pet boy rabbits that are going to live in our house. What ever happened to her rule about not having connecting links of the food chain in the same house? (Okay, she never really followed that rule, what with the cats and birds, anyway.) She's already made it clear that us dogs are not going to play with HER bunnies. The least she could do is share the buns, don't you think?
Oh no. They have their own room. With a baby-gate across the door. Well, they share their room with the parrot, who sticks her head out of the cage and looks at them sideways calling "kittykittykitty" and meowing like a cat. Then Doc laughs and laughs at her own joke. Us dogs get to sniff the bunnies though the baby gate when we go outside and that's it. Mom sits in there and brushes them every day. They have long cat hair kinda hair. Mom says she will make yarn out of their fur and sell it for a million dollars someday.
Wish me luck, folks, as the temptation to play with these new toys is plenty strong. Not just for me. Sally's inner-beagle is howling to be set free, and Gretchen's prey drive is in high gear. Thank goodness, I got my ball and hole digging to keep me busy.
Yerz, Yukonoble
Went on a long trip with just mama and me. First her clock yelled before the sun was even up. I figured she'd just tell it to go back to sleep, especially when she reached over and slapped it on the head. But nope. She struggled out of the sheets and actually got up. I wasn't ready, myself, but she made all us dogs wake up and go do our business. (Now, in what universe is this right? If I want to get up first, she tells me to go back to sleep.)
I slept most of the way with my head on mom's leg. The sun was up pretty good by the time she stopped for pancakes. Of course I got the last couple bites and licked syrup off the container. Then she made a phone call and we drove out into the country-side. I could smell cows, pigs, fresh hay. We turned around a couple times, then mom made another phone call and drove some more. Finally, it seemed like we were where we were going, but mom didn't let me out. I wouldn't have minded doing a quick perimeter check, but mom left me in the truck.
Finally, she came back smelling like that wild bunny I chased the week before. I pushed my nose in her tummy and sniffed her good. You aren't going to believe it. I'm not sure I do, either, but mom just got two pet boy rabbits that are going to live in our house. What ever happened to her rule about not having connecting links of the food chain in the same house? (Okay, she never really followed that rule, what with the cats and birds, anyway.) She's already made it clear that us dogs are not going to play with HER bunnies. The least she could do is share the buns, don't you think?
Oh no. They have their own room. With a baby-gate across the door. Well, they share their room with the parrot, who sticks her head out of the cage and looks at them sideways calling "kittykittykitty" and meowing like a cat. Then Doc laughs and laughs at her own joke. Us dogs get to sniff the bunnies though the baby gate when we go outside and that's it. Mom sits in there and brushes them every day. They have long cat hair kinda hair. Mom says she will make yarn out of their fur and sell it for a million dollars someday.
Wish me luck, folks, as the temptation to play with these new toys is plenty strong. Not just for me. Sally's inner-beagle is howling to be set free, and Gretchen's prey drive is in high gear. Thank goodness, I got my ball and hole digging to keep me busy.
Yerz, Yukonoble
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
RIP ball-in-a-ball ball
Well, Yukonski's ball-in-a-ball ball is not dead yet, but it's been a long time coming, and well, it's terminal. He chewed some last shreds of plastic, uniting two of the ever growing holes. "What's a ball-in-a-ball ball?" It's a hard plastic ball with four good sized holes in it, and a smaller ball inside. Most pet stores carry them, so replacing it won't be difficult. We've had this toy for over 2 years, but it's spent extended periods under the kitchen cabinet. He gets so excited when he has this toy, because it's one he's been allowed to play with in the house.
With it being so hot outside, I haven't wanted Yukon to work his yard ball after 9 am. He's a rambo 5 year-old Rotti-mix, and being bored is a sure recipe for disaster. Yesterday, I was sweeping up the shed hair that's forming tumbleweed masses in all the corners due to using the fans so much. I had a sneaking suspicion of what I'd find under the cabinet....a pair of leather shoes, and two left crocs, and yes, the ball-in-a-ball ball. I pulled it out and dusted it off over the trash can. He was jumping in place before I ever set it on the floor. Let me say, it is LOUD rolling around the hardwood floors. But then, it wasn't rolling so much, as Yukon had it so misshapen already.
In the beginning, Yukon had gotten his lower jaw stuck in the holes, and had to use his paws to pry the ball off his chin. (rather humorous--but we didn't dare laugh) Now the holes have been enlarged and two of them met this morning. He's tearing off small bits of hard plastic as I type. Okay. Enough. I gotta parent, since my kid is being destructive and basically flirting with disaster.....I'm saving my vet money to get his teeth worked on. I don't need him swallowing jagged plastic bits.
I pulled the soft green ball out of the shell ball. Gretchen immediately began nosing it around the room!!! She never plays with toys...(Perhaps because Yukon is a toy-hog?) I held the shell and told him "Broken". I doubt he gets it, although we've had this same conversation about numerous tennis balls over the years. Then I put it in the bird room and will take it out with the trash later....of course he would retrieve the corpse from the trash if I put it there now. Yukon is laying on the office floor, stretched out below the fan--obviously grieving...sigh.
More later. Kim
With it being so hot outside, I haven't wanted Yukon to work his yard ball after 9 am. He's a rambo 5 year-old Rotti-mix, and being bored is a sure recipe for disaster. Yesterday, I was sweeping up the shed hair that's forming tumbleweed masses in all the corners due to using the fans so much. I had a sneaking suspicion of what I'd find under the cabinet....a pair of leather shoes, and two left crocs, and yes, the ball-in-a-ball ball. I pulled it out and dusted it off over the trash can. He was jumping in place before I ever set it on the floor. Let me say, it is LOUD rolling around the hardwood floors. But then, it wasn't rolling so much, as Yukon had it so misshapen already.
In the beginning, Yukon had gotten his lower jaw stuck in the holes, and had to use his paws to pry the ball off his chin. (rather humorous--but we didn't dare laugh) Now the holes have been enlarged and two of them met this morning. He's tearing off small bits of hard plastic as I type. Okay. Enough. I gotta parent, since my kid is being destructive and basically flirting with disaster.....I'm saving my vet money to get his teeth worked on. I don't need him swallowing jagged plastic bits.
I pulled the soft green ball out of the shell ball. Gretchen immediately began nosing it around the room!!! She never plays with toys...(Perhaps because Yukon is a toy-hog?) I held the shell and told him "Broken". I doubt he gets it, although we've had this same conversation about numerous tennis balls over the years. Then I put it in the bird room and will take it out with the trash later....of course he would retrieve the corpse from the trash if I put it there now. Yukon is laying on the office floor, stretched out below the fan--obviously grieving...sigh.
More later. Kim
Monday, August 1, 2011
RIP Sarge
Yukon here~
Sarge, the elderbull, has passed at almost 17 human-years. He was such a breed ambassador and will be sorely missed. http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fstubbydog.org%2F2011%2F08%2Fthe-power-of-the-elderbull%2F&h=_AQDuv-fW
He had touched so many lives. The rest of us doggies can only hope to do half as much. Hope his people are doing okay with his loss.
Sarge, the elderbull, has passed at almost 17 human-years. He was such a breed ambassador and will be sorely missed. http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fstubbydog.org%2F2011%2F08%2Fthe-power-of-the-elderbull%2F&h=_AQDuv-fW
He had touched so many lives. The rest of us doggies can only hope to do half as much. Hope his people are doing okay with his loss.
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