Tag Archives: pets

The Keller dogs’ story about their bad human and horrifying vet visit

23 Jan
The moment of panic when Macy and Charlotte realized their pet human was up to no good.

The moment of panic when Macy and Charlotte realized their pet human was up to no good.

 

Macy and Charlotte loved being human-owners. Their humans fed them yummy meals and played with them, and as a reward, Macy and Charlotte would let their pets sleep beside them at night.

All that ended yesterday thanks to the alpha female human.

The dogs knew she had taken those little pink and white pills, and the drugs make her do the unconscionable. When the female is under the influence of what she calls “allergy medicine,” she likes to load Macy and Charlotte into the giant wheeled box that has crushed crackers, stray Skittles and empty juice boxes on the floor. That in and of itself is actually quite delightful because it gives the two a gourmet buffet of snacking opportunities. However, the drugged female used the box to take them to a place of horrors. A place where dogs are subjected to the most unspeakable indignities. A place where cats are allowed to roam freely. A place where you think they are politely trying to sniff your butt only to discover they have inserted a cold plastic thermometer or a highly uncomfortable scooper.

As Macy and Charlotte sat in the waiting room, their human seemed at peace. She didn’t sneeze or wheeze when a – cat walked by. Macy, the older dog, tried to wiggle away.

“Ooh, do we get to chase the cat? Is it time to play?” the younger Charlotte excitedly asked. “Is it time to play? I really wanna play. Let’s play!”

“Noooo!” Macy whined as she pulled harder. “I’m trying to get away before they take us back to The Room. Don’t you remember The Room?”

“Nope, I don’t remember this place,” said Charlotte as she glanced out the window. “Ooh, squirrel!” The alpha female always said it was good that God made Charlotte pretty.

Alas, it was too late. Another human emerged from The Room and called for Macy and Charlotte. Macy took the time to show her displeasure by peeing on her human’s lap. Charlotte, who firmly believes no one should pee alone, did the same.

They were taken to The Room, and the other human began to say sweet things to Charlotte.

“Oh, I like her! I like her very much,” Charlotte said as the other human picked her up. She enthusiastically licked the other human’s face and tasted waffles. Very nice. However, the human began heading out a back door, and Charlotte became afraid. The pee came naturally this time. Macy grunted at her ward’s ignorance.

The male human they called “The Vet” entered the room for Macy. Alpha female placed Macy up on the examining table, and Macy felt his cold hands all over her body. He looked at her eyes and her teeth, stuck a cold cone into her ears, pulled at her hips and then felt him press on her internal organs. More pee.

Macy desperately tried to use the alpha female as a shield, but she could not escape. She whimpered her distress, but her female would not make eye contact with her. The other human walked back into the room with a visibly shaken Charlotte in one hand and the pointy cylinders of doom in another.

“RUN!” Charlotte cried out. “She’s going to put something in your rear end! She’s going to steal your poo! RUN!”

Too late again. The other human scooped Macy into her arms and took her out of the room. Charlotte put on her best brave face and tried to lick The Vet so he would let her go. No such luck. He examined her just as he had done with Macy, and then he grabbed a few of the pointy things and plunged them into Charlotte’s skin. Charlotte yelped and whimpered. The alpha female picked her up and held her close.

“What is wrong with you?” she asked her human. “Why did you let them do that to me?”

Macy re-emerged a few moments later with an obvious change in her walk. The Vet plunged the remaining pointy things into her skin and then left the room. In disgust, Macy rolled her eyes at both Charlotte and the alpha female.

The alpha female reattached Macy’s leash to her collar and placed Charlotte back in the kennel. Another human brought them dog treats, which were quickly gobbled up. The dogs liked her better than the other humans.  The people made small talk, passed a plastic card back and forth, and then the alpha female took Macy and Charlotte back to the wheeled box.

No one said a word on the way home, but Macy and Charlotte were secretly thinking about their revenge. As fate would have it, their opportunity came quickly. The plastic scooper and its lubricant apparently did much more than the silly humans expected, and both dogs freely allowed their bowels to explode inside the wheeled box. The alpha female shrieked in horror.

“Bwa ha ha,” Macy sinisterly laughed. “Bad human.”

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I’m tired of my youngest’s crappy attitude

2 Nov
Charlotte

Dog shaming didn’t work, she chewed the sign. It read, “My poop blends in with the rug. I am responsible for two carpet cleanings this week.”

This is my youngest, the one responsible for the recent Come to Jesus Meeting. I had hoped our little talk would have changed her behavior, but she just took crappy attitude to an entirely new level.

World, meet Charlotte. She is 11-months-old, and she is either an evil genius or lucky idiot.

She learned how to open cabinets by scratching the door edge with her paws and then slipping her nose into the opening. Her favorite cabinet, until yesterday, was the one that held the feminine hygiene products.  Her new skill yielded new maxi-pad chew toys for her, and it was rather difficult to pry an Always-With-Wings from her fur after she managed to tear off the tape strip.

Yesterday she  discovered a new favorite cabinet in our laundry room. It’s the one that holds the dog treats.

Yesterday was a very, very crappy day in my personal life. I had to deal with a lawyer who could have benefited from his own Come to Jesus Meeting  – or exorcism – or one of those “we gotta hold this one down a bit longer” kind of church baptisms. (Please, a human soul is at risk here!)

When it was over, I needed to lower my blood pressure, and research shows that stroking a pet can bring the heart rate and stress hormones back down to a normal level. I called Charlotte. No response. I looked in her bed. Not there. I then began to hear her whimper, and I hit panic mode as I followed the sound throughout the house. It led me to the laundry room, but Charlotte was nowhere to be seen. I called her again, and then I realized the sound was coming from behind the closed cabinet door. As I opened the door, I found her sitting in the dark cabinet with a very distended belly and Milkbone crumbs all over the  floor.

Her binge eating didn’t bother me at the time. I needed to cuddle with a furry baby or else I was going to explode. The puppy time worked, and I was soon able to take my son trick-or-treating. We returned home a few hours later and went straight to bed.

I got the kids to school in the morning and then returned home to grade student papers. I was greeted by an unbelievable stench that smelled like yesterday felt. It didn’t take long to find the source — Charlotte had exploded Milkbones all over my dining room floor. There were big piles and little piles and a thin brown trail that led to even more surprises in the hallway.

I grabbed a box of tissues and began to clean up the digestive carnage.  I know you shouldn’t discipline a dog for accidents unless you catch them doing it, so I growled under my breath. Charlotte followed me from pile to pile, her tail wagging the entire time. It was almost as if she was proud of her accomplishment. When I finished, she brought me her favorite toy, crawled up in my lap and licked my face.

I have got to do something about this crappy attitude.

Hamsters: They’re like crack for schnauzers

23 Sep

Every kid deserves to have a hamster. Every schnauzer wants to eat a hamster. Image from MS Office Clipart

My daughter really wanted a hamster. Really, really wanted a hamster.

“I’ll keep my room clean, I’ll keep the cage clean, and I’ll love it every day,” my fifth-grade girl bargained.

No rats in the house. That was my husband’s first response.  It will stink. That was his second response. We already have a dog. That was his third response.

My daughter persisted, and I relented. She had straight A’s on her report card, and we went to the pet store. My decision was not based on her constant pleading or a desire to get back at my husband. It was a heart decision. I had hamsters when I was a girl, and I loved them. I loved watching them fill their cheeks to near explosion size. I loved holding them and feeling those little whiskers twitch against my skin. I loved that my hamster listened to me when no one else would. Every kid deserves to have a hamster at least once.

We bought a wire cage, bedding, food, exercise wheel and all the chew sticks a little hamster could desire.   My daughter selected her new friend, a small golden teddy bear hamster with whiskers that exceeded her body size. She named her Nugget –  as in “gold nugget” NOT “chicken nugget.”

My husband came home and met Nugget. Seeing the kids’ excitement, he melted and actually said sweet things to the little rodent as she turned her exercise wheel. Our dog, a schnauzer mix named Macy, also seemed to find Nugget sweet. She sniffed the cage and wagged her tail. My daughter brought Nugget up to her room and set the cage on her nightstand. All was well in the Roadkill Goldfish house.

All was well for about 18 hours. The kids left for school the next morning, and I got to work on a few client projects in my office. All of a sudden, I heard a tremendous CRASH in my daughter’s room. I dashed up the stairs to find the hamster cage thrown to the floor and my dog salivating and furiously pawing at the metal bars. Nugget was able to pull herself into a far corner, and her buckteeth were chattering like that creepy zombie from “World War Z.”  I managed to pull the dog off the cage and set Nugget’s home back on my daughter’s night stand. Nugget hissed. She sounded like a very ticked off cat. She hissed for hours. I honestly thought the fall may have caused brain damage or turned her psychotic. My daughter would never be able to hold her hamster again because the fluffball would go all Monty-Python-killer-rabbit on her face.

I called a vet who worked with pocket pets. She was sympathetic with my plight and told me there was probably nothing wrong with the hamster, but it would probably be a good idea not to handle her for a few days. She also said to keep the dog far away from the cage.

As I vacuumed up the bedding fuzz that covered my daughter’s floor, I realized a very important fact. Macy is part schnauzer. Schnauzers were bred to be vermin hunters. She was simply doing her innate doggy job, and the hamster was like crack cocaine to her DNA.  It was a true DUH moment on my part.

Nugget lived with us for two years until her last ride on the exercise wheel. She recovered from her psychological trauma without the use of therapy or antidepressants. She never nipped at us and would greet us by climbing on top of the wheel whenever we came in the room. She was the best hamster in the world.

During those two years, Macy would visit Nugget in my daughter’s room. We moved the hamster home to a higher table, and Macy would sit for hours in front of the cage.  She wouldn’t bark, growl, salivate or whimper. She sat. Motionless. Waiting for the day that Nugget tried to escape.  Waiting for the day she could indulge that insatiable craving for schnauzer crack.

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