Blessed Monday, my dear friends!

Monday Pictures, Images, Comments, Graphics
Good Monday to you all! I hope you are having a great day. My granddaughter is having a birthday party this afternoon. I have been up since 3 a.m. I am sure I will be given out by the time the party starts. I have already did a full day’s work. Of course, there is no rest for the wicked, lol! Anyway, please forgive me if I fly through the postings today.

I hope you all having a fantastic day. And remember only 4 more days to the weekend, lol!

Embarrassing Secrets of Pet Parents

Embarrassing Secrets of Pet Parents

  • Nicolas, selected from petMD

Dr. Vivian Cardoso-Carroll, PetMD

The other day I was in an exam room with a client and she sheepishly admitted that her dog sleeps with his head on her pillow. My tech looked over at me and said, “That would be a good blog topic: What’s the most embarrassing thing you do with, for, or about your pet?”

I thought it was a great idea. You guys have the benefit of being relatively anonymous. I, on the other hand, have to stand tall in front of you faceless masses to admit my doggie dirty-laundry. But that’s okay — I don’t think I’ve got anything too scandalous going on!

So after some thought, I’ve come up with a my most embarrassing dog confession. You can start thinking of your embarrassing moments now, too.

 

First, Two of my three dogs are dubiously housetrained. Katelin, my Min Pin, became my dog precisely because she’s potty training-deficient.

It was during my first job post-vet school, as I was walking through the kennels, that I saw her lying on a little bed in the back of a run. Katelin was simply the cutest dog I had ever seen. Supposedly her owners were pretty sure she was a Min Pin (Miniature Pinscher), but they had bought her at a garage sale for $35, so who knows? I told them that if they ever wanted to get rid of her, I’d take her.

The little voice in my head said, “Hey newlywed girl, maybe you should run that by the new husband first?”

I ignored it, naively thinking nothing would come of my offer.

Well, Katelyn’s issues became a problem. Her owners offered her up and my receptionist took her. I realized my folly and figured I wouldn’t make my never-had-a-dog-before husband have to deal with a second dog. However, the receptionist couldn’t potty train her — this wasn’t her excuse for not keeping her, but I don’t remember what was.

She gave Katelin to a lady with cancer. This lady pretty much sat around all day with Katelin in her lap, so it was perfect. Except for the fact that Katelin peed over every inch of her house (or so I presume). The story was that the lady was too sick to take care of her. I’m sure that was the case, even a perfectly healthy person tires of cleaning dog excrement all the time.

Then Katelin went to my friend’s friend, Marty. Marty had been looking for a Min Pin. Perfect! He took her for approximately 24 hours.

You can guess what she did.

He said that, well, actually he wanted a Min Pin that fetches, and Katelin didn’t fetch. This I know is untrue because she loves to fetch; she bounces after the ball like a little red gazelle! She really just peed all over his house.

So I picked her up from Marty’s house and brought her home, telling my husband it would just be for the weekend until I could take her back to work on Monday. My secret plan, though, was for him to fall in love with her and let me keep her.

 

Well, he’s not really a dog lover. He likes them okay, I guess, but ultimately dogs are my thing. So I subsequently appealed to his engineer side: I wanted a cat, but couldn’t have one because of his allergies. Katelin was about the size of a cat so… I should be able to keep her instead of a cat!

“Fine,” he relented. “She’s our substitute cat.”

Cats are far easier to housetrain than our stubborn little Katelin. She was extremely talented at peeing and pooping in areas of the house we didn’t frequent; the formal dining room and the game room, for example. These places were like little graveyards with poop headstones all over the place.

We finally had to resort to the “umbilical cord” method of potty training: you keep her on a leash on your person at all times. She has to go out every 30 minutes (praise when she potties). If she has an accident in the house, we provided negative reinforcement — shake a can with coins in it, etc. to startle her. This way you can catch her in the act. It took about 48 hours, but she got it.

If you give her one little inch, though, she takes it. She also forgets her potty training every winter, when it’s too cold or wet to bother using the great outdoors.

We have gates everywhere to block her from potty locales.

Currently, her favorite place to potty is my closet. It’s the only place in the house with any carpet left that isn’t gated. We’re putting springs on the doors so that they close themselves.

I’m not sure why we’re bothering, she’ll just find some other place to go.

But we love her, so we keep trying to stay one step ahead of her “accidents.”

So that’s confession #1; my poor potty training ability.

My second confession I came up with right off the bat, when my tech mentioned the subject: I have a tendency to tell my dogs I love them more often than I tell my family.

How ’bout you?

Happy Saturday, dear readers!

This is about the way I feel today. I was up till 4:00 this morning on a four-wheeler looking for one of the male wildcats. We have had a momma wildcat hanging around, she is about ready to give birth any day now. I don’t know why but this one male has taken up with her. It’s a toss-up on which one I am going to shot first (just kidding, I am an animal lover).  After trampling through everything imaginable, we still didn’t see the little bast*&d! I know baby, baby wildcats when they are first-born, a grown male will rip the throats out of the male babies. I am sure this one is too big for that but he is still a kit and couldn’t defend himself against a grown male. So I was a little frantic to find him. But we didn’t. I got up this morning and guess what? Here comes the little basta*d just a’running. Ran up and fell out in my lap. He was pooped but he was fine and that was all that mattered to me.

Now have a little patience with me this morning. I am going to try some different. I am going to type up a quick article on Astral Projection, so hang with me. Ok? ok!

Love you guys,

Lady A

Today’s featured picture sketches for the front of Original Stories from Real Life

Today’s featured picture

Frontispiece to Original Stories from Real Life The sketch for the frontispiece to Original Stories from Real Life, the only complete work of children’s literature by 18th-century British feminist Mary Wollstonecraft. The book was first published by Joseph Johnson in 1788; a second, illustrated edition, with engravings by William Blake based on his own drawings, was released in 1791 and remained in print for around a quarter of a century. The book begins with a frame story, which sketches out the education of two young girls by their maternal teacher Mrs. Mason, followed by a series of didactic tales. Wollstonecraft employed the burgeoning genre of children’s literature to promote the education of women and an emerging middle-class ideology. She argued that women could be rational adults if educated properly as children (not a widely held belief in the 18th century).

Artist: William Blake; Restoration: Lise Broer