Wall-Eyes

Todd was creeped out tonight by Jake’s tendency to sleep in zombie-mode. I have to admit, even I had to look and make sure he was still breathing – there’s a lot of eye white going on there.

Our flash photography woke him up though.

The Foot Pounce/Pet Maneuver in Action

This is Jake’s patented foot-pounce/pet maneuver. First he lays down next to my toes and swats them with his paws, like so:

then he waits for me to poke him with my foot to get him to stop:

Then he lays back for the belly-rubbing to commence. And adopts a crazyface/boxer pose.

Jake’s Electrifying Adventure

This morning Jake decided it would be a great idea to see what electrical cords taste like. I was sitting in my office at 6:30 a.m. drinking tea, browsing my RSS feeds, trying to wake up when I suddenly hear the most horrific screaming coming from the side of my desk where the dogs’ beds are. I thought Jake and Chelsea might be fighting, but when I jumped up to intervene I saw Jake laying on his side, his jaw locked around the white extension cord he’d just chewed into. The current had locked his jaw around it and he couldn’t let go.

I knew I was not supposed to touch him until I got the power off, but I couldn’t help grabbing him and trying frantically to pry his jaws apart. I couldn’t get them open and he was screaming in pain, causing me to freak out and the other two dogs to run in crazy circles. I tried to pull the cord from the wall, but realized it was plugged in across the room and behind a table. I redoubled my efforts and finally got his mouth open. He scrambled away, still screaming in pain and fear. By this time I was screaming too. He ran downstairs and crawled under the kitchen table, and I followed him down there, bawling hysterically, sure that any second he was going to keel over dead of heart failure. He sat under the table, not continuously screaming any more, but letting out these piteous howling/screaming sounds every few seconds. I didn’t want to agitate him, so I went and sat on the couch, hoping he would come to me. Eventually he came out and went to lay in the bed in the corner, looking at me all bug-eyed and distrustful. I got a hold of him and looked at him, he seemed to be breathing normally. I carried him upstairs and Googled “Help, my dog just electrocuted himself” or something similar. What I found was that in most cases the dog is knocked unconscious and their heart stops. Most of the first-aid advice dealt with how to get their heart started again. In a case like Jake’s where they’d been shocked but not knocked out, I had to look for burns in his mouth and watch him for signs of shock. There was a chance his heart and/or lungs had been damaged too.

I looked at him, and he looked back at me all googly-eyed, like nothing had happened. I decided that we were going to the vet no matter what, I wanted him checked over. I still thought he was going to keel over any second, and I just kept thinking “He could have died just then. He could have died just then. He really could have died. That would be it. No more googly-eyed retard Jake, all his short little boundless-energy-filled life would have been gone, over, done.” You may guess as to whether I was also working myself into greater and greater heights of hysteria by now.

I emailed work to let them know I wouldn’t be in for the morning, and we went off to the vet. Their vet opens at 8 a.m. and I got there at 7:45, so I stood outside the door with him in my arms, looking to see if I thought his gums were pale, trying to see if his mouth was burned, and crying like Nancy Kerrigan. I went in at 8 and the doctor looked him over, had a peek inside his mouth, listened to his heart and said that he was not in shock, and the chances of him going into shock at this point were very small. However, he did hear a slight heart murmur, and there was none when I had him in for his shots a month or so ago. Heart murmurs are not normal in dogs his age, and he didn’t know if that could be caused by a jolt of electricity. Also I have to bring him back tomorrow for an x-ray of his lungs, since he could start to form small pulmonary edemas. Those wouldn’t be visible for the first 24 hours, the damage takes some time to develop. Overall he pronounced Jake incredibly lucky. The only reason I can think of why this didn’t kill him is that he was chewing an extension cord and none of the items plugged into the cord were actually on. I think that would mean that there is less electricity flowing through it, right? I don’t know. It’s not my area. But maybe he got the minimum jolt. As far as I can recall he’s never chewed an electrical cord before, I don’t know what possessed him to start now, but I think that when I get home this afternoon I am going to rearrange the office so that their bed is nowhere near any cords or outlets.

When I left him (around 9:30) he was happy as a clam, chewing on a chew toy that I gave him (so I don’t think his mouth hurts, even) and that’s how I hope to find him tonight when I get home.

Here’s the cord he chewed, with blood from his mouth and maybe a little puppy fur on it, though I don’t know if you can see that at this resolution.

Random Dog Cuteness

Never did post about the Chis stay with my Mom and Dad, did I? I should. But anyway, they’ve been more than usual cute since I got back from Savannah, or else I just really missed them hard and everything they do is cuter as a result.

Chelsea has solidified her new behavior of lurking for me outside the shower. Each night I go into the bathroom, throw my clothes on the floor and get into the shower. Each night I open the shower curtain and see petite la Chelsea curled up in my discarded clothing, looking up at me like “What? It smells like you!” Then when I step out of the shower she flees in a panic, because while she wants to be close to me and my scent, the thought that I might try to, you know, TOUCH her, sends her into a mini-panic. Then she comes back and sits by me while I do my hair, crying for attention. Depending on my mood it’s either adorable or irritating. But every time I see her curled up in my discarded clothes, looking up at me with her ginormous googly eyeballs, I have a serious “awwww!” moment.

Jake has realized that even when I am otherwise engaged I have a tendency to kick out at anything that attacks my feet, so he’s now taken to skulking under my computer desk and pouncing on them unexpectedly, in order to get me to pet his belly with one. He’s much better at training me to exhibit his desired responses than vice-versa.

The dogs have been banished to sleeping on the floor due to the “Reclaiming the Bed as a Territory of Jake in a Really Inappropriate Way at 10 p.m. on a night when Susan has been Driving for Thirteen Hours, Dammit.” incident. But that’s been going surprisingly well. Some niceness (ahhh… stretching out in own bed) and some not-so-niceness (Jake refuses to sleep if he’s not in the bed, so he runs around chasing Chelsea all night and they tend to be frazzled in the morning and then sleep all day. Also PB wakes me up crying every night and after that I have a hard time getting back to sleep. Also no cuddles.) But we’re adjusting. Sometimes I wake up to the sight of two pointy ear-tops and the top of a round-domed head pogoing impatiently next to the bed (that’s Jake) and it makes me laugh.

Jake Eats Grass (and whatever else)

Sweet and Tender Hooligan

…the giant gold medal in the Asshole Olympics goes to ME, for forgetting about Jake’s shots yesterday and pushing him onto his back when he snapped at Bruiser a little while ago. His most piteous yelping when his sore shoulders hit the pillow makes me the biggest asshole in at least three states. Ack. And now he’s in the corner eyeballing me suspiciously.

Of course, none of them pay attention to my piteous yelping when I come home from Target and someone has shat on the hardwood floor. In fact, no one even acknowledged my discomfiture OR fessed up to the dirty deed.

But still, as the resident adult human, no matter the circumstance I am the asshole and they are the adorable mistreated chihuahuas.

Jake Offers Feedback

Here’s Jake, offering some feedback on the new blog layout.

Update on nothing

Life lately is nothing but doctors, work, medical tests that sear away the last remaining shreds of my personal dignity, more doctors, excruciating pain, medications that make me really ill and rain. Which, surprisingly, isn’t really as bad as it sounds – at least in comparison to the winter I had.

Now it’s April, which I find hard to believe. February was the longest month evar, and then March blew by in a windy breeze. Now it’s April and I live for the hope that (a week from Friday) I might finally get my left leg back. Other than that, I think I may have finally gone completely dead inside. Which, while not a state to which I aspire, does leave me rather less upset than I have been lately wont to be.

Since that’s kind of depressing, here’s a picture of Jake which is very cute, think about that instead.

Friends do tell me it’s best to say little
The less you put out the less that’s gone
But sitting here lazing the smaller I feel
‘Cause I expand when I let on

Caption Me

I don’t know what he’s saying, but doesn’t it look like he’s trying to say something?

Hard out there for a Pup

Between the piles of blankets and the heating pad I added to that bed, these dogs have little incentive to move at all during the day.

I think Mah Dawg’s Gone Craaazy

Jake has developed this thing that I would have sworn was a neurological problem. But I looked it up and it’s actually a nervous tic that means he’s under-stimulated. Yeah, I need to walk him more, once my foot is healed. It will be better when the weather is improved too.

And no, I am not getting a 4th chihuahua so he has someone to play with, but I have been playing more with him myself. He’s curiously catlike when he lays around, no?

Couldn’t catch a break with a butterfly net.

I was exhausted all day today. It was the end of a full week at work, my first in a month, and I was really feeling it. I haven’t been getting great sleep because the dogs are reacting to my stress and getting pissy with each other at night – which means that they wake me up with their squabbling. From about 1 p.m. onward all I could think about was going home and taking a nap. Finally, end of the day, I get to come home. It’s gorgeous weather here today, too. In the 50′s maybe, and sunny. Happy times weather. I get home, I feed the dogs, I check my email and I haul my sad carcass upstairs. My bedroom is the sunniest room in the house, light streams in from four large windows, and the whole atmosphere up there is extremely restful and peaceful on a sunny day like today. I take off the huge Darth Vader leg and nestle under the covers, settling the Pack down with me, and prepare to doze off.

BANG!

BANG!

BANG BANG!

WTF?

SLAM, BANG, BANGBANGBANG.

Oh nice. They’ve started (as best I can tell) laying a hardwood floor next door. At 5:30 pm on a Friday. In the middle of prime Susan nap time. Fuckers. Dirty, dirty fuckers. BANGBANGBANGBANG. SLAM! BANG! I try to ignore it, but that’s kind of hard to ignore. So I doze fitfully for an hour and a half, at which point they stop. But by then the puppies have had all the nap they’re in the mood for – at least Jake has. He starts jumping around the bed like a crazed mini-marsupial. BOUNCE! BOUNCE! Whine. Paw. Whine. SCRATCH SCRATCH. BOUNCE! And then he jumps onto the pillow where my foot is resting and by reflex I do what? I kick out to keep him away. Motherfucking ow.

So, now we’re all up and back downstairs. I can live without a nap.

Well. I am going to have to.

MyTodd™ Got a New Camera

Todd got a new camera and it’s pretty sweet, if a bit scary (more on that later) Anyway, he got the pictures from the camera to the computer himself, with NO assistance, and he was very proud of that.

Here’s Jake showing Todd some love last time he was over here.

Register Wars

After a brief cessation of hostilities (due to my closing the vent off and leaving it closed accidentally) we’ve had another flare-up in the 07-08 Register Wars. Curiously, Chelsea is winning at the moment. Jake outweighs her, but she out-growls him.

In other news, I’ve mostly recovered from my parent’s visit to “help me out” yesterday – which exhausted, befuddled and exasperated me. Highlights include my dad turning my water heater down (which I only figured out when I had to take a very NOT hot shower this morning) and then putting some nail-studded pieces of wood through the basement staircase – sticking out precariously where I need to walk. Now, I hate that staircase anyway (I have always been paranoid that I would fall down it and no one would miss me for 6 months and I would be all covered in cobwebs by then) because it’s rickety, open-backed, ends in a hard concrete floor at the bottom and oh yeah, I HAVE A BROKEN FUCKING FOOT. So impediments to my navigating the staircase (such as nail-studded pieces of wood) are a FINE idea. Quote from him: “Your foot will never even come near there”. Yeah, but my face might. What part about my having a propensity for falling down stairs does he not understand? Fuckit. Turn the water heater off while you’re at it – who needs hot water?

Got my errands run with MyTodd™ this afternoon and we met another friend for dinner, which was fun. But it’s so stupid how much I have to plan everything in advance. Like, making sure that our friend didn’t get there ahead of us and get a table in the basement, since my gimp ass couldn’t walk down there. Anyway, I have the day off tomorrow and it’s a good thing, because I have to go and have another cast put on. This one is rubbing my heel raw in the back, I can totally feel it. Plus, it smells funny. I have no idea if it’s my foot that’s smelly (though it doesn’t smell like stinky shoe smell, it’s just… weird smelling) or just the material the thing is made of, but I seriously can’t take it anymore. I have enough going on in my life that I don’t need to worry about smelling funny. I am already feeling like a big old dorky needy awkward klutz-chick, all it takes is thinking I smell funny to tip me totally into “don’t fucking touch me, and also don’t look at me” land.

I really think that impatient asshole cast-applicator guy didn’t let my foot dry enough last time, and that’s what’s making it all effed up now. But I don’t care if I have to go in there once week for a new cast from now until fucking July – I am not walking around with a smelly fucking leg, FFS. I mean, they can’t have invented an anti-microbial cast lining fabric by now? Ugh.

Now, back to my glamorous and exciting life (AKA going to change the laundry over and turn my water heater back up.) If you never hear from me again I am dead on the floor of my basement with a nail-studded board embedded in my forehead. Thanks Dad.

Guess who?

Guess who feeds the dogs from the table? It’s not me, and it’s not my Mom. If you want to see some Mexican-jumping-bean dogs, you should see these chihuahuas when my Dad comes around and eats something. Oh, and check out the ‘tocks on Jake (far right)

And here’s their dog, Cricket, who is the right color but the wrong shape and size to fit into the superBadPack. In fact, he matches the texture of that rug quite well, now that I look at it.

As you can see, Chelsea is what we like to call “highly food-motivated” in that she flees from all humans unless they have food – then she tries to crawl up their leg into their lap to get it away from them.