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Blaze is a very quiet dog. When left to himself he rarely makes a noise. He will whine at me when he needs to go outside or when he is trying to convince me that he should eat earlier. He has yet to learn, as the other family members know so well, that I’ll get around to making dinner eventually, but don’t expect it to be soon. When I visited the breeder, I was amazed at how quiet her dogs were. A kennel of quiet dogs is a bit odd. I was thrilled that Blaze carried on the genetics. However, we have discovered throughout the last month that there is one individual who greatly enjoys pestering him into barking. When Blaze can’t be watched, he is in his crate, to prevent sock swallowing. Patches has the run of the house and she makes him aware of it every day. Sometimes she’ll sit right next to his crate and look at him, sometimes she’ll turn her back as if he doesn’t exist, but what she loves most is to partially hide inside or under something as if she is stalking him. It drives him nuts and I will hear him make a high pitched whiny bark. I am often sending the kids to catch and relocate her, but she always comes back to play her favorite game. When I take him outside into the back yard to play fetch, she waits patiently at the sliding glass door. I often go in and leave him outside a little longer, but he doesn’t like to be alone so he will soon be on the top step looking in the door. Patches loves this moment and will touch her paw to the glass. Blaze, who moments prior had been patiently waiting, then goes nuts jumping on the door. She’s a piece of work.

Josiah is watching the neighbor’s dog this week, so we attempted to go together on a walk. Blaze was so nuts trying to get the other dog to play, that I thought it would be best to have them run around the backyard a bit. Josiah forgot to shut the back gate, so they decided to run around the neighborhood instead. Thankfully, no cars were driving by, Josiah was able to catch Blaze, and the neighbor dog just ran home. As I ran out after the dogs, a feeling of familiarity overtook me. The feeling of familiarity ended as soon as we caught the dogs, however, for Czar and Sasha would have been long gone and I would have gotten in the car to continue the pursuit. We tried to get the dogs playing in the back yard again, gate closed this time when suddenly we heard this terrified yelp. Blaze came dashing for us with his tail between his legs. The neighbor’s dog did not want to play. So, Blaze is far down the pack order. Well behind the cat and the neighbor dog.

Patches and Blaze at Door

Blaze

Patches Stretching

Blaze Walking the Dog

Today, we went and picked up Abby’s new kitty, Patches. The kitty is a Tortie Ragdoll, a mix of reddish cream, gray, and white. She will darken as she gets older. The stripe down her nose cracks me up. We purchased Patches from a cat lady who has cats, cats everywhere. Almost all her cats are big and sweet. She kept a runt once because no one wanted him. She named him fatso and he lived up to his name. We left with only one kitten. Although, she tried to convince me to buy two. Knowing my husband’s lack of fondness for cats, I decided it probably was best to only bring home one. The kids have been having fun watching Patches chase the feather wand and swat the ball in the track. When Patches got tired, she climbed up onto the bed next to Abby, started purring while Abby was petting her, and fell asleep. I think they’ll get along just fine.

Blaze is convinced he is being followed. He occasionally catches a glimpse of the perpetrator following him and spins around quickly to catch him. Sometimes he succeeds, but other times his tail gets away from him before he can grab it. It’s quite entertaining to watch. One time he arched his head over his back, grabbed a hold of his tail. and did a complete backwards roll. It was hilarious. Over the last three days, we have been working on him following us on the leash. I am trying the technique of walking forward until he tenses and pulls back; not looking at him, I stand there with the leash taut until he moves forward, praise him and repeat. Yesterday, it took me ten minutes to get to the mailbox at the end of the driveway. Today, he did much better. Each of the kids took a turn walking him around the yard and back and forth in front of the house. On one of my practice walks with him, we came around the corner of the house to discover the black cat sitting in our path. Her eyes became slits, her back arched, and she hissed at him. Blaze moved a little closer to me. I informed her that this was my house and she best move aside. She backed slightly up into the bushes and we walked past. Apparently, the cat isn’t the only one who thinks she lives at my house. When I informed my neighbor that I had gotten a puppy, she said, “Now you have a cat and a dog.” I told her no, the cats weren’t mine. She replied, “But they are always in your yard and mine.” I am unsure how many of my neighbors believe I own the black cats. If it’s a lot, I imagine I am not too well liked. Maybe I’ll have to wrap the whole house in tinfoil.

Five years ago, when we headed overseas to live in Hawaii, our pets did not travel with us.  At the time, the quarantine was long.  Our Siberian Husky, Czar was 12 1/2 and Hawaii would have been a torture for him, so he was given to a friend and ridiculously spoiled for the last year of his life.  Our Ragdoll cat, Magnolia also decided she loved the good life lavished on her by a dear friend.  So, for close to 5 years, we have had no pets.  When you must live as a renter, it is very difficult to keep pets.  It severely limits your choice of places to live.  So, we told the kids that when we returned to the States and owned our home, we would once again get pets.  Dale’s deployment delayed the fulfillment of the promise, but now that I’ve started, there’s no stopping.  Dale went with the children to choose fish.  They happily named them which I discovered was probably not a good idea after some fish died and had to be replaced.  I had somehow missed the time worn advice of “Never Name Fish!”  However, fish were not enough.  On Saturday, we will be bringing home a Golden Retriever puppy.  I have spent the last several months reading dog breed, dog training, dog care, and dog cleanup books.  The kids and I watched multiple episodes of the Dog Whisperer and on Saturday, we wandered lost through the aisles of the pet store choosing brushes, dishes, toys, leashes, etc.  Before Dale brought home Czar, our first dog, there was no preparation, no research, and no plan.  Reading all these books and watching all these shows, I have concluded that we did everything wrong with him.  Czar was never completely housebroken, he chewed up everything, and ran away every chance he got.  We loved him dearly, but here’s hoping I can do it right this time.  For the last month, I have felt like I am preparing for a baby.  Instead of nursing/formula, crib, and diaper brand decisions; I must now decide which dog food, kennel, and brushes are the best.  Dog food is very complicated now.  There is endless research on dog food nutritional value and endless personal reviews that alternate between “this food is excellent” and “this is rubbish, it made my dog sick”.  For now, I am going to feed him the food the breeder uses as well as a dog vitamin.  Yes, a dog vitamin.  In the midst of debating how much I’m willing to pay to ensure my dog has the proper nutrition, I’m feeding my children waffles with peanut butter, chocolate chips, and syrup for dinner.  And no, I didn’t give them a vitamin.

Ezekiel has decided that it is time to learn to dress himself. Whenever he undertakes this endeavor, he alternates between “I do it myself” and “I can’t”. Last night after his shower, he informed his brother “I do it myself” and attempted to put on his pajama shirt. He was soon crying and yelling in frustration. I ran upstairs to see what was the matter, and found him stuck in his shirt with part of his head and one arm through the holes. His brother was standing there laughing and I asked Josiah why he didn’t help Zeke. “He said he wanted to do it himself” was the reply. The boy is quickly becoming his Father. Friday morning, Ezekiel had eaten his cereal and was still hungry, so he decided he would have a snack. “Marshmallows, Mommy?” No. “Cookie, Mommy?” No. “Fruit snack, Mommy?” No. “Chocolate, Mommy?” No. He went on and on and on and on and on naming every unhealthy thing in the house. For those who have been in my house, no matter the location, you know the list can be quite extensive. I repeatedly told him that he had to eat something healthy and to stop asking me for all these unhealthy things for breakfast. After a long while, he finally got quiet. At which point, Josiah turned to him and said, “Zeke, do you want a cookie?” I swear, he’s stealing his Father’s lines. Anyway, I informed Josiah that even if Zeke says “I do it myself”, he may help when Zeke is stuck. Today Zeke was trying to put on his socks. “I can’t,” he said. “Why not?”, I asked. “I don’t know why,” he replied. “I don’t know why” is his favorite phrase. “Why aren’t you in bed?”…”I don’t know why.”…”Why did you take your jacket off?”…”I don’t know why.”…”Why did you get the computer stuck?”…”I don’t know why.” And so my day goes. After getting frustrated in her attempt to help me when she was here, my Mother informed me that I never want anyone to help me. I always want to do it myself unless it is something that I am unable to do and only then will I let someone else do it for me. I didn’t have a good response for her then, but I do now… “I don’t know why.”