Hot Dog

This is me totally not distracting you with a Genghis dressed as a hot dog pic.



Really, I'm not.

I have some posts in the oven, talking about weight loss, self-esteem, and the wonderful work done by the San Francisco de Asís animal sanctuary. But right now, I leave you with a hot dog. Oh, the puns.

A Moment of Cute

This is what happens when we try to clean his toys...












Why can't I have my ball?

Working dog.

This is a situation I run into often.



He's all, excuse me, woman. I have to work.



And then I fret, of course, because I'm his mother. What's he doing? Is he on the internet? Should I make him an account with parental controls? Is he looking for a partner? Does he manage stocks online? Does he have a blog? A Facebook? A Twitter?! A doggie mom could go mad while contemplating the possibilities.

It's 12AM. Do you know where your dog is? Online?

Keepin’ it real (there will be poop)

Sorry for the radio silence, everyone. I had no internet! But...

Guys, guys, GUYS. (Well, maybe that should read everyone, everyone, EVERYONE? I digress.)

Having pets is not for the faint of heart.

You always run the risk of them getting sick or hurt. Yes, I’m being extreme. On the lighter side, there’s always the chance that they will eat your shoes, clothes, furniture, and body parts, among other things. But one thing is certain. One thing is unavoidable.

At any given point in your life as a pet, particularly dog, owner, there will be poop.

I do wish that it is merely “oh, I am taking my dog on a walk, which means they will relieve themselves” type of poop. Not the type of poop Damián and I have experienced last night. Dear Freddie Mercury, the poop we have experienced last night.

Don’t worry. There are no pictures. Of the poop, at least.

Arriving home from work, I was ready for another day of packing, cleaning, and organizing. I was also ready to see my dear Genghis’ face to cheer me up after a stint in traffic, when I saw some shapes on the floor behind him. “Oh, no,” I thought. “He tore something up again,” I continued, out loud.

Well, he didn’t tear anything up. Except our nostrils.

When I opened the door, that stench came at me with the force of a 9.2 megaton bomb. Deities were invoked as I turned on the light, and saw that the shapes I made out in the dark were, in fact, poop. Lots of it. I tiptoed around as I tried to check Genghis for poop. But he’s too fancy for that. He was actually all, “Please, mummy, do take me away from the poop. It stinks!”

So I put him in the terrace to commence Operation Clean-Up (OCU). But then I realized that I couldn’t commence OCU because I had nothing to start it with. You see, we cleaned our apartment so we could leave most of our cleaning supplies at the new place so we can enable it for our impending arrival. We honestly didn’t account for a doggy doodoo episode. I called Damián and explained the scenario. The good man stopped at the pharmacy and picked up our weapons. Then he came home and armed himself.

We looked like this.



Lessons here? Don’t ever run out of cleaning products. Ever. Don’t underestimate your tiny bundle of furry love. They’ve got some terrifying things up their sleeves for you when you least expect them. And never, ever underestimate the smell of poo. I thought I could handle it, but I ran away gagging upon commencing clean-up.

We are just so thankful we don’t have carpets. Nor will we ever, after this episode. Word.

PS. The mop broke at one point. :(

Everything's going to the dogs.

Ever since I can remember, I would ask my parents for a dog. Everyday. Every single day! I'd beg, plead, promise to feed, bathe, and brush the dog (or dogs, I wasn't going to reject multiple canines). All this to no avail. The parental units didn't want to get dogs. Specially after the death of their beloved German Sheperd Savage, just a mere 6 months after I was born. They wanted to spare me the pain they went through when they lost him. So, no dogs were allowed. I had fish (one of them was suicidal: he kept jumping out of the fish tank until we weren't able to save him), chickens, and ducks. I had a cat for 2 weeks and then they found it another home.

However, I hadn't given up though. I still asked my parents for a dog everyday. Until I gave up. 13 years (well, not 13 years exactly....more like 10) of asking had taken their toll so I gave up. And then Chewy showed up.

He sneaked into my father's workplace and dad found him in the morning. Chewy (short for Chewbacca) has now been living with us for 14 years. He's an old grumpy butt, but we love his old grumpy butt. 2 years after that, this later lady arrived. Meet Maya.

She came to us during Hurricane Georges passing over Puerto Rico. At first, she would stand in front of our house and wait for us to go pet her. Then she would start sneaking in until she disappeared one day. My mother felt so bad that she swore to take care of her if she returned. And so Maya showed up and stayed home forever. With the exception of those occasional times she'd escape to chase chickens down the road. Yay!

We'd thought we were done with being dog adopted, but we were a couple short. One day at school, I saw this little one about to get run over and took her home. I fully meant to find her a place. I just didn't know (secretly wished it, though) that it would be mine. This is Patch.

Finally, one day, I got home and this little one was waiting by the door. You may know him! This little red devil is Genghis.

You may have noticed that I said dog adopted, not adopting dogs. I mean that. The dogs showed up and chose us as their family. We sort of had no say in the matter. We couldn't say no. Not that we really wanted to :) I mean, how could you wanted to dismiss them?