Category Archives: Monday Moanings

Monday Moanings

Seems like Day 27…mom is still gone. Sigh. How DO people do Monday’s without their mom?

How was your weekend?

Live, love, bark 🐾

Monday Moanings

Ugh, is it really Monday already? We’re…umm…feeling a bit sluggish after the weekend. Following Elsa’s torture spa treatment, she had a tiny little seizure on Saturday. She’s fine now but I’m closely monitoring her since this was the smallest seizure she’s ever had and I don’t know how it figures in going forward. We received maybe 16 flakes of snow Friday and it was quite windy and cold. The extreme weather may also have been a factor with Elsa’s seizure on top of the stress of listening to a hyper-barking dog. On the plus side, she  looks and smells amazing. I think the little Pomeranian that was waiting for its huMom to pick it up and barked non-stop for 45 minutes with a high pitch yapping may have left Elsa feeling overly stressed out…heck I was stressed out with that racket. It gave me a headache and left Elsa frazzled. Poor thing wouldn’t even eat any treats for being so good for Rebecca, our groomer and Elsa never passes up a treat. Ever. Looks like I’m going to need to try to maintain the cut better so she’s not subjected to any future rounds of a screeching banshee.

Aside from looking good, there was enough hair left on the floor to make a whole other dog. To bad I don’t knit. Guess she really was resembling a Muppet bear before.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We’re gonna kick back today, get our paws under us and prepare for a visit to West Pines later this week. How was your weekend? 

Live, love, bark 🐾

 

Monday Moanings

[An open letter to the dogs on a Monday from a questioning huMom]

Dear Canoids,

Is it just because you’re ‘canoids‘ or because you’re too smart for your own good poodle selves that makes you do things in a contrary way designed to negatively impact the Ranch upright?

“W-H-A-T-E-V-E-R more are talking about?” said two innocent-looking faces. Umm, how about Exhibits A and B. We received about 6-9 inches of snow. In our mountain desert (aka Denver) snowfall is always calculated in a range of inches. Why? It’s called wind. Not the Wizard of Oz kind, but definitely the kind that can impact the measurement of snow. And in keeping with those ‘flexible’ numbers, you guys seem to take matters in your own paws. As in where you like to poop…you know in the deepest possible snow. Oh…and as far away from the sidewalk as possible. Usually just a few inches past the leash length which requires hiking out to the ‘dumping’ grounds. Snow in that mound is nearly always double in-depth and often the most desirable location for the 4-pawed tribe. Note previous tracks checking it out by the Ranch crew.

EXHIBIT A ~ Apart from the depth, this spot would have actually worked compared to Exhibit B.

But no, that wasn’t good enough for my sweet dogs who manage to take it to a ‘nother level, aka Exhibit B. They seem to assume there are extra points for doing it in places that are next to impossibly difficult for an upright to get in and responsibly clean up after. Seriously, Elsa…do you really have to go into the area where there are the lowest possible hanging limbs or shrub rose branches to stab me in the head and/or legs? Trust me when I say there. are. no. extra. points!! Demerit points, yes.

Exhibit B ~ Otherwise known as the bestest dumping ground.

Do I look like a 3-foot tall Hobbit who wears armadillo like armor?! Don’t answer that.

And what’s with this thing about ALWAYS having to scamper around behind my back after I’ve picked up after you, crossing the streams a la Ghostbusters style twisting the leashes, stretching the bum shoulder and providing way too many close calls at toppling the not-as-flexible as Gumby upright as she extracts herself from the dwarf forest? Do you know how hard it is to keep the leashes untangled in gloves with hands that are freezing, trying to hold on to some semblance of order, all the while juggling a poop bag whose smell could raise the dead that needs to be off loaded in a trash bin ASAP? Seriously, you never seem to have a problem with crossing in FRONT of me inside the house. WTH?!

Signed,
Your loving huMom

Do your guys go ‘contrarian’ on you when it comes to conducting their number 2 business?

Live, love, bark❣

Monday Moanings

It’s a new Monday following a rough weekend. We feel a lot like this image. How was your weekend?

Live, love, bark❣

Monday Moanings

Not impressed with the idea of a new week? We share your pain. Hope your weekend was a good one. You adjusting to the return of standard time?

Live, love, bark! ❤︎

[Post script. Another day, another shooting. My thoughts and prayers are with the people of Texas and our country. And yet thoughts and prayers seem to do little to change this weekly phenomena. Something must be done. Any ideas?]

Monday Moanings – Post-Pawty Hangover

Elsa here. Had an amazing Gotcha Day weekend filled with ear scratches, treats and some interesting walk abouts but man, am I stuffed and worn out. Sam keeps saying I’m hungover (whatever dude) but with all the attention my peeps gave me, I think I’m a bit more than just a little tuckered out. Mom has been playing this song over and over and then giggles like crazy, so I’m beginning to think that maybe she agrees with him. What’s up with THAT?! Just wait, guys…when you least expect it….hi-yah!  xoxo, your favorite Ninja.

Hope you all had a pawsome weekend like we did. Happy Moanday.

Live, love, bark! ❤︎

Manic Monday

Elsa here. Hope you all at least had a good weekend. I was subjected to hideous torture and abuse. No, my mom didn’t punish me for eating another brand new sock, no it was much worse than that. Let me explain.

Mom took me for a ride. Normally that’d be a good thing because I like car rides, but I was all alone. The numskull brother didn’t get in the car with me. What’s up with that? Should have known something was up by taking a head count. So after 87 minutes of driving we arrived at a somewhat familiar parking lot. “Hmm, I think I’ve been here,” I thought. We got out of the car and started to go for a walk around the various stores. It was sprinkling a tiny bit but it felt good; for a change, the sun wasn’t beating down on my overly long black fur coat.

After a nice walk, we walked into the pet store where Rebecca greeted us. Uh-oh. Oh yeah, now I remembered this place. This is the fur-stealing store!!! Rebecca was nice but I was nervous. She’s always patient and gentle with me and lets my mom stay in case I have a seizure so she can work on making the nasty Epi-monster go away quickly. We went into the Chamber of Horrors Secrets and she got me up on the rack grooming table all primed to torture me. This recent photo doesn’t really show how bushy and long my fur coat was. Notice the panic panting tongue? Yeah, I’m stressed. I mean, wouldn’t you be. I’m standing there being a good girl while a fur theft was going on and my mom was helping commit the crime!!!  Mom forgot to take a good pic showing off my luxurious fur coat of the muppet fur, here’s one from the beginning of June before taking me on the ride to hell.

 

This is a few minutes into the theft.

Notice the ‘I’m not the slightest bit amused and almost pleading look I gave my mom. Believe it or not, she ignored me. The nerve! Kept saying some load of crap about ‘how good I was’ and ‘how pretty I was.’ Bah…I was being robbed and tortured right before her eyes and she’s blathering on about pretty? WTH?! So clearly pleading eyes didn’t seem to affect her cold, hollow heart, so then I decided to ignore her. She gets freaked out if I’m not fussing and fawning over her all the time. Then I moved to Plan B – playing hard to get. But alas, all she and Rebecca did was drag me over to the waterboarding area where the torture continued.

I still can’t fathom why she allows all this obscene torture. What kind of mother does that anyway, huh? Haven’t a been a good girl? Ok, so I ate a few socks and chewed up a few pairs of reading glasses along the way. Don’t we all? Normally you’d think uprights weren’t so vindictive, but apparently that’s not the case with my mom. I had to quickly move on to Plan C.

 

Switching strategies, I went into full on ‘poor, pitiful me’ looks. Clearly my charm and ‘je ne sais quoi’ qualities didn’t matter one bit. If waterboarding wasn’t bad enough, there was that terrible hideous machine that sounded like an airplane was taking off. I nearly lost all the remaining furs on my body I was so scared!

My terrified expressions didn’t seem to matter so this girl had to resort to more devious action. I thought I’ll just move to the back side of the torture tub where she can’t reach me with that foul hair dryer. Just like I do at home. Heh, heh.

Alas, foiled again. Guess I forgot about long cords, though given half a chance next time…maybe we can add that to the list of things I’ve munched in the past. Just kidding, mom. Sort of.

After two hours of torture and still not completely dry, Rebecca released me into my mother’s custody where she whisked me back to safety. I remember exiting the grooming shop with a “Best in Show” prance and my head and tail held high, never looking back at the people who ogled over me while mom paid for the torture grooming session. Seriously, you uprights pay real money to torture us?

When I bounced out of the car once we arrived home, I rushed in to share my tale of woe to the useless brother who is supposed to protect me. I distinctly heard him chortle as he rushed past me to greet mom, not even bothering to get the details of my ordeal. Just wait until next month when he goes to hospital. I’ll be first to “nah, nah, nah, nah, nah” him. It will serve him right too…couldn’t happen to a dumber doofus.

Now this is the face of a happy dog! Much like Martin Luther King, I howled, “Free at last, free at last, thank gawd almighty, I’m free at last.” I’m still a tad soggy here but with about 87 pounds less fur according to mom and Rebecca. They said something about making sweaters from all my fur. Pfft…you’d be so lucky.

My only question now is…what time is dinner? How do you cope with extreme ‘pawrental’ torture?

Live, love, bark! ❤︎