Hot Dog: An Ethical and Gravitational Crisis

At about 4:00 this morning, I became aware that someone was whining and wimpering. Also, that I had been hearing it for quite a while. Hours, possibly. I listened for a minute to discern which child it was, and determined that it was canine in nature and coming from the dining room.
I shook Richard's shoulder and asked hhim to go check it out.
Pedro was trapped on the dining room table.
When he saw Richard approaching, his fear of punishment outweighed his fear of heights and he launched himself off the table, and bolted under our bed. (Small dog, short legs, tall table. You can imagine how it went...)
How often does Pedro trap himself on the dining room table?
Why did he get stuck last night, and (apparently) never before?
If it has happened before, on average, how long is he trapped? When he hears someone get up in the middle of the night or the garage door opening, does he panic and finally find the "courage" to get down?
Why couldn't he get down the same way he got up?
Seems to me that Pedro was suffering a gravitational crisis, in addition to making some poor moral choices that his walnut-sized brain just couldn't reason out. I am inclined to set up a hidden camera tonight and leave a great, big, steaming bratwurst in the middle of the table. Just to see what happens.

Stupid is...

Dog for Sale. Cheap.

What, dear interweb, could possibly be going through my dog's walnut-sized brain at 4:30 in the morning that would make him not want to come back inside out of the below-zero temperatures after I oh-so-graciously let him out against my better judgement?
I hate him.

True Love

Wicked Pedro of the West

My Heroes

Question:

Are men truly unafraid of mice, or do they just pretend for our benefit?

Thank you, Grandpa Bob, Richard and Pedro for rescuing me from my mouse today.

Kitty, you are a worthless beast. In fact, I would be willing to bet good money (that could happily be spent on something else like coffee or a new outfit for the baby) that you probably brought the mouse IN the house.

I Scream

I needed some alone time tonight. Just five minutes. Maybe ten.
I settled the baby in her bouncy seat and stationed her next to her very hard-working daddy, who is working lots of overtime due to the storms last week.
Pedro and I trotted down to the car and headed to Dairy Queen.
I spent a large portion of this evening making up my own new Blizzard flavor. Turtle with brownies. I was so excited!
The girl in the window managed to stop flirting with her co-worker just long enough to ask me if I wanted a lid. (I think it's important to mention that I did NOT lay on the horn to get her attention. Don't get between me and my alone-time-ice-cream, teeny bopper.)
I said no.
(JUST! GIVE! ME! MY! ICE! CREAM!!!!! HURRY! UP! HURRY! UP! HURRYUP!!)
I put the long-awaited-four-and-a-half-dollar Blizzard in the cup holder and put the car in drive. When my right hand was free again, I reached for my treat and got dog-head instead. Pedro liked my made-up flavor, too.
Good thing I ordered a medium.

Half of my Blizzard is splattered on Lexington Avenue, and the canine, the dog, the miserable cur is currently hiding under the bed with a sore bottom and a heavy heart.

Finished!

When my mom found out I was pregnant, she started working on a "Westie Quilt" for my baby.

We finally finished it together this weekend!

It's a Dog's World

Shirley Girly and I have been going for walks through the neighborhood. We usually go during the work day, so I don't see many of the neighbors, except for the retirees (Paul, Gertrude, Barbara) and the one other SAHM on the street (Kim).

From now on we will be walking during the daytime hours ONLY.

Why?

I was completely humiliated tonight when everyone we passed said, "Hello Erin and Pedro! Who's this new little girl?" And I was only able to respond with things like, "Hi! You're Lulu's mom, right?" Or, "How's Ollie doing?" Or, "Rocky is getting so big!"

It's NOT. COOL. that I only know the names of the neighborhood dogs.

Sing a Song

This morning I had to run back into the house after I had already kissed Richard goodbye (I'm trying to cut down on time away from my cell phone, what with Cara just ABOUT to give birth, and the fact that I, myself, am a ticking time bomb...).
When I got inside, I thought I could hear something strange.
At first I thought Rich was on the phone, but it seemed way too cheerful for a 7:30am phone call.
"Rich?" I shouted.
Nothing, just the continued sing-song banter coming from somewhere in the house.
"Richard?!"
Silence.
"Yeah...?"
"Who are you talking to?"
"No one."
"Were you singing?"
"No..."
"What were you doing?"
"Singing. To Pedro."

Made my whole morning. Too stinking cute.

p.s. I'm banking on the fact that Rich won't read my blog today because he's too busy. I think he'd kill me if he knew I was posting this.

Dog Whisperer

Pedro needed reminding last night that I am indeed in charge.

I am the mommy.

I am the Alpha dog.

I turned him over on his back to force him to submit to me, and I held him there by his throat(Gently, of course. The exercise was not intended to hurt, only to remind him of who needs to submit to whom in our relationship...), all the while maintaining eye contact.

I didn't tell him he was bad, I didn't hit him, I didn't even yell.

I simply firmly reminded him that I. Am. In. Charge.

Forever and ever, amen.

Oh, did I mention that we're trying a new discipline technique at our house?

For future reference, will this work for toddlers?

I think Cesar would have been proud.

Another one bites the dust...

This poor guy took it like a champ.

Peanut Butter

In honor of the Tired Boy vs Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich, Rich, Mandi and I made our own peanut butter video.

Pedro

Katie R., thanks for asking about Pedro!!

Pedro is a West Highland White Terrier (a Westie).

They are very good with children, but also VERY active. Pedro has always been pretty laid back, though, and not much like some of the other Westies I have met. Even when he was a puppy and we went (to ROCHESTER) to pick him out, he was more calm and subdued than his brothers and sisters who were barking and crawling all over him.

He very rarely barks in the house, and sees the cat as his own personal plaything. The only really bad thing about Westies is how FREAKING smart they are. Pedro can get into or out of ANYTHING and is so stubborn that you can actually see him making the decision to disobey me. As you can see in the photo, we took obedience classes (this was at the costume competition), and Pedro learned quickly what I was teaching him, but often chooses not to obey.

Westies are a lot like Scottie dogs in looks, though smaller, and I think nicer. I don't think I've ever actually met a nice Scottie. Pedro topped out at about 14lbs, and really doesn't stand much taller than our cat.

My favorite thing about Pedro? Besides how sweet he is, is that he can't jump! I love that! I get to decide if he can be on the bed with us, or where he goes. His little legs just aren't made for jumping.

Let me know if you have more questions!

If you decide to get a Westie, please promise me something: Promise that you will name him something appropriate! I wish we had named him Murdoc or Gromit, or something more Celtic in nature, since they are from the Highlands of Scotland! Although, with his laid back attitude, Pedro just seemed to fit, man.

Love me! I'm so cute!

I take it back.

Now that I think about it, Pedro actually knows several words in addition to "sit," "lay," and "shake," all of which illicit some sort of INTENSE emotion.





Popcorn: Jubilation and tail chasing in the kitchen.
Rollover: Confusion and rollover 10% of the time.
Gitchertoy: Happiness and toy retrieval.
Wheresyerkitty: Head cock and tail chasing.
Didjoodothis: Hiding under the bed.
Outside: Stuffed animal retrieval and nose pressed to the door.
Getdown: Wait one more beat to see if I really meant it.
No: Try one more time to see if I really meant it.
Bath: Cowering fear.

Exploding Kernels of Fun

Pedro knows two words:

1. Sit.

2. Popcorn.

We often refer to popcorn as "exploding kernels of fun" if we don't want our 14-lb maniac to go berserk.

Berserk.

Popcorn is really the only human treat Pedro gets to share with the family, so you can understand his excitement.

The scene:

Richard is sitting on the living room floor watching the Colts lose to the Chargers with a gargantuan bowl of popcorn.

He sets one piece of popcorn in front of the cat and tells the dog to stay away; that it belongs to the cat.

Pedro oh-so-sneakily sneaks AROUND the entertainment center in order to steal the popcorn from the cat, as if Richard might not notice him if he comes at it from a different direction.

As soon as the dog disappears around the other side of the TV, Richard grabs the original piece of popcorn leaving Pedro confused.

Could the kitty have eaten the popcorn? Did he imagine the piece of popcorn? Did he already eat it?

The cat knows exactly what is going on and flaps his tail sassily as if he really did want the popcorn in the first place.

Hours of fun.

Rich says he can't wait to have kids. Not sure if that's a good or bad thing...

I'm glad to be home.

Dog for Sale

Better yet--
Free Dog.

I just spent my evening deep cleaning the carpet, among other household chores. (I actually have a little energy--can you tell?)
I went to take a shower, and came out to find my take-out cup completely destroyed and root beer ALL OVER the carpet in TWO ROOMS.
Where's Pedro?
He is nowhere to be found. What a shock.

I think I actually know what it feels like to have an aneurysm now.

BFF

Today while Richard was napping, Pedro and I went to the end of the driveway to get the mail (a task that took too much energy until today--I've neglected it for oh...3 days now). Just as we reached the mailbox, the mailman pulled up.

Pedro, friendly little rascal that he is, jumped RIGHT into the mail truck and made friends.

"You've got a friendly little dog there!" said Mailman.

"Yeah, I know--he'd drive away with anybody!"

At that moment the cat came out from under a bush.

"Oh, do the cat and dog get along?" asked Mailman.

"Oh yes, they are best friends. They do everything together," I replied.

And at that exact moment, Pedro did a divebomb on the cat rolling him onto his back and biting his neck. The cat hissed and growled with all four feet in the air.

The mailman laughed and drove away.

They really are best friends. I swear.

Cur of my Heart

Dear Neighbors, Children on Bikes, Couples Walking Dogs, City Employees, and Bunny Rabbits;
My dog hates you.
Or better yet, he loves to hate you.
I am writing to implore you to please, P.L.E.A.S.E. stop walking by our house. Yes, I know our entire backyard faces the street. Yes, I know our home sits wrong on the lot. I know you think you have every right to use the street as you wish.
This is why I come to you on my knees. Please use a different street. Ofxord is very nice. So is Lakeview. Bigger houses, less traffic. Fewer dogs to bark and bark and bark and bark at you as you walk or ride by, or come home in the middle of the night, or leave for work early in the morning, or cut down trees, or eat my tulips.
I'm asking you to make one little allowance for me--for my sanity.
I am aware that at this point, that you probably hate me just as much as Pedro hates you, but believe me. I've tried. I can't make him stop barking. He is absolutely SILENT in the house but as soon as he gets out the door it's like he turns into a different dog. A territorial obnoxious beast. A miserable cur. The swollen tonsil of my tranquility. A lump on the breast of my happiness.
We could keep him in the house more, you're right. But then he barfs on the floor, or "piddles" in the corner, or attacks the cat. You understand, don't you, that he needs to spend quality time outside every day?
So, please, dear friends and bunny rabbits. Please. just. go. a. way.
We'll all be a lot happier if there is just less, overall, to bark at.
Don't you agree?
I appreciate your time and consideration on this matter.
Sincerely,
Erin
p.s. Whoever keeps throwing him whole bratwursts over the fence, please stop. It's not funny anymore.