The New Kid: Meet Cousin Lou Lou

She's French, she's fiesty and she's the worst disruption in Linus' life since Mommy started scooping the poop from the backyard. Lou Lou has arrived, and with an attitude all her own.

As soon as my sister's 9-week-old brindle, petite Frenchie pup was introduced to Linus (and friends) last week, it was apparent that each Frenchie is blessed with its own distinct personality. Lou Lou is confident, boistrous and an aggressor (hmm.. reminds me a bit of her mother). Linus is a hippie pacifist who shuns violence (and that's the way I raised him). Despite Lou Lou's attempts to engage Linus in puppy play, Linus shyed away from her even to the point of finding refuge in his kennel. He found quiet moments to lock his sorrowful eyes with mine, visibly exasperated, almost as if he was crying out, "Mommy, why did you let her come?"

I'll go ahead and admit it for the record: Lou Lou (named for her future home, Louisville, Ky.) is a cute and funny little girl who likes to give kisses, wrestle her toys and collapse for impromptu naps with just about anybody. She's got big sweet eyes, a true bulldog strut and an inquisitive nature about her, and I can't wait to get to know her better (and for her to settle down!). Believe me, I'm probably more excited than anyone about having another Frenchie to fawn over.

I enjoyed the puppy stage with my Linus, but I also know I've raised a wonderful dog who is obedient, intelligent and just as adorable in my eyes as he ever was. So, until little Lou Lou's puppy stage wears off, I'll be flooding Linus with all the love and treats that he can take. Just so he knows that to me, he's never old news.



 Here's some pics Lou Lou and Linus!

Picking up my sister and the puppy from the airport - Linus wouldn't acknowledge that the little squirt was even in the car.



Lou Lou and "Aunty E," as I am being called.



Plenty of pink! Lou Lou chews her first Kong.

Hard to get a good, quiet shot of that little girl!

Lou Lou with her Mom, my sister Laura Marie. Less than two weeks until these two call KY home again!



Here's me with my lovely sisters: Laura Marie and Hannah.

And let's not forget our special Linus... don't strangle him Aunt Hannah!



The New Mommy Jitters

The home phone rang around 11 p.m. two nights ago. When the home phone rings that late at my house, you can bet it's one of three things: a sister, a telemarketer, or a sister. It was, in fact, a sister.

A very anxious sister who has very recently  made an extremely important decision in her life: to have a baby (doggie). A little wide-eyed, bat-eared, pot-bellied baby who looks like she may have dipped her front paw in a puddle of white paint and whipped it down her chest. I'm happy to announce that our Frenchie family is expanding, and just in time for my sister to move within 70 miles of Linus and me.

We discovered six-week-old No Name From Louisiana after Laura Marie semi-seriously began perusing puppies online last week. She e-mailed me some considerable candidates, none of them had "the undeniable look of love at first sight" that you have to have when you make such a momentous decision on the mere promise of a picture. When little No Name's image popped up in my inbox, there was no doubting the smushed face. Not only did her innocent eyes plea a serious case for sweetness, but I was overtaken by an overwhelming sense of "this is the one." Not the one for me, of course, but the one for Laura Marie.

So, after a series of payment processes and travel procedures, No Name is securely on her way to the arms of my big sis, who is also my best friend. She will arrive in Brooklyn (the sis' current residence) in time to turn around and hop on a plane to Louisville, where she, her Mommy and her Daddy will make Kentucky their permanent happy home.



Once I knew I could invest time, love and finances into my new dog, and had a support system set up around me, I was ready to become a Mommy.



As joyous as this all obviously sounds to the onlooker, the new doggie mommy is always struck with a period of overwhelming anxiety and doubt as the realities of dog ownership set in: What if she doesn't like me? What if I don't spend enough time with her? What if she has a health problem? What if she can't be trained? How will this decision change my life? As a former mother-to-be who experienced this spurt of pre-maternal fear, I was adept to respond to my sister's late-night anxiety attack when she called Tuesday night.

Purchasing a dog is a huge commitment, let's not gloss over that fact. It's a commitment of several years that requires tremendous patience, unfailing love, substantial playtime and, honestly, the finances to back up whatever need may arise. However, for those of us who truly love dogs, purchasing a dog is also a dream - a lot like getting married, buying a house or having a baby.

I have trouble with dog owners who make dog ownership seem like a chore. Yes, it requires responsibility that goes beyond making sure you dog eats and doesn't run away. But dogs are adaptable creatures that can be trained, can entertain themselves, can be crated for short periods of time, and, if cared for properly, can enhance a person's lifestyle rather than hinder it. I've found that it's been easy to integrate Linus into my lifestyle, you just have to know where you have time and flexibility to work him in. I enjoy taking him to the doggie shops, the doggie parks and on walks on the weekends. We sleep together every night and go on car rides together. I also am fortunate enough have doggie-loving friends who welcome him into their homes. He often has playtime with other dogs while Mommy enjoys some chat time and wine.

I am also blessed to live in a house with a backyard and an extremely supportive family that will play with Linus whenever he beckons. My greatest asset as a dog owner is having people in my life who are willing to assist with the caretaking of Linus. I can reassure Laura Marie that she will have no problem raising her pup as she will have the support of a dog-loving family and friends. For any aspiring dog owner: develop a community of friends and fans who will be ready to help you care for Linus or entertain him whenever you need some time to yourself.

New Mommy anxiety is super normal, but if it gets ahold of you it can make you doubt your POSITIVE decision to invest in a dog. It can spoil that fun euphoria of welcoming a precious new companion into your life. Don't get me wrong, if you don't have the financial means, the time or the heart to make sure your dog is living its best life, perhaps you should reconsider your interest in buying a dog. Plenty of people make bad decisions to buy dogs all the time - and I can't condone these decisions as irresponsible individuals continue to add to our problem of the population of unwanted doggies. But if  having a dog around is something in your heart, you can't deny it, and you are willing to adjust your life to make it work, it can be a great decision for both parties. And, when you are ready to take the plundge, I can vouche from personal experience: it's an extremely rewarding endeavor that leads to a priceless, and ever-present friendship.

A Halloween Preview

For those of us who are too old to break out a flagrant costume and not yet blessed with children to decorate on Halloween, our remaining pleasure is dressing up our creatures.

My creature is a little bit less enthusiastic about the holiday of swapping identities than, say, the average four-year old. Most grade school kids are eager to tell you what they are going to be for Halloween: a vampire, a ghost, Batman or a puppy dog. As the parent of a dog, not a child, I am in the advantageous (and marginally abusive) position of having the ablity to select the most demoralizing costume possible with no "child" input. Although, with Linus, I'm convinced that any costume that he can detect touching his fur gets a doggie frown face.

Yesterday we were running some errands, and we stopped by a couple doggie shops looking for doggie costumes. I've had an idea for Linus' first Halloween costume for months, but I wanted to scope out the simple costume-in-a-bag options. I was impressed with the Petsmart selection. Our options included ghost, lobster, pig, dracula, bumble bee, pumpkin, hot dog and shark. Martha Stewart also offer these ridiculously cute "pajama" style costumes of a skeleton and a zombie. I was sold on the skeleton, but they were sold out of mediums. So, we tried on a sparkling blue "alien" costume right there in the store. With costumes at 50 percent off, this wouldn't be a bad trial costume.

The smirks, giggles and sneers from fellow shoppers gave me enough motivation to fork out the $3.70 for the alien costume. C'mon, we're not laughing at him, but with him! Although I am not sure this will be the final costume, it's a great back-up if my other idea doesn't pan out. Here's some great photos of Linus "trying on" Costume No. 1 for the family. As you can see, Linus is thrilled with his alien costume.




ALIEN INVASION!



Me, Dad and Linus... a Papaw Halloween photo!

Angry about this costume thing.

With UNCLE NOAH AND PAPAW!

Still angry... "please take this off, I look ridiculous!"

Stomach in a Knot

I've already had my fair share of doggie health scares. Doggie eats paint, doggie has upset stomach, doggie falls out of a tree house, doggie gets attacked by another aggressive dog, doggie gets slashed in the face by the cat, doggie runs out in front of a car, doggie tears ACL (darned bouncing boxers...). The these heart-stopping mini-disasters are lurking everywhere, waiting to pounce on new dog owners and catch experienced dog owners by surprise. We can prep ourselves with all veterinary advice in the world, but sometimes these emergencies just happen.

There are right and wrong ways to respond when something scary happens to your dog, such as sickness.

Sometimes we overreact. For instance, about nine months ago, my little baby Linus gobbled up some black acrylic paint during an art session. Despite the fact that the tube was labeled clearly as "non-toxic," my hysteria costs me a needless $75 poison control caller fee (and likely a couple grey hairs down the road). The worst outcome was that Linus' catfish mouth remained black for a couple days.

Sometimes we get angry. I remember the time my sneaky first boxer, Socks, snatched a bag of hershey dark chocolate kisses off our kitchen counter top. When we found the silver remnants of wrapper streaked with chocolate across our hallway carpet, I was immediately infruriated. "That idiot dog!" Nevermind that dark chocolate injestion is a huge health hazard dogs and can cause death. It was moments later that anger turned to worry, and we were on the phone with the vet. (Don't worry, Socks paid the terrible price of a lengthy stomach ache for her indulgence, but she survived her chocolate consumption).

Sometimes we find someone to blame (even if that someone is ourselves). The first time Linus started hung out with my Dad's dogs, he contracted fleas. While he was treated regularly for fleas, my Dad's dogs were not being treated at the time, and Linus consequently pick them up. When we made this discovery, I marched to my Dad, accused him of being an irresponsible dog owner and hinted at the fact that he was to blame for my trouble ridding all the dogs of their fleas. But we should all note, the blame game leads to nowhere and is ultimately a waste of time.

And, sometimes we have to go with our gut. After several days moping around the house and a precautionary vet visit, my aunt's laborador retreiver Jake started burrowing away in the backyard last week. His breathing was labored and he was out of energy. One night, when his breathing had gotten to a horrific point, my aunt called her vet begging to bring him in. The vet advised that she should "watch him" overnight and revisit his condition in the morning, but Amy refused. She demanded to take him to the clinic right away.

They hauled Jake into the car and helped him into the clinic, where he immediately collapsed on the floor of the lobby. X-rays revealed that he had a knot in his intestines, which the veterinarian had only seen a couple times before. They operated on Jake the next morning, extracting some of the intestine that has essentially "died." Today, with the exception of sporadic itching sprees where the stitches had been, he's doing fine.

Your response to a doggie health scare can make a huge difference in the outcome of the situation and your own sanity. The best way to respond to a doggie health scare is to:

• Stay calm (nothing ever gets resolved in the midst of hysteria)
• Contact your vet's emergency office immediately (depending on the nature of the scare) and always have your vet's contact readily available
• Ask for assistance from a neighbor, trusted friend or family member (having someone around to support you during a scare makes a world of difference!)
• Focus on the solution, rather than the problem (never get caught up in the shoulda-coulda-woulda mentality)

And try to prevent doggie scares by knowing your doggie's vulnerabilities (ie. escaping the yard, attacking other dogs, eating unhealthy foods) and taking steps to make sure worst-case scenarios are unlikely.

Bed Bugs

I am gaining a renewed understanding of why my dog is intrinsically a bully, despite his outward friendly demeanor.

It has to do with the fact that lately I've allowed him to share some snoozes with me. He's such a nice little snuggler, and I rarely allow him to lay under the covers. Most of the time, he'll situate himself somewhere up by the mass of pillows at the top of the bed, curl up in a ball with his back to me and rest peacefully. He knows when it's time to go to bed and will sit up politely at the foot of the bed until I've brushed my teeth and washed my face in the adjacent bathroom. Once I lie down to go to sleep, he'll trudge up the covers beside me and with a big human-like sigh, he'll plop down for a night's rest.


Linus is becoming a pest at bedtime - a little bed bug!


Let's face it: when he's sleeping, he's at his sweetest. But after a couple weeks letting this go on, I am second guessing the "peaceful" nature of this scenario. With his increased confidence, Linus has begun pushing his way to the dead center of the bed. Often I will wake up in the early morning hours to literally find myself tettering on the edge of the bed - and without covers! The little man will be found in the dead center of the bed, cozily curled like a fat rolly polly. And I will have to remove him from the spot, replace him at the top of the bed and remind him that he's not the boss here.



Linus and I can now only take naps together.

Over the past few weeks, my explanations for his relocation on the bed have digressed from simply, "No, Linus, this is mommy's spot" to "Ughghg... you little turd." They are especially curt when I have only a few hours a sleep to go. While I am somewhat impressed at his ability to steadily push me to the edge of my own bed, his bed bullying is starting to rub me the wrong way. As in, off my own bed.

Last night, before I went to brush my teeth, I courted my little bed bug to his old kennel in the dining room. Before submitting, he peered up at me with apprehension. Those bulb-like eyes pleading to me, "You're not really going to do this, are you?"

Yes, I did. And when I woke up this morning, instead of finding a cream rolly polly in the middle of MY space, he was curled up in the corner of his kennel. Bed bug problem relieved!



Reviving the Bullblog

So, I've committed one of the most atrocious sins of social media. It's a simple, reasonable rule that you would think I'd follow after consistently blogging for months.

Never, ever, under any circumstances, abandon your blog.

I realize that because my last blog was posted in the middle of July, any "followers" who might have fancied our stories or put us on their online radar may have since lost interest. And I humbly take the blame, but invite everyone back. Lord knows I've thrown my audience for a loop before (thanks to Uncle Noah!). But, blog abandonment is not an easily forgiveable sin. It's detrimental to readership. I can imagine visiting my abandoned blog was like attempting to shop at a boutique that's always closed because of its weird hours or going to a restaurant that was always out of your favorite item on the menu. A series of letdowns only leads to disappointment, and ultimately, distrust. But I hope, if you've ventured to the blog to read this post, you'll be persuaded to stay. And, maybe, we can rebuild that trust.

First off, it's not Linus' fault that Mommy abandoned the blog. So, if you're simply a fan of Linus the character (and don't really care about me), staying tuned would be worth your while. Because Linus has accomplished some extraordinary feats while we've been away the past few months. Here's just a few developments we'll be blogging about in the near (EXTREMELY NEAR) future:

Paging Dr. Linus. Linus has passed an evaluation to become an official trainee for Love on a Leash, the Bluegrass Chapter. This means in the future we will be providing "pet therapy" in the community, visiting hospitals, retirement homes and other venues where people can benefit from Linus' jovial presence. I expect the most heart-felt and warm blogs to come out of these experiences. For more information on Love on a Leash, click here.

Wedding bells. This fall, Linus will become the unlawfully wedded husband of a yet-to-be-named female Frenchie. My sister, who is moving back to Kentucky from New York, has been promised a female Frenchie by her loving husband (who is desperately hoping this pup will appease her desire to have a real baby). Laura Marie (the sis) suggested this little girl become Linus' cousin (which would make sense), but I think he needs a wife. It will, however, have to be a childless marriage due to Linus' lack of... potential. I like to think of them as a hip, new age couple that doesn't want to pollute the earth with more creatures and are so in love they don't need children to distract them from each other. How romantic! However, talking to Laura Marie about her new baby girl kinda makes me feel like a creepy mother fixing an arranged marriage.

New stuff. From nutritional supplements to clothes, we're trying out some great new stuff to make life Linus' as a dog much more groovy. We've grown out of our old UK jersey and bought a shiny new one for football season. We're taking a supplement that a pet store owner swears will take away all the goop in our eyes (still trying that). We've tried another medicine out that is proven to eliminate your dog's desire to eat some less than delectable items left in the yard - would love to write a blog explaining my thoughts on that stuff. What's more exciting, we've got a brand new doggie specialty store that opened in our neighborhood, we're just dying to "review!"

New friends. Linus has several new friends to speak of. We've made doggie friends through LOAL, including a Cocker Spaniel named Tucker and my boss' dog, Jake, an English Setter. We met a fellow brindle Frenchie a couple weeks ago at the Farmers' market, who was named after some wizard who turns into a dog from the Harry Potter books (does anybody know this name?). We met the biggest guy we've ever encountered, a Great Dane, at the Woodland Arts Fair. We've become good friends with our English bulldog friend Matilda, who welcomed Linus to her Dad's birthday party.

New tricks. In preparation for LOAL, we've been working on our behavior. This process has led me several conclusions about Linus: he is, infact, smart. He is adaptable. He learns quickly, but not easily. He really does need formal training. I've learned he doesn't like to heel, but he picked up on "high five" like he was born to raise that awkward little paw. We're going to continue to learn together, and will be sharing these struggles with you on the blog.

So, perhaps those reasons are enough to convince you to stick around and see what happens. Life is never dull with Linus. And I've had so much fun raising him, teaching him and enduring the trials of life with him at my side, that I owe it to him to share our experiences. And I hope, occassionally, we can touch your heart, make you laugh, reveal something about your relationship with your pet you never knew or at the very least help you burn a idle hour at work. Thanks for reading.

Love,
Linus and Elizabeth

The Firebrook FireSmush

Below the hurried footsteps of kids in brightly colored swimsuits and rubber swim caps, Linus romped across the damp grass of Pinnacle swimming pool grounds Saturday afternoon. As a mini-mascot, he sported a red 'F' painted on his back. No, the 'F' didn't stand for Frenchie. Linus was joining me as an avid fan of the Firebrook Firefish.

Since moving home this summer, I've rekindled my connection to the neighborhood where I grew up. Sixteen years ago, I was nine years old and competing for the first time ever with the developing Firefish swim team. I was just like these kids on Saturday, nervously awaiting my heat to be called as I munched on healthy treats in the refuge of a giant team tent. Stretching, playing and painting the bare legs of my friends with our team colors. Watching these kids Saturday made me miss being a kid.

My brother is the last Troutman standing with the Firebrook swim team. It's his second year as the head swim coach, and likely the last year he'll be involved. Just as he has done since he was a mere five years old, he shaved his head for the championship meet, one last time. Below, Linus shares in the excitement of the summer swim conference with his Uncle Noah and some of the swim team kids. See how the "FireSmush" and Noah are both sporting the 'F' (in their own special ways)?

Go Firefish!

All-American import

The skies above our suburban neighborhood gleamed with color and boomed like thunder Saturday night. While most dogs were trembling under beds, Linus joined crowd of neighbors and our family at the hilltop mansion for the annual neighborhood fireworks show.

As a true member of the "home of the brave," Linus was not in the least daunted by the powerful volume of the fireworks. He enthuiastically sat in my lap and watched the burst of fire sparkle over the lake. Still, with my concern for those big, sensitive bat ears, I used my hands as ear muffs for him when the fireworks show reached its most climatic point.

By birth, Linus is an all-American boy out of Oklahoma. By heritage, he is of course, French. On Independence Day, his French roots reminded me of our trusty allies during the Revolutionary War. The Statue of Liberty is a symbol of that alliance. The nation we love was fought for and won with the aid from a country that birthed the breed I love. To me, this makes the Fourth all the more special!

Below: Linus and I attend festivities downtown on July 3.

Linus gets some love for being so good during the fireworks show.

Linus chills out during the show.

Some of the kids give Linus a glowing halo during the show.

Happy Fourth, everyone!

In the heat of flea season

I'm stepping away from my series on "Boundaries" today to address a timely topic affecting all dogs everywhere: the curse of the flea. If you're a dog owner, it's almost impossible to dodge flea treatment, especially during the summer months. Don't kid yourself. All it takes is one missed month for your dog to become infested with them. And it's not pleasant.

Yesterday I stopped by the vet to pick up some flea treatment for all three dogs. Mind you, it's not cheap. I'd much rather take the $400 Dad and I spent on the dogs' eight rounds of flea treatment and heartworm preventative and buy Linus a new toy or save up for my impending vacation. But that's one of the the hardest parts of being a responsible dog owner: there's no skimping on your animal's health.

Ponying up the cash to treat your dog every month with Frontline (R) or another vet-recommended flea treatment is the best way to prevent fleas. If you are thinking "it's just little fleas...what's the worst that could happen?" or "that's too darned expensive," then I would encourage you to take the flea threat a little more seriously. Because I once thought like you, but now I can speak from experience: you don't want to let fleas in your home or on your dogs. Linus HAS been infected with fleas before (when we had missed our regular dosage of Frontline) and subsequently he was infected with tapeworms. Tapeworms are caused by the larvae of fleas and they make your dog very sick. What's more, tapeworms will make you very sick if you are ever graced with their lovely presence in a warm bed of your dog's feces. Please excuse the candor here, but experiencing this is not something I wish for any other dog owner.

So, there's my horror story. I hope my regular readers realize that I am no expert at this, I have made mistakes as a dog owner, but I only mean to speak from experience so others won't make my same mistakes. Even missing a week of treatment can make them susceptible to these little bugs. So, I beg of you, don't just shake off your vet's recommendation to stay on top of flea treatment. As a pet owner in a down economy, I know we are all thinking: Where can we skimp? Is my vet ripping me off? And, in this case, I have to warn you that taking care of the fleas now will prevent strife, additional costs and further treatment in the future. Avoiding fleas will just lead to inevitable misery. And preventative treatment is easy. With a snip and a squirt on the nape of the neck, you are through with that worry!

The Companion Animal Parasite Council is a great resource for information on flea treatment, preventative tips and the scoop on other pesky parasites that can threaten the cleanliness and safety of your home, as well as the health of your dogs. Click here to read their article on how to test for and prevent fleas.

Below, Linus gets a bath - this is not a happy time.

Bathtime is a great opportunity to investigate your dog's coat and check for signs of fleas (little brown bugs or little black specks under your dog's fur). Flea baths are available your local pet store. Keep in mind, these baths will not take care of the problem for good. Legit flea treatment is only available through your vet's office.

Now, I've got to stop talking about this... it's making me itchy! Long live summer, and down with those fleas!

Because we love when our dogs invade our sleeping space...

Following up to today's blog post: evidence of sleeptime invasions!

Debbie's "Princess" pug Lucy is the ruler of this bed, as you can see here.

After I leave for work, Linus often relocates to Noah's bed, which (I kid you not) happens to be the couch. Noah has made the couches upstairs and downstairs his bed for many years now. The irony: it's not a very comfortable couch.

Boundary No.1: The Bed

So, I'm in the process of moving back home for a while. Yes, I know I am too old for this, but hush you ugly voices in my head! And I am getting reacquainted with my old bed. Since I moved out after college, my parents have stripped my bedroom of all its childlike pink and green flowery print furniture and themes, replacing the comforter with a plain white down and my nightstand with a Victorian style navy blue lampstand. This new decor doesn't mesh well with the pea green wall paint. I'm moving a ton of stuff into the room right now. The closet's a mess of old clothes that need to be dropped off at the Good Will and new clothes that I can't find because the old clothes are in the way. And there are boxes of old albums and miscellaneous trinkets that I can't find the courage to toss out yet piled upon my old desk.

And in the middle of this mess, there's a dog crate. And I must say, most of the time, a very empty dog crate.

Since Linus has arrived at Dad's, I am pleased to report he has lost a couple pounds. Not pounds that he needed to lose, but pounds that he has shed along with his old way of life. He's gone from chilling at the apartment all day with evening walks to spending his days exhausting himself with two playmates in a backyard. So, in the past few weeks, my (constantly dirty) athlete has discovered he can spring like a little wind up toy onto my bed without permission or hesisitation. And from the look on his face, you can tell he's quite proud of this new development.

It never fails. I'll walk into my bathroom, brush my teeth, wash my face and moisturize. I'll turn the corner to head to bed, and someone else's mound of a head is lying on my pillow. Literally, on my pillow as much as it will fit. He's already snoring, even though his eyes are open, and staring right at me as if to say, "Oh, I'm sorry. Were YOU planning to sleep here?"

I am almost certain his body gets heavier when he lies on my bed. I have to peel him away from the sheets, without any of his help, and cradle him in my arms. Once, I have to literally roll him off the bed because I didn't have the energy to pick him up. And he refuses to help you remove him. When we get to the crate, which sits at the foot of the bed (close enough, right, buddy?), he gives me such an expression of disdain, I usually apologetically resituate him on top of the comforter. I am such a sucker.

A few nights I have let him stay on the bed all night, as long as he remains on top of the covers. Mind you, his snoring is so loud that only a mother's love would permit the noise. He's the biggest bed bully I've ever known - and my sister, Laura Marie, is a pretty tough one to beat. I've woken up at 3 a.m. dangling along the side of the bed to find my monster sprawled out as far as his compact little body will allow in the dead center of the bed. How he manages to do this is a midnight mystery that I may never uncover.

I am a sucker when it comes to bedtime for two reasons, mainly:
1. He's so darned cute when he's tired. Either he's a perfect picture of innocence, or he really knows how to act. And I don't know who taught him that skill (perhaps one of my Dad's dogs). But he's good at it.
2. Bedtime is the only time he really shows much interest in Mom. Lately, Linus has entered a macho stage of his adolescence - he thinks he's too good for Mommy. He will greet me with genuine affection, but he never wants to snuggle with me. Heartbreaking as this is, I am always reassured that he still loves me when I see he has snuck up to snuggle on my bed. He doesn't invade Dad's bed, Noah's bed or anyone else's bed ... just mine. And there's something endearing about his choice of sleep location. I can't help but think he chooses me because he knows who Mommy is.

So here's my ruling on Boundary No. 1: The bed is a place for human rest, not doggie rest. If your pet is climbing with confidence atop your bed and snuggling under your sheets, as mine is, he is undoubtedly showing signs of dominance that are too easilly confused with adorableness. But every so often, especially if you are dealing with a macho man like me, soak up all the love you can while it lasts. Because before you know it, the alarm will go off. He'll leap off the bed to the food bowl or the back door. And that peaceful time you get to share together will be gone.

Household boundaries: When sanitary means sanity

I have a steadfast theory on bathrooms: there are two things that don't belong in this very private space. Item No. 1 is food. This rule was reinforced while I was living with my sister. I nearly had a fit of disgust every time I saw a plate... yes, I kid you not... a plate decorated with little crumbs and smears of ketchup situated on the sink of my sister's bathroom. Simply stated, where things come out, things don't need to be coming in. It's a rule of thumb that just makes sense. There are specific rooms where eating is acceptable in the home - the area where your toilet resides is not one of those rooms.

Thing No. 2, and the subject of this blog, is animals. Call me crazy, but if I see a fly in a bathroom, that fly is destined for a swift death - or I'm not in there. It creeps me out to no end when an animal is around when I shower. Our most loyal dog Ellie will sneak in and lie on the bathmat while I'm showering, which I used to think was a weird mix of endearing and creepy. Now it's just gross and creepy.

Below: Do you really belong there, or is Mom letting you get away with it?

Animals, even the ones we love the most, are not the best models for personal hygiene. If their feet have been in dirty places, they are dragging dirt and germs into spaces where you are meant to get yourself clean for the day. Linus drops drool, sheds hair and carries along whatever germs he's picked up from the outside wherever her roams. He doesn't wash his hands or carry antibacterial soap, although, wouldn't it be nice if he did?

Now, generally, I am a pretty lax pet owner when it comes to pets in my spaces. Our pack currently has reign to jump on the couch, go to the basement and even cuddle on the beds for short periods (that's excluding Dad's bed). I'm not worried about kisses on faces or paws pattering through the kitchen. If I lived so uptight that I couldn't allow my dog to enjoy the space we share, then he wouldn't be a true member of the family.

With that said, I am fully aware that dogs should have boundaries in the household. It's something, now that we have a new living space, I need to consider to keep the human side of our family happy. We had a rude awakening after we hired a cleaning lady to thoroughy sweep our hunter green living room carpet last week. That very afternoon, Linus jovially entered and romped like a rolling pin across the carpet. As cute as this was, I dreaded being a witness as he painted the carpet with bits of creamy hair. Further strife ensued when all three dogs bombarded the kitchen to get a shot at some drippings as I loaded dishwasher. Dad has ZERO TOLERANCE for this: he kicks, yells and shoos them out of there. I'm beginning to be convinced, new boundaries need to be set for those spaces where our animals become nuances.

For sanity and my sanitary reasons, I am going to do a series of blogs on how to monitor your dog's boundaries in the home. My first question to readers is: Where, in your home, is off limits to your dog? Where do dogs NOT belong?

Fixing my birthday blunder

Since I dropped the ball planning a doggie party for Linus' June 10 birthday, I planned a full day of activities for us on Saturday. Here's a few snippets from our outting. Mother and dog had a great day together shopping, walking, playing and, of course, eating!

First, we hit a hot spot for all of Lexington's doggie socialites, the Farmer's Market downtown. Below, we are browsing around, making friends and hunting for some local fare.

Our next stop on the birthday to-do list was the nearby Bluegrass Barkery where we shopped for presents. Our friend Jodi and other doggie product experts at the Barkery advised us on a toy, a chewie and ample treats for Linus' birthday dinner. Linus was mostly interested in Jodi and her generous giving of tasty treats. While we were there, we also picked up the oh-so-important birthday cake (above).

After all that shopping, Mommy was hankering her own sweet treat. We walked past Woodland Park and made a stop for water, a sandwich and a cup of pistachio gelato at the doggie-friendly new joint, 6 Friends. Their patio is the perfect summer spot for enjoying a delicious bite with friends and pups (patio-only). Below, we take a breather from all that walking.

We got home in time to start dinner and wrap the presents Linus (sorta) picked out at the Barkery. After my Dad, my brother and I enjoyed steaks and homemade potato salad made from locally grown new potatoes I found at the Farmer's Market, we invited Linus to the table.

As you can see (above) Linus was the man of honor, eager to gobble up his cake all on his own. But we had to encourage him to mind his manners and share with his guests (below).

After we sang "Happy Birthday," cake was distributed to the dogs, and Uncle Noah helped Linus open his presents. He received a sampler of rabbit food, a new cooling bandanna (which you see him wearing), a beef chewie, and a wool rope, as well as an assortment of Barkery treats to share.

And there was no messing around when it came to that cake. He couldn't get it down fast enough!

Happy Birthday, Linus!

When Mommy (sorta) forgets your birthday

A year ago yesterday, a litter of honey-coated, wrinkle-faced, squinting puppies the size of your palm debuted to this world. Eight weeks later, one of those puppies literally wiggled his way into my world. And since, he has been a cheery spirit and delightful distraction through many challenges, decisions and tragedies my family has encountered in the past year.

But yesterday, of all the days in the year, I failed to show the little guy how special he is to me. No presents. No cake. Not even a walk around the block marked Linus' first year of life. I fretted on the couch with Linus last night after I finally got home from all my weekly obligations, apologizing profusely and promising, like any guilty mother, that we would celebrate this weekend. He chewed on his rope and seemed to glare over at me, as to to say, "whatever, Mom." My brother had to remind me: "He doesn't actually know it's his birthday."

I know I have been spilling a lot about how chaotic Doggie Mommy life can be, but let's face it, it's time to Mommy-up to these responsibilities. I say we're going to go to the dog park, we should go to the dog park. I say we're going to go buy some treats at the Barkery, we should buy them. I say I am going to stick with the healthier food for Linus and not settle for the cheap stuff, we should stick with the diet.  I say I'm going to plan a big birthday party with pools, and hats and doggie birthday cake, that should be so as well. But I didn't do it. And that's what good Mommies do, they "Mommy-up" to their responsibilities.

Amid my failure, yesterday I remembered my own childhood birthday parties, complete with pony rides, waterslides and rented out party facilities. And a real Mommy, who despite all her obligations and distractions, was able to make me feel like I was riding along on a shooting star the entire day. Princess, mermaid, equestrian or rockstar... whatever I wanted to be, I was that day.

So, again, I realize Linus is not a child, he is a dog. And that if he could pick his day, he would probably spend it salivating under my Dad's feet while he's cooking bacon on Saturday mornings. But I am baffled at all you real Mommies out there who can make it up the ladder in your career, serve on your Girl Scout committees, host Bible studies in your homes, pack healthy lunches and make warm dinners before 7 p.m., workout at the gym every day and still have time to plan a dazzling birthday extravanganza for your child. That's nothing less that magical to me.

Fortunately, I have a some time to uncover your secrets in preparation for my own human children. Until then, I'll practice being the best Mommy I can to a "child" who won't burst into tears if I forget to throw a bash on his birthday. Rather than fret, I'll focus on what I can do next year. There's always Birthday #2.

Panic attack at the wedding...

I woke up at 6 a.m. on the Saturday morning of Hannah's wedding and rolled over to check the time on the alarm clock. I was 4 a.m. Two more hours.

The next time I woke up it was to the shuffling feet of someone way too chipper ... the bride. I mumbled, only half awake:

"Hannah... I decided at 6:22 a.m. that I can no longer participate in your wedding. I am sorry."

It was 6:23 a.m., and I was running late.

She choked out a forced laugh, which indicated she wasn't too amused with my dry jokes this morning, then prompted me out of bed to get ready for the wedding. Time was a'ticking.

The wedding day fell into place perfectly. Hannah was a flawless bride who beamed in the morning light as she was united with her Ben. No, Linus was not included in the wedding ceremony. The arguments against his appointment to ring bearer ranged from "he could pass gas and make everyone sick" to "he'll creep everyone out." Fortunately, I can now admit that including Linus would have caused my stress level to rise, therefore, ultimately not being worth all the trouble and worry in the end. As cute as he may have looked in that little tux, I was dealing with enough on my mind that day already. I hate to disappoint our supporters, and thanks to everyone who pushed for his participation!

In the haste of adjusting my hair and tying my sash, the one thing I forgot to do did, in fact, impact Linus. With the chaos of adjusting the hair, finding my sash and getting a water bottle for the bride in the final moments at home, I forgot to ask someone to make sure Linus was in his cage. I ran out the garage door to make it in time for photos, and left him outside in the backyard.

Normally, I would not have freaked out about this. But Saturday's temperatures rose above 80 degrees with unbearable humidity. All the guests at the wedding were sweating down their backs waiting for the recessional. It wasn't until after the bouquet toss that I began to find my family members one by one and ask with hope that someone had remembered to put Linus in his crate. Panic struck when I realized he was outside.

Anyone who knows about bulldog health is aware that the breeds don't stand heat very well. I've heard horror stories about dogs being found suffering from severe heat exhaustion on airplanes and in back yards. I've heard a trainer say that English bulldogs will drop dead within minutes above 80 degrees (although I don't think this is entirely true, but still worth keeping in mind). During the reception, these thoughts crossed my mind. How terrible, I thought, if I lose my beloved dog on my sister's wedding day?

I couldn't leave the reception, this was my sister's big moment. And after she left, she would be gone to Florida then Colorado for the foreseeable future. I asked family members, but they were hesitant to leave and care for Linus as well, hoping not to miss the big exit. The most unlikely heroes stepped up to rescue Linus... my cousins Ellen and Aubrey.

I have to give some background on Ellen's relationship with Linus: she's frankly one of the very few people who would rather not have a relationship with Linus. She's utterly disgusted and repelled by the snorts, the snot, the gas, the slobber and the sight of my bulldog. Once his untimely gas sent her into a tirade of complete intolerance. I don't blame her for hating his flaws, but never did I expect her to offer to rescue him.

Below: Ellen and Linus.

Ellen hurried to the house to find a exhausted, but alive, little Linus in the shade. I am ashamed to admit he had been in the sun for more than 6 hours, but he was doing fine and in good spirits. A forgetful mother's mistake that I will never make again! Predictably, Ellen found his water bowl was empty. She gave him some fresh water then put him inside in his kennel where it was cool.

I called Ellen from my brother's phone to learn he was still alive and breathing, and this put my heart at ease until it was time to bid Hannah and Ben farwell. At that time, a different kind of grief came over me: the grief of parting with my loving sister.

Congratulations, Hannah and Ben (two of my first, and most dedicated, bullblog fans)! Linus and I love you very much.

Lessons in love

So, this is love?

Cleaning up your pee on my new green rug. Researching your dietary needs to make sure you don't have severe allergic reactions. Monitoring your daily exercise. Giving up my mid-week latte to save money for your new toys. Spending more money on your doggie sweatshirt than a sweatshirt for myself (five times its size). Giving up my lunch breaks to spend time with you. Waking up at 3 a.m. in a foot of snow to take you to the bathroom. Sacrificing my favorite pair of heels because of your annoying chewing habit. Resolving I'll never have a house free of pet hair. Planning my weekend around your walks and trips to the park. Teaching myself to sleep through your thundering snores. Unabashedly scraping your poop off the sidewalk in the presence of not-so-accepting humans.

Yes, if you have a dog, this is love. And according to pyschologist Suzanne B. Phillips, this type of love teaches us a lot about another kind of love: marriage. Pet owners often exhibit characteristics of "unconditional" love, accepting the faults of their pet while continuing to love them despite the trouble they cause. In Phillips' article on how pets can improve your relationships, she points out that pet owners often learn to greet, forgive, release grudges and accept the flaws of their pets, which may carry over to their relationships with a partner.

Although I'm not married and don't plan to be anytime soon, it's worthwhile taking note of the nature of my relationship with Linus. In past human relationships, I admittedly have been quick to judge and react negatively. If a boyfriend ruined my stuff or crossed me, it was absolutely his fault. When a long-term boyfriend picked me up for a date, let's just say my greetings have not always matched the extreme salutation I give Linus when he approaches me at the end of the day. With people you become comfortable with, it's easy to hold grudges,
lose interest and resist forgiveness.

I'll encourage all of my fellow obsessive dog owners to start looking at their spouse, partner or boyfriend more like their dog (if that makes sense). Strive to treat your human companion with the unconditional love he or she deserves. If he forgets to take the garbage out, maybe treat him as if the dog had an accident on the carpet. If he keeps you up with his snoring, maybe find it adorable and endearing rather than a wall between you and your slumber. If he steals the remote during Housewives, maybe be content cuddling and watching football for a while.

If he poops on your carpet... well, that's taking it too far. That may require some more serious counseling.

The art of nicknaming

Every evening when I get home from work, I enter the house and holler out an obnoxious, sing-songy, nasally call to beckon Linus to greet me. It's become a famous "call of the wild," and I love it because it gets him all excited and wiggly. It goes something like:

"Whay's mah smush?
Translation: Where is my little smushed-faced dog named Linus?

"Is it my smushin, wittle cushin? Is it my muffin man?"
Translation: Are you my little, cuddly, smushed-faced dog? Are you my adorable (scrumptous) little man?

Many people have joined the efforts to develop ridiculous nick names now latched to Linus. When you adore an animal this much, one name doesn't seem to cut it. My pup bursts with character and has developed a reputation that has earned him some of the most colorful, as well as shameful, nicknames. Whether the name reflects some untraditional eating habits, his waddle, his droopy face or his expressive looks, they all reflect an animal that many have come to love (or hate) for different reasons.

Here's some of Linus' nicknames. Please excuse the more vulgar ones.

• Smush or Smushin (courtesy of Mommy)
• Muffin, "Muff," or Muffin Man
• Thug Life
• Lovebug
• Catfish (courtesy of Aunt Jessie and Uncle Josh)
• The Goonch (courtesy of Aunt Jessie and Uncle Josh)
• Little Helper
• Turd Burglar (courtesy of Uncle Noah)
• Brute
• Booger
• Sugar Cube
• Turd or Turd Monster (courtesy of Shawn)
• Anus (courtesy of my Dad)

Share nicknames for your dog with us on the blog today!

Weekend fun at the Barkery

A few recent shots of Linus for fun. Linus and I stopped in at the Barkery this weekend to play with the sweetest 90-pound Bermese Mountain dog.And then we were pooped.

Investigating the backyard of the barkery.

Let's play!

You Frenchies are strange ones...