Two years of dog

Dear Montana,

I'm a few days late blogging about it, but I promise we didn't forget the actual event: this past Saturday was the two-year anniversary of the day we adopted you.


Last year when I wrote you a letter I had a lot to say about how you'd evolved: you'd gone from a timid, shaky, bony, classic rescue dog to a confident, healthy, active, happy, beloved pet. And this year? Well, you're still a happy beloved pet. There hasn't been a whole lot of evolution. And that's a good thing, because you're pretty close to perfect exactly the way you are.


Things that have changed for you this year have mostly had to do with the environment surrounding you. When I got pregnant you had to cut way back on your trips to the dog park, because I was too sick to take you, and even once the morning sickness had passed, the trips stayed a lot more sporadic than they had been. Now there's a baby and as a result you've been pushed lower on the totem pole. But I will say that I was mentally prepared to not be able to deal with you when I had a baby, but I haven't felt that way at all. Thank goodness, because I can't imagine the guilt if I stopped thinking you were wonderful and adorable.


Our neighbors also got a cat this year, and as a result I'm surprised our front window is still intact; that cat likes to walk in front of it and sometimes even sit on the sill, like he's taunting you, and you have thrown yourself into the window trying to get at the cat so many times that I'm surprised you haven't sustained brain damage by now. But I'm pretty sure if you and the cat ever actually got into the same room, the cat would end up being the one in charge. Because you just aren't an alpha dog, and I'm pretty sure that cat is an alpha cat.


I know you're still undecided about this whole baby thing at the moment, but I promise you, in a few short months you will be totally on board with his presence here. Because in a few short months the kid will start eating solid foods, and you know what I hear about babies? I hear they're messy when they eat, and I'm pretty sure you'll be reaping the benefits of those messes. So if I were you I'd start sucking up to him now so that down the line, he'll let you stand directly underneath him while he eats.


You still have your own spots and your own little routines. You like to lie in your bed in the living room, and you love your crate in our bedroom. Every night when we go to bed, you follow us up the stairs and go straight into your crate, where you lie and wait for me to give you your bedtime treat. Then you lie down on your side and go straight to sleep. You're still great in the mornings, too; your bladder must truly be made of steel, because you can sleep all morning and not need to go out. We thank you for that, and hope that Callum learns from your example sooner rather than later.


You love rugs and towels and blankets, and if we aren't paying attention you will manage to take over a tummy time blanket before we actually get the baby onto it. You think all blankets are for you, and even though it's annoying when you get another clean baby blanket dirty, you are so cute and blankets make you so happy that we can't be mad at you for it; we just let you stay on the blanket and go get another one for the baby. See, you aren't our last priority in everything. Right?


I would really love to get inside your head and know what you're thinking most of the time. I'd like to know how you see the world, the way you understand things. I'm curious if you wonder, for example, why we don't turn the heat down when it's boiling hot in the summer, or if you think the automatic windows in the back seat of the car are like magic. I know your brain is tiny, but I really want to know how it functions.


But most of all if I could get inside your head, I'd make sure you know that you are a crucial part of our family. You are sweet and loving and adorable, and we are so glad you're here. And for our end of the bargain, we promise not to let the baby torture you as he gets older. You will be his first lesson in the proper way to treat animals. Because you are a lovely and delicate dog, and you deserve to be treated accordingly.


Love,
Mom

Maternity photos eeee

Torsten and I booked our maternity photo session months ago, after discovering an amazing, and incredibly reasonably priced, photographer online by chance. I loved her blog and portfolio, and after a couple of quick email exchanges, I knew that she totally got the vibe we wanted--not the traditional studio portraits involving bare bellies and gauze, but more of a regular family photo shoot wherein my pregnant belly was considered part of the family.

We also knew we wanted it to be outdoors, somewhere that really looked like Colorado, so after some consultation with our photographer, we settled on Red Rocks Park. And it turned out to be the perfect choice.

I am so, so happy with these photos. I don't think I've ever liked so many photos of myself out of a single batch before in my life. All photos are courtesy of the absolutely amazing Kristy Rowe of Moodeous Photography. You can see a much bigger set of them here.

Dogs and sheds. Or playhouses.

Man. Having a job is a real pain in the ass sometimes. Like when they expect you to do all this WORK in exchange for that paycheck they keep giving you. I mean, not that I don't work regularly, but some weeks the workload is more manageable than others. This has been one of those "other" weeks.

TGIF, is my point here. Torsten and I are thinking of driving to the mountains tomorrow, perhaps somewhere we haven't been before? We usually go to the Breckenridge area but perhaps tomorrow we'll head somewhere closer to Rocky Mountain National Park for a change of pace. The dog will come too, of course, and perhaps a not-too-strenuous hike will be in the works as well. Though I will say that when you're pregnant, most things become strenuous once you've hit 9,000 feet or so.

But the dog, the poor dog. Call it prep for when a newborn is here and we have no time or energy for her, but when work is so crazy we abandon all thoughts of taking her to the dog park and she has to settle for boring walks around the neighborhood instead. Not nearly as good for her, since she has to walk at our tedious pace instead of getting to sprint like a greyhound, as is her preference. Of course taking her to the mountains won't help with that situation, since we are the law-abiding (or giant-fine-averse) types who don't let her off-leash in prohibited areas, which is almost everywhere. But at least it will be an exciting new place with lots of interesting things to sniff, pee on, etc., right?

Anyway, she doesn't seem to mind too much. She creates her own entertainment, really:

Perhaps today I will join her out there instead of working.
Doesn't it look peaceful?

That shed, also. Have I mentioned that shed? I call it a shed but really it's more of a playhouse, though it's made by TuffSheds and therefore I think was probably reasonably expensive. You can see the porch and the doors and one of the windows. It has more windows, too, and carpet on the inside. It's not really suitable for storing things, but why on earth would anyone buy a playhouse made by TuffShed? No?

Anyway, the shed/playhouse/whatever was here when we moved in, and neither of us likes it much. We don't use it for anything, and it's kind of big and ugly, and it takes up a chunk of the yard for no real reason. When we moved in we thought it would be nice to take that out of our yard so we could have more, you know, green space.

Then we looked at it closer. And saw that it has a steel frame. A proper shingled roof. And a concrete foundation. That thing is SOLID, is the point. If a tornado came by it might actually fare better than our actual house. (Let's hope we don't ever find out if that is true, shall we?) I seriously have no idea how in the hell we could possibly get it out of our yard. Unless we hired a professional with a crane to dispose of it. And even then, the foundation would probably still be in the yard. And our bank account would be even emptier than it already is. In other words, there's a reason that thing is still there. And I suspect it will be there for quite a few years to come.

(Also, now that Torsten's parents helped us pull out the stupid mini dog run fence that used to divide our yard into chunks, the shed/playhouse/structure/WHATEVER doesn't look quite as giant and dominating as it did before. So we both hate it a little less than we used to.)

In any case, I imagine Piglet will like it. His very own playhouse! What's not to like? And in the meantime, at least the dog is getting good use out of it.

Four-day weekend begins now

So, I have today off, and Torsten is taking it off too, and we're about to head out with his parents, so this won't be much of a post, but I did want to respond to one question in yesterday's comments.

Turns out, Torsten's parents love Montana. Especially his mom, who was the one who was most concerned about being bitten. She will spend ages on the floor petting her, cooing at her, and generally speaking very cute-sounding German baby talk at her.

My favorite part? She calls her "hundchen," which loosely translates to "doglet." How cute is that?

Montana is a big fan of her grandparents, for sure. She's going to go through some serious regression/withdrawal when they leave and she goes back to just getting regular amounts of attention from boring old us.

Happy 4th, everyone! (And happy belated Canada Day to the Canadians!)

Summery

It's a summer Friday, and I have the day off. I have big plans for the day, including errands, housecleaning, and a cookout at the dog park (yes, really!), but first how about a quick brain dump?

• I don't particularly care for the Celtics, but I really dislike the Lakers, and I'm quite disappointed that they won. I really like seeing them lose. Like, I actively enjoy it.
• Have you seen that HGTV show, Selling New York? I love it because the properties showcased are just so sumptuous and unrealistic for any normal person. Escapism at its finest! I mean, some of the open houses they plan are more elaborate than weddings.
• By far my least favorite chore is vacuuming. I just can't stand it. Thank god Torsten doesn't mind it. I would rather put away 10 loads of laundry than vacuum the house. I don't know why I hate it so much, because really it's not that big of a deal... plus I love our Dyson because it works so well (and it's purple!)... but ugh. So glad I don't have to deal with that chore.
• One of my favorite things about summer is farmers' markets. We go every couple of weeks, and we don't buy much, but I love to wander, people watch, and check out all the options. The jam and honey and cheese and meat and vegetables and bread! It just all looks so fresh and tasty and REAL. Yum. Plus some farmers' markets have prepared foods available. It's so fun to look at the gyros and sausages and Belgian waffles and chowder stands. It just makes me feel very connected somehow. And no, I don't know why either.
• Montana just never ceases to be adorable. I just can't get over it. I can only imagine how parents feel about their kids.

Yummy cake and dirty dogs

Yesterday I baked a cake. I used a recipe recommended by the lovely pseudostoops, adjusted for altitude, with the chocolate buttercream frosting from the recipe I was originally going to use. And as a side note to local baking types, this is a great recipe for high-altitude baking, because it has a lot of eggs and it calls for buttermilk instead of water and it uses lightly whipped eggs, all things that help a cake stay moist and together at altitude.

And yeah, the cake turned out pretty well, if I do say so myself:


And it looks like the neighbors agreed:


Yum.

Also this weekend, we went to our first farmers' market of the season, and got some delicious bread, jam, and honey (the three breakfast staples of the summer months, according to Torsten). Have you ever had rhubarb blueberry jam? Apparently, it's delicious. I don't much care for either rhubarb or blueberries, so I have abstained (also I don't tolerate bread very well and really, what else do you eat jam on?), but the rave reviews and orgasmic noises from Torsten seem to imply that the jam is of excellent quality.

Oh, and I took Montana to the off-leash state park for a romp on Saturday. There were tons of dogs there as the weather was lovely. And yet, of the dozens of dogs nearby, mine seems to be the only one who gets in the water, splashes around to her heart's content, and then gets out of the water and immediately wants to dry off, and so rolls in the dirt and dust to do so.

Seriously, it would be incredibly adorable if she didn't get so freaking dirty in the process. She comes out of the water looking wet but still like herself, and then she puts her head sideways in the dirt, drops the rest of her body down, and rolls wildly back and forth until she is fully coated in nice brown dirt and mud. She is literally unrecognizable after she's done--she looks like a chocolate lab.

I should really bring the camera next time I go there with her, to capture not only the ridiculous drying-off process but also the beautiful park itself. It really is wonderful. I feel so lucky living so close to such an amazing place. We have an annual state parks pass and it was the best $60 we ever spent.

Seriously, though. Does anyone else's dog do this? Why is mine the only one who gets out of the water and goes straight for the dirt?

Refresh

I've been feeling tired the last few days--I think because I didn't get a whole lot of sleep last weekend. It's this weird thing about being an adult with a schedule... I can't sleep late the way I used to. In college I could sleep until well into the afternoon. Even when I was 22 or 23 I could easily sleep until 11 a.m. or noon. In fact, Torsten used to get up in the mornings and sneak out of the room and quietly close the door behind him so that I could keep sleeping.

But now? I hardly ever sleep past nine. I am usually awake by 8:30 on weekends. That's only 45 minutes later than when my alarm goes off during the week. This is VERY UPSETTING. But there is nothing I can do about it! I seem to have adjusted.

(Perhaps this bodes well for my ability to adjust to even less sleep once we have a baby someday? I'm going to tell myself that this is the case. It makes me feel better and that's already worth it, right?)

Anyway, so, I've been feeling a little tired but yesterday was a nice fresh day. There was a thunderstorm in the afternoon, and it rained briefly but pretty hard, which was good for the yard and hopefully good for the wildflower garden we've planted. There was some hail in there but I don't think it did any damage, even to our budding plants. The tulips still look bright and lovely and healthy.

And I cooked dinner last night. We've been grilling a lot recently but last night was cooler and there was rain so I made baked ziti, which was delicious, and then cleaned the kitchen until it sparkled, which was quite refreshing. Nothing makes me feel better than a completely clean kitchen. In fact, a kitchen with a pile of dishes or a counter covered in crumbs makes me feel tired. Maybe that's why I've been feeling unmotivated all week.

Anyway! Delicious dinner, with plenty of leftovers, a clean kitchen, a nice refreshing rain... what more could you ask?

Well, one more thing. I've been meaning to take a photo of Torsten and Montana with my BlackBerry to set as my background, and kept forgetting to do so. But yesterday Torsten randomly picked up the dog, and I was right there holding my BlackBerry, so I took a photo. And now I DEFINITELY have my new background:


THERE. Now there is nothing more I could ask for.

The Year of the Dog

Dear Montana,

One year ago today, we met you for the first time, in the parking lot of the Denver Women's Correctional Facility. You were delicate, polite, timid. You let us pet you and you were friendly but you were not exactly overjoyed to see us. We later found out that we were your fourth interview. I don't know what in the world could possibly have caused those first three families to decide not to adopt you, but it's our good fortune that they didn't take you.


We watched you in your "go-home" class, going through your training and skills with your inmate handler one last time. We watched you look at us and whine while we waited. You were so graceful in the middle of that group of dogs, so beautiful I cried, and your dad and I both fell in love with you on the spot.

At the end of the go-home class, your handler taught us your commands, what to say and do to get you to do what we wanted. The first time I told you to come, you stared off in the other direction, looking so very innocent that you almost convinced me that you had a hearing problem, even though I was only five feet away from you. But the handler taught me that you were testing me, and eventually I figured out how to pass that test.

After the class, when we'd signed the paperwork and written the check, we walked back out to the parking lot with you. We opened the door to the back seat of our car and tried to cajole you to get in. We patted the seat and made kissy noises and pulled on your collar and even got in the back seat ourselves to show you what to do. You were having none of it, and finally we had to pick you up and lift you into the car. Even then, you sat on the floor instead of on the seat. Mostly, you were just very confused.


When we got home, we walked you up the stairs to our then-apartment. They were those outdoor stairs, made of concrete with gaps between them. You didn't like that at all. You verrrrrry cautiously picked your way up the stairs, and I swear you seemed relieved when we got to the top.

As soon as we got in the apartment, you selected the kitchen floor as your favorite spot. I took photo after photo of you as you sat tentatively. You sniffed around the apartment, sitting under your dad's desk, then under mine, before returning to your spot on the kitchen floor. We showed you all the toys we'd bought for you, but you had zero interest. And you maintained that zero interest for so many months that when you did, just once, chase a ball down the hallway a few times, we had to mark the occasion with a video.


When we got you, you were scared of new surfaces. You wouldn't walk on the tile floor of the bathroom, and when we stayed in a hotel that required us to take an elevator, we had to drag you in--and once you were in, you spent the whole ride crouched low to the ground, shaking. You never barked. You didn't care much about food. You never ate your meals right away, and you often skipped them entirely. You were more interested in hiding treats than eating them. You always wanted to be near us.


But now... oh, the dog that you are now. You love to run and play and wrestle with other dogs. You love to fetch tennis balls. If another dog takes your ball, you will bark and bark and bark until you get it back. You also bark at snowplows, and the UPS guy, and pretty much any loud vehicle that drives by. You eat your meals right away, and then walk around the house with your nose to the floor, scavenging for crumbs to eat as dessert.


You still like to be near us, but you will also go upstairs by yourself to lie in your favorite patch of sun in the mornings. You go in and out of your dog door at will, sprinting around the yard, barking at squirrels and the neighbors' cat, and burying and/or digging up bones and other treats. When you see a squirrel or a cat or a rabbit, you yelp and whine and shake all over.


You love to nuzzle and roll. If we get out a towel, you will immediately come running over to rub your face against it. You hate baths, but the time after a bath when you can roll on a towel in the yard almost makes up for the indignity of being sprayed with water. You could spend hours just rubbing your head against our legs.


You love treats, especially other people's treats. You have still never jumped on anybody (thank god), but you will beg with both front paws in the air if you know that somebody has treats and you think you have a shot in hell of being offered one. Even if there's a whole group of dogs waiting for a treat, you will somehow find your way to the front of the group and sit pretty much on the feet of the person with the treat, wagging just the very tip of your tail.

You love the car, because you know it means you're going somewhere fun. We can't open the door to the garage without you sprinting in there, hoping it's your turn to go for a walk, or a hike, or a run around the dog park. Even if it isn't time to go anywhere, you will do your absolute best to convince us otherwise.


You bark in your sleep. You love to look at your reflection in the shower door. You cock your head when you hear a baby crying on TV. You like to swim, no matter how cold the weather. You roll in mud puddles. You always want to get in other dogs' cars when it's time to leave the dog park. You fart far too frequently for our liking, and you can happily spend hours licking your own ass. Your fur is soft, much softer than it looks.

You aren't that timid dog anymore. You have all the confidence of a dog who knows she is safe and loved and always will be. When I look at you curled up peacefully in your dog bed, or lying on my feet on the couch, it's hard to believe that you are the same dog who just spent an hour wrestling with other dogs in the mud at the park. You are so active, so happy and exuberant, and yet so mellow and peaceful.


But you haven't lost your grace. You are still delicate and beautiful, no matter what you do.

You are our family. And we could not imagine our lives without you.


Love,
Mom

Quotidian

Montana has clearly learned both conditions of being allowed on the couch. She was pretty quick to figure out that if the blanket is on the couch, that's her spot. And it only took one occasion where she jumped on the blanket without an invitation and got a very loud reprimand from both of us simultaneously for her to figure out that she can only get on the couch with an invitation.

So, her latest thing is to stand by the couch, looking hopeful, wagging her tail, and occasionally whining. If we then put the blanket on the couch and pat it, she sails on right away. Sometimes we don't respond to her pleading, though, and then she goes and lies in her bed in the corner of the room. Just so that she doesn't think that all she has to do is whine to get her way.

Still, though. Pretty much nothing makes me happier than being curled up on the couch with my husband and our dog. The two of them are pretty much my favorites in the world, and also the cutest in the world as far as I'm concerned. And all three of us fit on the couch perfectly. I love sitting there with my feet on Torsten's lap, watching the dog curled up and happily snoring between us.

I mean, really. Who could resist these two?


Seriously, sitting on the couch with them there next to me just makes me feel positively swollen with love. No matter whether we're chatting, reading, watching football, doing stuff on our computers... it just makes me feel cozy and happy and loving and loved. I could happily spend days curled up with the two of them.

What about you? What are the little daily moments in your life that you just can't get enough of?

Dogs are better on couches

Last week I finally talked Torsten into allowing Montana on the couch, as long as two conditions are met:

1. She has to lie on a blanket to protect the couch from dirt, germs, and dog hair
2. She has to be expressly invited and cannot feel free to just hop on the couch whenever she wishes--she has her dog bed and crate for that.

Torsten gave into this mostly to humor me, but it turns out that he likes it too. I mean, seriously, who wouldn't love this? My two best buddies on the couch with me is pretty much the best thing ever. (Also, Shelly, you can see some of our stockings hanging in the background.)


Also, last night, in preparation for my family's visit, I made peanut butter buckeyes, and they are possibly the best things I've ever tasted. I've been waiting for the family visit for this, because Torsten doesn't like peanut butter (I KNOW), and I didn't want an entire batch to eat myself. Plus, they're so rich that I really can't eat many, which is definitely a blessing in disguise.

Of course, peanut butter buckeyes aren't the only thing on the menu. This is our first time hosting Christmas, not just in this house but ever, and while I am trying to make sure we're prepared, I'm not freaking out about making everything perfect, because a) my family isn't like that--nobody expects perfection and nobody needs to be impressed--and b) my dad will be doing most of the cooking, as usual.

But we have been doing the grocery shopping and so on, and that's actually been kind of fun. Also, we are realizing how unprepared we are to have six guests simultaneously. We have enough bedrooms, and enough beds if you count the air mattress on loan from my parents, and enough sheets. We do not have enough dining room chairs, but we've borrowed some folding chairs from our next-door neighbor, so we're set there.

We've also borrowed a car seat for my younger step-niece from the other next-door neighbor. We've been to Costco and Safeway and we're planning a trip to Whole Foods later this week. We purchased mantle clips and hung the stockings. The presents are all purchased, wrapped, and arranged under the tree. A tree with presents under it is just so SATISFYING.


And, the menu is set. It includes:

• Rib roast with gravy
• Yorkshire pudding
• Mashed potatoes
• Sweet potatoes with brown sugar and marshmallows
• Creamed onion casserole
• Peas
• Frozen mint chocolate pie
• Trifle
• Chocolate orange souffle
• Eggnog milkshakes
  

Of these, I'm in charge of two of the desserts. And that's it. THAT is the way to host your first Christmas, as far as I'm concerned.

THIS is how you want to kick off the week.

So, last night at about 3:30 in the morning, Torsten and I both woke up due to a strange, wet sort of noise coming from Montana's crate. We lay there for a minute, wondering what it was, and then heard her begin to lick herself vigorously, and assumed we'd solved the mystery. We looked over there and dimly saw her sitting up in her crate, licking herself, and went back to sleep.

And then just now, I got up for the day, walked by her crate on my way to the bathroom... and noticed the sizable pile of vomit on her crate mat. Oops.

So, we may make terrible parents, since apparently it turns out that in the middle of the night we rationalize away anything that might make us have to get out of bed? The poor dog, sleeping next to her own puke all night. But at least she's not the type of dog that eats vomit, right?

I can only assume (and hope) that the vomiting was due to the mass quantities of cookie dough she consumed off the floor while Torsten was baking this weekend, and not a virus or other more serious issue. Though I will certainly be keeping an eye on her today.

In the meantime, I'm headed back upstairs with a bottle of 409. I leave you with a video, shot yesterday, of Montana freaking out when she sees a cat in our driveway. (Note that this video is all about the audio.)



Here's hoping everyone (ourselves included) has a puke-free day!

Notes from prison

Note: I originally posted this on Tumblr the day Montana came home from boarding at the prison program, but almost a week later I still haven't gotten over how tragically sweet it is, so I'm reposting it here. Enjoy.

In the prison program, the dogs stay with the same handler the whole time. They sleep in their cells and they’re with them 24/7. The handlers keep extensive daily journals of the dog’s progress. When we first adopted Montana we loved reading her journal and learning more about her. This time when we got her back from boarding, reading the journal was equally enjoyable but in a different way—it was funny to see her handler observing things that we already know about our dog. And it was also very touching to see how much the handler obviously cared about the dog.

Some of my favorite notes:

• “While Montana and I were on our walk, she kept looking around, and at first, I couldn’t figure out why. Then it hit me… she’s scoping the area for bunnies!”

• “Montana trotted away and put her twitching nose to the ground. She had all kinds of fun cruising around sniffing all the new, interesting smells. I got her attention. Once she looked at me, I gave her the ‘come’ command, and to my surprise, she did!! She came right to me! I was so proud of her!!”

• “This morning was my first group training session with Montana and her first training session since she’s been back. Montana did very well! I was very glad to see that she still knows all of her obedience skills very well. You did a wonderful job keeping up with her training! My job is going to be pretty easy.”

• “I love just hanging out with her and spending time with her. She is so much fun to be around. You can’t help but be happy around her.”

• “Because of her cough, she gets the ‘princess bed’ with four blankets folded up just her size so it’s nice and comfy for her. She always kicks the other dogs off her princess bed, and she lays on it every chance she gets.”

• “Since she’s going home tomorrow I want her to look her best, so she got a bath today. She wasn’t very pleased with it, and she almost had a fit when I brought out the blow dryer.”

• “I’ve loved working with Montana. She’s one of the sweetest, most intelligent, and best behaved dogs I’ve ever had. Thank you for letting her come to visit, and tell her I love her and not to forget to write and send pictures. (She may need your help on that one.) I’ll miss you Montana!”

Snowy thoughts

That weekend went by way too fast. I still can't believe it's over. And now there's a plain old boring five-day workweek ahead of us. Blah. However, I take comfort in the fact that this week and next week are the last two full workweeks for awhile. There will be a five-day weekend at Christmas and a three-day weekend at New Year's, and that makes me very happy.

So, in the meantime, things on my mind today:

• I dreamed last night that I was pregnant. It was very vivid, and followed the pregnancy from beginning to end. I was so happy to be pregnant, even when, in the dream, I realized just before I went to the hospital in labor that we had never put together a nursery for the baby. I assume that the dream was caused by all the baby talk on the blog recently? Either way, I was genuinely sad when I woke up and realized I wasn't pregnant.
  
• We cleaned and organized the garage this weekend. I did not take photos, because to be honest, the "before" photos would have been too embarrassing. I am almost afraid to admit that we still had all the cardboard boxes in there that we used when we moved in, back in April. Plus all the cardboard boxes that we've accumulated since then, including things from online orders, packages sent, and big items (such as the shower door and the recliner) purchased. Cleaning the whole thing out took only two hours, and we recycled all the cardboard. Now that garage is clean, spacious, and organized, and I am surprised at how much better I feel. Just thinking about that nice garage makes me happy.
• We've been giving Montana various Kong-style toys with treats in them recently, in an attempt to encourage her to play and chew more. She does chew bones and play, but she's not obsessed with either of those things, and often loses interest quickly. Because of her kennel cough, we've been keeping her away from the dog park, so eventually she got bored enough that she actually picked up a tennis ball and played with it in the yard without encouragement. We were thrilled, but we also notice that she has almost zero mouth coordination. She can't catch a ball in midair, and she almost always misses the ball on her first attempt to pick it up off the ground, and she drops it frequently once she does manage to pick it up. And the chew toys are the same way. She really struggles to get treats out of the Kongs, and often gets frustrated and stops trying. It's adorable, but it's also sad--clearly she never had toys or treats for the first few years of her life, and it is obvious that she is still behind in this area of development as a result.
• It snowed yesterday, just a couple inches, nothing major, but for the first time since we moved here, the city of Denver seemed unprepared. The major, six-lane street near our house wasn't salted at all, so even though it was plowed, there is a very thick, scary layer of ice over it, or at least there was last night, and given how cold it still is, I'd be surprised if it were already gone. People were slipping and sliding all over the place. I foresee lots of nights in this week.
  
• Torsten is flying to DC later this morning for a business trip. I only hope that we're able to get to the airport with no problem and that his flight isn't delayed or canceled. Though selfishly I'd be happy if he did have to stay here in Denver with me this week.
  

You know you miss your dog when...

(Alternatively titled "I am such a sappy wimp.")

• You find yourself thinking nostalgically of the time earlier this week when you were talking to an important client on your BlackBerry while it was plugged in, and the dog tripped over the charger wire, knocking your phone out of your hand and sending it flying across the room with a crash.
• You keep starting to say, "WHO'S a cute doggy?!" only to realize nobody is there to answer. Well, not that the dog actually answers, normally, but I think the pricked ears and wagging tail qualify.
• You keep catching sight of her empty water bowl on the floor and thinking that you should refill it so she doesn't go thirsty.
• The sight of the closed dog door makes you wistful.
• You drop a noodle on the floor and feel tragic about the fact that nobody is there to gobble it up.
• You feel confused when you finish work and realize that you can go straight to the gym without feeling guilty that the dog isn't getting her time at the dog park.
• You get home from the gym and head straight upstairs to her crate to let her out.
• You start wondering how she's going to go two whole weeks without her daily glucosamine, even though you yourself only started giving her glucosamine a few weeks ago.
• You indulge in your paranoia and check the available dog listings on the prison program website to make sure they haven't gotten confused and put her up for adoption.
  

One day down. Thirteen to go. At least we have the reason she's not here--our trip next week--to distract us.

Dog boarding complaints

I am feeling a little ranty about everything that's going on with our plans to board Montana while we are at my parents' house for Thanksgiving next week.

First of all, we always board Montana when we leave town. We don't have any friends here who we are close enough with to ask them to take her in, and plus I'd be nervous about that, what with her tendency to run away if she sees an open door. We don't want to leave her alone in the house all day, especially when she's used to us being there most of the time, so hiring a caretaker is out. And we are definitely not flying across the country with her checked with the rest of the cargo.

So, that leaves boarding. The first two times that we've left town without her, we boarded her at a place that got good reviews about 15 minutes from our house. It's nice enough, both a daycare and a boarding facility, with a webcam so you can check in on the dogs (though it's not very good quality so if you had a black dog, I have no idea how you'd tell which of the 27 little black dots roaming around is yours).

We liked the place OK. They're open on weekends. They have good security and the dogs are well-monitored. The people seemed nice and the application was thorough. Montana went there for a "trial run" before we boarded her there, and came home tired and happy. When we brought her back to board, she approached happily and without anxiety. Same with the second time.

However, I don't LOVE the place. The website makes it sound like the dogs are crated from 9 p.m. to 6 a.m., but the reality (as proven by the webcams) is that they're crated from 7 p.m. to 6:30 a.m. That seems like a bit much, and I don't appreciate the duplicity (though they technically aren't LYING, it just isn't clear from the way the info on their site is written). The location and facilities are decent, but not great. There are a lot of dogs there. And while Montana doesn't seem unhappy there, from watching on the webcam we can see that she doesn't do a whole lot of playing while she's there, which is quite unlike her tendencies at the dog park, and from their eating records we can also see that she skips about half her meals.

I don't know how much of this is related to the specific place where we were boarding her (I suspect probably not that much) and how much is related to separation anxiety and not being thrilled about being away from us and away from her home. But still, we aren't in love with this kennel, so we were happy to try something new.

The prison program where we adopted Montana offers a two-week boarding stint for $200. This program is quite popular and needs to be booked months in advance. I booked her in for Thanksgiving back in June, and when I called, I got the second-to-last available spot.

This arrangement is not ideal, because we don't actually NEED her to board for two weeks. If we did, the $200 would be a steal (the other kennel costs $27/night, and that's cheaper than many others we looked at). Since we don't, and that's the minimum, we can (supposedly) arrange to pick her up early, but we still have to pay the full price. Since we're spending a full week in NC, the price difference works out to be minimal. Still, it's annoying.

Also, because it's a prison, their rules are a lot stricter. They don't take credit cards. You can't bring in anything from home to make your dog feel more comfortable, like her crate mat or her favorite toy or a towel that smells like you. You can only bring in food in an unopened bag, and they will not return any leftovers to you. The dropoff and pickup times are very limited. There is certainly no webcam for you to check in on how she's doing while you're gone.

However, the program is great, we're happy to support them, and we know she was happy there. We figure a refresher training course can't hurt. And we won't miss the other kennel. So, we were happy that we were able to reserve a spot for her.

But now I'm frustrated. There are several reasons for this:

1. They KEEP calling to confirm. Like, I've freaking confirmed already! She's boarding there! Stop calling!

2. The most recent time when they called to confirm, it occurred to me to ask what forms of payment they accept. They said only money orders and cashier's checks. This seems strange to me since we paid her original adoption fee with a personal check. However, they were firm about this, and had no answer when I asked why we were able to pay with a personal check last time. USELESS.

3. Since they don't take personal checks, shouldn't it be on them to tell me this? If I hadn't thought to ask, we'd have shown up for her drop-off without the proper form of payment. What then?

4. It's really hard to get a straight answer out of them. Part of the program for inmates seems to involve office duty, so often it's inmates answering the phone, and they don't seem to have very good information and also not very good communication skills. The director of the program doesn't seem to be accessible by phone, and so far has not answered any emails.

5. We were told when we adopted Montana that the two-week boarding fee was $200. I confirmed this when I called to book her slot back in June. Today, when I confirmed this again, I was told that it was $250. The woman I spoke with (who I don't think was an inmate) was quite firm about this. She didn't care that we had twice been quoted a lower price. She says it's $250 and she's sticking to it. I have not been able to get in touch with anyone else to discuss this. So what do we do? Order a cashier's check for $200, or $250? I don't know.

6. We were also told that while they only have certain official days for drop-off and pickup, it's possible to informally arrange an early pickup, which we would like to do so that we don't end up without her for several days after we return to town. However, everyone we have tried to talk to about this has totally stonewalled us and said it's not possible.

7. This all boils down to LACK OF COMMUNICATION OMG.

It's just driving me nuts! $250 for what amounts to a week of boarding is really excessive, but of course it's too late to book her in somewhere else because everyone is booked solid for the holidays, and I don't know where we would even book her anyway. The fact that nobody responds, nobody is in charge, nobody has any communication skills, nobody is receptive, and they are freaking IMPENETRABLE is driving me CRAZY.

It makes me never want to board her with them again, and that's really too bad, because if they could just make their logistics clear and straightforward, we'd never need to board her anywhere else unless it was a last-minute thing. SERIOUSLY. It should NOT be this difficult.

I mean, I know she has a place to board where she'll be happy and safe, and that's the most important thing. But STILL. If we wind up handing over $250 for these people to basically hold our dog hostage for two weeks because NOBODY WILL COMMUNICATE, I will be PISSED. That's all I'm saying.

Sorry. This post isn't very thankful, huh? Not so much in the spirit of the holiday that it's all about.

But still. PISSED.

Montana's advice to dogs everywhere

How to receive and eat a treat
If you hear a plastic bag rustling in the kitchen, immediately check out the situation. Sit in front of your owner with your ears pricked and your tail wagging. If a treat is not immediately proffered, scooch continuously closer until one is given. Continue wagging your tail throughout.

Once the treat has been received, head directly to the door. If the door is not open, sit by it with the treat in your mouth, ears pricked, tail wagging, while staring hopefully at your owner. This should procure an open door for you.

Take the treat outside and deposit it on the grass. Flop down in the grass next to the treat and make sure to rub your face on the ground. Then do a full-body roll in the grass with your legs in the air until you are thoroughly covered in leaves. If you're light-colored, you might even be lucky enough to pick up a grass stain or two. Try to roll ON the treat as well as next to it.

Once the rolling has been completed, pick up the treat with your mouth, deposit it between your front paws, grip it tightly, and consume with delicate bites. While chewing each bite, look around the yard to make sure you aren't missing an errant squirrel or other crucial situation.

How to bury a treat
Treats should never be rejected. If you receive a treat that you don't feel like eating, or you sense that your stockpile is getting low, the treat should be accepted and then carefully concealed in the yard. If the yard is not accessible to you, a dusty closet corner is an acceptable, though not preferable, alternative.

Start by scouting out your burying spot. This involves carrying the treat, even if it is a very large and heavy bone that hurts your jaw, in circles around the yard at least five times. Try selecting a spot near some sort of edge--a fence, a tree, a wooden garden barrier.

Use your front paws to dig a large hole. Make sure to send dirt and mulch flying everywhere, and try to get as much soil as possible under your toenails. Bonus if you can get some grass stuck under there too.

Once the hole is of a sufficient size, deposit the treat in it. Then use your nose and the top of your head to cover the treat back up. Flatten your head against the ground and scrape dirt and sticks forward until the treat is covered and fully concealed. It's OK if you blister your nose while doing this. Concealing the treat is more important than physical pain. Don't stop until your owner won't be able to find the treat, even if he saw where you were burying it. Then walk away looking nonchalant. The attitude to project is: Treat? What treat?

Note: If at any time during the burying process, you realize that the selected spot is not suitable, it is perfectly acceptable to dig your treat back up and seek another spot. However, don't forget that you must start the process over at this point, which means at least five more circles around the yard before you settle on a new spot.

How to alert your owner to a truck in the vicinity
While lying in your dog bed, you may hear a truck down the street. If this occurs, lift your head and bark once, very loudly and sharply. Then go back to sleep. Bonus if your owner is on a conference call when you do this. Double bonus if it's a speakerphone call.

How to lie down in your dog bed
Step into the bed. Make sure that there are no stray toys or treats in the bed that you could lie on. Pat the bed with your paws a few time. Turn around in several circles before collapsing in the bed as though you've just been shot.

How to alert your owner to the arrival of the mail
When the mail comes through the slot, jump up in shock at the unexpected noise, whine, and run into the other room. Even though this happens every day and your owner might think that someday you'd get used to it.

How to dry off
Towels are useful for drying off, but even better would be your owner's pants. Stealth is key here. Don't let your owner know that you are wet until you are already rubbing yourself thoroughly against his legs. Maybe give his thigh a little nuzzle with your head to make up for it. Unless your head is also wet. Then the head-nuzzle might not make up for it.

How to make the most of a trip to the pet store
Look for the rodent cages as soon as you walk in the door. Once you spot them, yelp, whine, and pull as hard as possible to get your owner to bring you over there. Park yourself in front of the most enticing-looking rodents--sometimes the ferrets, or the rats--and sit perfectly still, in stalking mode. Try not to shake with excitement. Whine occasionally, and drool. If your owner attempts to pull you away, go limp and force him to drag your prone body all the way across the store to the exit. Once outside, wag your tail to let your owner know that there are no hard feelings.

What about you? Would your pet have any advice to add?

Animal cruelty

They make these expensive tests, for dogs, that will tell you exactly what breed, or mix of breeds, they are. Some people I've met at the dog park have done it. I think it costs about $200. I have a vague curiosity about Montana's specific breed mix, but we have a pretty good idea of what she is, and I wouldn't spend $200 to have those guesses confirmed. What I have thought is that I would pay good money if there was a test that would tell me her personal history--where she came from and what her life was like.


Because the details are patchy. The prison program got her from a mill rescue program. I talked to the mill rescue program and they didn't have any records on her specifically, but told me that she was rescued from a mill in Missouri. I asked why she would be in a mill as a mixed breed and they said that mills often mate two different breeds and call it a "designer breed." I asked how they were able to rescue dogs from mills and she said they had informants who let them know when dogs were scheduled for destruction. That's all we know.


Last night Torsten and I were talking about how Montana is coming with us on our road trip, and how she has no idea that her first-ever vacation is coming up. And we were saying how for her, every day is like a vacation. And Torsten commented on what a lucky dog she is. And it's true, she is--now. But what about the mistreatment she suffered for the first three years of her life?


I look at this sweet dog all curled up in her dog bed, rolling on her back for a tummy scratch whenever one of us comes near. I watch her nuzzle her head against a guest's leg after knowing them for five minutes. I watch her wrestle with other dogs at the dog park, and waiting excitedly for them to get up if they end up on the ground. I watch her pounce on a tennis ball and carry it around with her in circles. I watch her sleep in her crate all cuddled with her mat. I watch her poke her head out the car window to check out what's going on around her. I watch her pick her way delicately around obstacles, and eat her dinner one kibble at a time. I watch her wag her tail any time either of us even comes near her.


How could anyone ever be cruel to this dog, or any dog? How could anyone betray the trust of this, the sweetest creature to exist? How is it possible that anyone could do anything but love her? How is it possible that after all the terrible things she suffered at the hands of cruel people who ultimately planned to destroy her, she is still so trusting and so loving?


On second thought, I'm not sure I would really want to know the details of her life before she came to us. I think it would be too painful.

Road trip with the dog

So, remember that trip I blogged about before? Well, it's coming up fairly soon, so I thought that maybe it would be a good time to start making some plans for it? So we are working on mapping out an itinerary and picking out pet-friendly hotels that don't charge exorbitant fees for having a dog in your room.

Seriously. I sort of understand the point, since they shed, but our dog is much less destructive than many children. She sleeps in a crate and doesn't bark and yes, she sheds a little, but wouldn't they be vacuuming the room anyway?

Though I have to say it's amazing what extremes some hotels take the whole pet thing to. For example, one place informed me that they had a mandatory $300 pet deposit upon check-in, and $100 of that is non-refundable. But! It's OK that you're paying $100 for the privilege of giving your dog a place to sleep, because she gets a basket of treats and chew toys, PLUS her very own doggy down bed! Hooray! Because that makes it SO worth it.

But actually, we've managed to find some decent, affordable, pet-friendly places and I think this is all going to work out very nicely. And doing all this legwork actually makes me feel very accomplished.

It is different, though, traveling with a dog. We've done it once before, but only for a weekend. Not only is your choice of hotel severely limited (no longer can we do what we did when we drove from DC to Denver, picking hotels at random and negotiating for low last-minute rates), but you have to plan everything differently. What places are dog-friendly? How far from a non-dog-friendly attraction is the hotel, so you can make sure you're not leaving her alone in her crate for too long? Does the restaurant have outdoor seating so you can tie her to the patio railing? And so on.

I can only IMAGINE how much tougher it is to travel with children. Although, in some respects, it's probably easier, because children are welcome in a lot more places than dogs are.

But yeah, my point here originally was that I am getting super excited for this trip. We really need a vacation and it will be so nice to just take our time, drive to places we want to see, not have a rush or an itinerary, and just check things out on our own time. It will be nice not to think about work or responsibilities, and just get to enjoy the time and the setting and each other (and the dog). And also, we tend to have some of our best conversations in the car, and I imagine that this trip will be no exception.

I am definitely going to have to do some legwork in advance, though, and have a list of places we'd like to see, parks we'd like to visit, hikes we'd like to take, shops we'd like to check out, restaurants we'd like to try, and of course the dog-friendly status of all of this. Luckily there are some really great resources out there for traveling with dogs, but this is definitely not the kind of trip where we can just fly by the seat of our pants and assume that everything will work out. And really, I'm OK with that.

In fact, I'm enjoying the planning phase. It makes me feel accomplished, and so excited about this trip.

Have you ever traveled with a pet? If so, what was it like and did you learn anything useful? If not, would you ever consider it?

Recliner choices

So, Montana has already made great strides in learning to use her dog door. She still requires verbal encouragement, but she will push the flap open with no assistance from us, and then walk through. And she has even made more progress since I took this video yesterday afternoon--last night she walked through the door when we got home with almost no encouragement at all.

Still, I personally find her adorable, so check out the video (and, as a bonus, you get to hear my special doggy baby voice):



How cute is that? No? Am I the only one who thinks so? (Well, Torsten and me.) The goal is to have her using the door at her discretion, whether or not we're nearby, by the end of the long weekend.

Speaking of the long weekend, I am ridiculously excited about it. We're not traveling anywhere, but we are going furniture shopping. We've decided to invest in a piece of furniture as a combination anniversary/Christmas gift to each other. We're deciding between a shelf and a recliner, and I think we're going to go for a recliner because it's more practical, even though it's also a bit more expensive. The reason is that at the moment we have only one chair in the family room, rendering the fireplace in there basically useless because we can't sit in there together. If we get a second recliner then we can sit in front of the fire together, reading or whatever, and that will be great.

This is also the reason we're going to get the gift now, even though our anniversary is two months away and Christmas is four months away, because we want to be able to use our family room as soon as the weather gets cold enough for fires.

So, here's the thing. What we would really like is a Stressless recliner (possibly in purple leather), because they combine style, comfort, and quality, but those things run at about $2,000 each, and that is just not happening. Although, behold:


So, we're going to have to compromise somewhere, and I'm pretty sure that "somewhere" is going to be "style." Because comfort and price are more important to us at this point. Which means, I suppose, that the family room is going to be the "comfort over style" room, and I'm working on being OK with that. Because the recliner I think we're going to get... well, first of all it's only available in ugly colors, and second of all it itself is just '80s style heinous. It's something similar to this:


But it's so COMFY. And it's sturdy and it has a warranty and it is AFFORDABLE. And I'm not spending $2,000 on a recliner, no matter how much nicer it looks.

What do you think? Is it worth spending significantly more to have a non-hideous piece of furniture in our family room?

Dog doors and warts and acrobats

So, yesterday my dad successfully installed the dog door in our house, and now we're working to train Montana to go through it. It has been surprisingly easy so far. Considering how scared she can be of new things and confined spaces--for example, if a door is open a few inches, enough for her to get through if she really wanted to, and you stand on the other side calling and calling, she will really WANT to come but she won't be able to bring herself to do it--it is amazing how fast she learned to push open that flap.

The secret is CHEESE. She's never had cheese before and OMG does she LOVE that stuff. Once I showed her the cheese through the flap she would come pushing right through and then practically snatch the cheese out of my hand. It was amazing! And now she totally knows how to go through, and will if you call her even if you don't have cheese.

The only thing is trying to teach her to just... USE the door on her own terms. She doesn't seem to have figured out yet that if she wants to go outside, she should just go through the flap. Instead, she stands at the door looking tragic, and only if you show her the flap and encourage her will she walk through it. Any thoughts on how to help her make the transfer here?

Also yesterday, when I went to get a pedicure with my mom? The pedicurist told me that I have a small plantar's wart on my foot. Am I the only person who is totally grossed out by warts? I actually don't really mind them on other people, but I've never had one myself and I am surprisingly horrified by the concept. The pedicurist thinks that I probably picked it up from the pool at the gym, which is another lovely concept, and also I'm not quite sure what to do to prevent it in the future. I got a little home freeze-off kit at the drugstore and used it last night, so I am hoping that will work and the damn thing will fall off in 10 to 14 days as promised. In the meantime: yuck.

And since apparently yesterday was the day of new things, last night we went to see Cirque du Soleil. It was my first show and it was awesome. Even on some of the really high-flying stuff when the people were CLEARLY WEARING WIRES, I was STILL scared for them. It was just so cool! And they did this awesome thing with a huge spinning figure eight thing with guys doing acrobatic type stuff inside each circle--and then one of them jumped onto the OUTSIDE of the circle and was doing all these leaps and stuff. It was horrifyingly petrifying. And he WASN'T wearing a wire. OMG. I still get tense just thinking about it. But I also loved it.

Lastly yesterday, I started a September discussion over at Very Bookish about Summer Sisters by Judy Blume. This book is awesome! So go over there and discuss it!

So yeah! Yesterday was quite the day. Now I'm off to encourage the dog to walk through her dog door again. I know, my life is so GLAMOROUS.