NEW BLOG
I have started a new blog along with my dog, Daisy. Daisy Dog Blog will be written in Daisy's voice along with mine. This way, you'll be able to read events, daily happenings, and just stuff from Daisy's point of view, too.
The new blog will be bi-weekly featuring humor in everyday life from pets to spouses to shopping, and much, much more.
The new blog will be up and running this afternoon (11/2/11). Please go to www.daisydogblog.blogspot.com to read Daisy's point of view on living in a nudist resort.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
DAISY - ONE YEAR LATER
QUOTE OF THE DAY: "When a dog wags her tail and barks at the same time, how do you know which end to believe?" Anonymous
THIS IS: National Dog Week
It's been over a year now since we adopted Daisy and brought her home. She was a handful, to say the least. After only a few days, I wasn't sure whether this adoption was going to last. The cats were terrified of this rust colored creature, and Daisy needed some serious training. Our first trip to the dog walk was just a glimpse of what was ahead.
Beauty, a gorgeous black lab mix, was at the dog walk with her owner, Sue, when first brought Daisy home. We thought it best to give Daisy the opportunity to "go" before we let her in the house. Sue invited us in with her and her dog. I explained we had just adopted Daisy, and we weren't sure how she would react. "No problem," Sue said.
The dogs got along just fine. Sue gave us a few training tips, told us about the Dog Whisperer, and went on her merry way. And that's when the trouble started.
Don had already gotten back into the car when Daisy ran out of the dog walk and headed in the direction that Beauty had gone. I yelled for Daisy, but my voice fell on deaf ears. When Don realized what was happening, he jumped out of the car...but the car kept moving! I was yelling and waving my arms like a maniac. Don made it back to the car and stopped it just before it ran into a huge recycling bin.
With the car securely in park, Don called out for Daisy. At that point, however, it occurred to me that Daisy didn't know her new name. She had, after all, been called something else for the previous year. We had been calling her Daisy for all of two hours. But Daisy somehow knew she'd better get back to us, and she actually came running to us.
The next day I started our training sessions not knowing if I could actually train a two year old dog how to behave or not. Were her bad habits too ingrained into her? Was she too confused with having two previous owners to know right from wrong?
The first order of business was training Daisy to walk properly on a leash. She tugged and pulled so hard that I thought for sure she'd strangle herself on the choke chain. Or, in the alternative, would she pull my arm out of its socket?
A nice neighbor who saw Daisy taking me for a walk came to my aid. He told me a harness would give me more control over Daisy. What did I have to lose? I went out and bought a harness.
Daisy hated that harness and fought having it put around her on a daily basis. Every day for months I'd take Daisy on a 30 minute walk. Every three steps I took, the word "heel" came out of my mouth as I lightly jerked her leash. I should have recorded it so I wouldn't have gone hoarse.
But the consistency of that daily walk paid off. Each week Daisy showed a little improvement. She finally got to a point where she was a joy to walk. Even Don said I did a good job, and she was heeling like the dogs you see at the Westminster Dog Show.
Okay. So I exaggerate a little, but she rarely tugs any longer...except when she sees a squirrel. But we're working on that, and I'll save the squirrel experiences for another time.
P.S. Just for the record, we never really thought about taking Daisy back to the shelter...we knew Daisy was a keeper from the moment we laid eyes on her.
Copyright 2011
e-mail: cyndyskitchen@cfl.rr.com
If you would like to subscribe, please send an e-mail with "subscribe" in the subject box. Ditto to "unsubscribe".
QUOTE OF THE DAY: "When a dog wags her tail and barks at the same time, how do you know which end to believe?" Anonymous
THIS IS: National Dog Week
It's been over a year now since we adopted Daisy and brought her home. She was a handful, to say the least. After only a few days, I wasn't sure whether this adoption was going to last. The cats were terrified of this rust colored creature, and Daisy needed some serious training. Our first trip to the dog walk was just a glimpse of what was ahead.
Beauty, a gorgeous black lab mix, was at the dog walk with her owner, Sue, when first brought Daisy home. We thought it best to give Daisy the opportunity to "go" before we let her in the house. Sue invited us in with her and her dog. I explained we had just adopted Daisy, and we weren't sure how she would react. "No problem," Sue said.
The dogs got along just fine. Sue gave us a few training tips, told us about the Dog Whisperer, and went on her merry way. And that's when the trouble started.
Don had already gotten back into the car when Daisy ran out of the dog walk and headed in the direction that Beauty had gone. I yelled for Daisy, but my voice fell on deaf ears. When Don realized what was happening, he jumped out of the car...but the car kept moving! I was yelling and waving my arms like a maniac. Don made it back to the car and stopped it just before it ran into a huge recycling bin.
With the car securely in park, Don called out for Daisy. At that point, however, it occurred to me that Daisy didn't know her new name. She had, after all, been called something else for the previous year. We had been calling her Daisy for all of two hours. But Daisy somehow knew she'd better get back to us, and she actually came running to us.
The next day I started our training sessions not knowing if I could actually train a two year old dog how to behave or not. Were her bad habits too ingrained into her? Was she too confused with having two previous owners to know right from wrong?
The first order of business was training Daisy to walk properly on a leash. She tugged and pulled so hard that I thought for sure she'd strangle herself on the choke chain. Or, in the alternative, would she pull my arm out of its socket?
A nice neighbor who saw Daisy taking me for a walk came to my aid. He told me a harness would give me more control over Daisy. What did I have to lose? I went out and bought a harness.
Daisy hated that harness and fought having it put around her on a daily basis. Every day for months I'd take Daisy on a 30 minute walk. Every three steps I took, the word "heel" came out of my mouth as I lightly jerked her leash. I should have recorded it so I wouldn't have gone hoarse.
But the consistency of that daily walk paid off. Each week Daisy showed a little improvement. She finally got to a point where she was a joy to walk. Even Don said I did a good job, and she was heeling like the dogs you see at the Westminster Dog Show.
Okay. So I exaggerate a little, but she rarely tugs any longer...except when she sees a squirrel. But we're working on that, and I'll save the squirrel experiences for another time.
P.S. Just for the record, we never really thought about taking Daisy back to the shelter...we knew Daisy was a keeper from the moment we laid eyes on her.
Copyright 2011
e-mail: cyndyskitchen@cfl.rr.com
If you would like to subscribe, please send an e-mail with "subscribe" in the subject box. Ditto to "unsubscribe".
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
"Help...I've fallen off the wagon"
QUOTE OF THE DAY: "He who trims himself to suit everyone will soon whittle himself away." Raymond Hull
THIS IS: Happy Cat Month
I've fallen off the wagon...sort of.
When I feel stressed or have the blahs, there's nothing like computer games to take your mind off everything. Things have been a bit hectic around here lately, and I have certainly wanted to play mah-jongg, solitaire, or Sponge Bob Square Pants Collapse. But I've resisted.
About two weeks ago, though, I was sitting at my desk, staring into space. My eyes caught a familiar object tucked in at the back of one of the cubbyholes on my desk. Lo and behold! It was my Nintendo DS gaming system. I had forgotten all about it.
After a mental tug-of-war with myself, I thought, One game can't hurt.
Nintendo got the better of me, but I felt I had justification. This just wasn't any old game, this was Brain Age 2...a brain boosting training session. I found the power button, located the stylus, and got to work.
I wanted to play virus buster to sort of, you know, get back into the swing of things. But these Nintendo people are pretty sneaky. You can't play virus buster until you have completed at least one exercise. Okay. I chose the easiest one I could find. My score was downright awful. An exercise I did in 38 seconds a few years back now took me close to 2 minutes. Other exercises I tried were almost as bad.
Enough of that. I moved on to the game. I decided to set a daily limit for myself...one game a day. Who was I kidding? One game a day lasted, well, less than one day. It turned into 3 or 4 games a day. Well, that really wasn't so bad. Playing a few games lasted only about 30 minutes. I deserved a 30 minute break, didn't I? But by the following week I was playing that silly game just about every free minute that I had.
Mail was piling up on my desk. Dinner was being delayed. The house wasn't getting cleaned, and I was staying up late. I knew what had to be done.
Don will just have to take control and hide my Nintendo DS. And I will turn it in to him....just as soon as I've played one more game.
Copyright 2011
e-mail: condyskitchen@cfl.rr.com
If you would like to subscribe, please send an e-mail with "subscribe" in the subject box. Ditto to "unsubscribe."
QUOTE OF THE DAY: "He who trims himself to suit everyone will soon whittle himself away." Raymond Hull
THIS IS: Happy Cat Month
I've fallen off the wagon...sort of.
When I feel stressed or have the blahs, there's nothing like computer games to take your mind off everything. Things have been a bit hectic around here lately, and I have certainly wanted to play mah-jongg, solitaire, or Sponge Bob Square Pants Collapse. But I've resisted.
About two weeks ago, though, I was sitting at my desk, staring into space. My eyes caught a familiar object tucked in at the back of one of the cubbyholes on my desk. Lo and behold! It was my Nintendo DS gaming system. I had forgotten all about it.
After a mental tug-of-war with myself, I thought, One game can't hurt.
Nintendo got the better of me, but I felt I had justification. This just wasn't any old game, this was Brain Age 2...a brain boosting training session. I found the power button, located the stylus, and got to work.
I wanted to play virus buster to sort of, you know, get back into the swing of things. But these Nintendo people are pretty sneaky. You can't play virus buster until you have completed at least one exercise. Okay. I chose the easiest one I could find. My score was downright awful. An exercise I did in 38 seconds a few years back now took me close to 2 minutes. Other exercises I tried were almost as bad.
Enough of that. I moved on to the game. I decided to set a daily limit for myself...one game a day. Who was I kidding? One game a day lasted, well, less than one day. It turned into 3 or 4 games a day. Well, that really wasn't so bad. Playing a few games lasted only about 30 minutes. I deserved a 30 minute break, didn't I? But by the following week I was playing that silly game just about every free minute that I had.
Mail was piling up on my desk. Dinner was being delayed. The house wasn't getting cleaned, and I was staying up late. I knew what had to be done.
Don will just have to take control and hide my Nintendo DS. And I will turn it in to him....just as soon as I've played one more game.
Copyright 2011
e-mail: condyskitchen@cfl.rr.com
If you would like to subscribe, please send an e-mail with "subscribe" in the subject box. Ditto to "unsubscribe."
Thursday, August 4, 2011
GOTTA HAVE MY LOUIS!
QUOTE OF THE DAY: "A woman's mind is as complex as the contents of her handbag; even when you get to the bottom of it, there is ALWAYS something at the bottom to surprise you." Billy Connelly
THIS IS: National Fraud Awareness Week
All right. I admit it. I am a purse...er, I mean, handbag snob. My new favorites are Louis Vuitton's.
My affair with designer handbags didn't start off at the high end of the spectrum, though. It started about 35 years ago when I drooled over an Ann Klein hobo bag. It was the softest leather I'd ever felt in a luxurious camel tone. I couldn't afford it...it was over $100... (cheap by today's standards) but I fantasized about having it. I'd be the envy of all the girls at the office when I strolled into work with that bag over my shoulder. But I was realistic. Owning that bag was just a fantasy.
But wait...a miracle happened! I received an unexpected bonus from my boss a few weeks later.
I knew that hobo bag was still available. I'd stalked the handbag department at McCurdy's on a daily basis during my lunch hour to make sure no one bought it. If I couldn't buy it, I at least wanted to look at it.
During one of my visits, the saleswoman said to me, "You know, someone is going to buy that bag one day."
"If that happens," I told her, "I want visitation rights."
When I sprinted to the counter on bonus day, the smile I had on my face disappeared. "Where is it?" I demanded to know.
"Oh. Not to worry. It's on the sale table," my saleswoman told me. "I hid it at the bottom of the pile hoping you'd come in. Maybe you can afford it now." I hugged that woman tight. When I let her go, and she regained her normal breathing back, she retrieved the bag for me.
I swapped my old, plastic purse right then and there for the new, leather handbag and proudly walked out of the store. It was mine. All mine. And I used that handbag every day until it wore out and fell apart. When I had to give it up, it was like saying good-bye to an old friend. That bag carried my loveletters, my make-up, my tampons, and my birth control pills. It carried my life.
From then on, however, I wasn't satisfied with just one designer bag. I was in the big time now. I needed a new handbag for the spring and summer months and another for the fall and winter months. But I was savvier now. I didn't shop the high end department stores. I shopped at outlets, TJ Maxx, and Marshall's where the prices were slashed. I didn't care if they were last season handbags. They were a designer brand and made out of leather.
And then I saw Patricia, my friend, and boss at the time, with a Dooney & Bourke. I had to have one of those. After all, I do love ducks.
The Dooney's were costly, though, and Don finally drew the line. I could have one new handbag a year. I decided buying one in October, for my birthday, was a good time to start. And, it was only a month away.
But after several years, I took stock of my Dooney's. They were great bags, but they were heavy and restrictive. Coach handbags became my new favorite. I loved the styles, the colors, the interior pockets...until I met my friend, Mary, for lunch one day.
She was sporting a Louis Vuitton! It was roomy inside, beautiful on the outside, and it was very chic to carry one around. I wanted one, needed one, and had to have one. An aura surrounded the bag, and I heard trumpets playing. No matter how much I begged, though, it just wasn't in the budget.
I still wanted, needed, had to have one. And as luck would have it, we sold our house. The day after closing I was in the Louis Vuitton shop picking out a great shoulder/across the body bag. I used it exclusively for more than two years.
But then the inevitable happened. No. I didn't crave a Gucci, Prada, or even a Chanel bag. I craved another Louis. Of course, Don wasn't too keen on this idea. I couldn't even justify why I "needed" another Louis. My shoulder bag still looked like new.
I cannot explain this madness over LV. There's absolutely no way to realistically justify spending a monthly mortgage payment (or more) on a handbag other than I needed, wanted, and had to have another one. No amount of coupon clipping could justify another Louis.
But I kept pleading my case to Don. After a few months, knowing I wasn't going to stop begging, Don gave in. Just like that, it went from no to yes. There was no maybe in between.
I asked Don why he relented. He said, "Because I love you."
That brought tears to my eyes. Do I have a great guy or what!
Copyright 2011
e-mail: cyndyskitchen@cfl.rr.com
If you would like to subscribe, please send an e-mail with "subscribe" in the subject box. Ditto to "unsubscribe."
QUOTE OF THE DAY: "A woman's mind is as complex as the contents of her handbag; even when you get to the bottom of it, there is ALWAYS something at the bottom to surprise you." Billy Connelly
THIS IS: National Fraud Awareness Week
All right. I admit it. I am a purse...er, I mean, handbag snob. My new favorites are Louis Vuitton's.
My affair with designer handbags didn't start off at the high end of the spectrum, though. It started about 35 years ago when I drooled over an Ann Klein hobo bag. It was the softest leather I'd ever felt in a luxurious camel tone. I couldn't afford it...it was over $100... (cheap by today's standards) but I fantasized about having it. I'd be the envy of all the girls at the office when I strolled into work with that bag over my shoulder. But I was realistic. Owning that bag was just a fantasy.
But wait...a miracle happened! I received an unexpected bonus from my boss a few weeks later.
I knew that hobo bag was still available. I'd stalked the handbag department at McCurdy's on a daily basis during my lunch hour to make sure no one bought it. If I couldn't buy it, I at least wanted to look at it.
During one of my visits, the saleswoman said to me, "You know, someone is going to buy that bag one day."
"If that happens," I told her, "I want visitation rights."
When I sprinted to the counter on bonus day, the smile I had on my face disappeared. "Where is it?" I demanded to know.
"Oh. Not to worry. It's on the sale table," my saleswoman told me. "I hid it at the bottom of the pile hoping you'd come in. Maybe you can afford it now." I hugged that woman tight. When I let her go, and she regained her normal breathing back, she retrieved the bag for me.
I swapped my old, plastic purse right then and there for the new, leather handbag and proudly walked out of the store. It was mine. All mine. And I used that handbag every day until it wore out and fell apart. When I had to give it up, it was like saying good-bye to an old friend. That bag carried my loveletters, my make-up, my tampons, and my birth control pills. It carried my life.
From then on, however, I wasn't satisfied with just one designer bag. I was in the big time now. I needed a new handbag for the spring and summer months and another for the fall and winter months. But I was savvier now. I didn't shop the high end department stores. I shopped at outlets, TJ Maxx, and Marshall's where the prices were slashed. I didn't care if they were last season handbags. They were a designer brand and made out of leather.
And then I saw Patricia, my friend, and boss at the time, with a Dooney & Bourke. I had to have one of those. After all, I do love ducks.
The Dooney's were costly, though, and Don finally drew the line. I could have one new handbag a year. I decided buying one in October, for my birthday, was a good time to start. And, it was only a month away.
But after several years, I took stock of my Dooney's. They were great bags, but they were heavy and restrictive. Coach handbags became my new favorite. I loved the styles, the colors, the interior pockets...until I met my friend, Mary, for lunch one day.
She was sporting a Louis Vuitton! It was roomy inside, beautiful on the outside, and it was very chic to carry one around. I wanted one, needed one, and had to have one. An aura surrounded the bag, and I heard trumpets playing. No matter how much I begged, though, it just wasn't in the budget.
I still wanted, needed, had to have one. And as luck would have it, we sold our house. The day after closing I was in the Louis Vuitton shop picking out a great shoulder/across the body bag. I used it exclusively for more than two years.
But then the inevitable happened. No. I didn't crave a Gucci, Prada, or even a Chanel bag. I craved another Louis. Of course, Don wasn't too keen on this idea. I couldn't even justify why I "needed" another Louis. My shoulder bag still looked like new.
I cannot explain this madness over LV. There's absolutely no way to realistically justify spending a monthly mortgage payment (or more) on a handbag other than I needed, wanted, and had to have another one. No amount of coupon clipping could justify another Louis.
But I kept pleading my case to Don. After a few months, knowing I wasn't going to stop begging, Don gave in. Just like that, it went from no to yes. There was no maybe in between.
I asked Don why he relented. He said, "Because I love you."
That brought tears to my eyes. Do I have a great guy or what!
Copyright 2011
e-mail: cyndyskitchen@cfl.rr.com
If you would like to subscribe, please send an e-mail with "subscribe" in the subject box. Ditto to "unsubscribe."
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
WHAT DO YOU DO WHEN "YOU GOTTA GO?"
QUOTE OF THE DAY: "Always go to the bathroom when you have a chance." King George V
TODAY IS: National Lollipop Day
Have you ever had one of those days when your bladder just doesn't want to work?
Have you ever felt so conspicuous at the auto dealership repair shop when you've needed to use the restroom three times in an hour?
You know what I'm talking about. You have to walk by the same two salesmen you passed only twenty minutes ago after handing over your keys. They smile at you as you hurry by. Another twenty minutes, and the scene is repeated. Only this time, you stare at your feet as you try to push the door open. You hear laughter behind you, knowing full well it's directed at you. Can you shrink any smaller, hang your head any lower, turn any redder, as you pull the door open and hurry in?
And how about the doctor's office? You hit the restroom immediately after you sign in, and you go in again after you've paid your co-pay. If you're lucky, you won't be waiting too long before the doctor sees you. If you do have to go again, you're taking a chance that while you're "in there", the doctor will walk into your room, see you're not there, and move on to the next patient. You're willing the doctor to hurry along and get back to you so you don't "have to go again" before the doctor gets back to you.
I usually know where the bathrooms are in the stores I frequent the most. But be warned, the bathroom may not be in the same area for the same store that's located across town. I speak from experience.
I was on my way to Lowe's one morning when I just had to go. I hurried into the store and went immediately to the rear of the store. Why was there a display of windows where the bathroom was supposed to be?
The same thing happened at Publix. At one store, the restroom was near a corner in the rear of the store. Another Publix had their public restroom entrance near the cold cuts. And yet another Publix had their restroom at the front of the store...just where it was supposed to be. It's totally maddening!
"How long a minute is depends on what side of the bathroom door you're on." I don't know where this quote came from, but it sure is appropriate when you're at a sporting event, a concert, or even at a picnic or theme park. Do you stay and wait in line or bolt and try to find another restroom? Only you can decide that one.
Oops, I really must go now...and I bet you know where I'm headed.
Copyright 2011
e-mail: cyndyskitchen@cfl.rr.com
If you would like to subscribe, please send an e-mail with "subscribe" in the subject box. Ditto to unsubscribe.
QUOTE OF THE DAY: "Always go to the bathroom when you have a chance." King George V
TODAY IS: National Lollipop Day
Have you ever had one of those days when your bladder just doesn't want to work?
Have you ever felt so conspicuous at the auto dealership repair shop when you've needed to use the restroom three times in an hour?
You know what I'm talking about. You have to walk by the same two salesmen you passed only twenty minutes ago after handing over your keys. They smile at you as you hurry by. Another twenty minutes, and the scene is repeated. Only this time, you stare at your feet as you try to push the door open. You hear laughter behind you, knowing full well it's directed at you. Can you shrink any smaller, hang your head any lower, turn any redder, as you pull the door open and hurry in?
And how about the doctor's office? You hit the restroom immediately after you sign in, and you go in again after you've paid your co-pay. If you're lucky, you won't be waiting too long before the doctor sees you. If you do have to go again, you're taking a chance that while you're "in there", the doctor will walk into your room, see you're not there, and move on to the next patient. You're willing the doctor to hurry along and get back to you so you don't "have to go again" before the doctor gets back to you.
I usually know where the bathrooms are in the stores I frequent the most. But be warned, the bathroom may not be in the same area for the same store that's located across town. I speak from experience.
I was on my way to Lowe's one morning when I just had to go. I hurried into the store and went immediately to the rear of the store. Why was there a display of windows where the bathroom was supposed to be?
The same thing happened at Publix. At one store, the restroom was near a corner in the rear of the store. Another Publix had their public restroom entrance near the cold cuts. And yet another Publix had their restroom at the front of the store...just where it was supposed to be. It's totally maddening!
"How long a minute is depends on what side of the bathroom door you're on." I don't know where this quote came from, but it sure is appropriate when you're at a sporting event, a concert, or even at a picnic or theme park. Do you stay and wait in line or bolt and try to find another restroom? Only you can decide that one.
Oops, I really must go now...and I bet you know where I'm headed.
Copyright 2011
e-mail: cyndyskitchen@cfl.rr.com
If you would like to subscribe, please send an e-mail with "subscribe" in the subject box. Ditto to unsubscribe.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
DOGGIE CONSTIPATION!
QUOTE OF THE DAY: "Money will buy you a pretty good dog, but it won't buy the wag of his tail." Henry Wheeler Shaw
THIS IS: The dog days of summer - 7/3 to 8/11/11
I thought my dog, Daisy, was constipated when she didn't have a BM for 2 full days. This was not normal for a dog who normally goes twice a day...once in the morning before breakfast and once after supper. I told Don that after one more day of this I was going to call our Vet. He agreed.
But first, I decided to do an Internet search. The advice and cures I found went from logical to are you nuts! The logical advice was sound. Give your dog plenty of water, make sure your dog gets plenty of exercise, and add veggies to your dog's diet.
The "iffy" advice told me to give my dog some milk. It was followed by milk will likely cause runny stool. What's worse...none of it or a mess of it?
The are you nuts advice started with check your dog's anus. Well, okay. I could take a peek. Do you see any grass? Ease it out slowly. Yuk! Has feces caused matting of the fur? Gently trim with scissors. Really? (Make sure you wear rubber gloves.)
Next, the advice suggested giving your dog an enema, but make sure you do it outdoors. Well, duh!
And last but not least, Don't forget to take your dog's temperature. Isn't that what a Vet is for?
After doing all of this research and going through the worry, I realized Daisy didn't have any of the symptoms of constipation. She wasn't straining to go, and her eating habits were normal. She had gotten plenty of exercise and water.
We soon found out that Daisy's problem wasn't that she couldn't go, it was because she wouldn't go. Why? She doesn't like to get her feet wet! She jumps over puddles and avoids wet grass like the plague. I found this out by checking with other dog owners. At times they have this same problem, too. However, I should have put two and two together and remembered this behavior from last summer.
Thinking back, it had been raining a lot, and the grass was always wet. Daisy would rather hold her poop than risk getting her paws - and maybe even her butt - wet. (Of course Daisy's anxiety over wet feet goes to pot when a treat is involved. Hold a cookie in your hand and tell her to sit. There could be three inches of water right behind her, and she'd probably sit right in it...but she still wouldn't poop!)
Now that the rainy season is in full swing here, I dread seeing the dark clouds and hearing the distant thunder. That's when I grab Daisy's leash and hurry to one of the dog walk areas before the rain falls. Of course there's always a line of dogs waiting to use the "potty." They have "Wet Grass Syndrome," too.
"No matter how little money and how few possessions you own, having a dog makes you rich." Louis Sabin
Copyright 2011
e-mail: cyndyskitchen@cfl.rr.com
If you would like to subscribe, please send an e-mail with "subscribe" in the subject box. Ditto to "unsubscribe."
THIS IS: The dog days of summer - 7/3 to 8/11/11
I thought my dog, Daisy, was constipated when she didn't have a BM for 2 full days. This was not normal for a dog who normally goes twice a day...once in the morning before breakfast and once after supper. I told Don that after one more day of this I was going to call our Vet. He agreed.
But first, I decided to do an Internet search. The advice and cures I found went from logical to are you nuts! The logical advice was sound. Give your dog plenty of water, make sure your dog gets plenty of exercise, and add veggies to your dog's diet.
The "iffy" advice told me to give my dog some milk. It was followed by milk will likely cause runny stool. What's worse...none of it or a mess of it?
The are you nuts advice started with check your dog's anus. Well, okay. I could take a peek. Do you see any grass? Ease it out slowly. Yuk! Has feces caused matting of the fur? Gently trim with scissors. Really? (Make sure you wear rubber gloves.)
Next, the advice suggested giving your dog an enema, but make sure you do it outdoors. Well, duh!
And last but not least, Don't forget to take your dog's temperature. Isn't that what a Vet is for?
After doing all of this research and going through the worry, I realized Daisy didn't have any of the symptoms of constipation. She wasn't straining to go, and her eating habits were normal. She had gotten plenty of exercise and water.
We soon found out that Daisy's problem wasn't that she couldn't go, it was because she wouldn't go. Why? She doesn't like to get her feet wet! She jumps over puddles and avoids wet grass like the plague. I found this out by checking with other dog owners. At times they have this same problem, too. However, I should have put two and two together and remembered this behavior from last summer.
Thinking back, it had been raining a lot, and the grass was always wet. Daisy would rather hold her poop than risk getting her paws - and maybe even her butt - wet. (Of course Daisy's anxiety over wet feet goes to pot when a treat is involved. Hold a cookie in your hand and tell her to sit. There could be three inches of water right behind her, and she'd probably sit right in it...but she still wouldn't poop!)
Now that the rainy season is in full swing here, I dread seeing the dark clouds and hearing the distant thunder. That's when I grab Daisy's leash and hurry to one of the dog walk areas before the rain falls. Of course there's always a line of dogs waiting to use the "potty." They have "Wet Grass Syndrome," too.
"No matter how little money and how few possessions you own, having a dog makes you rich." Louis Sabin
Copyright 2011
e-mail: cyndyskitchen@cfl.rr.com
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Wednesday, June 22, 2011
CELL PHONE BLUES
QUOTE OF THE DAY: "I like my new telephone, my computer works just fine, my calculator is perfect, but Lord, I miss my mind." Author Unknown
THIS IS: Effective Communications Month
Recently, my cell phone kept turning itself off. Yup. I'd press the little button on the side or flip the top and nothing would happen. The screen remained black. When yelling at the phone, "I just charged you yesterday," didn't work, I screamed for Don.
When Don told me that I had to turn the phone on, I wondered, Who turned it off?
When we turned the phone on, it told us my battery was low. And then to add insult to injury, it turned itself off again to save power! Again I said, "But I just charged you yesterday."
I wondered, Just who is running the show here? Me or my phone?
A few days after visiting my cell phone carrier about this problem, I received a new phone in the mail. Don downloaded what he could, but when it came to my ring tones, the website told him, "Service is temporarily unavailable. Please try again later."
This went on for almost a week, and I figured I'd just use one of the ring tones that came with the phone and forget about Ol' Blue Eyes serenading me when a call came in.
A few days later Don dropped me off at the post office while he went to run another errand. I was about 12th in line with about a half dozen people behind me. I was minding my own business when I heard a phone faintly ringing. I looked around. No one was reaching into their purses or pockets. I turned to the woman standing behind me, and said, "Someones phone is ringing."
She looked at me like I was from Mars, and said, "It's yours," as she pointed to my purse. Embarrassed and beet red, I mumbled, "New phone. Haven't transferred over my ring tones yet." She was laughing so hard I doubt she even heard me.
When Don came back to pick me up, I got in the car, and said, "We're going to get my Sinatra ring tones back ASAP, and I don't care how we do it!"
Copyright 2011
e-mail: cyndyskitchen@cfl.rr.com
If you would like to subscribe, please send an e-mail with "subscribe" in the subject. Ditto to "unsubscribe".
THIS IS: Effective Communications Month
Recently, my cell phone kept turning itself off. Yup. I'd press the little button on the side or flip the top and nothing would happen. The screen remained black. When yelling at the phone, "I just charged you yesterday," didn't work, I screamed for Don.
When Don told me that I had to turn the phone on, I wondered, Who turned it off?
When we turned the phone on, it told us my battery was low. And then to add insult to injury, it turned itself off again to save power! Again I said, "But I just charged you yesterday."
I wondered, Just who is running the show here? Me or my phone?
A few days after visiting my cell phone carrier about this problem, I received a new phone in the mail. Don downloaded what he could, but when it came to my ring tones, the website told him, "Service is temporarily unavailable. Please try again later."
This went on for almost a week, and I figured I'd just use one of the ring tones that came with the phone and forget about Ol' Blue Eyes serenading me when a call came in.
A few days later Don dropped me off at the post office while he went to run another errand. I was about 12th in line with about a half dozen people behind me. I was minding my own business when I heard a phone faintly ringing. I looked around. No one was reaching into their purses or pockets. I turned to the woman standing behind me, and said, "Someones phone is ringing."
She looked at me like I was from Mars, and said, "It's yours," as she pointed to my purse. Embarrassed and beet red, I mumbled, "New phone. Haven't transferred over my ring tones yet." She was laughing so hard I doubt she even heard me.
When Don came back to pick me up, I got in the car, and said, "We're going to get my Sinatra ring tones back ASAP, and I don't care how we do it!"
Copyright 2011
e-mail: cyndyskitchen@cfl.rr.com
If you would like to subscribe, please send an e-mail with "subscribe" in the subject. Ditto to "unsubscribe".
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