I’m really disgusted by the crowd over there, they are so adamant that they are a “touchy feely” group with the dog’s best interests at heart, and yet they find it ok to attack each other? It doesn’t make sense to me. Yes, I have seen people abuse ecollars, but I’ve seen people abuse cookies. I actually had a student in class once that was literally shoving food into her dogs mouth, like cramming it back to his molars, all the while saying “good doggie, here’s a treat!”. That dog was desperately trying to get away from her and her treats, but she had him trapped on a chair (little dog), he couldn’t get down, and she was putting nearly her whole hand in his mouth and forcing food down his throat! Tell me how that is fun or rewarding for the dog? I assure you, that dog looked sadder and sadder each time he came to class, and no amount of direction, suggestion, or demonstrating on my part could get her to stop. Poor dog. I often wonder if he ever just ran away.

Anyway, here is my comment to this charming post on how anyone who uses an ecollar obviously is going to rot in hell, I’m sad that just don’t even listen to another view, just jump to “oh, no bad bad bad – people everywhere abusing dogs!” Riiiiight, because my dogs are abused. Yup, the ones sleeping on the couch right now. The ones who are going to go to the park later to play ball, the same ones who get the best food I can provide, daily exercise, tons of toys, and we even pet them! Abused, yup.

I just hate it when people are so one way that they don’t even listen to the other side. Yes, you are entitled to your opinion, but with that comes the understanding that so is everyone else, and just because they don’t agree with you doesn’t mean they are wrong. Grrrrr!!

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Comment on Dogster Blog in response to their post about the simpleLEASH

“You all have gone off the deep end, shaking fingers and getting all self righteous, it’s kind of sad to see. Just throwing around ugly words about how horrible people are. So much for a dog “community.”

I have seen almost every dog training gimmick misused in some way – dogs with neck injuries because they have been whipped around on a “gentle” leader, dogs that have worn gentle leaders to long they have cut into their nose – how is that “gentle”? Choke chains can cause permanent skeletal damage, pinch collars can get embedded in flesh, and I’ve seen dogs absolutely tortured with electronic collars. Heck, you can even abuse cookies and end up with a fat, confused dog!

Really, anything can be abused if someone tries hard enough. Electronic collars are not bad, certainly the way some people use them is awful, but used properly, with the right amount of training, they can be valuable tools, especially with higher drive dogs.

I think the biggest problem with this product is that without a proper introduction to what a dog should do, chances are high that they will misunderstand the stimulus and bolt away from it, or, yes, some dogs will have pain induced aggression and certainly could bite the person closest to them. It’s not a product I would recommend just putting on your dog and hoping for the best, however, if you are going to do ecollar training, do it correctly with the help of an experienced professional.

I have four dogs, and have trained thousands more in the last 20 years. I’ve done almost every method out there, starting in the “good old days” of yank and crank and hope they get the idea eventually, to now where we are using clickers, food, toys, and markers to shape the most minute behaviors. Of course, I prefer toys and food and dog that wants to work with me, but you know what? Some dogs are so damaged that they need something else. I have worked several dogs through fears, as well as aggression problems, using a remote collar. Cookies wouldn’t have helped these dogs.

I have a dog that wears a remote collar whenever he leaves the house. We have done years of work, and he will still kill a dog given the chance. I choose not to give him that chance. He understands exactly what he should do when he feels the collar, and he knows darn well I can turn it up should he choose to ignore me. And I’m sorry, but all the cookies and counter conditioning in the world is not going to stop that dog when he takes a dislike to a particular dog.

I realize how you all think ecollars are “cruel” to the dog, but did you ever stop and think that if I didn’t use one how cruel it would be to let my dog attack another dog? How would you like to be the owner who’s dog gets picked up and shaken? How cruel would it be to me for my dog to have to be destroyed because I didn’t take steps to control his dog aggression? How cruel would it be for my dog to never be able to leave the house for fear that he would hurt another dog?

Tolerance people, and stepping back to listen to another viewpoint.
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The first thing I did was give her a bath. Sick or not, I’m not having a dirty, smelly dog in the house. Ick. I scrubbed tons of hair off that dog, and she just stood patiently through all of it. The next day I took her to the vet. Oh, hey, she’s got kennel cough! Oh, no, her heart sounds great! No problems there! The falling? Not bad hips like I had thought, but a neurological problem with her spine. She drags her back feet and can’t really wag her tail, but it doesn’t cause her pain and she gets around ok. Once she was done with her meds for kennel cough, and didn’t quite sound like she was dying every five seconds, they scheduled her to get her teeth cleaned and have that mass removed from her mouth. They cleaned her teeth, pulled nine rotten ones which did wonders for her breath, removed the mass, and repaired her palate, which was causing quite a bit of her breathing difficulty.

I was fostering another younger dog, Pebbles, when I first got Petunia, so I kind of let them hang out together in the backyard. They were pretty good pals, and I didn’t want to get too attached to anyone since they were both leaving soon. Which Pebbles did, found a lovely home by the beach, lucky girl. Petunia? Well, Petunia is still here, months later.

After Pebbles got adopted, I kind of felt bad putting Petunia out by herself, so I decided to try to work her into “general population” with my dogs. She gets along, and really, I don’t think she cares a bit about any of them. Seems like she was going to be here for the long haul, since folks weren’t lining up to adopt her, so might as well make the best of it, hey?

Here’s the thing about Petunia. She’s not a pretty dog. Wall eyed and with crooked ears, oh dear, no one was ever going to call her cute, and even attractive is a stretch. She makes a LOT of hideous gaspy, gaggy, gross noises. She farts whenever I pick her up. She falls down a lot. She follows me around and I’ve nearly killed myself more than once trying to fancy dance and not step on her. She can’t hear much, and she spends a lot of time just staring into space. She stops breathing on a regular basis. I’m talking like half a dozen times in an evening. She’ll be laying on a dog bed, go silent, we look over and she’ll throw her head back and gasp, and start up again. Someday, she’s going to forget to breathe. Literally. We are kind of used to it, and I don’t think there is anything that can be done about it. But I give her pillows to prop her head on so her trachea can stay open. I do not spoil her one bit. I am so in love with this dog it is ridiculous. She is about as useful as a box of rocks and I adore her.

Petunia has been here since the 6th of August. She has slowly worked her way into the fabric of the family. We go to the Pug Rescue events and Josh pushes Quinn in her stroller and I push Petunia in her fancy pink stroller. Everyone always fawns over Petunia and barely looks at my child. It is a dog event after all. Petunia climbs onto the dog beds with Jester and snuggles up next to him. If you know Jester you’ll know he is disgusted by other dogs, and cuddling, but he grudgingly puts up with Petunia. Petunia lives in a oblivious world sometimes, it’s kind of funny. Quinn LOVES Petunia, and hugs her and pats her and pulls her around. Petunia just looks rather pained and puts up with it.

I think I fell in love with Petunia when I was out back in that yard with Quinn in her swimming pool, and I was sitting next to it on the ground. Petunia came up and sat down as close to me as she could get, and leaned on me and rubbed her face on my arm. Oh, well, then. This dog is not so bad I guess. Ever so slowly, Petunia started getting the same freedoms and house privileges as my dogs. Going everywhere in the car, hanging out in the living room at night, following me into the bathroom while I shower. Petunia loves to sit next to me while I dry my hair. She is not afraid, maybe can barely hear the blow dryer. She follows me around, shuffling her little feet and slipping and sliding on the floors. We tried putting her on the bed to see if she’d lay down with the other dogs while I vacuumed. Er, let’s just say Petunia flies rather well and luckily landed on a soft dog bed. We don’t put her on the bed anymore.

At the Pug Rescue holiday party, someone came up and had come specifically to meet Petunia and was interested in adopting her. After I went to Suzi and bawled for a minute, I got over myself and reminded myself she is a foster dog after all. And, lovely family, they would have been perfect, and I realized I would have been ok with them adopting her. It would have been hard, but I’d have let her go. That family found another pug, a better fit for their home, and in the months that followed, a few people called me interested in my Petunia. I wasn’t too excited about any of them. Really, if you’re going to adopt Petunia, you need to be able to give her a better life than she has here, and she’s got it pretty good.

Two weeks ago, someone called that was interested in her. Everything sounded good, seemed like a good fit, so I bravely let Petunia be adopted. The look on her face, the look of confusion when they put her in the car shattered my heart. I didn’t cry, telling myself this is good, this is right. Until the next day when I started bawling because I missed my little dog so much. Josh even brought me petunias to plant in the yard, in honor of her.

As you might already know, things in the house did not work out. One person in the family loved Petunia, the the rest did not love her so much. Because she is not cute, she is not quick, she doesn’t walk well, and she does require a lot of assistance to get through the day. So she came back, and I have to say, I was pretty happy. Quinn was ecstatic and squealed and gave Petunia tons of hugs. It has taken a few days for Petunia to settle back in, she was pretty depressed when I picked her up. I think she missed us. She did not do her happy dance when she saw me, which crushed me. She did perk up a bit when we got home and she saw the other dogs and Quinn. Now she’s back to following me around trying to kill me via tripping.

The thing with Petunia is I just love her. My other dogs work, they do sports, they earn a living by being demo dogs, and helping me teach group classes and private lessons. They have all paid their way in one way or another. Petunia? Petunia is a complete freeloader. She does nothing. Some days she responds to her name, others she can’t hear a thing. She snatches food, and will bite your hand if she thinks you have something food like in it. I don’t do anything with her but carry her around, dress her in embarrassing outfits, and pet her. She requires nothing from me except that I remember to feed her twice a day. She’s grateful when I do pet her, and enjoys hanging out on my lap while I type. Petunia and Quinn have a complete love affair, which makes my heart cramp every time I see them together.

Petunia has helped teach me why normal people have dogs. Just to love them. She is utterly, and completely useless. She doesn’t play, she doesn’t do obedience, she’ll never be a demo dog, hell, she doesn’t even walk on a leash. But she loves me. Just because. I don’t even know why.

She’s back now, maybe to stay, maybe not. I know that this is her home, and that we are her heart, but the unfortunate reality is that I have four dogs who are all hitting geriatric status this year. Four old dogs who are all going to start racking up vet bills together and need their butts wiped, together, or some other fabulously gross thing. I really, really can’t afford to add another senior dog with known health issues to the mix. I just can’t. So Petunia will remain adoptable, and a ward of Pug Rescue. Hopefully people will just donate tons of money in her name and she’ll just have a nice, fat medical fund so she can live out her days here. I will be pickier, and demand that those interested in her come and meet her several times, get to know her before moving her again. Because I don’t want to see that confused look on her face again. For now, I will enjoy every day that she is here, and do everything I can do make her days full of love, cuddles, and give her tons of kisses. Smelly old dog.

Because I just love her.

“You know you sound really unpleasant, right?
I typed ‘ irritating dog lady ‘ into Google, and your blog came up. I think you were first. Try it.
Also, you misspelled -assistant- when you described your husband.
That’s all.”

I was kind of entertained and really wanted to address it then, but have not had the time. Firstly – WOW! I’m moving up in the world if you can find me by googling “irritating dog lady”! That’s kinda cool if you ask me. Secondly, who in the world is so bored that they actually google “irritating dog lady”? I guess Matt is. Well, thanks Matt. I’m guessing that Matt really didn’t read the post – this one that he was commenting about. Or perhaps his reading comprehension skills just suck. Who knows? I’m thinking, either way, he has a lot of time on his hands.

The point, actually, was to sound unpleasant. I was pissed off, irritated, and just sort of in awe of the stupidity of some people.

I’m still often just blown away by how in your face and rude people can be – especially when you have a baby, but I have to be nicer now. I’m teaching classes and the Training Director over there, so I have to make nice with, well, everyone. I will still get in someone’s face if they let their dog too close to my baby, but I do it as politely as possible, and usually I blame it on the baby. “Oh, sorry, she can look at your dog, but she can’t pet because she doesn’t understand that ears are not for pulling yet” and then I step in between the dog and the baby. She doesn’t understand. She’s a baby. She tortures my dogs, yanks their hair, pokes their eyes and explores their noses. They don’t care. Your dog might. I don’t really want to stress test your dog that far, do you?

Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks to Matt, I think I will now start referring to myself as that “Irritating Dog Lady,” cause it kind of has a nice ring to it. I do have to ask though – why the hell were you googling that anyway? Don’t you like porn? Or have a nice myspace account you could be updating? I mean, really.

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Keri,

I’m so sorry, somehow your comment got lost in my mail…. as things sometimes do since I’m often reading them on the run! I will do my best to get back with a proper post, but I just wanted to tell you that losing them….. *sigh* it is the worst thing. But you survive, because you must, and it often makes room for another dog to come into your life that you need just as much. Without Redwood passing, I would never had have room for Dyson, and I’ve learned so much from him. I miss her every day, every day, but I wouldn’t be who or where I am without having known her. Having her, loving her, created much of who I am, and losing her shaped me just as much. But I survived. And I like to think she would have been proud of where I’ve gotten myself to.

The day will come when you have to take a deep breath and say goodbye to your “SPGR”, and you will do it. You will be strong because you owe it to him. And when your tears are fewer, another cold nose will poke at your hand, and you’ll look into another set of soft eyes, and love again.

After conferring with Suzi and the doctors who had worked so hard to make Hazel comfortable, we all decided that the kindest thing to do was to let her go. Even after the swelling from surgery was down, Hazel has been breathing like this all of her life, which has caused irreparable damage to her larynx. So our options were to keep her heavily sedated so she could breathe, which is no way for a perky little dog to live; do a tracheotomy, which she likely wouldn’t survive; or euthanize her.

It was very, very difficult, and my heart hurts, but I feel that euthanizing her was the kindest thing. We tried every trick in the book, short of more surgeries that her little body just couldn’t take, and the poor girl was still just gasping for air and exhausted by the effort. Today, even heavily sedated, she was still wheezing and unable to draw a full breath. I couldn’t do that to her anymore.

I am saddest that someone let her be this way for so long. A simple surgery as a pup would have fixed this and saved her many years of misery. We think perhaps she was a younger dog, but that her body was just so worn out from never having enough oxygen and the constant fight for breath. I am sad that someone out there abandoned this little dog. That, to them, she wasn’t worth the effort.

She was absolutely worth the effort to us. I held her and cuddled her and told her how many people loved her. I covered her face with kisses and told her she was a good dog. That she was worth the effort. I told her to look for my beloved Redwood and Rowan on the other side, that they would look out for her until I come to get them.

Rest easy Hazel. Goodbye little friend.

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Please consider making a donation in Hazel’s honor to Pug Rescue of San Diego. The money will go to help pay her vet bills, and the many, many vet bills incurred helping all of our senior dogs. They are worth it.

I had emailed Suzi saying that after a year off of fostering so I could get my human baby into the world and started off right, I was ready to foster again, and would really like to take on a senior. That maybe we would be ok with a long term foster, as long as we could open our home to a girl so we wouldn’t have any more pissing wars with the resident male dogs in the house (brats). Maybe a little girl, I do love those tiny Pugs, a petite lady who just needs a place to lay her head for a bit, and perhaps enjoy her golden years lounging in the sun and living in a house that is made up primarily of comfy dog beds.

Never one to leave a foster home wanting for long, I got a reply from Suzi within 24 hours. “Have I got the dog for you! She’s tiny, and sweet, and if her many surgeries go well, she’ll need quite a bit of care.” I kind of already knew I’d take her, but went to Cuyamaca anyway to meet her. Formalities, you know. I got to meet her before her surgeries, and of course I fell in love. She’s perfect. She is completely calm with my human child, and she’s giving me kisses and leaning into my hand as I scratch her ear. Of course I’ll be her foster Mom, we’ll figure it out. It’ll all be fine.

Someone at the shelter had named her Ethel, and while that’s a fine name, I felt like she needed something with a bit more strength. Something that worked into my household better. I have a long line of beloved dogs named after trees, and even more pets named after flowers and crystals. So of course, for her, I looked to the trees. I wanted something strong, but suitable for a sweet little lady. Maple? Clover? Aspen? No, no Aspen is more of a Golden Retriever. Hmm. Bramble? Nope, too hard to say. Bamboo? Hazel? Ooh, wait, Hazel. I like it. Even better, it has some great symbolism – wands made out of Hazel wood symbolize white magic and healing. Yes, yes, she needs that. Hazel trees themselves symbolize hidden wisdom, and over the centuries Hazel wood was used for protection against evil. I like it, Hazel she will be. It fits. It’s soft, with just a bit of an edge, perfect.

As I write this, my little Hazel is back at the vet, in the emergency center getting oxygen and fluids. I did get to bring her home after her surgeries – a hernia repair, spay, and fixing her elongated palate, but she was still having such a hard time breathing that she needed the extra help. The surgery on her palate caused some swelling, as surgeries will, but that makes it hard to breathe, so she breathes harder, which makes it swell more and causes irritation. Sweet little Hazel has been a trooper, and only today seemed to be very fatigued from all the work breathing. Not to worry, her prognosis is good. We just need to give her some time to rest, heal from the surgery, and then she should be able to breathe comfortably, perhaps for the first time in her life. I look forward to Hazel feeling better. In the two days she has been here, she’s shown herself to be a sweet, snuggly girl. Happy to see me, gets along great with my other dogs, is fantastic with the human baby (and she’s rather a pain, what with all the poking and squealing), and is just a lovely, lovely little Pug.

I think that once she feels better, I think maybe she’ll be adoptable. She’s just got so much pep, even exhausted today she twirled around on her back feet with excitement when she saw a leash. What a love! I think that she has years left, and I think that she may move on to a forever home. I’m ok with that. I think that someone else may get to love her too. Of course, she is welcome to stay here as long as she needs to, and I will cuddle her and love her and care for her as my own. And if she stays here for a very long time, because you know how hard it is to find forever homes for seniors, that’s ok too.

Hazel is what Pug Rescue is about. So many senior dogs. They need us because they are the ones who get left behind. The ones who don’t get adopted because they are “too old”, “too sick”, or “too needy”. I can’t imagine that little Hazel was in the shelter so long and no one noticed what a gem she was. How could you miss that happy little curly tail, those sparkly little eyes? I am ever so grateful for all the volunteers that got her here from L.A., and all of the work that goes into fundraising so that Hazel could have her surgeries, and so that she could be cared for tonight. The thing that amazes me is that her story is one of many. That we, as a group, help SO MANY Pugs. I for one, thank you all, I am proud to be a member of Pug Rescue, and I am thrilled to get to foster such a lovely girl. I’m sad for whatever circumstances in Hazel’s life left her without a home or people of her own, but I’m glad that she found her way into our hands. Because she’s safe now. She couldn’t have ended up with a better group of people to tend to her. I’ve worked with many different rescues, and Pug Rescue of San Diego is snorts and wags above the rest!

Thank you all so very much. I’ll keep you updated on Hazel’s progress. Perhaps Hazel will be able to meet you all at the Pugtoberfest. Looking forward to showing off my sweet little friend.

These feel like stolen moments, Q and I wrapped up in our own little world. I know that someday I’m going to look back on these days, these days of just me and her having our own little love affair, and be so sad that they are over. These are my days. She’s still little enough to not argue about what she wears or what we do, instead is simply thrilled to play with me. She laughs at my antics, and thinks being tickled and gobbled up is probably the best thing to happen to a baby ever.

While I enjoy going out and about and being part of the grown up world, I am also completely content to spend days at home feeding her, bathing her, playing silly games, and just tending to her. Which, if you’ve ever had a baby, you’ll know that the tending can easily suck up an entire day. She’s eating baby food now, and sitting up, rolling over, and *this* close to crawling. She has come to love her baths, where before only a shower with Mom or Dad would do, now that she has a baby bathtub, she will kick and splash for as long as I let her. Her favorite thing is to bounce like a maniac in her little bouncer chair thing. Now that her feet reach the floor, the child is a bouncing fool. This has carried over to kicking in the tub, bouncing when I hold her, rocking on her hands and knees, and a general love of being tossed about. Funny girl.

These are my days. My parents are still young enough that I don’t have to worry about their health so much. My baby is still my baby, and not running off to discover the world yet. I hope that as she grows we will still have so much fun, and many adventures, but my heart is convinced that these days are the best ones. These days where she and I are just wrapped up in each other, and the great big world doesn’t really intrude so much. Now, when she wants nothing more than to cuddle up in my arms and be snuggled. Now, when I am still enough. The heartaches and small pains of life haven’t touched her. No betrayals of friends, no comprehension of ugly things like death and destruction, no realization yet that life can be anything other than safe and secure. Her biggest worry is when her next meal is coming. Not a bad life, really. I wish that I could make it so that was always her biggest worry. Of course, as a mother, I want to protect her from everything. I want to keep her wrapped up in my arms, forever, if she’d let me. Yet, in the way it has always been, my job, my duty, is to prepare her to go out there and be part of the great big world. To learn to keep herself steady, so that when the world tries to toss her about, she can find her footing on her own. I know that, and I will do my best. If I could just hang on a little tighter to these days. I try to capture them as best I can with pictures and words, but every day that I celebrate a new milestone or accomplishment with her is a day that my heart aches a little because she’s growing up.

I never thought I’d be completely wrapped up in someone so small. This thing, motherhood? It’s amazing and mind bending and awful and wonderful. It is the hardest and most amazing thing I’ve ever done. Every time I think I’ve got a handle on it, I look at her and am knocked flat by the sheer emotion of everything that is her. I’ve loved a lot in my life, hard love that seemed to consume me, but nothing, nothing ever prepared me for this. That she would soften my edges, make me see things in a whole new light, teach me that love with humans can indeed be unconditional (of course I thought that only existed with dogs). That this tiny little bit of humanity that would hold my entire world in her fist. A friend of mine the other day remarked that his wife’s pregnancy was an “everyday miracle.” That about sums it up for me.

She’s napping on my lap now, but making waking up moves, so I will let you go now, and go back to my silly little games. Take care, all.

Wow, that is ever so cool. The crappy thing is, there really isn’t much I can do. I can email the HOA, but all they’ll do it send a letter and maybe fine him, big woop. I can call animal control, but they don’t care unless the dog has been tied for more than three hours, then it’s illegal. I could try talking to the guy, but I don’t think they speak much English so that could go horribly wrong. And I come off like the bitchy neighbor. Really, all I want is to be able to walk my dogs without being accosted by off leash dogs, or dogs left unsupervised and tied to trees. I am so frustrated with the people that live here. Can you tell? Is it so hard, so hard to respect other people’s rights? And never mind me, what about the seniors in the neighborhood that are so afraid of dogs and are continually getting jumped on and harassed by loose dogs? That just sucks.

My dogs now are never off leash. Not even to go from the car to the house. I won’t risk it. We’ve been attacked here so many times that I am afraid to leave my house. Because other people can’t put their freaking dogs on a leash. People wonder why I’m so pissy.

Yesterday evening I am at my little obedience club, chatting with friends and practicing with my old dog. Karma was on my friend’s lap giving some good collie love, and an olderish lady gets out of her car with a young Border Collie puppy in tow. This poor pup was maybe all of four months old, and she had him roped up on a gentle leader, which is fine if they are used correctly, but this poor little thing was flailing about like a fish on the end of a hook. She also had him on a super fabulous chain leash, you know, the kind they sell at the grocery store. Chain leads and retractable leashes drive me out of my mind, so pretty much my back was already up the second she came into view. They should be banned from production. Erg! Anyway, this puppy is clearly wound up, thrashing around, and she comes over and is trying to talk to us instead of attending to her freaking out puppy.

Crazy dog lady: “Is that a Border Collie?”

My friend: “Why, yes, yes it is.”

Crazy dog lady: “Oh, I just love Border Collies, I haven’t had one for years, but now I got this one for Christmas and I’m trying to make lots of Border Collie friends. How old is it?”

My friend looks at me blankly, and says “I don’t know, it’s her dog” and points to me.

By this time I’m already not very interested so I’m trying to be nice, I am, and tell her that the dog is 7 years old. She goes on about how she just loooves Border Collies, and asks me what the other Border Collies’ name is. Huh? Other Border Collie? Is she nuts? What the hell is she talking about? She points behind me, that Border Collie.

“Oh,” I say, “No I don’t know his name, because I really don’t like dogs and I’m a bit people aggressive so I don’t pay attention to dogs that aren’t mine.”

My friend is cracking up at this point, unable to believe I actually just said that, and that I’m being so rude. Whatever, I was already feeling testy, and since I’m not working, I don’t have to play nice if I don’t want to. We were obviously busy, and this lady was just being in your face super pushy crazy dog owner and I just don’t dig that. And her puppy was just flipping out. I’m sorry, but if you’re here for class, shouldn’t you be teaching your dog something other than to thrash around, bark and act obnoxious? Just a thought. She’s asking if we’re all going to be there in an hour so she can come make friends with the dogs. Yikes. I don’t know, we’ll see, we say.

Lady finally gets the hint that I’m just not interested in socializing, and the other people who’s conversation she was rudely interrupting were more interested in each other than her.

So an hour or so goes by, and we’re still working dogs, different ones, but still working. We decide to wrap it up, the baby is getting fussy, crying, ready for bed. I run to the restroom and leave Q with Josh and on my way back, who but crazy dog lady is walking towards them – her dog barking his head off, and she’s going, over and over again “Is the baby crying? Is there a baby crying?” I mean, what the fuck? You can see that her Dad is absorbed in getting her into her car seat and calmed down and you’re going to come get in his face? I hustle up behind her and body block her because it’s very obvious she’s going to let her dog jump all over my stroller, and my fussy baby, so her dog can “see the baby, it’s crying.” I’m pretty chill with Quinn and dogs. She’s comfortable with them, and a baby is a great distraction for obedience training. I hold Quinn and put liver in her lap while my other friend’s Border Collie pup gets the treats. Poor little Secret is afraid of the baby, but is getting more brave now that she’s learning the baby has liver in her pants. But this totally obnoxious stranger with an untrained puppy is going to let her pup jump all over me six month old?! I don’t think so. I don’t know you, I don’t know your dog, get the hell away from my baby. I would like Quinn to NOT be afraid of dogs, and NOT develop any fear of them, and having a sharp toothed puppy all over her while she’s already tired and cranky is NOT a good idea. So I get in between the lady and the stroller, you’d think she’d clue in on the body language – and SHE PICKS UP THE DOG so it can see in the stroller. What the hell?!?! Are you nuts? Completely, off your rocker cuckoo for coco puffs? What is wrong with you?

I do not understand. I truly don’t. Josh and I hustled Quinn to the car and left kooky lady in the dust, I was no longer trying to be even a little bit nice. Why? She’s completely invaded my personal space, and is not getting the clue that I don’t want to be her new Border Collie friend.

My poor husband says “I meet and deal with so many people, and I never run into the looney tunes that you do. It really must be something with dog people.” Poor guy. Dog people are nuts. Certifiable, complete loons. Granted, there are dog people out there who are wonderful. Kind, caring, loving attentive, awesome people. But dogs, with their unconditional love and acceptance, tend to attract the most dysfunctional of the human race.

Here’s the thing. Just because I own a dog, and you own a dog, does NOT mean I want to be your friend. Even less so do I want our dogs to be friends. I’ve always been this way, it’s just gotten worse in the last few years. No, I do not want your obnoxious animal jumping all over me so it can “say hello.” No, my dogs are not friendly and we would prefer you keep your distance. And no, I’m not really friendly either, so please, please? Just go away.

The reading was at a scrunchy little bookstore, so it was way crowded, but everyone gave us our space because apparently babies are known for spontaneous projectile vomiting. I don’t like being that close to that many people (stranger danger – yikes!) but I held it together because, you know, it was Heather. We got there early and sat up front, so Quinn could also be admired by the audience. Good thing. Quinn was awesome. She was so good and sat and listened and only fussed a tiny bit.

Then I got my very own copies of both Heather’s books (thanks husband!) signed and got to gush at Heather a bit. She was so nice, even though I totally felt like a frumpy housewife amidst all the super stylish LA-ites. Might have been the classy grey yoga pants I was wearing. Or the ultra cool purple Sleepy Wrap I had on to hold the baby. Either way – I sort of felt like a Clampett, but Heather was just awesome. We had so much fun and it was really cool to do something kind of grown up.

After the signing we went to dinner at a little Italian place on the beach. It was nice outside, and Quinn slept through dinner so it sort of seemed like we were alone. Like, maybe on a date or something. Other than the waiter dumping soda in Josh’s lap, it was a great meal. Long drive home, and we drug ourselves up to bed at like 1 am. We so are too old for this crap.

For those of you who are also Dooce fans, yes, yes she really is as cool as she seems.