My Donut

There is a very simple reason for this post: I could not resist sharing these two cute photos of my Vincent Donut! I mean really, could he be any cuter? My shadow boy who follows me from room to room, waits for me to go to bed, waits for me to get out of bed...my 70 pound protector. Just had to share...

Happy Birthday pretty girl.

Today is Seven's 14th birthday. I dug up these puppy pictures earlier today and can barely believe how tiny she was. And dear lord she was cute! Sheesh! I ask her all the time "how are you so beautiful?" I pretty much think she's perfect. Now, how we ended up with her...not so perfect.
Tom and I had just moved in together and decided we wanted a dog. In hindsight it may have been a bit early in the relationship to be making such a huge commitment to a living, breathing thing, but it seems to have worked out so I won't dwell on it too much. I suppose I think about these things due to being in rescue now...I see these young couples wanting dogs and I can't help but wonder (and I do usually, rudely, ask) "who is gonna take the dog if you two don't work out?" Hey, my priority is the dog! Anyway, we went to both the city shelter and the local Humane Society. There was an adult dog at the shelter that I wanted but Tom REALLY wanted a puppy. At the HS there was a litter of three adorable puppies. Two brown, one black - they were calling them beagle/heeler mixes (we found out later, much to our shock, they were actually Dingo mixes). When we met them two were adopted. One little brown girl left. The HS employee took her out and we played with her for a bit. We fell hard for her in about two minutes. We couldn't take her home that day because she had to be spayed. So we came back to visit the next day and the next, bonding more and more each time. Then came the day we got to pick her up. I had to work so Tom was gleefully up for the job!

I remember being at work with time crawling by like ants with a full belly. It was late in the evening. Tom was going by the HS on his way home from work and was supposed to call me when he left with her. He did. And here's what he said. "I think they gave me the wrong dog." Me, "What do you mean?" Tom, "I think they gave me the wrong dog." Me, "What do you mean?" Tom, "I don't know, but I think they gave me the other puppy." Me, "Well did you tell them? What did they say?" Tom, "No, the other puppies have already been picked up." Me, "I'm calling them." So I call the HS. Apparently the ENTIRE time we had been interacting with the WRONG puppy. The already adopted puppy. Something about the id numbers being transposed in the computer. I don't know. But their solution was "Well, you can bring her back." But we knew we were not going to get the puppy we'd fallen in love with, she was gone, left the building, adios! So, time to meet our new dog for the first time.
Of course we joke, Seven was an accident. She is the complete and total boss. She would sooner have you poke her eye out than cuddle with you. She barks INCESSANTLY! Her sister is probably a calm, quite, snuggler. And I would not switch them for a bajillion dollars.

My beautiful girl. Knock-on-wood, she might be 14 but she acts like an ornery two year old. She bounces like a gazelle at dinner time, announces every activity in the front yard whether its an actual visitor or a leaf falling from the tree. She bosses all our other dogs, be it one of the chihuahuas or the pit bull, all 37 pounds of her. She takes her sweet time accepting new people who stop by and she pretends to detest just about every other dog in the house. Everything is on her terms. But despite all of that we think she is perfect. She is the princess. This is her castle and she is kind enough to let us live here and honestly, we wouldn't change a thing. Okay, maybe the barking, I'd cut the barking down by about half.

Happy Birthday baby girl. Love you.

wearing out my well wishes welcome

I hate to say it, but I have to hit you up for more good thoughts and well wishes please. Our little piggy, Pasqual, is having surgery today to remove a tumor. It's the type of tumor that is usually benign but can become malignant. So we have all of our fingers and toes crossed that it is going to turn out to be benign.

Pasqual started out as a foster at our house (as so many of them did). He was the first Pit Bull to be fostered by anyone in Blue Dog. And even though it was a bunch of dog people there were still some skeptics on the whole Pit Bull thing. But Pasqually quickly won them all over with his sweet nature, incessant kisses, and constant smile. Now several of our fosters have adopted Pit Bulls of their own and our group has rescued and adopted out countless pits over the years.

At a little over 10 years old Pasqual is a poster child and ambassador for his breed. And we are very lucky to have him in our lives. So, fingers crossed this is just a little snip snip and we're all done!

Just as prissy as she looks.

If you've been reading my blog for very long you might remember the post where I introduced Jessica Beatrice. We had just decided to keep her and I posted her story along with a dreadful picture of her. I felt the need to redeem myself for that terrible photo - so when Tom got this full on model shot of her I had to share!

I swear she looks like a little show dog - but of course she's a rescue. She came from our local kill shelter where she ended up after having been hit by a car. She weighs about five pounds soaking wet so I can't really fathom how she could have been hit by a car and survive, but she did. She was beyond pitiful and so socially inept that we couldn't really imagine anyone wanting her for her personality - and we were not going to let her become some little trophy/status/purse dog! So she stayed. Gosh, I kinda sounded like a snob there. Sorry. Anyway, Tom fell for her pitiful act and she had him wrapped around her paw in no time flat. Now she prisses around the house like Linda Evangalista flaunting her good looks. It's completely lost on the other dogs but that doesn't stop her. It's embarrassing how much she preens for Tom - but seriously, she's ridiculously cute and she knows it.

round 9 and Happy Birthday!

Happy Birthday Preacher! My big guy turned 11 years old this month! This would be amazing no matter what...a Great Dane's life span is usually like seven or eight years so 11 is pretty incredible. But given the lymphoma, well, we are so far beyond thrilled I don't know what you call it! I am wondering how to go about baking a cake that is high in protein, low in carbs...sounds tasty, doesn't it?!?

Today was the ninth round of chemo. He spent the whole day there and came home completely pooped. Today's chemo drug was doxorubicin - it's kind of the big daddy of the chemo drugs from what I understand. He's had this one once before and handled it fairly well so fingers crossed we'll get through this go-round without incident.

We also hit the two month mark today! I am beyond thrilled because this means we go to every other week for treatments instead of once a week. Yippee!!! It will be so nice to just get to be at home with him for two solid weeks without shuffling off to the vet and it will give us more time to bulk him up with good food between treatments! :)

We still have four months to go, but somehow it doesn't seem that bad. I look back at where I was at when we got the diagnosis and where I am now...I never would have believed I could be this okay. The body and mind are pretty amazing. And of course the fact that Preacher feels so good is probably what keeps Tom and I so okay. This new normal seems to be workin' for us.