When Bailey was still a puppy – nearly grown in size, but still a puppy – we had a scary evening. Okay, like anyone with puppies, we’ve had more than one. But I’m only going to talk about one of them now.
We were having a quiet evening at home and our younger daughter had come over to visit. Bailey had taken a rawhide bone and disappeared for a while, and the rest of us were talking and generally enjoying time together.
Suddenly, we heard the most horrible sound I have ever heard come from a dog. It was not a bark or a yelp. It was a scream! In a panic, we all started looking for Bailey – and she came out from behind a chair.
She was obviously in pain, and as I reached down to pick her up again, she wretched and made that same screaming sound! Without even taking a moment to think about it, I grabbed a towel to wrap her up, told my daughter to come with me, told my wife we were going to the emergency vet that was very close by, and headed out the door. I gave Bailey to my daughter since I’d be driving and headed down the road.
About a mile from the house, Bailey convulsed and threw up. Then she looked up at my daughter like everything was just fine. There, in the towel, was something all covered in mucous. I pulled over and looked at it – it was a chunk of the rawhide bone Bailey had been chewing on – now just a flat piece of rawhide. It was almost an inch across and over two inches long! No wonder she had been in pain.
Since she seemed okay now, I turned around and headed home. By the time we got home, Bailey hit the floor running around and seemed unaware that there had even been a problem.
Since that night, we still have rawhide bones in the house – but we watch very closely and dispose of them when they get chewed down very much.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Bailey and the Bed
Kathie went to visit her sister for a few days when Bailey was six months old. When she got home, Bailey was, as usual, good for an entertaining moment or two.
A little background here. As I said, Bailey was six months old when this episode occurred. Still a puppy and, sad to say, still not reliably house broken. She had spells when she was doing great and I got to thinking she’s finally caught on. Then she would let us know that the whole idea that she ALWAYS has to go outside to go potty just didn’t register. From time to time, she would squat to pee on the carpet while innocently looking right at us. If you want a suggestion for something to move an old guy from dead still to moving at near light speed – just put a puppy on the carpet in front of him and get that puppy to squat to pee. That’ll do it. At least it does around this house.
Because of Bailey’s spotty potty record (no pun intended – but it is an apt one), Kathie had been really clear – NO PUPPY SLEEPING IN OUR BED! I really hadn’t argued about it, because the idea of Bailey using our bed as her potty spot didn’t sound any better to me than it did to Kathie.
Before leaving, Kathie asked me - again - to promise that I would NOT have the dog on the bed while she was gone. No problem! I definitely won’t be doing that! And I promise her, you, and anyone else that might care enough to ask – I didn’t.
So, back to where we started. Kathie got back from her trip. I took Bailey to the airport when I went to get Kathie, and they had a nice reunion on the way home. Bailey can be a very effective makeup remover, so she was helping Kathie get settled into being back home - even though we were still on the way. When we got home, I unloaded her luggage. Gotta tell you – I could make a trip around the world with less luggage than she took for that week’s trip. As I brought stuff in, I either put it on the trunk at the foot of the bed or on the bed and I didn’t close the bedroom door.
As I was bringing in the last of it, Kathie went into the bedroom to start unpacking, and I heard my name called. “Jim!” Now, any guy reading this can identify with what I’m going to say. Isn’t it amazing how much meaning a woman can cram into a single word? I knew instantly and with absolute certainty that wasn’t a happy or playful “Jim!” She sure wasn’t calling me to the bedroom for a reunion frolic.
Bailey was on the bed – right in the middle of the pillows – sitting up just like she was posing for a picture (wish I’d had a camera handy to take one).
“Why did you put her up there, when you promised you wouldn’t? You’ve had her sleeping on the bed while I was gone, haven’t you? …” There was more - much more - but it was pouring out so fast I didn’t get the rest of it.
When she finally ran down, my answer was more concise. I laughed at her. And I said, “I didn’t put her up there.”
The fact that looking at prissy little Bailey sitting there like a queen on her throne had me grinning and chuckling probably had something to do with Kathie’s not believing me – but I was telling the truth.
Kathie: “Oh, come on – she can’t possibly get up there by herself.”
Bailey is about 6” tall, the top of our mattress is about 24” off the floor, and even the jump up onto the trunk at the foot of the bed is 18” – so I had to agree it didn’t seem possible. At that point, Bailey couldn't even get onto our sofa without the little steps we had bought for her. I knew I did not put her up there, though.
Me (as I picked Bailey up and set her back on the floor): “I don’t know how she wound up there, but I DID NOT …”
And before I could finish the sentence, Bailey showed us EXACTLY how she had gotten up there.
On my side of the bed, there is a night stand and then a comfy upholstered chair with a small footstool. While we watched with our jaws hanging, Bailey ran around to my side of the bed, jumped onto the footstool, then the seat of the chair, then the arm of the chair, and finally leaped through the air more than a foot and a half onto the bed. Then she calmly and primly walked over to the spot that I had taken her from moments ago, turned to face us and sat down in the same pose she’d been in when we walked into the room.
That was the first night she slept in the bed with us – and she’s been there ever since.
A little background here. As I said, Bailey was six months old when this episode occurred. Still a puppy and, sad to say, still not reliably house broken. She had spells when she was doing great and I got to thinking she’s finally caught on. Then she would let us know that the whole idea that she ALWAYS has to go outside to go potty just didn’t register. From time to time, she would squat to pee on the carpet while innocently looking right at us. If you want a suggestion for something to move an old guy from dead still to moving at near light speed – just put a puppy on the carpet in front of him and get that puppy to squat to pee. That’ll do it. At least it does around this house.
Because of Bailey’s spotty potty record (no pun intended – but it is an apt one), Kathie had been really clear – NO PUPPY SLEEPING IN OUR BED! I really hadn’t argued about it, because the idea of Bailey using our bed as her potty spot didn’t sound any better to me than it did to Kathie.
Before leaving, Kathie asked me - again - to promise that I would NOT have the dog on the bed while she was gone. No problem! I definitely won’t be doing that! And I promise her, you, and anyone else that might care enough to ask – I didn’t.
So, back to where we started. Kathie got back from her trip. I took Bailey to the airport when I went to get Kathie, and they had a nice reunion on the way home. Bailey can be a very effective makeup remover, so she was helping Kathie get settled into being back home - even though we were still on the way. When we got home, I unloaded her luggage. Gotta tell you – I could make a trip around the world with less luggage than she took for that week’s trip. As I brought stuff in, I either put it on the trunk at the foot of the bed or on the bed and I didn’t close the bedroom door.
As I was bringing in the last of it, Kathie went into the bedroom to start unpacking, and I heard my name called. “Jim!” Now, any guy reading this can identify with what I’m going to say. Isn’t it amazing how much meaning a woman can cram into a single word? I knew instantly and with absolute certainty that wasn’t a happy or playful “Jim!” She sure wasn’t calling me to the bedroom for a reunion frolic.
Bailey was on the bed – right in the middle of the pillows – sitting up just like she was posing for a picture (wish I’d had a camera handy to take one).
“Why did you put her up there, when you promised you wouldn’t? You’ve had her sleeping on the bed while I was gone, haven’t you? …” There was more - much more - but it was pouring out so fast I didn’t get the rest of it.
When she finally ran down, my answer was more concise. I laughed at her. And I said, “I didn’t put her up there.”
The fact that looking at prissy little Bailey sitting there like a queen on her throne had me grinning and chuckling probably had something to do with Kathie’s not believing me – but I was telling the truth.
Kathie: “Oh, come on – she can’t possibly get up there by herself.”
Bailey is about 6” tall, the top of our mattress is about 24” off the floor, and even the jump up onto the trunk at the foot of the bed is 18” – so I had to agree it didn’t seem possible. At that point, Bailey couldn't even get onto our sofa without the little steps we had bought for her. I knew I did not put her up there, though.
Me (as I picked Bailey up and set her back on the floor): “I don’t know how she wound up there, but I DID NOT …”
And before I could finish the sentence, Bailey showed us EXACTLY how she had gotten up there.
On my side of the bed, there is a night stand and then a comfy upholstered chair with a small footstool. While we watched with our jaws hanging, Bailey ran around to my side of the bed, jumped onto the footstool, then the seat of the chair, then the arm of the chair, and finally leaped through the air more than a foot and a half onto the bed. Then she calmly and primly walked over to the spot that I had taken her from moments ago, turned to face us and sat down in the same pose she’d been in when we walked into the room.
That was the first night she slept in the bed with us – and she’s been there ever since.
Monday, September 1, 2008
Why Blog About Yorkies?
First and foremost, I know about Life With Yorkies because I live with Yorkies. Two of them.
I’ve been around more years than I care to think about, and I’ve had dogs for a good number of those years. I have loved every single one of them - they were great friends and companions - but I really can’t say that any of them completely took over my life. Not until a Yorkie joined our family, that is.
Getting a Yorkie wasn’t my idea. It was my wife’s. She had been saying for over a year that she wanted to get a dog again. We had been without a dog for over ten years, and losing our last one (a miniature Schnauzer) had been so heartbreaking that I just didn’t have any interest in going through that again. Our kids were grown, though, and I guess the maternal instinct in my wife just drove her to look for some little creature to care for. She settled on a Yorkie. I kept telling her we couldn’t really afford one, but the whole time I was keeping my eyes open for one to get for her.
For her. That was my attitude at the time. She wants a Yorkie pup, so I’m going to get one for her. I’ll have more to say later about how quickly and how dramatically attitudes can change – but for now I’ll just continue with my search for HER dog.
One day shortly before Mother’s Day in 2006 I was at work and opened the newspaper at lunch time for a quick glance at the dogs for sale area in the classified ads – something I was doing a few times each week. I don’t remember exactly what the ad that I saw that day said, but I know the price caught my attention. These pups were actually in our price range! I called and learned that the owners could meet with us later that afternoon – but they were over an hour away. I called my wife and told her that I really needed for her to get ready quickly to go someplace with me – without asking any questions.
Any guys reading this – how often has something like that worked for you? Well, it didn’t work for me either. I had to tell her where we were going and why, but it did get her ready quickly. I excused myself from work (“Urgent family matter I have to take care of”), picked up my wife (and our granddaughter who was spending the day with her) and headed up the road.
When we got there, we found that there were six of the cutest little creatures I had ever seen! Four of them were the puppies – the other two were the parents. One of the babies was a male, and he was already spoken for. A female was also spoken for, but the buyers hadn’t come to make their selection yet – so we actually had first choice among the three little girls. Well, the puppy was going to be my wife’s Mothers Day present, so SHE had first choice among the three little girls. Up until the time we got there I had, for the most part, been indifferent to getting a puppy. It was just for my wife.
When I started getting acquainted with Daisy and Roscoe (the puppies’ parents) and with the puppies, that all changed quickly and dramatically. By the time we had been there 15 minutes, I was trying to figure out how I could afford to buy both of the little females that were still available. That didn’t happen, but we spent the better part of two hours there. My wife played with all of the puppies together and each of them individually, and she finally made here choice. Some time in the future, I’ll have to write a bit about the joy of first being exposed to Yorkies – but not today.
Our lives changed that day. Bailey (that’s what my wife named our new baby) wasn’t just a pet in the house. Even before the hour ride home began, Bailey had won our hearts. She was a new family member.
We stopped at Petsmart on the way home. Remember – this was pretty sudden. We didn’t have ANYTHING at home for a puppy. We did have a little bit of food with us. Enough for about a week. The breeders were thoughtful enough to send home with us a small bag of the food that all of the puppies had been eating.
But we had no crate/kennel, no bedding, no toys … as we walked around in Petsmart, we realized just how much there was to not have, and we did not have ALL of it. We spent another $100 there, and it seemed that almost daily for a month or more, we thought of more things that Bailey “needed.”
As I write this, that was 27 months ago, and life is far different at our house. My wife often says that it’s a pretty sad commentary when about all you talk about is your dogs. I prefer to think it says a lot about your dogs when they rise above all of mundane daily stuff as a topic of conversation.
If you have a Yorkie (or more than one), you will certainly know what I mean. If you don’t have one, your day will come. In either case, you know why we’re here. We love our Yorkies. I plead guilty to being obsessed with Yorkies. And I’m happy you’ve dropped in. I hope you find enough of interest to bring you back!
I’ve been around more years than I care to think about, and I’ve had dogs for a good number of those years. I have loved every single one of them - they were great friends and companions - but I really can’t say that any of them completely took over my life. Not until a Yorkie joined our family, that is.
Getting a Yorkie wasn’t my idea. It was my wife’s. She had been saying for over a year that she wanted to get a dog again. We had been without a dog for over ten years, and losing our last one (a miniature Schnauzer) had been so heartbreaking that I just didn’t have any interest in going through that again. Our kids were grown, though, and I guess the maternal instinct in my wife just drove her to look for some little creature to care for. She settled on a Yorkie. I kept telling her we couldn’t really afford one, but the whole time I was keeping my eyes open for one to get for her.
For her. That was my attitude at the time. She wants a Yorkie pup, so I’m going to get one for her. I’ll have more to say later about how quickly and how dramatically attitudes can change – but for now I’ll just continue with my search for HER dog.
One day shortly before Mother’s Day in 2006 I was at work and opened the newspaper at lunch time for a quick glance at the dogs for sale area in the classified ads – something I was doing a few times each week. I don’t remember exactly what the ad that I saw that day said, but I know the price caught my attention. These pups were actually in our price range! I called and learned that the owners could meet with us later that afternoon – but they were over an hour away. I called my wife and told her that I really needed for her to get ready quickly to go someplace with me – without asking any questions.
Any guys reading this – how often has something like that worked for you? Well, it didn’t work for me either. I had to tell her where we were going and why, but it did get her ready quickly. I excused myself from work (“Urgent family matter I have to take care of”), picked up my wife (and our granddaughter who was spending the day with her) and headed up the road.
When we got there, we found that there were six of the cutest little creatures I had ever seen! Four of them were the puppies – the other two were the parents. One of the babies was a male, and he was already spoken for. A female was also spoken for, but the buyers hadn’t come to make their selection yet – so we actually had first choice among the three little girls. Well, the puppy was going to be my wife’s Mothers Day present, so SHE had first choice among the three little girls. Up until the time we got there I had, for the most part, been indifferent to getting a puppy. It was just for my wife.
When I started getting acquainted with Daisy and Roscoe (the puppies’ parents) and with the puppies, that all changed quickly and dramatically. By the time we had been there 15 minutes, I was trying to figure out how I could afford to buy both of the little females that were still available. That didn’t happen, but we spent the better part of two hours there. My wife played with all of the puppies together and each of them individually, and she finally made here choice. Some time in the future, I’ll have to write a bit about the joy of first being exposed to Yorkies – but not today.
Our lives changed that day. Bailey (that’s what my wife named our new baby) wasn’t just a pet in the house. Even before the hour ride home began, Bailey had won our hearts. She was a new family member.
We stopped at Petsmart on the way home. Remember – this was pretty sudden. We didn’t have ANYTHING at home for a puppy. We did have a little bit of food with us. Enough for about a week. The breeders were thoughtful enough to send home with us a small bag of the food that all of the puppies had been eating.
But we had no crate/kennel, no bedding, no toys … as we walked around in Petsmart, we realized just how much there was to not have, and we did not have ALL of it. We spent another $100 there, and it seemed that almost daily for a month or more, we thought of more things that Bailey “needed.”
As I write this, that was 27 months ago, and life is far different at our house. My wife often says that it’s a pretty sad commentary when about all you talk about is your dogs. I prefer to think it says a lot about your dogs when they rise above all of mundane daily stuff as a topic of conversation.
If you have a Yorkie (or more than one), you will certainly know what I mean. If you don’t have one, your day will come. In either case, you know why we’re here. We love our Yorkies. I plead guilty to being obsessed with Yorkies. And I’m happy you’ve dropped in. I hope you find enough of interest to bring you back!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)