There were GREAT days....

This post is all about Puff,  told by HER.

Puffers loved going for boat rides, so much that we had to spell B-O-A-T and even then he'd head for the locker where his life jacket was kept. Dancing in circles all the way.   Once he fell overboard in his excitement to talk to a pod of Dolphins where there were 3 immature dolphins. We were so afraid he'd get hurt, but they whole pod just circled around him,  nudging him to keep him afloat until we circled back to pluck him out of the water.   He could hear dolphins and sea turtles and manatees and would hang off the rail whimpering to them long before we could see them.

We'd take him out to the island every nice day after work. It was his dog park.  He'd run around, swim, sniff at stuff and make friends with everyone that came out to watch the sunset.

He washed up fancy, but generally was a mess, since he loved being in the water and swimming and rolling in the sand.   We'd just hose him off on the dock and let him roll in the grass to dry.   That, plus he HATED being groomed. 

Puffy belonged to the Idiot Marine, who named him Wolverine when they both were puppies.

Wolverine/aka Puff, loved playing rough house with the boys.   Nothing was ever too rough.

This photo was taken right before the IM left for his first tour of Iraq.  

He was even friends with the Mr., although they'd both deny it.

And like most things the children out grow, he became MY friend.  Once he threw himself in front of me and a large Chow,  who promptly picked him up by the scruff of his neck and tried to shake him to death. 

Puffy the Braveheart.   

I hope Ms. James doesn't mind that I modified her quote.  I forget what it origially said. 


But then,  there were sad days.   Pain, confusion, desperation, hopelessness....

On one of his last days with us,  Bonnie gave him 2 of her toys.

Snuggled them right up next to him.

Normally she wouldn't let him walk past her toys.

And then, there were no more days.

17 years go by so fast.

And my heart is broken.

I hope you are swimming with the dolphins now.

Arrrooooooss to Brutus the Frenchie!

Lookie what came in the mail today!!!   A reallllllly cool t-shirt from by BFF (Brutus Frenchie Friend), the wee Brute!  Isn't it COOL??!!  I won the GABE drawing contest thingy he did on his bloggie! 

It's got MY picture on it and a saying that is soooooo me...GOT SQUIRRELS?  He even sent HER a t-shirt too.  I was surprized they made em that BIG!   Her shirt was supposed to be short sleeved and they sent her a long sleeve tee....so when she called em to arrange a return, they told her to keep the long sleeve one and they'd send her the short one free!   SCORE!  

She was having an awful time taking my photo cuz the squirrleys were everywhere today!  Front yard, neighbors yard, side yard......and they wind me up like a top.  

I'm fixin' to launch myself at the palm tree in front.   I keep trying to scale it.

Not today though.   Lucky little vermin got away again.

I'm LOVIN' my new t-shirt.

It's from Cafe Press and they gots bunches of Scottie tees.

This is size LARGE, and it fits perfectly if any of you other stylin' Scotties need to know the size.

Thank you soooooo much Brutus! 

Yer my BFF!!!

Arrrrroooooooo!

Bonnie

Just a doga stretch

SHE does this clicker thingy...

sit...down...sit...down...sit

So it's sorta like push ups?

Except I get bored when the treats run out.

I mean, who wants to work for free?

I convert the sit thing into a doga stretch.

Stretch out my back feetsies

and then just do the

push up thingy.

It's the spirit of the exercise that counts, right?

If my skirt was longer she'd never notice

cuz it would hide my feetsies.

I'm going back to school soon.

For some reason my behaviour at the vettie office

was less than stellar.

Bratty was the word she used.

I prefer to use the term 'thinking for myself''.

Now....my good friend Digby is very ill.

Please put the power of pawreyer to good use on his behalf.

You can stop by and leave a word of comfort to

his peeps....the font and mongoose here:

http://wilfanddigby.blogspot.com/

sniffies till next time,

Bonnie the wee Scottie

In plain sight!

Can you see me?
I can hide on the beach, in my front yard which is covered in sea shells and anywhere it's white.

This is at the dog park BEFORE the skin problem.  I am on the big dog side, you can see some of the larger dogs in the distance.  I actually like this side better.  Some smaller doggies are intimidated by my enthusiasms.   Here are some photos of me on the little dog side:

Even the basket hound is giving me some space.  The little Maltese could hold her own though.  We had some fast zoom zoomies.   At first SHE was afraid I thought the Maltese was a bunny rabbit and worried I would catch her.  But she left me in the dust!   That was one fast pooch!   I've never hurt anyone, but sometimes the owners get concerned that I am too boisterous and strong.  

There were 2 weenie doggies there that day and this one was nice and polite, but the other one kept barking n growling and snarling at everydoggie.   Reminded me of Puffers so I ignored her.

This is me hoovering up something I probably shouldn't have.  My snooter is right down at ground level anyways so snagging a ground treatie is very easy.   Mystery muffins.

And this oh so not glamorous photo is me cooling my belly in the grass.  Again, probably not a good idea in a bark park.  Ditto the mud bath I took a few days later.  

My rash is not clearing up very well cuz I'm having a hard time tolerating the aunty buy aught icks.  They make my tummy feel icky all right and then I loose my lunch all over the floor about an hour later.

A little update on the Mr.  He was back in the hospital this weekend and now is sporting a new defibber thingy.  It's also a pacemaker/defibby combo thingy with all kinds of bells n whistles.  SHE said its a new shock collar for the Mr. If he doesn't behave she can send him a signal and zap him!  Truth or consequences!
I guess he got caught telling fibs one time too many. 

I see there are new puppies on the net, Katie n Bertie....and Becky from Rocky Creek is going to be on a bloggie too.   Any other puppies showing their cute little button noses around the bloggisphere?   Welcome little ones!  

Lots of soft woofies kisses to every doggie!
Bonnie

Expen$ive $pa Day?

So what is this?

It's my BELLY!

With bumps n missing skin n stuff.

Well, some of the bumps are supposed to be there, KWIM?

But not the icky irregular ones.

After a nice round of expen$ive tests at my least fave place, the vettie office, it is determined I have a $taff infection.   Possibly from the lovely mud bath I had a couple of weeks ago at the bark park.  Possibly not. Maybe from some lovely dried tasty thingy I hoovered up off the street during a walkie.

No parasites, no fleas or mites.

Not itchy either. 

Just another lovely $aturday morning at the emergency vettie place.

The only good thing is I get to have a Greenie Pill Pocket everyday for 3 weeks. You gotta get yer treaties where yah can when they got you on diet kibble! Of course, I don't get to go to the bark park till I heal up.

$igh.

Bonnie

Is it the Easter Bunnie???

Nope!

It's the Easter Bonnie!

I have all 4 off the floor zooming over to play with my Great Dane friend.

I hafta zoom, he strolls.

She hid my treats in a basket full of tennis balls.

I don't want the t-balls now, silly woman, I want the TREATS!

But maybe I will save this picture in case another

cracker dog insane terrier photo is needed.

More, please?

SHE stepped up the treat delivery a little.

This basket is tall, deep and narrow.

And the treaties are waaaaay at the bottom, under tennis balls.

Digging deeper......

Got em!

I hope everyone had a Happy Easter and lots of treats!

Maybe a stuffie or two.

Bonnie

Doesn't every Warrior Princess sleep on an embroidered pillow?

At my house, the swift warrior princess sleeps anywhere she wants!  And lately, that's been some pretty odd places.  When I get out of that darn cone of shame, I try to slip away and  sleep where no one can find me.

Behind the sofa worked for a day or two.   In the closet was good, till I got confused and ...ummm...pee'd on the quilt she had stacked in there.   And a couple of evening gowns.  And a shoe.  And this reallllly fugly purse that just needed to go.  Basically, anything of HERS, since she is the one strapping me in that THING.

Last night I wouldn't sleep in the big bed, even though she left off the cone thingy.   I first tried the bench at the foot of the bed.  Then I went into my crate and re-arranged everything and humphed at her and turned my back on the world.   When they finally got to sleep, I moved under the bed and found me a nice place up where SHE hides the good whiskey from the Idiot Marine and his buddies.  She doesn't care if they drink the cheap stuff,  but says there is just something wrong with mixing Diet Coke and premium whiskey.   Everything was going just fine until early this morning when I decided to clean the bottles where dribbles had run down.  Apparently Ms. Light Sleeper heard the bottles clinking around and got suspicious.   It took her a whole handful of cookies to coax me out from under the bed.

Now, in this photo, what you can't see is the coffee table.  It is metal and glass topped, with bands running around it on all sides.  It makes the perfect escape hatch.  If she comes near me with that THING, I can dart under the table and she can't get me.  It's big enough I can dart from side to side and it's heavy enuff she can't pick it up easily.  I don't normally sleep on the floor. That's where Puffy the ancient sleeps and I am sooooo above all that.  I prefer the sofa where I can jump on him if I need to. But she's pretty quick for a woman of that age, and can usually catch me up there.  

So for now, the swift warrior princess is keeping her options open and has a clear escape plan in place. There's just so much low calorie kibble and humiliating cones a terrier can stand before strange things start happening.   KWIM?

Bonnie the not so wee Scottie 

The Dreaded Cone of Humiliation

HELP!

I've been attacked by the dreaded cone of humiliation.

Get me out!

Send the biggest bestest chewers and chew me out.

Puuuulllllleeeesssseeeeee?

I'm so saaaad. Please help me. 
Not only do I have this awful thingy strapped around my neck, but I've got a hurt toe too.
My nail bed is all swollen and it hurts and I NEEEEED to lick it. 
Waaaahhhh!!!!

Not only that, but it smooshes my ears and my pretty beardie.

It's making my lovely Scottie profile look...well..

rather unflattering. 

Please help me!

Bonnie

Walking Mr. Daisy!

I've got a new job these days!  I'm the Mr.'s  personal coach!  I get him up and out twice a day.  Well, usually twice a day unless it's raining.  I don't DO rain.   Can't stand it in my ears.  We suit up in our exercise gear and head out to pound some pavement.

                                        

We start out slow and work up to a nice brisk walk.  

Look, someone hasn't picked up their paper yet.

They obviously don't have a superb Scottie to bring it to them.

This is MY street.  I own it!  I mark it regularly.

Well, me AND Puffy.

He says it was his street first.

Pftttt!

It's MINE!

We walk about 1.5 miles now.   In the beginning we did like a block and it was slow going.  But we're both getting better. I had to toughen up my feetsies as I'd been doing so much couch sitting taking care of the Mr.

     I picked up a few sandspurs along the way at first.  But we are both  getting more fit. 

We take apporpriate rest breaks.

Especially when we stop to chat with neighbors.

OK, that's enuff resting. 

Time to move out!

This way!

No more yakkin' it up with the neighbors.

SQUIRREL ALERT!!!!

Squirrel at 10 o'clock!

Lemme at him!

I can take him!

It's a good thing I had on my sports bra or else I would have taken the Mr. out when I bolted.

As it was, I did an arse over ears flip when I tried to jump the vermin!  Splat out flat on my back in the middle of the street!  It was sooooo embarassing.  

Now we are heading for home. 

We'll rest up and head back out later.

Walking Mr. Daisy!

For Hamish

O Flower of Scotland,

When will we see

Your like again,

That fought and died for,

Your wee bit Hill and Glen,

And stood against him,

Proud Edward's Army,

And sent him homeward,

Tae think again.

You will live on forever in our hearts and minds.....all our love,
Bonnie  and the support staff

Puffy's Barkday! Happy 17 old man!

HAPPY BARKDAY PUFFY!!

She's going to tell this story as I wasn't even a twinkle in my great great grandmothers eye yet.

It's hard to belive Puffy has made it to 17 years old.  I attribute it to bottled water and lots of exercise and love.     I thought I'd tell you the story of how Puffy came to live with us.

The youngest, referred here normally as the Idiot Marine, was in the 2nd grade at the time.  We had no idea he wanted a dog.   For his birthday or anytime.   His sister had a wonderful German Shepard at the time and he loved that dog, but he never said he wanted a dog.  One day we got a note from his teacher asking us to call her at home.  We imagined the worst of course...he's having trouble at school.   She wanted to relay what had happened in Chapel at school that morning.  The students could submit prayer requests to be shared during Chapel.  They normally have 2 or 3, like someones Grandmother was in the hospital or Dad was on a long trip, the kinds of things small children worry about.   He had taken the time to write out a request asking God to please let him have a dog for his birthday.   She thought we ought to know as this was so out of line with his character of not attracting attention to himself and that we needed to be prepared in case a dog wasn't in his future.  

We were petless at the time, and had not planned to add any animals to our home, of any kind, especially a dog.   Maybe a hamster if pushed.   The Mr. and I talked about it and decided if we got a dog, it had to be small so we could keep it in the house and one that played well with children as we had 2 boys left at home. We wouldn't purchse a pet from a pet store and would maybe ask around to see if anyone had any puppies they raised in their homes.  Puppies that have been hand raised are usually more stable.   And if nothing fell out of the sky,  we'd just not deal with a dog at his time.   We weren't actively looking either.  

Well, one of the Mr.'s friends knew someone that had 2 cocker-poo puppies for sale.  Hand raised in the home, not from a puppy mill.  We thought about and said that would work out as I had a cocker poo as a child and she was a wonderful playmate.  He went over to check out the 2 cocker-poos and they had another dog there,  a 3.5 months old Malti-Poo  that belonged to their adult daughter who was over visiting. This pup just fell all over the Mr. and the other 2 had  nothing to do with him.   He talked the lady into selling him this Malti-Poo puppy.   The daughter was ok with it,  said she'd rather have one of the cocker-poos as they were not as playful as the Malti-Poo who was wearing her out.  

He brought him over to me at work so I could see him. He was double fisted handful of cream colored fluf. You couldn't tell which end was which unless you could see his pink tongue.  We took him home and put him in the garage.  Then we picked up the kid from school and told him his birthday present was in the garage. When he first say the dog,  he goes:  'What's THAT? A CAT?  You got me a CAT?'

It took a while to convince him it was a dog.   I don't think he knew anyone that had a small dog, much less a fluffy one that was the size of a kitten.   Sometime later,  he told us about asking God for a dog for his birthday but thought God made a mistake, as he wanted a German Shepard!  He asked me if this dog would grown up to be a German Shepard.   My response was that sometimes God gives you what you need and can handle at the time, not what you think you want.  

He named the dog Wolverine.   He would fuss if anyone called him anything else, and we are big on nicknames around here.   I called him Poopsie for a while as that is what puppies tend to do.  Poopsie oopsie!  That morphed into Pooper,  then Puffer, then Puff and Puffy.   By the time he becames Puffers, he was a grown teenager and really didn't care what we called him.

Puffy was perfect for two rowdy boys.  He ran and played constantly,  fetch the ball,  pull the rope, jump over people, run along side outside and never ran away from the boys.   Eventually as the boys got older, they turned to other toys,  girls and cars.   He then became my dog.   He'd run the Mr. out of the bed if he could get away with it.   The 4th  child married and the 5th, the idiot Marine, went off to fight in Iraq. 

After the boys left home,  Puffy would go into their room and sniff about looking for them.  I put an unwashed t-shirt on the foot of the bed after the Idiot Marine left home and he'd get up there and sleep on it during the day when we were gone.   He still has a 6th sense and can tell when someone is close to home.  Like 5 miles away close.  

We know he won't be with us too much longer.   He's very frail, but still has spunk enough to start fights with Bonnie and doesn't back down when he does.  That alone will probably cause his demise.  But for today, he's still here.  Still eats like a chow hound, does his regular rounds and likes to get out for walkies even though he's arthritic.   Some people ask us why we don't have him put down as he does have some health issues.   Why would I do that as he seems to be enjoying his life?   He doesn't appear to be ill or in pain, except for the aged hitch in his giddy-up.   Yes, he's smelly.  Yes, he has some funky spells,  Yes, he's ornery as all get out but I suspect if I should live so long,  I would be the same. 

So for today Puffy,  enjoy your PUPCAKE, lick the icing,  eat what you want to all day and be merry! Heck, we may even give you a bowl of your favorite beer tonight.

Happy 17 years with us and we hope you have many more!

Love,  Bonnie and Puffers support staff

Another Skeeree day!

Who knew a little snackie could cause sooooo much drama?

She gave me n Puffie a bone shaped snack, same kind we get every Sunday.  Today I was sooooo eager to get my treatie,  when I grabbed it, I got it in the middle and chomped down so hard the ends fell off and the middle went down my throat. 

I went into immediate dig it out my mouf mode.

Diggin so hard my mouf and feeties were covered in blood.

And if you aren't familiar with Scotties,  our leggies are short.  Little 4 inch stubbies.

So to dig in my extra long mouf,  I hafta curl my mouf under my chest to dig around in there.

I couldn't breathe!

I was in panic mode and she went into rescue mode.

She picked me up upside down and gave me a good shake and part of it fell out.  Then she shoved her big ole mitt down my throat and dug around in there for HOURS it seemed.

She got a bit of it out and then went back for some more.

Finally I was able to get a breath, but it still wasn't all  out.

She got the neighbor to drive us up to the emergency vet clinic which is about 35 minutes away.

I'm choking and gagging and she's prying around in my mouf tryng to see if there was anything caught in my mouf.   Of course, about 10 minutes from the vet, I start being able to breathe and settle down to wash the blood off my paws.    She made me go see the vet anyways, so there was another round of people poking me from both ends.

Now I ask you, in the name of all things Holy, why on earth do they need to take yer temperature when you are choking on a treatie?  First?  BEFORE they open yer yap and take a peek in the correct end?

Noooooo...lets grease up the temp stick and shovie it in the WRONG end.  I'm not SICK, I'm choking!!Maybe they think they needed to do a hind-lick maneuver?  Wanted to make sure that end was warm first?

Then the stoopid vet tech lady goes...."Oh what a cute Schnauzer"...hello, lady, see the TAIL and the naturally pointed ears?  The short stubbie leggies?  

And then again with the vet guy....you wonder where they go to school.....'Nice looking Westie'....um, no...See the color of my fur? WHEATEN, not white.   Ears long and on top of my head almost touching?  And if that isn't proof enuf, check out the LONG mouf...yeah, go ahead...open up the flashy jaws of death and try sticking yer fingers in there.....you'll wish I was a Westie.   Then, he had the nerve to try and tell HER that Scotties are BLACK.   Maybe at the online school where you bought yer diploma dude,  but not out here in the real world. 

For those of you that might need a visual reminder of the differences, here is a great link from Scottish Terrier and Dog News:

http://www.scottishterrieranddognews.com/2008/11/difference-between-scotties-and-westies.html

Anyways,  she tossed a bucket of money at them and we left.  Stoopid vet tried to tell Her I just had the treat stuck in my mouf.   Snort.   We both checked there.   

But the BADDEST news.....I had to get on the scale  (again...WHY?  If I was choking to death in the lobby would I still have to be weighed?)....and...I gained 5 lbs since the Mr. has been out of commission.  The obvious results of Her not taking me on my 3 miles hikes and the Mr. giving me shortbread.  I loooooooovvvvveeeee me some shortbread.   And the Mr. has been known to crumble up a couple in my kibbie.   I heard her mumble something about ONLY carrots and buying a treadmill.   

All this drama over a treatie gone bad.

All's well that ends well, I say.

Bonnie

  

Oh what a day!

You know it's not going right when you are yanked out of your boootee sleep at 06:30 and tossed unceremoniously into the back seat.    No coffee, no walky, no brekky, heck...I didn't even had time to comb my hairs!

Then, horrors of horrors,  I was dropped off at Miss Debbie's for a long spa day.  Heck, Miss Debbie wasn't even there yet!   Smart woman, sleeping in or dawdling over her coffee,  while little me was stuck in a high rise crate.      Then, when it was all over, and I was being rescued, this humongous storm hit!  Wind and rain coming down sideways in sheets.   The Mr. was trying to keep the golf umbrella over me and it turned wrong side out with a huge SNAP!   Oh my shattered nerves!  We had tornados and flood warnings. The metal roof on the boat dock was snapping and popping and She was afraid it was going to blow off.  She made me n Puffy stay in the front bedroom.   Then I was so over-wrought I tried to take Puffy's head off,  or I would have, but she caught me before I could launch my flashy jaws of death on his scrawny chicken bone neck.

I am not a happy little scottie. I've not had my bootee sleep,  they didn't have the right shade of polish for nails at the spa and that rotten Puffy got to stay home all day! He touched my toys, he had Krsipy Kreme donuts and the box was EMPTY when I got home.  Then he had the nerve to snicker about my pink bows.  I'm gonna put a bow on him and ship em off somewhere!!

Somebody better remember to turn off the alarm clock tonight, I am sleeping IN tomorrow and that stinkin Puff better not wake me up or he's gonna be sooorrreeee!

Humph!

Bonnie

peesssss........there better not be any smarty pants remarks about swift warrior princesses not wearing pink bows.

Swift warrior princesses can wear anything they like!

Including PINK.

Especially PINK.

I'm just sayin'..............

Where is HE??

She let my Mr. out of the house without ME.  She let him DRIVE.   ALONE!  Now I'm sitting by the door worrying if he'll remember to come home.  I'm just not sure SHE needs to be the one deciding things around here.  If it was ME, he wouldn't go anywhere without me. He NEEDS me around to protect him.  She said if the Dr. says he can drive, it's ok with her.  Driving Mr. Daisy isn't a job a sane person wants anyway.

I gave him a stern talking to when he got back.  Do Not Leave the House Without ME! Then I sniffied him all over and discovered he had been to brekky at Cracker Barrell with some of his buddies.  He did bring us turkey sausage biscuits, so I guess I'll forgive him if he doesn't do it again. 

Maybe.  Later.  Just not right now.

Ok, now I forgave him.  This was the first day he could get down in the floor.  We played tennis ball and stuffie toss and rope tug.   Then SHE gave him a big ole pile of towels to fold   She said if he was ok to drive and go off with his pals,  he was ok enough to fold towels.     I helped.  And then we both were all tuckered out so we had a big ole nap.

Later he was feeling good enough to go visit some friends.   I wasn't allowed to go because of this:

This is Jacob.  He is usually a big ole cream puff of a guy,  but about 8 months ago, they got this:

This is Issac.   He's a baby.  A big ole XRH baby.   He's taller and longer than Jacob already.  That crate is as tall as the bar in the photo.   The bar isn't the counter height size, but the tall bar height.  He's a BIG puppy, and like all puppies, he has been annoying the fur off of Jacob.   So the bitey face games get serious.
Until this SHE steps in and tells em whats what:

This is Cavi.  She's the smallest of the 3 Newfies.  But she is the alpha dog of their pack.  "You guys better straighten out in there.  Don't make me get up from my nap and come in there."

Anyways, I couldn't go.  I think my Mr. was afraid I'd get stepped on, or more likely,  do some serious bitey face of my own. 

Oh!
SHE says I hafta include a photo of Puffy since I nominated him for the Bad Sports group at M.M.
Here yah go!

 

He's snoozin as usual.   If he doesn't get 23 hours of sleep, he's useless.   Well, he's useless most of the time anyways, so he might as well be snoozin.

I'm packing for the MM show.
See you all soon!

Bonnie