Chihuahuas always Win

Gypsy, our half-feral two year old Boxer, has the chest of a heavyweight champion and the bark of a 5lb toy dog. The boys are embarrassed by her yips; Two so much so that he's written a story about how this travesty came to be. Here we go...

Once upon a time, when Gypsy was feral, she met a small Chihuahua. Gypsy was hungry -- very hungry -- so she said to the Chihuahua, "I am so hungry, I don't care that you are a dog and not a cat. I will eat you."

"Beware!" said the Chihuahua. "I am a magical dog, and I have the power to curse you if you hurt me."

"Ha!" said wild Gypsy. "You are my lunch!" And she pounced and ate him up in one bite.

But woe be it to Gypsy, the Chihuahua was indeed a powerful, magical dog. As Gypsy jumped on him, he had just enough time to mutter a spell, and he cursed Gypsy with his last breath. The curse? That Gypsy would grow big and strong, but no matter how big she was, she would always bark like a Chihuahua.

And so she does.

The End.

Welcome Home Gypsy

Here is the latest addition to the Grass Widow Household, the no-longer-wandering Gypsy. Two weeks ago she was in a kill shelter when Lone Star Boxer Rescue swooped in to save her. She spent two weeks being kenneled at a vet, she was spayed yesterday, and she came home with us today. She is unbelievably good and sweet, full of kisses she wants to give away, and instantly, madly in love with Knight.
In other words, a keeper.

Lamb's Last Day

Today ay 5pm we will take Lambie to the vet for the last time. Despite that this is the 3rd trip I've made to do this - Oscar and Lucy having preceded Lamb - it completely and utterly sucks. Six short years, for a dog who deserved 20 or more being treated like a princess. I hate today, I hate the cancer that has killed her, I hate knowing that the right thing to do is so hard and I hate doing it anyway. She is so sick. She needs to go. But no matter how many times this happens it never gets remotely easy.

I will hunt up some more pictures of my sweet in a few days, and write a little more about her silly, happy, just-dumb-enough-t0-get-my-way personality. Right now I'm busy saying goodbye.

Once a Boxer Girl, always a Boxer Girl

Lamb, our precious, dumb, sweet, beautiful six year old boxer, is dying. Yesterday she swore off food (only to be brought back by a liberal soaking of her dog food in chicken broth). Today she again gave up food, and only the beef roast we had for dinner could make her change her mind (2 pieces!). We have yet another prescription for steroids, which will hopefully bring her appetite back for another week or so, but she is very close to leaving us.

Nevertheless, a boxer girl cannot change her nature, no matter how ill she is, any more than the leopard could change his spots. Yesterday afternoon, I was snuggling her and telling her I'd do anything to help her feel better - if only I knew what that was. Husband spoke as Lamb (we often do this to one another - just bear with it): "You could smack my brother for me." So I leaned over and gave Knight a small pip on the bottom. Lamb wagged her tail vigorously. "Do it again, mom" said "Lamb's Voice" and I did. Again, the tail wagged and wagged.

Once a boxer beyotch, always a boxer beyotch. I'm so proud of my tough little mixer!

Advice from Lambchop

If you're not this tired at the end of your workout you didn't try hard enough.

The Best Way to Walk Home from School

What Boxers do Best

I think they've missed the sun more than we have.

The Demon-Possessed Dog

Lambchop thinks she can sing. Or maybe she thinks she's a lecturer in dog history. Whatever it is, she can stand at the fence and bark like nobody's business. It is - and always has been - her least-endearing trait. Unfortunately, it's common in Boxer girls, so I'm afraid we'll be afflicted with it in one four-legged form or another until the end of time.

When she gets going, we - or mostly I - tend to refer to her as the "minion of Satan" or just "that demon-possessed dog". Tonight, as she was warbling away and I was heading to the back door to put a stop to it, I mentioned to Husband that I'd been thinking that, when we finally convert to Orthodoxy, it would be nice to have the priest over to have a house blessing, exorcism, etcetera ... and then, I said, he can get to work on that dog.

"You ask too much," said Husband in reply. And you know, he's probably right.

Girls and Guns

Here in Texas, even our dogs love guns:

More Proof

that dogs are smarter than we are. I'm inside working and they are - well, see for yourself:

It's Good to have a Friend

Isn't it?

Work in Progress

Knight and his escape plans have led us to try some different options when it comes to crate containment.

This one worked for a day or two. You can see it's not working here, though - crate #2 is empty.

So far, this is the best solution. Poor Lambie - he ate her bed the first time I locked them in together, so she is sleeping on the plastic for now.

It's that or a steel box like they use for police dogs. And I don't have $1,100 handy, so this better work!

Knight Strikes Again

We came home from swimming tonight to find Knight, alias Houdini, outside his box again. The trail of evidence:

The utterly destroyed crate:


The chewed up rope I thought would keep the crate door closed:

First stop, the recycling bin:

Milk cartons make great chew toys:

The guilty one in his lair, aka, our bed:

What am I going to do with this animal!?

Camo Dog

Meet Knight!

We have a new boxer! He's been with us for a week and all is well. He's two, from Boxer Rescue, and is just the sweetest thing.

As you can see, Lambie has been the perfect Texas lady, welcoming him and sharing everything with him.

Isn't he a baby?!

Lonely Girl

Poor Lambchop:

I think she's trying to stay on one side of the blanket, just in case.

The Empty Spot

The one in our hearts is much bigger.

Oscar Dog

Our baby Oscar dog is gone, just one month shy of his 10th birthday. Here are some pictures of our sweet, sweet boxer rescue puppy. He was the best of all possible pets - a jarhead among dogs: loyal, devoted, fierce and kind.

Well done, thou good and faithful servant.

D-Day

For Oscar is this coming Saturday. He's just not happy anymore. He's not in pain, but it's time for him to go.

I'm not doing very well with this, even though it's the logical and necessary thing to do.

Temporary Repreive

Oscar is much better today, so we are holding off on calling the vet for now. Not permanent good news but a nice reprieve all the same. I'm glad to have my smelly puppy around for a little longer!