I'm feeling Dogged

*Grab a snack, this is a LONG one!  But I had so much fun writing, I couldn't stop, sorry if your buns go numb!

Dogs.
They are freaking everywhere.
And we did this to ourselves.

Please don't get me wrong, I love our dogs and I want nothing other than for each one of them to be ours.

I am reminded of a conversation that Deron and I had once (ok like a gajillion times) about having more kids.  We both decided that we had some pretty awesome kids already and didn't want to start all over again with babies.  We decided that if at some point we felt the need, we would get a puppy.  At this time, Brewtus was the only dog in our future.  And I still wasn't sure I liked him. 

But over the last 5 years I have learned to love him.  And really, it wasn't hard. 

He's so humanlike, if only he had thumbs, it's a shame!

When I met Deron, I pretty much hated anything with fur.  And dating a man with a dog was against my rules.  Brewtus was gross.  His breath stunk (still does), he shed like a crazy beast (still does), he begged for food (still does), had terrible manners (still does), slept in the bed (still does) and was always in my personal space (this is now Simba's job). 
I even hated him so much, I gave Deron an ultimatum, it went like this:
"Dammit, it's me or the dog!" - shaking fist and I believe at least 1 foot stomping
"You'll learn to love him too." - putting arm around me and kissing forehead.
And as much as I hate to admit this, every time it happens, Deron was right. 
When we moved, my hatred for this dog increased a million fold.  Brewtus didn't care.  Not one bit.
And then life events happened.  And guess who was there for me?  The only one who was ok with my crazy way of dealing with grief?  Stupid Dog.  He broke me.  Brewtus is the best friend I could have asked for at that time.  He didn't judge me or the way that I grieved.  He didn't care what I said to him, as long as I was talking to him.  He didn't care where we went, as long as he got to go.  He didn't care if I was sobbing into his fur, I was showing him affection.  And he showed it to me too.  I love that dog more than most people.

The summer of 2009, we somehow got wrapped up in the Black & Tan Coonhound Rescue .  It is a wonderful organization that really serves these wonderful creatures well.  And I know I've talked about these girls before, but gol darnit, I'm doin it again.
Well, the way the story is told to me, there is a litter of 7 pups found dumped, starving, and half dead in a ditch.  They were able to save 4, they are in a shelter and need foster homes.  Sure we'll take 1, this will be great.  We've wanted a second dog for a while, this will be a great practice run to see how it will go.  And it's only fostering, it's not forever.  We have a practice run and do a leg of the transport run (they use volunteers to drive the dogs from shelters to fosters or forever homes, each volunteer takes a 1-2 hour shift and brings the pup to the next destination) with the remaining boy pup and instantly fall in love with the breed.  What beautiful creatures!  After we try this out and realize that, oh my gosh, these dogs are wonderful, we somehow ended up with the remaining 3 sisters from the litter.  They are 5 months old.

This story is heading south fast, but wait, there are good parts.

Here is the lover of the group.  We called her Momma.

She was the laziest, most easy going puppy I have ever met in my life.  She was also the most vocal.  I remember the first time I heard her bay and wondering how in the crap something so deep and beautiful could come out of this little body that slept 22 hours a day and barely moved.  She also proved to be a tough little cookie.  She once snuck her little body out our front gate and found herself in the path of traffic.  The crazy part, I'm not even sure she knew she was injured! We had her looked at and nothing was broken or damaged, just a nasty cut on her leg.  She was a trooper.  And never quit talking either.  She was the last one to leave our house.  We certainly missed her when she was gone. 

And then her sister "Snoop" as we called her, was the complete opposite.

This little girl was nuts.  Crazy, nuts.  We called her Snoop for a reason.  Always into something, never sat for more than 10 seconds, and certainly wanted your constant attention.  I took her on a long road trip to a family gathering in MN.  She did great, most of the time.  But this really gave me an opportunity to see what she was like away from her sisters.  Amazing.  We always joked that they were "Group Incapable", completely different dogs together and apart.  She was the second to go, to a wonderful family in Wisconsin who had another Coonhound.  I was FB friends with her new Mommy for a while, she seemed to fit in there really nice.  That made me feel good.

And then there was Bones.  What An Animal!! 

She was by far the smartest of the group.  She was also the scrawniest; hence the name she got.  She went running with me, and was the only one allowed to so as she was the only one who caught onto leash manners. She didn't beg at the table, she understood the word NO, and she kept her sisters in line.  She was the gentle "Mother" of the group.  I wanted to keep her, not that I picked favorites or anything because that would be wrong, but if I had a choice, I would have wanted her to remain with us forever.  She was the first one to go.  I think that was on purpose, and for the best. She went to another foster home in Omaha first and they renamed her "Luci", short for Lucifer.  Apparently, she wasn't the sweet, innocent, calm, and mild mannered girl she was with us there!  But she also has the best story.  Remember the book "Where The Red Fern Grows"?  There was a family in Omaha that for generations, when the Son's turned 10, they got a Coonhound, and started to learn the ropes.  Guess who got to be this family's hound :)  Bone's foster Mommy told me that when they came to meet her, the boy and Bones fell in love instantly.  She cried when they left.  And when they came back to get her, everyone cried.  Mom, Dad, Son, Foster Mommy, and Bones found her bay.  I am happy that she found her happy forever home, even if it wasn't with us. 

And while we loved all these girls, we figured something out.  Don't ever, ever, ever take in 3 littermates at 5 months old.  They are crazy, and sometimes downright evil.  They sure were lucky they were cute!  We loved them all, the experience would have been alot better for them, and for us, if there were only 1 at a time.  We'll just put that experience in the "Lesson Learned" column.

So then we got our house back and were able to make all the improvements that we were unable to do while we had the girls so we could sell the house and move to the country like we had always wanted.  This of course took time, but there were no puppies tearing up flooring or chewing thru drywall.  It was a good time.

We started looking at White Labs, we already had a Black one, it seemed fitting.  We looked at puppies almost everyday, trying to figure out a way to justify paying so much money for a puppy when all we wanted to do was love it.  It was amazing and heart stopping to see how much some people sell their dogs for!  And how much the bloodline is taken into consideration, and how great a hunter the Dad is and what a great Showgirl the Mom is.  It's crazy, just find the pups some loving homes and then get your dogs fixed, game over.

Some time passed, we got stuff done, and low and behold....a friend found a poor lonely dog wandering along the highway.  He had been sprayed by a skunk and had obviously been out there a while.  So being the kind soul she is, he came to live at her house until he could be reunited with his rightful owner.  Months pass, no one claims this beast, and so he shall become a Myers.  Did I mention he was a White Lab?  It's like the stars aligned and this boy was meant to come our way. 

He's yawning, it's cute.

The vet estimated his age at 2 when he arrived.  Keeping in mind we had just had 3 puppies, I'm thinking, no way in the crap am I gonna want another dog under the age of 47!  Well wouldn't you know it, this one came housebroken!  Whoo Hoo!!  And, he also came with a whole slew of fears.  Thunder, Cars, Deron Watching Football, Fireworks, Clapping Hands, Loud Voices, Sudden Movements, etc.  He definately came from a home not as lovely as ours. 

It's been almost 2 years and Simba has worked through most of his fears.  He no longer hides under furniture on Sundays during football season, but he still runs and jumps under the covers when there is a thunderstorm. 

He's trembling, Addie is a good comforter.

And while I will always love Simba, I don't always like him.  He is a stinker.  Brewtus has taken it upon himself to teach Simber the Error Of His Ways so someone can carry on the Legacy of Destruction. 
He knows how to open the garbage cabinet and pull out the can.  He can reach anything on the counter, and I'm fairly certain he can reach the top of the toaster although I can't prove it.  
He will eat anything.  And by anything, I mean anything.  Dog food, cat food, bird food, guinea pig food, cookies, cardboard boxes, pizza, wood shavings, any animals poo, grass, insects, lotion, rocks, carpet fibers, stuffed animals, plastic, pretty much anything that may or may not be edible. 
He also has this habit of rolling in stuff.  And by stuff, I mean gross stuff.  Dead snake, horse poo, cow poo, pretty much anything with a disgusting scent.  Apparently he finds this attractive.
He sheds.  Bad.  Like nothing I have ever seen before.  The man walks through the house and we watch the snow storm of white-ness fall behind him, like Hansel & Gretl's bread crumb trail, yes, he too shall never be lost.  Once I get dressed for work, it is a dancing game to not let him touch me so I don't have to 'de-fur' before going in.
He has become a Master Beggar.  He does understand "Get Back"; however, he doesn't always "hear you", as selective hearing runs in the dog blood in our house. 
He is constantly underfoot, and is always looking for direction.  Meaning....don't turn around and walk at the same time, he's RIGHT BEHIND YOU, and you will find the floor with your face very quickly!  He is truly a dog that NEEDS a master.  And he should probably be touching his master at all times as well.  If you move while he is asleep, don't worry, he'll get up, he wouldn't want you to have to do anything alone. 
We used to joke that Brewtus was our 120 lb lap dog.  Well, sometimes when something is true, it's not funny anymore.  Simba, while he may not be 120 lbs (I'm afraid to guess as he has filled out his saggy skin quite nicely in the last 2 years), he is definately a lap dog.  Or at the very least, a constant contact dog.

And then there's our Old Lady.  Well, she's Addie's and my dog.  We love her even though she's not a lab, cause we're not speciesist.

This is the pic from the Humane Society website, look at those eyeballs!!

  I was browsing thru the Humane Society website one day and read a story about an old girl who was an owner surrender.  Her story broke my heart, I needed to meet her.  If it was meant to be, I would know.  So, I went to visit her on my lunch break.  As soon as we walked into that dog room, and she looked at me with her Chocolate Butter eyes, and it was all over.  That poor girl was 10 (well, actually 11) years old, surrendered by her 1 owner where she lived since a puppy.  It was done.  Filled out all the paperwork, paid the adoption fee, and went back to work.  I picked up Addie from school and told her we were going to look at dogs, there was 1 I thought might be a good fit.  Addie knew right away which one was hers, I handed her the leash and the look on her face was absolutely priceless, I will never forget that happiness as long as I live.  We took her home, to live the rest of her years in a loving home where she could just be an old girl.  Well, her birthday is February 19, she turned 13 this year.  And she's aging gracefully.  When we adopted her, she was covered in fatty tumors, the non-cancerous kind.  Deron nicknamed her Chunks.  And now, between her normal aging process and the growth of these fatty tumors, she's making me cry, a lot.
At what point do you make that decision for your pet?  I know that she will tell me when she's ready, but will I know how to listen? 
Most of the time, she can move around fine.  When she can't, she can't even get up.  It's like her hips fall out of the joint and she has no control of them.  She has a tumor on top of her right hip and on the inside of her left, not sure if they are pushing her legs out or what because it's different day to day.  But if there is a car outside, she will do her darndest to chase it and "bark" at it.  I've watched her drag herself along the fenceline trying to chase cars on her 2 front legs.  She likes to chase cars and bark.  And most days, she can do this on all 4's. 
Most of the time, she eats and drinks water just fine.  When she doesn't want to, she doesn't.  There is an expanding tumor on the right side of her stomach, maybe shrinking her appetite.   Maybe she is mad because she gets absolutely no people food and the boys do, I don't know.  I'm just being a good Mom, she might hate me for it, but trust me, her intestinal tract thanks me!
She can't hear anything most of the time, we talk with sign language when I can get her attention.  But she hears airplanes overhead and hears those cars.  When we come home, she stays sleeping until we touch her.  We used to be able to just walk in her direction and the shaking of the floor would wake her up.  Now, there's been a few days, where I have been afraid to shake her awake because there has been so much commotion and she hasn't moved. This is the part that scares me the most I think.
Most of the time, she has no bathroom issues.  This is the reason for no people food, oh man!  This is also the hard one for me.  She's started having "accidents", and I'm not even sure we can call them that as I don't think she really knows it's happening when it does.  She is startled and scared when we jump up to stop her and take her outside. I don't want that poor girl to lose her dignity.  This could also be a result of those tumors pressing on her bathroom organs causing her to lose control, but I'm no vet, I don't know. 
The last time she was at the vet, she was all good.  Aside from the fatty tumors and her selective hearing (at the time it was clearly selective!) she was the picture of health.  I'm afraid to bring her back. 
Removing the tumors is not an option, the poor girl is 13 years old, no surgery for her. 

Anyways, the reason I started writing about my stupid dogs is because we were lucky enough to have another foster last month.  Another Black & Tan Coonhound.  She lived with us for only 1 weekend and found a forever home with Deron's cousins family.  They took a mini vacation last week, and Josey came to stay with us.  She was wonderful.  When her Mommy & Daddy came to get her, she was so excited and happy, she didn't even tell me goodbye.  That hurt my feelings Josey, but it makes my heart swell knowing that she is so happy her whole body wiggles.  She sleeps on an electric blanket.  She has 4 human brothers and sisters who play with her and love her and exercise her and dress her up.  She even has a kitty sister, their friendship is coming.  She is an incredible girl, and her family is lucky to have her.  It was a great reminder that we need to not have 4 dogs at a time. 

So, really, I've learned alot from my dogs. 
I've learned compassion.
I've learned that there will ALWAYS be fur in the house, and that's ok.
I've learned patience.
I've learned that leather furniture wipes clean real easy.
I've learned to communicate without words.
I've learned to not leave food out, or really anything that resembles or smells like food.
I've learned what it means to be a friend.
I've learned bags, cabinets, and closed doors are no match for a determined dog.
I've learned the importance of looking people (and pets) in the eye.
I've learned when you want something really bad, keep trying. 
I've learned to lick peoples faces when they are sad. 
I've learned that happiness is contagious.
I've learned that it's ok to be afraid and ask for comfort.
I've learned that leashes are unnecesary.
I've learned a belly scratch is pretty much the best thing in the world
I've learned to trust my instincts.
I've learned the importance of exercise.
I've learned sometimes it's ok to bite a person. 
I've learned that no one will ever mess with my family and Brewtus will protect me from getting tickled.
I've learned how to love unconditionally. 

And for that I thank them.  All of them.