True, embellished and fictional stories for your amusertainment

Posts tagged ‘Italian Greyhound’

Dog Halloween Poem

As dusk arrives on Halloween,

the puppies run, the kiddies scream

with delight.

They’ve never seen

these costumes on the dogs.

Princess,

pirates,

skeleton,

yellow submarine,

quarterbark & cheerleader,

cowboy dressed in jeans.

Buns with a real dog inside,

a skunk that’s safe – no need to hide

A family photo filled with pride,

 

May the farce be with you!

Your IFF,

Pam

 

 

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Clear Misunderstanding

Last week I took Max to the vet for a routine vaccination. Before we went in, he looked like this.

Max doesn’t know that he’s going to the vet although he looks suspicious.

When he came out, I thought he would look like this.

Hot dog at the Bordello

Or this.

Top dog at the bordello

It’s with mixed feelings that I report Max is neither a gigolo nor a pimp.

Apparently, Max was not vaccinated for Bordello but rather Bordetella. I think it’s clear why I misunderstood.

May the farce be with you!

Your IFF,

Pam

Oops, We Did It Again

This has been an eventful week in my household. Last weekend, Stephen (human), Dewey, Mia (Italian Greyhounds), and I drove 130 miles to meet Max, a 3-year old Italian Greyhound.

Max – on the rescue website

Dewey is 14 and Mia, 13 (both from the same rescue organization as Max). We had been thinking of adding a young dog to our pack family who had the potential of becoming a therapy dog and we found that in Max. He came home with us. On the drive home, Max’s foster mom sent me this picture.

From Max’s foster mom

As excited as we were to adopt Max, it was also stressful. We weren’t sure how Max would fit in and whether the other dogs would accept him.

Max and Stephen on our first night home

Mia liked Max right away but Dewey pretended that Max wasn’t there.

Two buds

On our first full day together, Max wanted to be on my lap and I found I couldn’t get anything done so I improvised, creating a situation where Max could be with me but where I didn’t have to hold him with my arms.

Max is in the bag. I’m glad he only weighs 11 pounds.

Day 5 Max was still clinging to me…

Sweet little Max

and Dewey finally acknowledged his existence. I think everything is going to turn out fine!

At the end of Max’s 6th day

May the farce be with you!

Your IFF,

Pam

 

 

Size Doesn’t Matter

My household is filled with birds and dogs. The alpha is Amy, our blue-front Amazon parrot. She’s been part of the family for nearly 30 years. Initially she started out as a dog substitute but quickly created a spot all her own, one that can never be replaced.

Our first dog was an Italian Greyhound named Tony. Weighing in at 12 pounds, he was accustomed to being around birds and not eating them. The perfect fit. From the get-go, Tony knew that Amy was top-dog. Even though she was much smaller than him, he would never look her in the eye and usually kept his distance. Regularly, Amy would assert her position by climbing down her cage and chasing Tony across the room. She knew he was afraid of her and enjoyed reminding him of their hierarchy.

Years later, we still have Italian Greyhounds and the parrot continues to reign supreme. Recently, when giving Amy a shower, we captured footage of her unique relationship with our dog Dewey. Just as the dogs before him, Dewey clearly knows his place.

May the farce be with you!

Your IFF,

Pam

Off To The Races

I’ve never known my nationality with certainty although my parents guessed we had Irish and Scottish blood running through our veins. Because this has always been a source of interest, I decided to research my ancestry.

To date I’ve discovered I’m a mix of Irish, English, Scotch and German, with the latter a total surprise. Since I’ve never felt German, I thought it necessary to embrace my German heritage. The first step – attending Oktoberfest (in September – not October) in Germantown, Wisconsin.

Stephen and I arrived at the fest with our dogs in tow. We have two Italian Greyhounds (miniatures that look like big greyhounds that were left in the dryer too long). They’re skinny with long, long legs. It’s important to know this because the Oktoberfest was filled with short little German Dachshunds. Apropos for a German festival.

Big Dachshund

Homage to the German Dachshund

Not only were there more than 100 Dachshunds in attendance, many of them were scheduled to run in the Dachshund races. Dachshunds have short little legs, so we wondered how fast they could actually run. Italian Greyhounds have been clocked as high as 35 mph. Surely, German Dachshunds couldn’t run that fast.

We tried to convince the judges that our dogs were Italian Dachshunds and they should be allowed to race, but they were disqualified because their long legs gave them an unfair advantage.

Dachshunds run surprisingly fast

Run, Forest, Run!

Attending Germantown’s Oktoberfest didn’t exactly make me feel German. After all, I was accompanied by Italian dogs, wasn’t wearing lederhosen and didn’t drink beer from a gigantic stein. However, I did have fun. That’s what life’s all about – richtig?

May the farce be with you!

Your IFF,

Pam

Man’s Best Friend

A recent study reported that people love their dogs like children.

Researchers showed mothers, who also had a dog,  a variety of images while their brain activity was being monitored. Brain scans revealed that when the moms saw pictures of their dog, their reaction was the same as when they viewed pictures of their child, leading to the conclusion people love their dog as much a child.

Speaking from personal experience, I contend their conclusion is wrong.

Take these examples.

I would never let an 11-year old share my sweatshirt.

Aaaach!!! Alien!!!!

Aaaach!!! Alien!!!!

I wouldn’t let an 11-year old sleep in my bed.

I love waking up next to that face

I love waking up next to that face

I would never have beds in every room for my children.

It's not designed to be a bunk bed

It’s not designed to be a bunk bed

I would never dress like my children and then go out in public.

Arrgh!

Arrgh!

My dogs don’t talk back to me. They don’t ask for new gym shoes, car keys, or money to go shopping. They don’t go online or mess up my computer. They’re always happy to see me – even as they approach their teenage years.

Now it’s easy to understand why I disagree with the researchers.

Obviously, I love my dogs way more than kids (if I had them).

May the farce be with you!

Your IFF,

Pam

The Princess and The Pea

The Princess and the pee

The Princess and the pee

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