Posts filed under ‘dogs’

Things to look forward to seeing if you’re in China for the Olympics!

Crowded apartment complexes with clothes hanging out to dry. [amelie: Oh, thank God. No more squatty potties.]

Open produce markets with brightly colored spices for sale. [amelie: Pretty. I want to sink my hands in them.]

… and dogs.

(It’s kind of disturbing…  Especially if you’re a dog lover.) 


August 8, 2008 at 9:27 am 7 comments

The Dog Count, Part 2

Driving home one day, my mom and I spotted the cutest puppy sitting as nice as you please on the side of the road. We took her home and she became my mother’s dog. I was definitely not allowed to name her, and since she technically was my mother’s dog, she named her Belle. Since Belle was so special, she got to live inside, while the others slummed it in the real world. Who am I kidding? They dug holes in the yard and slept all day. They couldn’t have been happier. Humans: 3, Dogs: 5

After Belle came Zoe, my grandmother’s psychotic Yorkie. Zoe was tiny and yappy and liked to bounce up-down-up-down-up-down like a basketball. She bounced for no particular reason, just because she could. And she lived inside. Humans: 3, Dogs: 6

Around this time, our outside dogs starting showing their ages. Bo was the first to go, followed by Samba, Cos, and finally Whiskey. It was difficult to drive up and not see their fuzzy faces and lolling tongues there to sniff and lick and make sure it really was me. It still is a little weird knowing they’re not there, but I know deep down that no one lives forever, not even dogs. Humans: 3, Dogs: 2

The next dog we inherited was Cedric, also a Yorkie and Zoe’s long-lost brother, although not so yappy and definitely not so bouncy. He immediately became my dad’s dog. Humans: 3, Dogs: 3

And then there’s Baby. She is a yellow dog of the parking lot variety. (Meaning she was a yellow dog that lived in the parking lot of my mom’s office.) She had it pretty good in that parking lot, too: Mom gave her dog food and water and treats, the people next door tossed her cheeseburgers on the weekend, the people across the street gave her bologna sandwiches and she stole slippers and stuffed animals from the Salvation Army. She still has a thing for paper and socks. Old habits die hard, I guess. And because Mom was afraid she would run away, she got to live inside. Humans: 3, Dogs: 4

The penultimate act in the dog count is the death of Zoe. She took off when my mom was walking all four dogs one day and was attacked by the vicious dogs that live up the road. And while I miss her everyday, we’ve got our hands full with the other dogs. Keeping my socks from being eaten by Baby is a 24-hour job. Humans: 3, Dogs: 3

In October, I finally got a dog of my own. It only took 23 years. Edie is mine all mine. I feed her, pay for her vet visits, fuss at her when she’s bad, buy her treats, train her—I do it all. I’m in no way a dog expert, but she’s a great puppy if I do say so myself. She’s a 50 lb. yellow mixed breed, a mouthy, toothy, scratchy, scrunchy monkey puppy. She is part chow, part lab, and all mouth. To date, she has eaten two cell phone, at least one ream of paper, fourteen “indestructible” dog toys, a couple of towels, four rolls of toilet paper, several pillows, one bra, four pairs of panties, and at least six pairs of shoes. Oh and one CD. I’m sure there are things that I’m forgetting. I’ve only had her since October. She’s stubborn and smart and has the cutest wrinkles in her forehead. Humans: 3, Dogs: 4

When I (finally) moved out of my parents’ house, I moved into my cousin’s house. She is overseas for a year, and I am taking care of her house and her animals. She has one dog, Moonpie, a somewhat prissy, always needy greyhound. I like him, though. He’s a big ole baby who is extremely tolerant of my monster. My cousin also has two cats who spend most of the day sleeping and eating. The final (as of now) count: Dogs: 2, Cats:2, Humans: 1

My girl Edie


July 28, 2007 at 4:09 pm 1 comment

My dog is a princess


I have a great dane.  She’s big.  She’s not the type of dog that you would expect to act like a pampered little snot.  And she really doesn’t.  EXCEPT when it rains.  And then, she turns into a pampered little snot.  Or, pampered BIG snot, actually. 

My dog will NOT willingly pee or poop in the rain.  She looks at me like I’m stupid when I try to get her to go outside when it rains. 

I woke up this morning to the sound of rain hitting my roof.  I LOVE sleeping while it rains, you can’t beat laying in bed on a rainy day.  But NO!  It’s a Tuesday, I have to get up and go to work, I don’t get to sleep during the nice, wonderful rain.  So I got up and called the dog for her to go outside.  She went outside and stood under the carport and saw the rain and looked at me with the most pitiful, pathetic look on her face.  So I go get my raincoat, thinking that if I go outside in the rain, she will too.  Nope.  I go out in the rain, and she just looks at me from the carport.  So!  THEN I go and get the umbrella, and I have to physically DRAG my dog out in the rain, and hold an umbrella over her so she can pee without getting wet. 

My dog is officially a spoiled princess. 

July 10, 2007 at 6:29 pm Leave a comment

The Dog Count, Part 1

dog bowl
When I was three, our neighbors gave us two black lab puppies. Being a three-year-old, I was not involved in the naming process, which was probably a sound parental decision (more on that later). Our dogs Bo and Shannon, were playful, energetic pups who liked to scare the living bejeezus out of me on a regular basis. Their favorite game was “Dance with ameliebee”. The rules were simple. Bo put his front paws on my shoulders from the back while Shannon did the same from the front. Then they would dance me around the yard, to the tune of my screaming and crying. And after my mom would rescue me, being the glutton for torture than I am, I would promptly turn around and go back outside. I was a little slow as a kid. Humans: 3, Dogs: 2

A year or so later, after we had moved to the lake, Shannon had puppies in the middle of a blizzard. Sadly, because it was so cold and because she chose to go into labor in the middle of the night with no warning to her human companions, only one of the puppies survived. Once again, I was not consulted in the naming of the puppy. My dad named him Greystoke, and if you catch that literary reference, I owe you a cookie. Humans: 3, Dogs: 3

We had to move back into town for a while and lived in an apartment with the tiniest fenced-in back yard. Moving to a tiny-ass piece of grass from being able to roam the woods on a daily basis was hard for the dogs, especially Grey. He escaped more than once and was tracked down by the cops at various liquor stores and high school football games. What can I say? I live in Mississippi.

When we were able to move back to the lake, Grey ran off for good. Shortly thereafter, Shannon was hit by a car on the highway and died. The day my dad found her on the side of the road was a sad day. Bo was the only one to keep on keepin’ on. Humans: 3, Dogs: 1

One of my mother’s students heard about our loss of dogs, and decided to give us a puppy from his dog. Who got to name the dog? Yeah, that would not be ameliebee. This black lab was named Cosmos (you know, black like the cosmos? I grew up with a nerd for a father. Deal with it). Later, we were begged to take on another puppy from Cosmos’ litter when her owners had to move. She was already named Samba. Humans: 3, Dogs: 3

We were later given another puppy, this one a mutt of the fiest-Jack Russell Terrier kind. And guess who got to name her? Finally, it was my turn. No more weird names that meant nothing to me. What name did I choose, on this, my first time naming a dog? You really want to know? You really want to know? Fine. I named her Whiskey. Shut up. Humans: 3, Dogs: 4

This was the final count for many years. Find out what happened next in part 2.

June 27, 2007 at 2:48 pm 2 comments

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