Jen w.'s Blog (5)

It’s Sunday morning. I should be out walking the dog right now. I am lost. I am gutted. I don’t know what to do with myself except try to keep busy so that I don’t have to think. My dog is gone.

Almost two weeks ago now, just after he turned 11 years old, Beasley began to cough. It wasn’t like…

Beasley is almost 8 years old. As the first dog I've ever owned, I probably could have chosen an easier time with a smaller, less hyperactive, dog (but who knew)?! I am not much more than 5ft 2". When I sit next to Beas on the floor, he towers over me! On ice, he can pull me along quite easily. For this reason, being able to confidently handle such a large beast was essential and so over the years, numerous attempts have been made to improve Beasley's manners.

Formal obedience…

Anyone who has a doodle is probably familiar with their tendency to "borrow" things that don't belong to them. I've been told by the "experts" who own pure-bred labs or goldens, that "borrowing" things must surely be the "crazy poodle" side of doodle-ism. On the otherhand, at least one poodle owner I know assures me that it couldn't possibly be the poodle side but rather "it's those nutty retrievers, you…

I have just managed to wrestle a soggy glove from the jaws of death. The process requires laser sharp timing. One has to grab a suitably tasty treat (regular biscuits won’t do. It has to be something special like a piece of dehydrated liver). One must then toss the treat in the opposite direction. The shaggy perp will then run towards the treat. But act fast as this may be your only your chance to retrieve the stolen item!  Should your timing be slightly off, the subject will dash back…

It was surreal. A lady in a bonnet and apron, sitting on top of a trampoline was playing with a black shaggy puppy. Here I was at a Mennonite farm - hardly the place you'd expect to find anyone playing with a puppy. Certainly not the place you'd expect to find a trampoline. The puppy turned out to be mine. The lady in the bonnet turned out to be the breeder...

It was the Spring of 2004, and here in the middle of nowhere, on a dairy farm near Listowel, Ontario I was…