Adventures In Tucson

German Chocolate À La Mode

It's been almost a week since my mom's birthday last Thursday (January 10th) and I meant to post a Happy Birthday Wish but was too busy to do so. The night before her birthday I drove down to Tucson, unbeknownst to my her, picked up a steamy, melty pizza pie from Oregano's (best.pizza.EVER) and showed up at their front door. My dad knew I was coming so he quietly let me in while my mom peeked through the front blinds, wondering who could be ringing the doorbell at 7 o'clock at night. I sicked Dookie on her while she was peeking and got the best surprised response that I hoped for! (yay! I love surprises!)

We spent the next morning having coffee and then went to the church to help serve lunch to the kiddies at school, which I immediately agreed to do only after making sure there were no hair nets or booties involved. (Only kidding. Kind of.) When we were finished, we went out for barbecue per my mom's request.

Thanks for lunch, Daddy!

After a little shopping we drove back home to relax, only to find that Dookie had burrowed under the gate and gotten out. My first reaction was to shake my head and say, "Oh, Dookie! Silly puppy!", followed by a reality check, during which the panic set in. She was only wearing her collar and had no single piece of identification on her. (Bad! Bad puppy owner!) We scoured the neighborhood and all I could think was the worst. Cute, potty trained (more or less) puppy with no tags... Someone will scoop her up and love her forever. Busy intersection... Unthinkable horror! Either way, I'd never see her again! Screw my slippers, Christmas ornaments, carpeting, dishwasher (don't ask) ... I wanted my baby back! A couple of hours of driving around streets and allies, and a few tearful phone calls to the Humane Society later, I spotted my parents down the street. They had pulled off to the side of the road to ask a couple of teenagers if they had seen her. My mom began waving her arms at me like she was signaling a rescue helicopter. Running as fast as my flip flopped feet could carry me, I landed on their front porch with mascara streaming down my face. Dookie had been running up and down the street and then managed to find the one house with three other pit bulls. She just sat on their front stoop until someone let her in so she could hang with her PB Homies. I could have peed myself, I was so relieved to see her hop out the door all puppy-ish and happy with no CLUE as to what she put her mama through. Kisses, kisses, hugs, tears and more kisses.

That evening, my dad boarded up the gates the best that he could, while Dookie no longer did her duty unattended by a human (even if the thermometer outside does read 20 degrees Farenheit). My mom opened her gifts, we sang Happy Birthday and my dad served up cake and ice cream. We kicked back to watched Leno and Conan, while Dookie made herself at home on her own personal doggie bed.

Love the Dook

I drove home the next afternoon so I could go to work. Needless to say, Dookie now has a brand new shiny ID tag and our next visit to the vet will include microchip placement!

Soft, Fluffy, Warmness

9/365, originally uploaded by scoobers.

One of my years old, worn out, yet beloved slippers went missing last month and in January it is absolutely necessary to have a cozy pair of slippers to keep one's feet toasty warm, especially when there is an over abundance of cold, hard tile throughout one's living quarters.
Against better judgment, I decided to brave the hoards of shoppers during one of the New Year sales events but ended up scoring these faux leather and sheep skinned little gems at Gap Body. Hidden amongst the slew of socks and slipper stockings adorned with snowflakes and candy cane stripes was the last of their kind with a 50% off the listed sale price. I swooped in and snatched them up before Mama Dooney and her three baby Bourkes could get their hot little hands on them. What can I say? You snooze, you lose. Plus, payback is a beeotch when you practically swipe the last pair of medium sized, super cute, penguined pajama bottoms out of my hand.

I am in love with my new slippers or, as I soon dubbed them, Dookie's new chew-toys. When I walked into the living room wearing them for the first time, Dookie ran to me, tail wagging, leaping up, excited to see me. I rubbed her head as she leaned against my leg and proceeded with an ankle drenching lick fest. My new slippers, adorned with little bows and dangling puff balls proved too tempting for her and the affectionate licks turned into to an attempt to sever a puff from an unsuspecting slipper. I offered only a preview as to what would transpire if ever a mangled slipper should be found. Needless to say, it will not be a pleasant sight for the slippers, me or for Dookie.

I'm taking bets. How long will they last in the House of Dook?
One month? One week? An hour?

Because the house? Is no longer mine. She has taken over it and all that is contained within. In an attempt to protect the slippers I have stocked up on fluffy, sheep skin 'bones', soft squeaky toys and ropes that will serve as distractions. I have also taken to reading the books on obedience, chewing, and house training that Laura got me (us) for Christmas.

Obedience 101: An Intro to Not Destroying Everything In Your Path

Also, apologies in advance to the Pet's Mart trainer who will most definitely have his/her hands full when we make an appearance. Please. We need you. Give us a chance and don't ban us from returning. Thank you.

Animal Cruelty

Emulating Max, The Grinch's Dog

It's all in the name of Christmas, I tell you!

I am a participant in Holidailies 2007.

The Sound of Baaaaaaad. . .

. . . is the crunching under your shoes that you hear when you walk in the front door.

BEFORE

Dookie decided to take it upon herself
to redecorate for the holidays
while I was at work lastnight.

AFTER

I am a participant in Holidailies 2007.


*Update: 12/17/07- Dook picked a fight with the ornaments again and is being put on time out while I work from now on. When she decides that she can peacefully co-exist with the holidays, she will regain her house privileges.

A Dookie In My Bed

When Dook first came to stay, I was pretty adamant about not having her on the furniture. The trainer told me I was to use repetitive, positive reinforcement to get her follow commands and redirection to discourage bad behavior. My own voice rang in my ears while I slept, "Speak. Speak. Speak. Speak!", in every possible intonation. Eventually, she did learn to speak, sit, stay, wait and walk. We're still working on the walking because it's really more of a "How many times can I twirl and wrap the leash around 'Two Legs' so that she falls and makes a fool of herself in the park" type of maneuver. The other problem was laying down. She doesn't seem to get the concept of immediacy. Lay down. Do it now and do it there. She stares blankly, yawns and moves on.
Also, she lays where ever she wants to. I admit that I, after no help from others who, because Dookie is simply irresistible, continued to let her jump up into comfy laps and couches, have become lax in that area. First, I allotted her the hassock which was covered with a stylish Mexican blanket. Before you say "The what?" The hassock. Ottoman. Foot stool. All the same thing. And no, I do not use 'davenport' in place of couch. Sofa, yes. Not davenport. Way too forties. Anyway, first there was the hassock. Then it was the big chair but only if it was covered properly. Next, came the couch but only if I am there to cuddle with.
The beds, however, and anywhere there is carpeting was a 'No Privilege Area'. She had peed and pooed one too many times, in the presence of me even, that there was no way in hell she would be allowed in there anymore.

Recently, I was carrying a load of laundry into my room and found this:

A Dookie on my bed.

Too cute for words. Yes, she is aware. She is also big enough to get up there by herself. And get down by herself. And get up there herself. And get down by herself. And... you get the picture.




I am a participant in Holidailies 2007.

Carols

Ohhhhhhhhhh!

The weather outside is frightful
But in here it's so delightful
And since I've no place to go
Let me Oh, Let me Oh, Let me Ohhhhh Ohhh Owww!

I am a participant in Holidailies 2007.

House Arrest and Punishments

Every year I have the same ritual. With good intentions, the thoughts and ideas of what to get or make for Christmas gifts start early, around late September. Then I sit on it, and wait. Procrastinate. Then I put it off some more . The actual production portion of the process does not begin until it's almost too late. I didn't start until last night. It is great fun for me to make homemade gifts for my friends and family but I end up procrastinating to the point that I stress about the number of full days left to complete them. So, for the next couple of weeks I will be on house arrest frantically trying to get my act together in time for the big day. The good news is that I have a made a small dent tonight.
The bad news is that I am stuck at home without a phone right now. I use my cell phone as a primary line because to pay for a house phone would be a waste of money. About now, I am wishing I had one as a back up. While I was at work Dookie found the charger, like she finds all the vital items in my house that are unintentionally left exposed, and destroyed it.
During a break from cards, glitter and glue, I was cleaning the kitchen and Dookie, wanting to make up for cutting me off from the rest of the world, decided to help by licking the dishes in the dishwasher clean. Dirty or not, that's gross. Several people have offered suggestions on how to keep her from doing the things she should not be doing. The most effective method so far is to drop a metal cookie sheet on the floor. The sound scares her and I don't have to do any spanking, yelling and crying from guilt. The least effective method to date? The spray bottle.

It's all great fun to her.







I am a participant in Holidailies 2007.

Bark. Bark. Bark.

Got that?

Dookie the Christmas Pooch
(not to be confused with Mr. Hankey, The Christmas Poo)

Bekah! Dookie and I were just talking and she wanted me to pass a message along to you. She says to tell you Merry Christmas and that she can't wait to terrorize you and your brother again. She also says to tell Bear that she's getting bigger, especially after Thanksgiving leftovers, and that she had better watch out. She'll be kickin' butt and takin' names. She might have to tell her herself since you do not speak 'bark' yet. She says she loves you.

I love you too!




I am a participant in Holidailies 2007.

k911

Dinner, uploaded by scoobers

Dookie gets so excited over little things, sometimes I think she might spin out of control and spontaneously combust. Even before I pour the food into her bowl she jumps and twirls, snorts and kicks her paws against my back as I make my way across the kitchen. Who knew dog food could be the cause of such a display of enthusiasm? She does well in that she waits for me to finish pouring but when she hears the words, "Ok, go ahead", she attacks the food like the kibbles are making a run for it and doesn't bother to swallow but literally inhales them. Literally. First, there was this deep coughing noise, following by choking and then nothing. I watched her for a few seconds (i.e. an eternity) to see if she was going to clear the kibble but nary a bit. My instinct kicked in so I gave her a quick thump to her back. It never occurred to me how a back-blow might be construed by a dog. Totally taken by surprise, she scurried to to opposite end of the kitchen and looked up at me over her shoulder with huge eyes, full of shock and disbelief. I think she thought I was trying to kill her. She started coughing again and slimy chunks of food flew onto the floor.

Apparently, I need to take some doggie CPR classes in case something similar, or worse, happens again. Thanks, D for the idea because it never crossed my mind that something like that existed.

Photo taken from Ad Camp Creative

Thank You Note

Dear Aunt Laura,

Thank you for the pig. I really enjoyed it!

Love,
Dookie (the Destroyer)

BEFORE

AFTER

Restless Sleeper

Restless Sleeper, originally uploaded by scoobers1.

This is why Dookie is not allowed to sleep in my bed. I'd never get any sleep. But the question is... how can I be mad about the stethoscope?
Seriously... look at her!

**sigh**

Stethoscope

The sad thing is? This was not my stethoscope. It was a friend's. On loaner. Since mine was stolen by a doctor making rounds. Now, I have to buy two. Awesome. Thanks, Dookie.

Laundry Day

Laundry Day, originally uploaded by scoobers

In Dookie news: She has more or less learned the commands sit, stay, speak, lay down, wait and "Go get it!" She knows "Good Girl" means she'll get a goodie of some sort and that "Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaad Girl" is, well, bad. We loosened her puppy collar to the last notch. When she grows out of that does she officially become a 'dog'?

Glam to the Bone

Glam to the Bone

On the day I was found
All the kids gathered round
The girls spoke up
And they said "Gotta take this one home"
They could tell right away
That I was glam to the bone

Glam to the bone
Glam to the bone
G-G-G-G-Glam to the bone
G-G-G-G-Glam
G-G-G-G-Glam

I chewed a thousand shoes
Before I met you
I'll chew your Minolo & Choo's, baby
Before I am through
I wanna poo on your floor, pretty baby
Yours and yours alone
I'm here to bark at you, honey
Cause I'm glam to the bone

Glam to the bone
G-G-G-Glam
G-G-G-Glam
Glam to the bone

I make the neighbors yell
I'll make the mailman run
Wreck your house all to hell
But I'll be lots of fun
I wanna pee on your burbur, baby
Yours and yours alone
I'm here to whine at you, honey
Cause I'm glam to the bone

G-G-G-G-Glam
G-G-G-G-Glam
G-G-G-G-Glam
Glam to the bone

~Written by Scoobers
~Inspired by the Dookster, her new sweatshirt and George Thorogood and the Destroyers.

Dookie would like to give her thanks to K.B. and her herd, without which she would not be where she is today. She loves her sweatshirt!

THANK YOU!

Glamour Girl

She's No 'Lady'

Bow-chick-a-BOW-WOW

Manners, Dookie.
I really need to have a talk with her.

Vincent D'Onofrio Tried to Kill Me

Mommy and Daddy were getting married again. I went over to their house to get ready and, like one of those bad-hair days, was having problems with my dress, makeup, hose (why I was wearing pantyhose is beyond my ability to analyze) and was pressured for time. I could hear people in the living room and Christine peeked around the kitchen corner to see. All we could see were the legs of people sitting in folding chairs. In the family room, Daddy was sleeping in his chair and I went to go wake him up to tell him to get ready because we only had 15 minutes. It was hard to wake him up and when he finally did, I realized it wasn't him and the man got up very quickly, grabbed my arm and yelled at me.

The situation had turned so that my whole family was being held hostage in our home by this man who I think was Vincent D'Onofrio (the guy from Men In Black, The Cell & Law and Order: Criminal Intent). He had grabbed mommy and had a gun but suddenly I did too. Hiding behind the couch, I was trying to shoot at his feet from underneath it but missed. Mommy got away and he came after me. I ran out the front door, into the yard and buried myself under a large evergreen bush that used to grow on the east side of the house when I was little. I kept saying, "Please don't see me", over and over. Vincent ran out after me and jumped into my dad's old yellow Toyota Corolla. I crept into the Gile's front yard and into their garage as he drove slowly down the street looking for me. I could hear him yelling what he would do to me when he found me.

When I ran into our neighbor's home, I yelled for help and a man who was not our neighbor appeared and told me that since it was not his house he could not let me in... Not even to use the phone! Over the wall, in the back yard, I could hear a commotion going on.

I woke up to find Dookie had broken through her gate and had gotten out of the kitchen.

I'll be good while you sleep

Love the look like she wants back in...
Note the mess behind the gate.

I incorporated a conversation that V and I had at work regarding Vincent D.
Then, the crashing and crying I heard woke me from a deep sleep and vivid dream.
Gotta love the Dook.

Red Lobster

Lobster Fest, originally uploaded by scoobers1.

She loves her lobster.

Well, Sh**!

yet again.

It's been quite the challenge naming my little pup. She's such a little shit and that's all she ever seems to do. Inside, outside, day and night. Poo, poo, poo. It doesn't seem to matter if I am home, awake, in the same room or not. Sometimes she does it up to five times a day! For such a little thing she sure is full of it. It has to be said that she does seem to be making a little progress and for that, I am so very proud of her. She sits in front of the back door and gives me a look, "Mom. Gotta go again." Unfortunately, I can not hear a look and it goes unnoticed. By the time I see her it may be too late. We need to work on getting her to use her 'words'. I picked that up from some moms I know that tell their kids, "Use your words." I wonder if it works with puppies.
On the order of being a little shit, she seems to be on a mission: Chew and Destroy. Every thing I own is now on the table, in a drawer, on my bed, thrown into the laundry room or stuffed into the hamper. Next, I'll need to levitate my furniture. On the up-side, my house is so TIDY! In order to keep sane, I'll need to adopt a more positive way of thinking. Upon seeing the shredded, unrecognizable item and thinking to myself, "I am going to kill that little shit!", I need to say to myself, "I didn't need that lap top charger anyway", or "Who needs three remote controls? I'll get exercise getting up and changing the channel."
Grr.
So, a name came to me that seems to fit her perfectly. I think it's quite cute and she seems to respond to it. Some are not too fond of it, telling me it's gross or just plain dumb (thanks for the constructive criticism, 'C'). In my opinion, it may be the cutest version of the word Shit ever muttered.

Dookie! It just rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?

Let me leave you with this little snippet I received in an email today. I think it's a sign.

"The Most Functional English Word"

Shit may just be the most functional word in the English language.

You can smoke shit, buy shit, sell shit, lose shit, find shit, forget shit,
and tell others to eat shit.

Some people know their shit,
while others can't tell the difference between shit and shineola.

There are lucky shits, dumb shits, and crazy shits.
There is bull shit, horse shit, and chicken shit.
You can throw shit, sling shit, catch shit, shoot the shit, or duck when the shit hits the fan.

You can give a shit or serve 'Shit on a Shingle'.
You can find yourself in deep shit or be happier than a pig in shit.

Some days are colder than shit, some days are hotter than shit.
Some days are just plain shitty.
Some music sounds like shit, things can look like shit, and there are times when you feel like shit.

You can have too much shit, not enough shit, the right shit, the wrong shit or a lot of weird shit.

You can carry shit, have a mountain of shit, or find yourself up shit creek without a paddle.
Sometimes everything you touch turns to shit.
Other times, you fall in a bucket of shit and come out smelling like a rose.

When you stop to consider all the facts, it's the basic building block of the English language.
And remember, once you know your shit, you don't need to know anything else.
You could pass this along if you give a shit or not do so if you don't give a shit.
Well, Shit.
It's time for me to go.
I just wanted you to know that I do give a shit and I hope you have a great day, without a bunch of shit.
But, if you happen to catch a load of shit from some shit-head, just remember...
Shit Happens.

~Author Unknown

Thanks for that one, 'Stevens-with-a-V'.


Currently scrubbing the kitchen floor while watching South Park and listening to Green Day!