Ouch! Insects Attack!

The swelling on the lip has gone down

Could you believe it? While I was playing with my sister, Goodness and new brother, Danny Boy, a swarm of insects attacked me. Never saw them coming but they were ferocious monsters.. I snapped at the leading insect and it went down... but its wing man bit me on the mouth. Wow, what a painful kiss. The pain was excruciating and I was screaming for someone to help me. Then like the Zero fighters that I watched on History Channel with daddy, the rest of the swarm attacked my stout body. Ouch, ouch, ouch! The stings were painful painful and painful. 

The swollen bite marks are quite evidenced

Daddy asked me to follow him to the kitchen. As usual, Daddy could not find the ACV (Mommy always says that Daddy is a blur sotong) and so he opened a new bottle of White Vinegar from kitchen and cleaned my lip with that. After that, he put an ice cube on the affected area. Wow, that was really nice. The side of my body has lumps from the bites.

One Happy Family

From left: Danny, Goodness and me the Big Sister Mercy!

Bow wow wow... we are one big happy family!

Nobody Wants Danny!

Written by my own paws - Mercy

Danny the orphan is happily playing with us. He likes to bite our legs and tails. Goodness used to be afraid of his rough play but now she has learned how to retaliate. Danny who is smaller in size will try to get under her belly and then bite the hind legs. However, my dear sister has devised a new defense strategy - she lowers her head and butt Danny. That keeps him away from her belly.
The other day, I overheard Mommy telling Daddy that even the family that was interested in Danny could not adopt him. It seems like nobody wants Danny. Until someone offers Danny a home, our house will be his home. We will be his sisters and our parents will be his parents.
If anyone reading this Dog Blog has room in his or her heart and home for a lovely and lively pet dog, please contact Daddy Albert through this blog. Thanks a million!
Bow wow wow!

Tabby Boy - Our Hero

Written by my own paws - Mercy

Hello, I have not been active on my blog for a while. I must blame Daddy for being too busy to allow me to use his laptop. He had many writing projects to do. By the way, his old laptop also died - after seven years of continual service. So, now I am learning some of the new functions and features of his new laptop.

You will remember the two monsters who came to live with us. Yes, Jellicle the old cat and Tabby Boy the fat cat! Daddy and Mommy insisted that we accept them as our "brothers"! This is absolutely atrocious for us canine ladies to accept this type of "unrelated" relationship. My dear sister, Goodness, and I kept our reservation until recently.

We witnessed a most fascinating event - our fat cat 'brother' defending our home. It all happened with the sudden appearance of a wild-looking, big-headed monster of a cat. This Monster was ugliness- personified. He had been stealing food and my sister and I had chased it out of our kitchen a couple of time. However, a few days ago, as the sun was about to set, Tabby Boy had the privilege of encountering this intruder in the backyard.

We were in the kitchen and witnessed the whole occurrence through the kitchen window, We thought that our feline brother was a coward and may choose to run away. How surprised we were when Tabby Boy faced the much bigger cat and began to howl. The howl did not sound like something fearful but more like a human baby crying or learning how to talk.

As the intruding monster cat was much larger than Tabby Boy, he choose to stand his ground. His growl sounded similar to that of Tabby's. We could not understand a word as cat language is still foreign to us dogs.However from the racket, we figured, Tabby Boy was telling the Monster to get lost.

The argument went on for a few minutes, then suddenly Tabby Boy sprung into action. With his well-aimed front paw, he gave an uppercut. The Monster was stunned but managed to escape the punch of fury within a hair's breath. Then the retaliation came as a double-paw plunge. Monster was very fast but bravo to Tabby Boy. He jumped and did a magnificent spin and landed on all four, facing the intruder eyeball-to-eyeball. It was as though Tabby Boy was telling the Monster, "You missed!" From our angle, Tabby's fat body and quick action reminded us of the Hong Kong kung-fu actor, Samuel Hung. (You did not know that we dogs watch TV?)

All of a sudden, there was a confusion of bodies, paws, fur and ferocious screams. In the tumult, we could not figure which was which. Then the scene was frozen with the two kung-fu masters staring each other down. The baby-like howling had become more intensified as they continued to size each other and evaluated their own options.

Daddy rushed from his study and came on the scene with a mug of water. Splash! The water hit the Monster straight on and he jumped to the gap at the edge of the fence. Tabby was also in a shock and did not give chase. The Monster turned and glared at Daddy. By then, Daddy had the second cup of water ready. Before he could splash again, the Monster was gone.


Tabby Boy jumped onto the kitchen window ledge and walked into the house triumphantly. He then took a long self-congratulatory drink from our bowl of water.

Wow, what a cat! Even though, it was Daddy who chased away the intruder, it was Tabby Boy who bravely defended our home. Goodness and I tried to congratulate him by shaking his paw but he rejected. He gave us a kiss instead. Meow!

The Fat Cat Knows Kung-fu

Furminator deShedding Tool

Furminator deShedding Tool - Dr Pam has been telling Mummy and Daddy about that. I'm just not too sure about it! bow wow wow ... written by my own paws - Goodness.

I have been eyeing that piece of yellow thing with a black rubber handle with much curiosity (Ok, I'm not as curious as Tabby Boy for I'm not a feline... I'm one faithful and cheerful dog! bow wow wow).

Dr Pam encourages pet owners to use this thing called Furminator deShedding Tool to remove undercoat and loose hair. Here's a photo of how it looks like.













My cousin Toffee loves it, says Dr Pam. "He doesn't retalliate ... he simply relaxes and enjoys the whole process!"

Okay, I know cousin Toffee has long hair, but what about my sister and me? We have short hair! "You can use Furminator on Goodness & Mercy but you may not see a lot of hair...," Dr Pam tells Mummy as she gently strokes me. Oh, I love the way she handles me... oooooh, what a loving soul she is!

How bout those feline monsters? Can they use Furminator? "Yes, you can use Furminator on dogs and cats!"

So, are Jellicle and Tabby Boy going to try this out before me?

Dr Pam leaves a Furminator with Mummy to experiment. Here's her list of tips on how to use it:
1) Give your pet a good wash before using it.
2) Start deShedding after the coat is completely dried - preferably wait for a day or two.
3) Get your pet to sit and be still.
4) Simply brush from his/her top - like how you will use a comb. Be gentle and don't frighten him/her.
5) If he/she enjoys the process, you can roll him/her over and start deShedding at the belly.
6) Once you are done, give your pet a treat to encourage him/her.

A better close up of the Furminator deShedding Tool.













There are two sizes available:













Medium (2.65in/ 6.8cm)













Large (4in/ 10.16cm)

I love their tagline ... "Because your pet's hair looks better in the trash can than on your coach!" ... does this mean I can sleep on the coach, Mummy?

Specifications:

• Reduces shedding up to 90%.
• For long- and short-haired dogs and cats.
• Quickly and easily removes undercoat and loose hair.
• Guaranteed to reduce shedding better than any brush, comb or rake.
• Has a fine toothed precission stainless steel deShedding edge.
• Used and recommended by pet professionals worldwide.
• US Patents 6,782,846, 7,077,076 & 7,222,588.
• Extremely user-friendly and your pet will surely love it!

So, any pet owners want to try Furminator? Remember Dr Pam's tips!

Another Monster Joins Our Family

Written by my own paws - Mercy


When Dr. Pam turned up with a pet-carrier, I knew that we were in trouble. A grayish monster with a big head stepped out. Mommy and Daddy were so happy. In fact, Mommy spent the whole evening with Dr. Pam, talking about this new monster. 

From their conversation, we learned that this monster was badly treated by someone. There is a scar on his right side. Dr. Pam rescued him from the street and kept him in her clinic. However, this monster had been escaping from his cage and damaging bags of dog and cat foods in the clinic. So, Dr. Pam decided that this monster needed another home with more reliable cage.


As usual, Daddy gave us his lecture about animal treatment - telling us to treat this monster as well as Jellicle, the other monster. Well, Daddy really does not need to worry about that. He should lecture these monsters to treat Goodness and me well. The truth is that these cats are fiercer than all the dogs in our neighborhood combined.


This new monster is called, 'Tabby Boy'. Funny name - given by Dr. Pam. I called him 'Flabby Ball'. He was so fat that Mommy said that he looked like a Puffy Fish. Though I have never seen a puffy fish in my life, I guess this type of fish must be really ugly and bloated.


Flabby Ball, (well, okay, not to be rude, since we are very educated canines), Tabby Boy is of a gentler nature than his adopted brother, Jellicle. He has a cute side and that makes Goodness and me laugh. Tabby Boy would walk past Daddy or Mommy and suddenly, he would just collapse and become a soft lump of furry cuteness. That always stop our parents in their track. Many a time, they would cuddle him because he is "so so cute".



Tabby Boy was fat because he never had enough to eat. Whenever, he saw food, he would grabbed as much as possible. To shed those pounds, Dr. Pam gave strict instruction not to overfeed him. However, Daddy did not follow her instruction. 

For  a few days, Daddy filled the Taddy Boy's food bowl with lots of cat's goodies. Mommy questioned the wisdom of doing that. Daddy's theory was that if Tabby Boy had too much to eat, he would become tired of eating. True to his theory, after a while, Tabby Boy stopped finishing all his food. Today, this fat cat has lost some weights and eats according to his own needs.

Goodness and I hope to live peacefully with these cats. We have been very humble and give them a lot of room to move around. We trust that they will give us a lot of room too. 



Through my Dog Blog, we will keep you updated on the activities of these two monsters in our home. Be sure to check our Dog Blog regularly. Woof and triple woofs.

Jellicle The King

The Old Man And His Angel - A Most Touching Story

The Old Man and His Angel
by Catherine Moore

“Watch out! You nearly broad sided that car!” My father yelled at me.

“Can’t you do anything right?”

Those words hurt worse than blows. I turned my head toward the elderly man in the seat beside me, daring me to challenge him. A lump rose in my throat as I averted my eyes. I wasn’t prepared for another battle.

“I saw the car, Dad. Please don’t yell at me when I’m driving.” My voice was measured and steady, sounding far calmer than I really felt.

Dad glared at me, then turned away and settled back. At home I left Dad in front of the television and went outside to collect my thoughts. Dark, heavy clouds hung in the air with a promise of rain. The rumble of distant thunder seemed to echo my inner turmoil.

What could I do about him?

Dad had been a lumberjack in Washington and Oregon . He had enjoyed being outdoors and had reveled in pitting his strength against the forces of nature. He had entered grueling lumberjack competitions, and had placed often. The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested to his prowess.

The years marched on relentlessly. The first time he couldn’t lift a heavy log, he joked about it; but later that same day I saw him outside alone, straining to lift it. He became irritable whenever anyone teased him about his advancing age, or when he couldn’t do something he had done as a younger man.

Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had a heart attack. An ambulance sped him to the hospital while a paramedic administered CPR to keep blood and oxygen flowing. At the hospital, Dad was rushed into an operating room. He was lucky; he survived.

But something inside Dad died. His zest for life was gone. He obstinately refused to follow doctor’s orders. Suggestions and offers of help were turned aside with sarcasm and insults. The number of visitors thinned, then finally stopped altogether. Dad was left alone.

My husband, Dick, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small farm. We hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him adjust. Within a week after he moved in, I regretted the invitation. It seemed nothing was satisfactory. He criticized everything I did. I became frustrated and moody. Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Dick. We began to bicker and argue. Alarmed, Dick sought out our pastor and explained the situation. The clergyman set up weekly counseling appointments for us. At the close of each session he prayed, asking God to soothe Dad’s troubled mind. But the months wore on and God was silent. Something had to be done and it was up to me to do it.

The next day I sat down with the phone book and methodically called each of the mental health clinics listed in the Yellow Pages. I explained my problem to each of the sympathetic voices that answered. In vain. Just when I was giving up hope, one of the voices suddenly exclaimed, “I just read something that might help you! Let me go get the article.” I listened as she read. The article described a remarkable study done at a nursing home. All of the patients were under treatment for chronic depression. Yet their attitudes had improved dramatically when they were given responsibility for a dog.

I drove to the animal shelter that afternoon. After I filled out a questionnaire, a uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odor of disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens. Each contained five to seven dogs. Long-haired dogs, curly-haired dogs, black dogs, spotted dogs—all jumped up, trying to reach me. I studied each one but rejected one after the other for various reasons—too big, too small, too much hair. As I neared the last pen a dog in the shadows of the far corner struggled to his feet, walked to the front of the run and sat down. It was a pointer, one of the dog world’s aristocrats. But this was a caricature of the breed. Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray. His hipbones jutted out in lopsided triangles. But it was his eyes that caught and held my attention. Calm and clear, they beheld me unwaveringly.

I pointed to the dog. “Can you tell me about him?” The officer looked, then shook his head in puzzlement.

“He’s a funny one. Appeared out of nowhere and sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would be right down to claim him. That was two weeks ago and we’ve heard nothing. His time is up tomorrow.” He gestured helplessly.

As the words sank in I turned to the man in horror. “You mean you’re going to kill him?”

“Ma’am,” he said gently, “that’s our policy. We don’t have room for every unclaimed dog.”

I looked at the pointer again. The calm brown eyes awaited my decision. “I’ll take him,” I said.

I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me. When I reached the house I honked the horn twice. I was helping my prize out of the car when Dad shuffled onto the front porch.

“Ta-da! Look what I got for you, Dad!” I said excitedly.

Dad looked, then wrinkled his face in disgust. “If I had wanted a dog I would have gotten one. And I would have picked out a better specimen than that bag of bones. Keep it! I don’t want it” Dad waved his arm scornfully and turned back toward the house.

Anger rose inside me. It squeezed together my throat muscles and pounded into my temples.

“You’d better get used to him, Dad. He’s staying!” Dad ignored me. “Did you hear me, Dad?” I screamed. At those words Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed and blazing with hate.

We stood glaring at each other like duelists, when suddenly the pointer pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad and sat down in front of him. Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw.

Dad’s lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw. Confusion replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently. Then Dad was on his knees hugging the animal.

It was the beginning of a warm and intimate friendship. Dad named the pointer Cheyenne . Together he and Cheyenne explored the community. They spent long hours walking down dusty lanes. They spent reflective moments on the banks of streams, angling for tasty trout. They even
started to attend Sunday services together, Dad sitting in a pew and Cheyenne lying quietly at his feet.

Dad and Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years. Dad’s bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne made many friends. Then late one night I was startled to feel Cheyenne ’s cold nose burrowing through our bed covers. He had never before come into our bedroom at night. I woke Dick, put on my robe and ran into my father’s room. Dad lay in his bed, his face serene. But his spirit had left quietly sometime during the night.

Two days later my shock and grief deepened when I discovered Cheyenne lying dead beside Dad’s bed. I wrapped his still form in the rag rug he had slept on. As Dick and I buried him near a favorite fishing hole, I silently thanked the dog for the help he had given me in restoring Dad’s peace of mind.

The morning of Dad’s funeral dawned overcast and dreary. This day looks like the way I feel, I thought, as I walked down the aisle to the pews reserved for family. I was surprised to see the many friends Dad and Cheyenne had made filling the church. The pastor began his eulogy. It was a tribute to both Dad and the dog who had changed his life. And then the pastor turned to Hebrews 13:2. “Be not forgetful to entertain strangers.”

“I’ve often thanked God for sending that angel,” he said.

For me, the past dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I had not seen before: the sympathetic voice that had just read the right article….

Cheyenne ’s unexpected appearance at the animal shelter. . .his calm acceptance and complete devotion to my father. . .and the proximity of their deaths. And suddenly I understood. I knew that God had answered my prayers after all.

Life is too short for drama & petty things, so laugh hard, love truly and forgive quickly.

Live While You Are Alive.

Tell the people you love that you love them, at every opportunity.

Forgive now those who made you cry. You might not get a second time.

Dog-Fu Fighting