Still passing the open windows and falling down the stairs

Don’t rock the boat, baby

As I mentioned, we have seen that Siri enjoys the water. She jumps up and down and splashes and sticks her butt in and bites at the water and practically starts singing. Until she gets in too deep. That’s when toys are lost as we watch them drift away because Siri is back on the shore rolling in the grass.

Perhaps swimming is not genetically coded along with the love of water. I thought the doggy paddle was a pretty natural thing but Siri looks like she’s trying to walk on the water and, as much as I’d like to think she does, she actually can’t. She’s left looking spastic as she tries to get a foothold on the surface and people have threatened to call that ASPCA if we don’t stop chucking her in. So, it was decided that swimming lessons were in order.

McFuzz and I took her for her first swimming lesson yesterday which, coincidentally, was partnered with her first boat trip. We rented a canoe to take about seven miles down the St. Croix River. This was a canoe trip I’ve made many times in my life and I was thrilled to share it with my boy and my girl.

We looked like pros. Strutting to the landing with our gear and the cool dog that jumped right into the water. This image of cool, which was certainly only in my mind, was shaken when we had to physically lift the 60 pound dog and drop her into the middle of the boat while repeating our new mantra “stay, stay, stay” as we shoved off.

Okay. We’re in the boat. We’re paddling. We’re doing great. Sense of coolness returning…

Then we hit the rock. And were, momentarily, going backward. And then, as if on cue, Siri began to do something like this…

…right before she stepped out of the boat. And she is not exactly graceful. As my mother would say, “too tippy”. We stabilized the boat and then McFuzz stepped out to throw Siri back in. More stabilizing necessary. And, while the water was only about a foot and a half deep in this particular section of river, I was suffering a silent heart attack while I waited for my dog to be sucked into the strong current that existed only in my mind.

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful, which was perfect. She got some swimming lessons and, although she still appears to be having some sort of spastic attack, she’s getting better. She even ventured into “the deep end” of her own volition more than once.

Sometime’s there’s no natural talent for the thing you really love. Just keep flailing until things click. And if they don’t click, climb back on shore and roll in the grass. You always have options.

She’s a water dog!

The river is high right now and has created a temporary lake perfect for romping and splashing and peeing in (she’ll never get invited to pool parties once that gets out). And she loves to play fetch. She’ll fetch anything. Flip flops, water bottles, clumps of grass – don’t ask. Hours of fun frolicking in what will soon enough be buggy marshland.

And the parental guilt has crept in quickly. The fuzzybottom and I were both sluggish last night and did not take Siri for a walk. Gasp! So, my guilt drove me into the yard at 9:30 last night to throw the football for 30 minutes. She was sick of it after ten but she’s a cool dog and will fetch until the toys stop flying. It occurred to me last night what a lazy bastard I was before she arrived.

Just thought you might like to know that the Crap on My Desk is not the only source of joy in my life.

Two eating disorders for the price of… Two. Or more.

Bulimia. Anorexia. Cats. Dogs.
Sierra eats to comfort herself. She then vomits to comfort herself. Siri may eat dog food every second or third day and rarely accepts biscuit treats.

I feel like I’m living with Nicole and Lindsay.

Things can only get better from here. My hope is that Siri will start to eat normally within the next few days. I also hope that Sierra can come to terms with Siri’s arrival so that she will not spend five minutes staring at the dog from across the room until she has worked herself into such a nervous condition that the only outlet is to hurl all over my living room. Listen cat, I’ve got this morning thing down to a science. I leave at 8:04 and arrive at my desk at 8:36. I haven’t spare minutes, not even seconds, to stop when I hear you retching around the corner.

This is one small house for two people with 150″ between them, two cats with 150 lbs. between them, and one dog with 150 looks that’ll make you feel tingly in ways that make you ask yourself some serious questions. There is no room for seriously abnormal behavior. I know it will get better and until it does, there’s always Cold Stone Germanchökolätekäke®. I’m not afraid of food.

Sirius Destruction

I spent most of yesterday wandering around the office, shoving my camera phone into people’s faces to allow them to witness that which is the most precious dog to have ever walked this planet. I oozed puppy love all over every single co-worker. I dabbled in actual work while pulling up every piece of information available on the internet regarding shepherds, labs, Sirius, training, registration, doggy talent contests and how to spread the word that I have the best dog, EVER.

I couldn’t wait to run out of here and pick up her id tags that would prove who she is and that she is loved.

I couldn’t wait for her to kiss me and tell me how she missed me.

I couldn’t wait to see that broom of a tail knocking things over at her pure joy in seeing me.

I couldn’t wait to see this…?

It’s a little difficult to see the actual damage, so here’s a brief rundown of the carnage:
1 pair knee high boots – destroyed
1 pair mid-calf boots – completely demolished
1 pair brand new walking shoes – mangled
Several other shoes – gnawed but wearable
1 love monkey – gutted
ALL OF PJ’S BELONGINGS – perfect condition (with the exception of ONE CHEWED SHOELACE)

Trust me; we know this was our fault. We do not know this dog’s behaviors and she should not have been tempted into the destruction. I hold no ill will toward Siri. But I have come to realize that she may not be perfect.
Maybe.

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