What kind of horrible person abuses or neglects a puppy? Skye, who is turning out to be quite the lover, has some very interesting behaviors, all of which I think she might grow out of evenetually. She will approach me and play with me when I am sitting on the floor or ground with her, but not when I am standing up. She hates doors and will often refuse to go in or out if she is not feeling courageous enough. She scratches on the door, but won’t come in when it is opened for her. She sleeps on the bed with me, and nuzzles all night long, but once we get up she won’t come near. If I touch her when she is passing by, she gets low to the ground and runs. Not sure where the saying, “hightailed it out of there” came from, but that ain’t her. She turns to look moments after running away and clearly wants to be with us. She is emotionally bruised and the gender of people doesn’t matter (i.e., she is no more scared of contact with me than she is with anyone else). Turns out, she loves to be touched and loves her backrubs. She is totally normal with Charlie. She sets limits on him (he is a bit of a bull) and lets him know when she has had enough. She chases the cats (an appropriate doggy past-time) but doesn’t really know what to do when she catches one. She has taught Charlie how to bark at strangers and at vehicles she doesn’t like. She is teaching me how to be patient and is probably the most challenging dog I have ever had, in lots of ways. I initially worried we would have to return her to Big Dogs, at least in part because I feared that I did not have the skill to help her accept us and trust us… now I realize she is doing all the work and we just have to let her come to us. She is an unexpected joy.
I found this picture in a book today. I must have stuck it in there more than a decade ago. The scan is sort of bad, but I dont know how to use photoshop to fix it. Osa was her name, and she died in 1991. A giant among giant dogs, she was only about ten months old in this picture. She died shortly afterwards due to having SAS and a pinhole in her heart somewhere. I remember two vets arguing with each other over where the leaky valve was, at the top or bottom, and when I took her to CSU to be included in their SAS studies, they turned her down because she actually had two leaky valves.
I loved this dog. She was our first newf. Smart and amazingly obedient for her age, she would heel without hesitaing and would stay in the position i put her in without budging a muscle. She loved water and “saved” us once or twice when we were swimming in Tarryall Creek. She drooled massive slime strings when she was excited, though, and shook them off by the back door where they hardened into something akin to wallpaper paste or maybe superglue (kind of shiny and hard). She ate the siding off of our rented house (which I later hid with paint), and she liked to eat hot sauces like Tobasco. I always thought that was weird. I loved that dog, though, floogers and all. Sigh. I still miss her.
Poor Charlie started out the day yesterday at around 122 pounds close to his 8-month birthday. He ended the day a little lighter (at least ten pounds) because someone stole his boy-parts. He kept me up most of the night crying because he couldn’t get comfortable. While I sympathize, sort of, it was the same behavior he displayed after his last round of shots when I slept on the floor with him, thinking he had hurt his neck somehow. I got him to the vet the next day, who laughed and said that Charlie was just a little bit swollen where the shot was given. He did not have a broken neck as I had feared based on the crying and wimpering every time he moved. I have never had a newf who showed any reaction to pain, much less cried all night after a shot. Okay, I am being hard on him this morning because he got me up at 4 AM. I am trying to avoid putting the cone thing on his head because I think they are unsafe on this size of dog, and my patience is running out. I also think that, for the exorbitant price I just paid to have the dog neutered, I should receive some gold-gilt testicles in a silk sack as a consolation-prize. Finished with my morning rant. I love him no matter what, but I really wish he would just go to sleep!
It is with deep sadness I must announce that Barbara Frey passed away this afternoon, Wednesday, March 14th.
In lieu of flowers, the family suggests memorial donations to the Newfoundland Club of America Charitable Trust, c/o Mary L. Price, Treasurer, 1004 STH 78, Mt. Horeb, WI 53572or http://www.ncacharities.org/giving/online.html Tentatively, a private viewing for family only will be held Thursday and calling hours are tentatively scheduled Friday afternoon and evening with the service on Saturday. I will forward details as they become available.
Permission to cross-post.
Mary Lou Cuddy NCA Recording Secretary
Barbara’s love of our dogs remained even many years after she had last seen them. Her love was always present in these dogs, and I am honored that every one of them was just the right dog for us. Through them we loved her, though we never met in person. Here they are: Olin, Jack, Roo, and Charlie. Thanks, Barb.
I weighed in at 117.5 pounds this afternoon at the vet when I went in for my last deworming medicine after my worm “event” at Christmas. Omg! Maybe I will never stop growing and turn into a cow or elephant! I have heard that some Saint Bernard’s turn into cows, but that might just be a rumor. 117 pounds is big for 7.5 months. In my very first post, I said that newfs at seven months should be around a hundred pounds… By my calculations, that means I will top out at around 150. Dang I am big. I mean, arfgflegrrr! Snooki and I will never be the same weight again! (unless, of course, she’s having twins)
We have been filling out a lot of applications recently for dog rescue organizations as we look for a new addition to round out our little family. We are currently short one dog of the ideal, 2 dog, 2 cat, 2 human family-structure we most enjoy in our house so that noone is ever lacking for attention. My very favorite question on the applications I have filled out so far was, “Please describe the characteristics of the ideal dog for you and/or your family.” Here was my answer:
The ideal dog weighs about 130 to 160 pounds, and you don’t have to bend over to pet them (if you do, that is a cat, not a dog). The ideal dog sleeps in front of whatever cabinet or door that you want to open, snores like a chain saw, wipes its mouth on clean pants after drinking water, and sheds gobs of hair all year round. The ideal dog steps over the cats and babies with ease, but trips going down the stairs. And speaking of stairs, the ideal dog hugs one side of the stairs or the other, leaving a black smudge of dirt that must be cleaned up constantly, and the ideal dog always farts on the way up steep stairs with you behind them. The ideal dog (as a puppy) can eat your shoe in about five minutes, and (as an adult) can swipe your sandwich off your plate when you turn your back for only a second. The ideal dog licks the front of the kitchen counter tops and can eat an entire pizza. The ideal dog brings in mud on their feet and jumps on the bed, has sticks (or branches) in their fur, and scratches themselves very loudly, so that everyone knows when the task is done. The ideal dog drools a bit, or a lot depending on the activity, and shakes said drool onto guests in the house who do not like dogs. The ideal dog can open a can of coke with his teeth after shaking it, or pull trays of Christmas cookies from where they are cooling onto the floor. The ideal dog dusts the livingroom furniture with its tail, and knocks all those inessential things on the coffee table onto the floor in the process. The ideal dog can be hugged and kissed without fear of breaking.
- Dogs and Sharks (kristinastanley.net)