Furry Children

The name of this website is based upon owning three dogs. For whatever reason, my husband and I believed it was a good idea to have three dogs. Let me reiterate: my husband thought it was a good idea to have two dogs. I, however, had a meltdown when I realized that puppies grow up into seventy pound terrorists, and that's how we got our tiny dog.

I thought I should introduce you to my brood. I have cut it down to the bare bones, and have chosen not to add in our collection of couch people, who "unexpectedly" show up when I'm cooking.

Staring from the top:

My husband- this is what they call working. Today was arts and crafts day in the Australian Outback, where all the soldiers learned to make their own camouflage. I am happy to report that this camouflage did NOT come home from the Australian training mission. Charming.

In order from oldest to youngest, we will now review the children. Please bear in mind that I have attachment issues, so my children will look ever so slightly different from you children. None the less, I can proudly admit that I have knitted a dog sweater.

Below we have our German Shepherd, Bo. He just turned two, and is an absolute trainwreck. Everyday is a new adventure with him. Bo cannot handle change, stress, people he doesn't know, food he has never had, or anything the slightest bit different than what he is accustomed to. That said, adding one extra dog may have been good for him. Two extra dogs are considerable overkill. He has a whole host of health problems, and if there is a way to hurt himself within his surroundings, you can bet your bottom dollar he will. He generally handles this quite well, especially when it comes time to treat him. The other day, I had to give him his ear infection medication, and we became so badly wedged together in the kennel, a third party had to be recruited to un-stick us. Bless you, Jordan.

Bo tries to hide while getting his ear medication.

 Exhibit B is our Dutch Shepherd, Divity. She also goes by Monster, Turd, Terrorist, and some more colorful nouns. And to answer your question, there is such thing as a Dutch Shepherd. I KNOW. We had no idea such a creature existed. She is our middle dog, and by that logic, completely neurotic. She does whatever she wants, when she wants. Apparently, she never got the memo that she does not rule the world, so for now, Divity is the big dog. The upside of her is that everything bad in the world can be improved with a squeaky toy, particularly one that she gets a hold of as everyone gets into bed. She throws up the instant she goes near a car (as exemplified below), as well as lose control of her other bodily functions.

Finally, we have the apple of my eye and the bane of my husband's existence. His name is Barrett, or Nugget, and he is a toy Australian Shepherd (I imagine you're rolling your eyes right now. We have a slight problem with shepherds; thankfully, we are seeing someone for it.) Nobody has told Barrett that he is only ten pounds. NOTHING deters him from valiantly defending his homestead. Here he is on the beach carefully monitoring his surroundings.

The face of death

 

 

 

This is obviously the edited version of my herd. I think its fair to say that three dogs and a bushman husband is a handful. About time for a baby, eh?