tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61167512810811445592024-02-07T18:18:19.036-06:00Arwen's PackI've come to realize that I'm absolutely dog crazy. My pups are constantly amazing me and teaching me the simple life lessons I probably should've already learned. Rather than drive my human loved ones crazy with dog chatter, I'll unload it on you, my fellow dog crazies. Enjoy the show.ForPetsSakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716344585805514703noreply@blogger.comBlogger163125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6116751281081144559.post-66537716622181745772012-11-11T00:59:00.001-06:002012-11-11T00:59:46.137-06:00Reconnecting part 3<br />
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November started with a bang. I took my vacation (Thursday was my last vacation day...) and have watched cooler weather change our late Texas leaves. </div>
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Vacation days = breakfast with friends!</div>
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If you look closely, you can see what Arwen is focused on - the ducks that fly in every fall to take refuge!</div>
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We participated in our first local craft show. While not lucrative, it was a learning experience and now we have 1 show under our belts! WooT! Next stop, <a href="http://downtowndallas.org/Dallas_City_Lights_2012/">City Lights in Dallas</a> in another week or so. </div>
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Our 1st craft show! Want to sign our guestbook?</div>
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The same night of our craft show, we attended the <a href="http://vetroartglass.com/">Vetro GlassBlowing</a> Studio's Glass on the Tracks annual art auction in Grapevine, TX. Each year, they select certain pieces of glass art to be put under a massive, wooden, <a href="http://vetroartglass.com/got">glass-obliterating guillotine</a>. The studio's owner then calls out names of attendees and asks them questions about the studio, their process and some of their more famous pieces. If the person can answer the question correctly, they can take home the piece for free! If they are wrong, the piece goes up for a 30 second auction. If the reserve isn't met, they smash the piece! It's heart-wrenching, for sure. Matt was called up and having been on the Vetro Glass website a few weeks prior, answered his question correctly. We are now the proud owners of a very beautiful glass rondelle! He has since wanted to be called "The Winner" at all family gatherings. **hanging head in embarrassment **</div>
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Picture doesn't do this Nebula justice!</div>
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While on vacation, I decided I'd try a little change and dyed my hair! This way, if it was a horrible train-wreck, I could fix it without added embarrassment. This was my first ever attempt at hair-dying and actually kind of loved it! Matt has decided that we should dye Arwen and Fenway black also, so that our neighbors would think we have 1 dog that looks smaller and fuzzier at times. I've vetoed this suggestion. </div>
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You've lost this battle, Winner...</div>
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A whole new world of coloring fun has been opened to me - where have I been all these years?!</div>
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At least now everyone can see that Nyxie is my daughter!</div>
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"You look like me now, Mom!"</div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">It's good to be in Arwen's Pack.</div>ForPetsSakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716344585805514703noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6116751281081144559.post-41316512953458446832012-11-08T22:52:00.000-06:002012-11-08T22:52:26.791-06:00Reconnecting part 2 <br />
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In October, we worked really, really hard to be ready for our 1st craft show. Making glasses, tea lights, sanding, wrapping and boxing more glassware than you can imagine. Much of our October was spent working on things like this:</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">This is a champagne bottle glass 1/2 done. Next stop: hand-sanding!</td></tr>
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Meanwhile, we couldn't let the month get past us without at least <i>some</i> Halloween fun. T likes to dress up Fenway in his many, many outfits. His most recent addition is his Batdog costume, which she bought just for him. This was the culmination to the Batdog ensemble of a handmade collar with a handmade Batman symbol she made many months ago - you guessed it, just for him. He wears this on a fairly regular basis. You never know who's going to show up around here...</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">Then there are business formal days - crime never takes a vacation!</td></tr>
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Part 3 tomorrow...</div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">It's good to be in Arwen's Pack.</div>ForPetsSakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716344585805514703noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6116751281081144559.post-48929789030717002412012-11-08T00:22:00.000-06:002012-11-08T00:22:37.047-06:00Reconnecting part 1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Holy cow. <br />
It's been over 3 months since I last posted!<br />
Do you <i>still</i> remember us? <br />
<br />
I'm happy to tell you nothing horrible has happened. We've been humming along quietly, steadily and without catastrophic incident for the past 3 months. Phew! With that said, we have been insanely busy, so this will be a 3 part post: <br />
<br />
Our little online recycled bottle-crafting shop, <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/ConversationGlass">Conversation Glass</a>, has been growing and we've been working our little fingers to the bone. My full time job has been understaffed lately and work has continued busy there, although I'm on vacation right now (1 more day left). Our 14 year old daughter has been sharing her 9th grade growing pains with more fervor than a Tea Party conservative. While nothing catastrophic has happened, we haven't had many spare seconds. All except for the dogs, who are constantly snoopervising. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi4tZNHBltgASOxXPWu8cJowVWfHYiAeoEK2xgodI3KoxnKGxn04swSVxGLObfHgO2poRQJEIkCUaA94P2vmLbEeVdlcxCGuRytnOkpQ0Xj1TBVvrEgkTixHxvycuGwMRXEqYbOYjpZw/s1600/20121031_202156.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi4tZNHBltgASOxXPWu8cJowVWfHYiAeoEK2xgodI3KoxnKGxn04swSVxGLObfHgO2poRQJEIkCUaA94P2vmLbEeVdlcxCGuRytnOkpQ0Xj1TBVvrEgkTixHxvycuGwMRXEqYbOYjpZw/s400/20121031_202156.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Notice Arwen ignoring the overflowing toy box and trying instead to fit into her brother's tiny bed.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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So what have we been up to? <br />
<br />
In September, T started at special math/engineering high school that she actually loves. Yes, folks - our kid loves her school. If you've been paying attention, this is a first for her. She's also started JROTC and loves this, too. <br />
**climbs back into chair after passing out**<br />
I can't even type this without being in shock. We've had some ups and downs, and have learned that 9th grade sucks. Again.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxwwbwK_n64bA9upoVv6uZtaMV7AFgboz4tMfJdN8j7z0Hj-xms07wg6Hz8psBMWveCpU6ZiZEipat3HKx54l2nz7cVnD9472_Vy26R43G3nlTOQmdshbI20kUTCgB-rsHaKIbrLY0xg/s1600/20120905_191024+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxwwbwK_n64bA9upoVv6uZtaMV7AFgboz4tMfJdN8j7z0Hj-xms07wg6Hz8psBMWveCpU6ZiZEipat3HKx54l2nz7cVnD9472_Vy26R43G3nlTOQmdshbI20kUTCgB-rsHaKIbrLY0xg/s400/20120905_191024+(2).jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">T actually DOES have a face, but she is under covert assignment at present.</td></tr>
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Stay tuned for Part 2<br />
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P.S. Congrats to President Obama - now let's get to work!<br />
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">It's good to be in Arwen's Pack.</div>ForPetsSakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716344585805514703noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6116751281081144559.post-80386516339386286182012-07-28T21:18:00.001-05:002012-07-28T21:18:51.734-05:00No More Stink EyesThese hot, summer days mean shorter walks, less outdoor snooping and more laying about waiting. Just woefully waiting, for fun. I know this because here are the "stink eyes" I've been getting: <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilzm02ke_mUQPLTmLP20U05ESj_w9t7mxGPGi21Cf8Ck1SvOHRNSG-WhiWcWHr7qk-cuJNAy0CMCiDbDDj-chpvb6bSBydTsgcqv5I9CNsEu-bAjW5YrltY3nOqdDwZOSem4S9gkxocQ/s1600/DSC00620.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilzm02ke_mUQPLTmLP20U05ESj_w9t7mxGPGi21Cf8Ck1SvOHRNSG-WhiWcWHr7qk-cuJNAy0CMCiDbDDj-chpvb6bSBydTsgcqv5I9CNsEu-bAjW5YrltY3nOqdDwZOSem4S9gkxocQ/s400/DSC00620.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Do something to amuse us! We're bored and it's all your fault!</span></td></tr>
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I was in big trouble, folks. Too many more stink eyes like this and I would turn into a permissive, ice-dispensing, treat pinata. So it was time for a trip to the dog toy store. Please note that anywhere you look in the house, there's at least one dog toy gathering dust. The Nylabones of a few months ago have been chewed down to nubs: <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTAsKWCn-RhdiI3KRnPO-FvhrO_7Ck-G2_0ARR46wxV-uVKqFiAGA2yUwbG5sVgnyj5YNz6_DKU4RbZoDee4k89DTf3zIWFvpG7EcVe90Gck04dcYhKCZpY5K0E6MPJTcRAOdPahXqQg/s1600/DSC00272.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="325" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTAsKWCn-RhdiI3KRnPO-FvhrO_7Ck-G2_0ARR46wxV-uVKqFiAGA2yUwbG5sVgnyj5YNz6_DKU4RbZoDee4k89DTf3zIWFvpG7EcVe90Gck04dcYhKCZpY5K0E6MPJTcRAOdPahXqQg/s400/DSC00272.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See that little nub of a bone? Used to be about 9 inches long...Nyxie has thrown herself onto the ground in protest!</td></tr>
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We came home with 3 shiny, new Nylabones, and this is what we saw: </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJDe3otcMYJ6YNTevEJ13Rh4_YppYaaNstswW3DL6g1wWDXVvF3RBHURqhLRNWonXL3qr_sSZ4SSM4Vh1BXsmIQ-Z9vmf60FJJqDdiSy8Ok8OD6bR7H_FpSECrijiH1sFegPVMUJpy7A/s1600/DSC00299.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJDe3otcMYJ6YNTevEJ13Rh4_YppYaaNstswW3DL6g1wWDXVvF3RBHURqhLRNWonXL3qr_sSZ4SSM4Vh1BXsmIQ-Z9vmf60FJJqDdiSy8Ok8OD6bR7H_FpSECrijiH1sFegPVMUJpy7A/s400/DSC00299.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwvqrdbZ6-Nb7AF468aa-aWAfGIBmCWMRLoEDVDApzUtybp2WBVFrC_wICb_Mxo43KhjM0UF0YMiJdn-tDt9n54Bjx9poOxXEMJmibeBOS3MZGIev7jjs7SDoY55GB7qvvqMwYn2IT9A/s1600/DSC00286.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwvqrdbZ6-Nb7AF468aa-aWAfGIBmCWMRLoEDVDApzUtybp2WBVFrC_wICb_Mxo43KhjM0UF0YMiJdn-tDt9n54Bjx9poOxXEMJmibeBOS3MZGIev7jjs7SDoY55GB7qvvqMwYn2IT9A/s400/DSC00286.JPG" width="310" /></a></div>
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No more dirty looks!! So in honor of good times and playing doggies, we made these: </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTE52UF-Zzc6Y3mrmKDMGKrAL-ok4_79UepWyZkeKdaYF04Rw8Qmr0nxcPrM3EWO-BrTGk1iUYg0RKQ2B-B9Cl4GobRU_K9zebwKkGSUExKzTzPDEiMa2PfZufEPoItnWHfG-IDjjSHQ/s1600/DSC00816.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTE52UF-Zzc6Y3mrmKDMGKrAL-ok4_79UepWyZkeKdaYF04Rw8Qmr0nxcPrM3EWO-BrTGk1iUYg0RKQ2B-B9Cl4GobRU_K9zebwKkGSUExKzTzPDEiMa2PfZufEPoItnWHfG-IDjjSHQ/s320/DSC00816.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/105506104/play-dogs-etched-on-recycled-olive-wine">Play, Dog!</a> Number 2 in the Stick Dog Collection for <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/ConversationGlass?ref=si_shop">Conversation Glass</a></td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Thanks for stopping by Arwen's Pack and our shop, <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/ConversationGlass?ref=si_shop">Conversation Glass</a>. We've had some questions about shipping to Canada - we've actually sent quite a few bundles up north to Canada and all the glasses and vases have made it there just fine! Also, the paw prints and "Play Dog" collection stick dogs can be etched on any glassware in the shop (it just needs to be a clear surface). We can also etch letters for personalization! </div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">It's good to be in Arwen's Pack.</div>ForPetsSakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716344585805514703noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6116751281081144559.post-60954251652090645322012-07-13T01:41:00.001-05:002012-07-13T01:41:38.186-05:00The Dog Days of Summer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've been on vacation! <br />
Which means... <s>fun, sun and</s> I've actually worked really hard on our online store, <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/ConversationGlass?show_panel=true">Conversation Glass</a>. I guess you could say I'm a bit of a workaholic, but you do what you have to so everything keeps humming along. This vacation was spent preparing for (gasp!) the holiday rush when shoppers will need presents for everyone on their lists. <br />
<br />
You know, when I was a kid I thought the adults around me were crazy to even be <i>thinking</i> about the holidays before December 15th. <br />
Damn. Now I'm a crazy adult.<br />
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Regardless, the 3 Puparoos have been spending their days enjoying time with Mom, time chewing on bones and learning to get along. I'm always stunned at how tough dogs play with one another. This is a rough and rowdy crew, see for yourself: <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGkEln7pHW8WqCtJCMnSbqjwJecgaZ_iJKWwU6-y8xLrYqhf7x_sITphyphenhyphenXVgW0i3_yjSev_yWn7Gl7uBpWTZJmUAMH89ALz8Zo-z5ad9ufvXYk6PnFx77EfZ-dm1u_I-gcro7m8hmn5Q/s1600/DSC00624.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGkEln7pHW8WqCtJCMnSbqjwJecgaZ_iJKWwU6-y8xLrYqhf7x_sITphyphenhyphenXVgW0i3_yjSev_yWn7Gl7uBpWTZJmUAMH89ALz8Zo-z5ad9ufvXYk6PnFx77EfZ-dm1u_I-gcro7m8hmn5Q/s400/DSC00624.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, she ALWAYS wins</td></tr>
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We brought home a new memory foam bed for Arwen. You might remember that my oldest has spinal arthritis (although at playtime you'd never know it) and I've been trying to find her a nice, supportive bed for some time. I brought it home, tossed her old bed out into the living room, put the huge new one on our bed so I could vacuum the bedroom, turned to pull it down to her spot, and...<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJyragUiRtQ-AAf2f9fTslKwNwIrV1uGYe3TuzcfA3Nc4tUKvEOVUfQYaMXsYLFNbyK-bPYXwgJXpD8Gxqq2oZ_p3cK7qTBjtGp_oWKEtpCBuxqhw4z1ZBCTzuX2VP4qa8Nkjvx-OP3A/s1600/DSC00467.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJyragUiRtQ-AAf2f9fTslKwNwIrV1uGYe3TuzcfA3Nc4tUKvEOVUfQYaMXsYLFNbyK-bPYXwgJXpD8Gxqq2oZ_p3cK7qTBjtGp_oWKEtpCBuxqhw4z1ZBCTzuX2VP4qa8Nkjvx-OP3A/s400/DSC00467.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Watcha doin, Mom?" </td></tr>
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The 2 youngsters were giving the new bed a try. Is it me, or is one of Nyxie's devil wings showing? (They're awfully small - think Heimlich in A Bug's Life) Arwen did eventually get to enjoy her bed, but I had to run a couple of Nosy McNosertons off of it first. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxzDA5eKgFyzFf_rQls8nZN3zui2pa-f3c3gLXiV5Qq57mmVdqugHfh9sboHCpoC9UnULLbtc_a4xZJ_bbQcKXvXwthOtCwdzGzGBJ-qOYU8nJBw3cerm9ybc9rcMa2jHhckDWGdV1zw/s1600/DSC00436.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxzDA5eKgFyzFf_rQls8nZN3zui2pa-f3c3gLXiV5Qq57mmVdqugHfh9sboHCpoC9UnULLbtc_a4xZJ_bbQcKXvXwthOtCwdzGzGBJ-qOYU8nJBw3cerm9ybc9rcMa2jHhckDWGdV1zw/s400/DSC00436.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Synchronized bone-chewing with help from Dad</td></tr>
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Then there are some perfect, vacation days like this one. Happy Dog Days of summer!<br />
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">It's good to be in Arwen's Pack.</div>ForPetsSakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716344585805514703noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6116751281081144559.post-57857270989435221112012-06-30T16:18:00.001-05:002012-06-30T16:18:33.565-05:00Snoopervising<br />
A weekend off from the vet hospital means 2 days of Conversation Glass work time! We're taking bottle labels off of new bottles, then cutting and sanding them, all to restock the store. And making room for the new, means saying goodbye to the old. Yup, there's a sale on. What a flurry of activity! At least from the 2-legged members of the pack. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgeq7LO5EBNUxDP2YSYHT-BLOz4b2AT3nq8dPym5Ow56MLpLYES6EF38dJSizP-Zo8f_0FYUEiSrs3L6hnY_cr-v-bhWekV9JdEKwKVAGtmAn3qyGLsa0oT3R5seiB9Rrnoz4ojsZMbw/s1600/DSC00321.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgeq7LO5EBNUxDP2YSYHT-BLOz4b2AT3nq8dPym5Ow56MLpLYES6EF38dJSizP-Zo8f_0FYUEiSrs3L6hnY_cr-v-bhWekV9JdEKwKVAGtmAn3qyGLsa0oT3R5seiB9Rrnoz4ojsZMbw/s400/DSC00321.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These were a large order of tea light hurricane lamps we sent last week</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj0r6ZK3G0HHxOsGdB_TySCH2XMQLvf4Y3LCt2aVJfivtY7PYjl4DXLunmJ4RiMdOT7oUBmNygK1gPbJJX0ljbAA_BLDCkqZbV9e2U0-C7w52l6zsHVC6Hm3fRuhQTqf1IjyaYEtgYVw/s1600/DSC00315.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj0r6ZK3G0HHxOsGdB_TySCH2XMQLvf4Y3LCt2aVJfivtY7PYjl4DXLunmJ4RiMdOT7oUBmNygK1gPbJJX0ljbAA_BLDCkqZbV9e2U0-C7w52l6zsHVC6Hm3fRuhQTqf1IjyaYEtgYVw/s400/DSC00315.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our coffee machine is getting nervous..."they're making a army!"</td></tr>
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Here is what the other 3 are up to: snoopervising between siestas...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcHWJnYO2sjkqes8R1jWatzsWfLt9BqbBoEGYAJT4hyphenhyphenAkzriuscRPLYqyTmxSm8lUygDxTGmPsXpICa8ZAx2KsfUJIVd-61IlUNnl-FrglvWlp9PLap0Kd98jIJjx1-RwbJ7A8Dm2Uew/s1600/DSC00327.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcHWJnYO2sjkqes8R1jWatzsWfLt9BqbBoEGYAJT4hyphenhyphenAkzriuscRPLYqyTmxSm8lUygDxTGmPsXpICa8ZAx2KsfUJIVd-61IlUNnl-FrglvWlp9PLap0Kd98jIJjx1-RwbJ7A8Dm2Uew/s400/DSC00327.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zzzzzzz</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_-LfrE-J2Ann9eQ1xvMJM6686As92EQPKrQkorR1BXlehHTdzdbbX5BHSluWHHHAsjt6z5YmbrB4IJBG19LT9P9xB8gtZggBjXhGf-hQ6edIUd1zWW7aC0Zk0CbcOA_RXKZekDKwrbw/s1600/DSC00326.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_-LfrE-J2Ann9eQ1xvMJM6686As92EQPKrQkorR1BXlehHTdzdbbX5BHSluWHHHAsjt6z5YmbrB4IJBG19LT9P9xB8gtZggBjXhGf-hQ6edIUd1zWW7aC0Zk0CbcOA_RXKZekDKwrbw/s400/DSC00326.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Always sleeping with one eye open</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL-yOhoUs2fOf8cXOBjATqs1_zeTp69RIR9Q4YN1r33l4CyufV6-IypU11Ua-6UHqcLcYMW6h5W9jHL1OLLKrUaOIqMc-1DmNbuQVvawGdoZXmZLjiKCp19qzvospROH4LSZGyJe3qZA/s1600/DSC00328.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="343" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL-yOhoUs2fOf8cXOBjATqs1_zeTp69RIR9Q4YN1r33l4CyufV6-IypU11Ua-6UHqcLcYMW6h5W9jHL1OLLKrUaOIqMc-1DmNbuQVvawGdoZXmZLjiKCp19qzvospROH4LSZGyJe3qZA/s400/DSC00328.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Keep that racket down! I'm recharging!"</td></tr>
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If you aren't too tuckered out, come see our <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/ConversationGlass?ref=si_shop">SALE in progress at Conversation Glass</a>. You just might find something special. Happy weekend, Snoopervisors and Snoopervisees!<div class="blogger-post-footer">It's good to be in Arwen's Pack.</div>ForPetsSakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716344585805514703noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6116751281081144559.post-10947541062066961452012-06-28T15:59:00.003-05:002012-06-28T15:59:46.746-05:00Fenway gets Tutored. "Please, No Pictures"Fenway's big day came last week. Yes, he was neutered. There was much talk of him going under the knife in the days leading up to his surgery day. Even though I assist with this surgery almost every day, it feels so different when it's your own kiddo. That morning, he bounced about happily as I clasped his collar around his well-muscled neck in preparation for "school". Little did he know what lay ahead. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkNQzGOWAZVswQJOkPZp6hRav1rzFANKGq4ORQEwcIpCWD-62VSFnbtWSB0KKCdEuX7uwmNr6bM6Rjx8vRyUjxVzcekeVDqJDklDHlPERP2jB3YV-dDQ4hfPoHBOj2UbDDoITQZF81MA/s1600/2012-04-24+19.32.00.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkNQzGOWAZVswQJOkPZp6hRav1rzFANKGq4ORQEwcIpCWD-62VSFnbtWSB0KKCdEuX7uwmNr6bM6Rjx8vRyUjxVzcekeVDqJDklDHlPERP2jB3YV-dDQ4hfPoHBOj2UbDDoITQZF81MA/s400/2012-04-24+19.32.00.jpg" width="366" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"YEAH! We're going to school!!"</td></tr>
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His day took a curious turn when breakfast never came. Then there were the premedication injections to prep him for surgery. He looked so worried, even for Fenway with his perpetual furrowed brow. I know he wondered why I was allowing all this to happen. I had to be stoic and strong. The last thing he needed was to pick up on my own anxiety. I think I pulled it off like a ninja. I bet my coworkers would disagree...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Prepping for surgery</td></tr>
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His surgery went well, thanks to his brilliant Doctor! It's a strange feeling to put something you value so much in someone else's hands. I guess that's why they call it "trust". My coworkers were great, laying out a special rest and recovery area for my Fenny-Fenny-Foo-Foo (just one of his many aliases). <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikD_3_l6ijZM0rCY9b2ZsyVXXeg6-juddyEAq1n1zKsBi-TVOmuwTdFZR-luXyE2O1EX6UaY0PrnnwqaRN-UHM5p6npC4lxFQHs9Qt7M8MOdz7al6Ex8sB4hsx3liRGl1IiYnBiUd4dA/s1600/2012-06-22+11.57.50.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikD_3_l6ijZM0rCY9b2ZsyVXXeg6-juddyEAq1n1zKsBi-TVOmuwTdFZR-luXyE2O1EX6UaY0PrnnwqaRN-UHM5p6npC4lxFQHs9Qt7M8MOdz7al6Ex8sB4hsx3liRGl1IiYnBiUd4dA/s400/2012-06-22+11.57.50.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Try as I might to keep him warm, he wanted to turn onto his back - his favorite position!</td></tr>
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He was a bit "lowdog' for the rest of the evening, but eventually ended up finding his place by the window, my Happy Sundog. Most likely trying to find his lost huevos and dignity.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEO2VNncLi3FNX8duIXLpRwaevicGSQx2e5qmHXGHUZD6cxLkw71Qd8YO3RdTllHosR6EDrRT_J-yEzbHCZ7LVktZd5NNg4bQCR5Tw9SsLUQRq2LizNfSp4x4tWQrdfO691rizL-WU5g/s1600/2012-05-03+15.49.37.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEO2VNncLi3FNX8duIXLpRwaevicGSQx2e5qmHXGHUZD6cxLkw71Qd8YO3RdTllHosR6EDrRT_J-yEzbHCZ7LVktZd5NNg4bQCR5Tw9SsLUQRq2LizNfSp4x4tWQrdfO691rizL-WU5g/s400/2012-05-03+15.49.37.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Please. No pictures"</td></tr>
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">It's good to be in Arwen's Pack.</div>ForPetsSakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716344585805514703noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6116751281081144559.post-64292144338937852662012-06-04T11:14:00.000-05:002012-06-04T11:52:48.248-05:00The Missing PackThe last time Arwen's Pack published a blog post was April 12th. <br />
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That was over a month and a half ago! Do you all still remember us? Let me give you some reminders of who we are in case some of you forgot. First we have Arwen, our Iron <s>Fist</s> Curtain Diva, who is still very much in charge of her pack.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQoL7KLdJ2n4FwCgtAuEQJZ0jtWhJrGOanQeo4Q4FH2-ldr-qq2lCiVT41HXEWMuYCRCZHGvysWBHNwsRdCWrIzEcUTdcmN2BGa8XmYkEzZxlAxBFJ6Fmuy0kgPRSSMymViOartTmFSA/s1600/2012-03-21+18.58.13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQoL7KLdJ2n4FwCgtAuEQJZ0jtWhJrGOanQeo4Q4FH2-ldr-qq2lCiVT41HXEWMuYCRCZHGvysWBHNwsRdCWrIzEcUTdcmN2BGa8XmYkEzZxlAxBFJ6Fmuy0kgPRSSMymViOartTmFSA/s400/2012-03-21+18.58.13.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spring picture, "cheese?"<br />
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Then we have Nyxie, our resident Chicken-Heart Guardian, loyal minion of Arwen:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm32EVEixYV8SCJKC-YscxZUrjFnzQjHEJdgzQd3kylEGxk8ew8oVxqdF_1vBlr9hvhsTFMxRN8mvaTtBiYeP0t_9mP0bsMnvk47nibT9G9dm0D3K0unAn9fF3PRVnbVQEP6C7beoYng/s1600/2012-04-01+12.17.15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm32EVEixYV8SCJKC-YscxZUrjFnzQjHEJdgzQd3kylEGxk8ew8oVxqdF_1vBlr9hvhsTFMxRN8mvaTtBiYeP0t_9mP0bsMnvk47nibT9G9dm0D3K0unAn9fF3PRVnbVQEP6C7beoYng/s400/2012-04-01+12.17.15.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"CHEESE!!!"</td></tr>
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And finally, we have Fenway, the Little Brother of the pack and resident snuggler, paper towel & sock connoisseur, and sister tormentor. (other aliases include: FennyFennyFooFoo, Runtabull, and T's favorite, Butt-holio):</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid_YtRV7-0lFTAMAXet4we6hmAql5dXRec_Ije7Nb840iiSs1yRiqWn2_7fmYCEMMA_JYC6g_QVeMgMmXLK7ogxmkbUke_OOP6u_dHYHwzN3b-24UoxBD-Hmo5lWwpI76pAD3jMu7g5w/s1600/2012-03-17+15.08.29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid_YtRV7-0lFTAMAXet4we6hmAql5dXRec_Ije7Nb840iiSs1yRiqWn2_7fmYCEMMA_JYC6g_QVeMgMmXLK7ogxmkbUke_OOP6u_dHYHwzN3b-24UoxBD-Hmo5lWwpI76pAD3jMu7g5w/s400/2012-03-17+15.08.29.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Cheese? WHERE!!??"</td></tr>
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So where have we been? Where should I start...</div>
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After much practice, sore knees and sweaty hours on the treadmill and trails, I ran a 5K!! I ran the 2012 Fort Worth Zoo Run with T, and 3 other friends at the end of April. It was exciting, fulfilling, and a huge fitness milestone for me. This was a hard-fought battle but I did it! I was so very proud of T for running with me - she beat my time with only a few practice runs under her belt. Ahh, the glory of youth!</div>
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May ushered in several evening events for the final days of T as a middle schooler. I can hardly believe she's headed to high school. Neither can she, really, so there were many hours of convincing, cajoling and promising that high school will not be a living horror show. Not a word, folks. Not one word!</div>
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We had a busy several weekends. We attended the Texas Frightmare convention, where cast members of one of our favorite TV shows, <a href="http://www.amctv.com/shows/the-walking-dead">The Walking Dead</a> were in attendance to answer questions and be drooled over. (I did mention that Norman Reedus was there, right?) </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1sxKXbX2NqOhgSBoB6_KbqAp-taoQUhNX_PM1WIn7HXxC3OpvjblI_iqilXlixn3AnWalXjoRXxBCTGZM_kjVIImrIAv14kb4YFqkOdv5YKLUpKcN4RAG6O2zWh_iNj9DdWwQMqQeGw/s1600/2012-05-05+15.54.59.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1sxKXbX2NqOhgSBoB6_KbqAp-taoQUhNX_PM1WIn7HXxC3OpvjblI_iqilXlixn3AnWalXjoRXxBCTGZM_kjVIImrIAv14kb4YFqkOdv5YKLUpKcN4RAG6O2zWh_iNj9DdWwQMqQeGw/s400/2012-05-05+15.54.59.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I like to imagine that in this pic he was reaching past the security lady to give me a big hug...</td></tr>
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Matt and I opened a second online store, <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/ConversationGlass?ref=si_shop">Conversation Glass</a> on Etsy. We take glass bottles destined for landfills and create hand-cut, hand-sanded & polished glassware. Sustainable goods, repurposed to make something beautiful. It's a win-win situation. And it's pretty fun to do, actually. I hope you'll have a look at our glassware - we're pretty proud of it!! Please follow us on Facebook (<a href="http://www.facebook.com/ConversationGlass">Conversation Glass</a>) or Twitter (<a href="https://twitter.com/#!/ConvoGlass">@ConvoGlass</a>) and Pinterest (<a href="http://pinterest.com/convoglass/">Conversation Glass</a>). There will be giveaways coming soon :) Here are some samples:<br />
<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/100594440/tall-green-and-amber-glass-tumblers-made">Tall Wine Bottle Tumblers</a>:<br />
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<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/100590119/blue-juice-glasses-made-from-upcycled">Blue Beer Bottle Juice Glasses:</a><br />
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<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/101269440/green-glass-tumblers-made-from-upcycled">Green Perrier Bottle Tumblers:</a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg80bKM1bY37tzJQgHydNVKNaCjgipZsf2AcefI7-GYLOGbIv392VPcItQUypiuczwttBbMBec7N2-zat0rYqNSfSiOUXOqY_MXH0YRMDVWColo0FI7MTScFG-b_aTtPt6vnTgtzxLjw/s1600/DSC00018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg80bKM1bY37tzJQgHydNVKNaCjgipZsf2AcefI7-GYLOGbIv392VPcItQUypiuczwttBbMBec7N2-zat0rYqNSfSiOUXOqY_MXH0YRMDVWColo0FI7MTScFG-b_aTtPt6vnTgtzxLjw/s320/DSC00018.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Finally, this past week brought us the last official week of school for T. And her summer visit to her grandparents' house. It's been quiet at home today. And now that I can put up the stepmom hat for a short while, I can get back to blogging! </div>
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All of this has absolutely nothing to do with dogs, but they've been a part of everything we do and I just didn't feel right jumping back in to Blogville without letting you know why I've had no time to blog. I've missed you all and can't wait to catch up!</div>
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<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">It's good to be in Arwen's Pack.</div>ForPetsSakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716344585805514703noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6116751281081144559.post-80834588360027951612012-04-12T13:41:00.000-05:002012-04-12T13:41:13.750-05:00The Top Ten Reasons Why Dog Teens Dogs are Better Than Human Teens<div style="text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyRqcH_pGsOTlveHwICtv_p7y1MQkzELfoyM5jmM79GIxnZKHTm5b73LPsuFqy-Ue2XtBHU6JBYuXfmRFY24bQRCLjCJBfC5KgIR8pkvFU6aDav4r5j3XGLHRNiEeKDlwm7GtSXjR_bw/s1600/2011-10-23+13.46.52.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyRqcH_pGsOTlveHwICtv_p7y1MQkzELfoyM5jmM79GIxnZKHTm5b73LPsuFqy-Ue2XtBHU6JBYuXfmRFY24bQRCLjCJBfC5KgIR8pkvFU6aDav4r5j3XGLHRNiEeKDlwm7GtSXjR_bw/s400/2011-10-23+13.46.52.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What adults see...</td></tr>
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<b>10.</b> <b>Dogs grow up faster </b>- learning the ropes and falling into line takes far less time for dogs than the learning curve we have for humans. You'd think with those enormous brains, the human teen rate of learning should far exceed that of the family dog. If you don't believe me, teach your dog to put away his toys. Then tell your teenager to clean his room. See who follows through faster,<i> and</i> with better reliability.<br />
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<b>9. Chew toys</b> - I can order elk antler chews for all three dogs for under $30. Teens want video games, iPads (not gonna happen), make-up, new clothes, iTunes cards, etc. I can feel the cash being sucked from my wallet even now. I remember the toddling days when the cardboard box holding the toy was far more fun than the actual toy could ever be.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5hSkYQSI_0A8y-tVPHOyJI_H55U1HiOx5vl3Pkj776xJMdEKrnXvizyBbHEgFg-KraoEaqxwXOx_8bzpV4uelfbz65xF1tX8ugnsWsrkuJphTYBRhxDX_5rZ-IAwKryIWkJYsnPMKCg/s1600/pennies+in+empty+pockets.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5hSkYQSI_0A8y-tVPHOyJI_H55U1HiOx5vl3Pkj776xJMdEKrnXvizyBbHEgFg-KraoEaqxwXOx_8bzpV4uelfbz65xF1tX8ugnsWsrkuJphTYBRhxDX_5rZ-IAwKryIWkJYsnPMKCg/s400/pennies+in+empty+pockets.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">**crickets chirping**</td></tr>
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<b>8. Quiet</b> - Teen dogs don't chatter. Never have, never will. Oh, the quiet hours spent enjoying my dogs - puppies, teens, adults or seniors - all of which have been chatter-free! Not a full minute can be spent with a teen without hearing blah, blah, blah about some kid at school, or some new incident. And let's not forget about those one-sided phone conversations we're lucky enough to experience from the other room. Squeals of disbelief and statements peppered with "like", "oh my God", "I know", and "that's disgusting!"...<br />
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<b>7. No lies</b> - If a dog poops on the carpet, he doesn't pretend it didn't happen. If he eats a full bag of pita bread, he'll bring you the empty, half-chewed bag. If a teen does something wrong, he'll tell you it wasn't him, or the teacher didn't require that assignment to be turned in, or even that someone stole his binder at school. The best one yet - that she didn't cut her own bangs, while they've clearly been butchered right down the middle. She actually said someone must've cut them while she was sleeping!<br />
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<b>6. Responsibility</b> - If my dogs never earn the right to be left unattended at home, or to run off leash, it's really OK. There's always the crate and the leash. If my teen can't be trusted to stay home alone and not get into mischief, I can't watch her forever. And when she's old enough to go into the world on her own, I can't leash her. The leash is just too short...<br />
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<b>5. Back talk</b> - Dogs don't back talk. They don't have attitudes. They don't pout. They don't slam doors. Now God forbid my teen back talks or slams doors, but there's no shortage of attitudes or pouting around here. Yuk. If the dogs are unhappy, they just find something new to do, or take a nap. I've never received a haiku about how unfair something is from my dog. I can't say the same for my teen. See reason #2.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCh6r0F145eVwK8GyKMMe9AV3vjVWKtcUaPCqtHlJdhflEwmlTLk7PkDiUdsJgFnotqPiPEVMUHHlCIHLsGopR-kkhC9oucQeuq6RBZnchvMER7HFg-cHroy7QjJSJz48KAeExGjQzxg/s1600/078.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="376" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCh6r0F145eVwK8GyKMMe9AV3vjVWKtcUaPCqtHlJdhflEwmlTLk7PkDiUdsJgFnotqPiPEVMUHHlCIHLsGopR-kkhC9oucQeuq6RBZnchvMER7HFg-cHroy7QjJSJz48KAeExGjQzxg/s400/078.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So full of woe!</td></tr>
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<b>4. Behavioral consequences</b> - When a teen dog misbehaves, you have a few options. You can crate her, you can redirect her away from something undesirable, you can distract her with training. I've never once been able to redirect my teenager away from being passive aggressive with a shiny new squeaker toy, or stopped her from leaving dirty laundry on the floor with a few pieces of salmon jerky and a "sit, stay". And she just won't shut up when I put her in the crate...</div>
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<b>3. No break-ups</b> - Dogs don't date. Sometimes they pine, sometimes they hump, but they simply don't date. There's nothing sweeter than a dog following after the object of his affection, just trying to play bow his way into her heart. The same cannot be said for human teens. Seeing boys' names enshrined in red hearts drawn all over binders and notebooks just makes me nauseous. And the long phone chats analyzing something "he" said meant, drives me to drink. If you don't go anywhere, are you really "going out"?!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifDQddtOAvEdXWjyJ6g5Vd-BmF-RP-Z4GzUmXA-OIsoGYY6UkmsksYE7oE_6cd-kqiJbzNoossvpAanWH8jyoXifrxb5GGCS26uDwfwimXz2eABdVmQhp2Oh3qWqYd8LBmW79f_IrfhA/s1600/August+2011+004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifDQddtOAvEdXWjyJ6g5Vd-BmF-RP-Z4GzUmXA-OIsoGYY6UkmsksYE7oE_6cd-kqiJbzNoossvpAanWH8jyoXifrxb5GGCS26uDwfwimXz2eABdVmQhp2Oh3qWqYd8LBmW79f_IrfhA/s400/August+2011+004.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Double shot, please...</td></tr>
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<b>2. No drama</b> - For anyone who's ever lived with a teenage girl, there's no creature more dramatic or theatrical. A dog in her teens doesn't know the meaning of drama (except of course if you have a Sibe and are trying to trim her nails or give her a bath) but human teens live and breath by the beat of soap opera music. They ride each emotional wave like surfers on crack, crashing hard on the rocks of each jagged emotion. (Thought I'd give you a little taste of the daily drama with that last line...pretty awful, I know.) <br />
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<b>1</b>. <b>Spaying and Neutering </b>- enough said.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8F4VKDSSrAVVohfZJD4ZxI84FWhudKoMFqdHekcHautAPwubxe6V9pjTzqJEvI501ePJ0tbvrq5N7HDYv9ifU8aypMm0hAEUuLdyziIo-rVtRw7ecaiQwtYMjA-8NVXMYztBBLYFGOw/s1600/2012-02-16+19.36.55.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8F4VKDSSrAVVohfZJD4ZxI84FWhudKoMFqdHekcHautAPwubxe6V9pjTzqJEvI501ePJ0tbvrq5N7HDYv9ifU8aypMm0hAEUuLdyziIo-rVtRw7ecaiQwtYMjA-8NVXMYztBBLYFGOw/s400/2012-02-16+19.36.55.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Poor Arwen - even teen dogs can be annoying!</td></tr>
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">It's good to be in Arwen's Pack.</div>ForPetsSakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716344585805514703noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6116751281081144559.post-32768036080745358222012-04-05T15:11:00.000-05:002012-04-05T15:11:45.355-05:00No More Cooties!<br />
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Have you ever had that AHA! moment when you realize someone is your friend? That person might be in your life, but you never really clicked just right, or you never really had the opportunity to get to know them? This just played out with our dogs. <br />
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Arwen and Fenway get along great - she is the matriarch, he is the scrappy little pup. They've liked each other from the start and have similar full-contact play styles. But Nyxie and Fenway have had their differences. Nyxie would rather chases and play with toys than be mouthed and wrestled with. Fenway tries the chase games, but they eventually lead to his entire throat inside her jaws. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLwpzdav7a7c2FwcaKvu1_HPhqItGGbI9BDsDYwsDP6Qaj92sApcb8BRvXD4YAjvRK-D_FNx6Oywza-F0PzWDJNwiUJWBQiwuBtCoMff7WfGHlElv-8CSCm-GzjQ6Dc-vGIYonmBLhhQ/s1600/2012-03-11+17.15.12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLwpzdav7a7c2FwcaKvu1_HPhqItGGbI9BDsDYwsDP6Qaj92sApcb8BRvXD4YAjvRK-D_FNx6Oywza-F0PzWDJNwiUJWBQiwuBtCoMff7WfGHlElv-8CSCm-GzjQ6Dc-vGIYonmBLhhQ/s400/2012-03-11+17.15.12.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">While this play hold is great for Alligaterrrr, Fenway isn't a big fan</td></tr>
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Just the other weekend, I took Nyxie and Fenway to work with me to stretch their legs in the big yard where the boarders play. They sniffed and ran a bit, but were more interested in running laps inside the clinic. As they toured the long halls together, I saw a new spark. Maybe it was Fenway's joy at having one of his sisters at <a href="http://arwenspack.blogspot.com/2012/03/i-see-you-fenway.html">"school"</a> with him, or maybe it was that Arwen wasn't there to hijack Fenway into a wrestle match. Whatever it was, they bonded that day. Wild-eyed, and with tongues lolling sideways out of their panting heads, they found that missing piece. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLJLyLe9a_OJkJeviwRnJFwnJBpSWaHvUahzTcWVRHgetQ8OWZ9WdNs4oK7vGe_TU9jMnTuIKmqMuWcogEM-YmP9z_lkJAAUY6uQWFHGrJLFGL6ZXyVa7IL2UxU3m60aLj9vFaP4rn-g/s1600/2012-03-26+18.46.41.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLJLyLe9a_OJkJeviwRnJFwnJBpSWaHvUahzTcWVRHgetQ8OWZ9WdNs4oK7vGe_TU9jMnTuIKmqMuWcogEM-YmP9z_lkJAAUY6uQWFHGrJLFGL6ZXyVa7IL2UxU3m60aLj9vFaP4rn-g/s400/2012-03-26+18.46.41.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fenway loves going to school so much, I found his Kitty Head toy packed in the gym bag I use at lunch!</td></tr>
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My decision to take them to work that weekend was made spur of the moment to kill some boredom, get some exercise and give Arwen a break from the high energy of youngsters. Dogs are masters at taking a spontaneous moment and making it a memory. Here's how I found them later that night:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm3uD5-x6oSz2T-RkCoUoySGjpQ9e0NLTNa1P_8zOCh2vq6ZfLA62jLc6YZKillWL_yRQaZ3-EBWDHXy3j0M4EbBsXBD5dDgGOkCAJdCO4jPhNrHO-fSqIZ8NTQ2OZ6gm8cJwhfK4sbw/s1600/2012-03-17+15.47.34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm3uD5-x6oSz2T-RkCoUoySGjpQ9e0NLTNa1P_8zOCh2vq6ZfLA62jLc6YZKillWL_yRQaZ3-EBWDHXy3j0M4EbBsXBD5dDgGOkCAJdCO4jPhNrHO-fSqIZ8NTQ2OZ6gm8cJwhfK4sbw/s400/2012-03-17+15.47.34.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He's touching her and she's not yelling "COOTIES!!!""</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6wKC9oYWlVjvs65F5ANEwdJHDZtij-n44FAMoTWdEXdHtgN0UyAXrHjFtu009eRJFg5sIYdwM8imJ7OeZDOI7yoyNkLncXKYvybBnpF8Dwo4bwXVapZpZHmtLRNJ1zY62ycu25SKqDQ/s1600/2012-03-26+01.54.51.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6wKC9oYWlVjvs65F5ANEwdJHDZtij-n44FAMoTWdEXdHtgN0UyAXrHjFtu009eRJFg5sIYdwM8imJ7OeZDOI7yoyNkLncXKYvybBnpF8Dwo4bwXVapZpZHmtLRNJ1zY62ycu25SKqDQ/s400/2012-03-26+01.54.51.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cuddling on the bed together!! Unprecedented!</td></tr>
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">It's good to be in Arwen's Pack.</div>ForPetsSakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716344585805514703noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6116751281081144559.post-53089065965409912072012-03-22T13:46:00.003-05:002012-04-05T16:28:50.278-05:00When the Student Surpasses the Teacher<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJm0qU289ZgFu3ogDoQaH1KtuyC5Wk0T3TZ9zt7oPdkDr6q1OC-oiCWnPCJugXbVJ6lL20yp9_U238N-IPPu6mQV-nUtV-2RGn2v-nkwev0oE_x4wq19SLLKes_RbuI7-L1walFzfTvQ/s1600/2012-01-25+23.04.59.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJm0qU289ZgFu3ogDoQaH1KtuyC5Wk0T3TZ9zt7oPdkDr6q1OC-oiCWnPCJugXbVJ6lL20yp9_U238N-IPPu6mQV-nUtV-2RGn2v-nkwev0oE_x4wq19SLLKes_RbuI7-L1walFzfTvQ/s400/2012-01-25+23.04.59.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Screw Up Fairies in progress...</td></tr>
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So often, walking through our home makes me think the Screw-Up Fairy has detonated a grenade deep in the dog toy basket. After big play days, the rooms are literally littered with the sad, squeaker-less forms of these war-torn toys. The dog's lack of organization is rather impressive, really!<br />
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Nyxie, being the brilliant German Shepherd dog that she is, recognizes most of the silly names we give her toys - Dead Kitty (sorry feline fans, but the poor thing's head is hanging precariously to one side), Blue Bunny One Ear and MooCow, to name a few. Feeling she'd be up to the challenge, I decide to teach her how to put her toys away. But since I'm no trainer, I don't have the foggiest idea of where to start. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">MooCow, Blue Bunny One Ear and Dead Kitty</td></tr>
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YouTube to the rescue! (At this point, I'm pretty sure I see Nyxie roll her eyes in disgust).<br />
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So I watch a couple of YouTube videos on how to do this trick, the trainer making it look so easy with her happy little background music and enthusiastic voice. How hard can it be? (Nyxie glances over at the clock on the cable box. Did she just start tapping her paw?)<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"tap, tap, tap"</td></tr>
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The goal is to have the dog pick up each individual toy off the floor and drop it into the toy basket. We've all seen it done and think "I wish my dog would do that!" Each step is rewarded - pick up toy, bring toy, drop toy, eventually becomes drop toy in basket - the final progression looking seamless. Clearly both trainer and dog are brilliant in every way! It's not as easy as it looks, folks. </div>
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Number One - The dog has to be interested in her toy. I make the mistake of having treats on the table where Nyxie can see them, and since treats trump toys any day of the week, any toy interest goes the way of the Dodo bird. I'll have to wait until she's in the middle of playing with her toys to reintroduce training.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheCOUBXyiJYK1u9KbS27GwYbMG46nv7sYN0hJvvmZOcGGs-mgTZ40B9HgNaWXwsFQZzSXe3Z3f3Btz-8qxgxBH7eE2w5ZcnSS5-jY0-zYk-RltMzkhRR859aCzO4ivtbxjUvOwcytb3g/s1600/2011-11-13+14.08.31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheCOUBXyiJYK1u9KbS27GwYbMG46nv7sYN0hJvvmZOcGGs-mgTZ40B9HgNaWXwsFQZzSXe3Z3f3Btz-8qxgxBH7eE2w5ZcnSS5-jY0-zYk-RltMzkhRR859aCzO4ivtbxjUvOwcytb3g/s400/2011-11-13+14.08.31.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Number Two - The toy basket must not be filled with a few gabillion toys (oops!). Nyxie eyeballs this enormous basket of potential fun before her and thinks, "Ooooh! I haven't played with this one in the past 3 minutes!" I decide to take the toys out of the basket but I'm too late. Nyxie follows me, my arms laden down with dog toys crunchy with old slobber. I make a pile of these in the other room and she immediately plops down in the middle of the pile, happily chewing her old "buddies". See Number One. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJzjiHcYXppep4W2XzZnMWdYD9YuuNAk6EH6ycjB9XQyLjxxnAqyEBGhlFrFTVrH16SxFy79Z-GEC_x1NAtJKL_-Z02lnu_VBhQwQt1yrTPhgvzb0rtl_0OuZ4tFMdfDgOTKdK2XOTWA/s1600/2011-11-06+15.45.45.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJzjiHcYXppep4W2XzZnMWdYD9YuuNAk6EH6ycjB9XQyLjxxnAqyEBGhlFrFTVrH16SxFy79Z-GEC_x1NAtJKL_-Z02lnu_VBhQwQt1yrTPhgvzb0rtl_0OuZ4tFMdfDgOTKdK2XOTWA/s400/2011-11-06+15.45.45.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">total distraction</td></tr>
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Number Three - I discover that actually having a plan for this trick is crucial. See, even after watching the chain exercise on YouTube, it's crucial to know how to make it work for your dog. Also crucial to follow the steps in order and not try and skip ahead. I don't have a plan yet and skip a few basic steps.</div>
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I feel so stupid looking into Nyxie's deep brown, almond eyes. I can feel the intensity of her gaze, all the history and weight of her lineage dating back from 1889 when Capt. Max von Stephanitz began standardizing the breed in Germany.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1l5_6eDhK24Blyj-wbw4RaQSjUx0OgJXZFQYQ8BllFhnROhQb7IMASjqklPVTe30Cfbm3OzgX7YKesZ2aLDpsNZPCOVLfn8KNeVyzBujvt4_LUiNhod7kZ3r4aR2aTkmUePNfSA5xmA/s1600/max+von+stephanitz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1l5_6eDhK24Blyj-wbw4RaQSjUx0OgJXZFQYQ8BllFhnROhQb7IMASjqklPVTe30Cfbm3OzgX7YKesZ2aLDpsNZPCOVLfn8KNeVyzBujvt4_LUiNhod7kZ3r4aR2aTkmUePNfSA5xmA/s400/max+von+stephanitz.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
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I hear her sigh, her eyes saying, "It's ok. Why don't we start again tomorrow when you're more prepared."<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgMfVqbTLtMkxrytodrTk0pqCFPb-BlLG1_Tygshxi5QzK9CHXhNErnAWqST8uTF7YMmO311ZST04OuzHChOJlZJ__iifxhsB3ISNN1QrUPv3rmLprZpgXHvj1VIkUb_j7c49tCkQOww/s1600/2011-12-08+11.27.13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgMfVqbTLtMkxrytodrTk0pqCFPb-BlLG1_Tygshxi5QzK9CHXhNErnAWqST8uTF7YMmO311ZST04OuzHChOJlZJ__iifxhsB3ISNN1QrUPv3rmLprZpgXHvj1VIkUb_j7c49tCkQOww/s400/2011-12-08+11.27.13.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">It's good to be in Arwen's Pack.</div>ForPetsSakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716344585805514703noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6116751281081144559.post-27956272777482671922012-03-14T06:30:00.000-05:002012-03-14T06:30:00.239-05:00I See You, Fenway<br />
The clinic where I work has a kennel and a doggie-daycare. On Tuesdays, which is my longest day (12 hours), I bring Fenway to work with me. He loves to go to school to "play with the other kids". He knows when I'm getting ready for work and follows me around like a lost kitten, rubbing up against my legs and not letting me out of his sight! <br />
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There are certain other "kids" he likes to play with, and they're the Tuesday regulars. I watch him proudly through the viewing window as I work, a few moments stolen in quiet watchfulness. He's generally pretty well-behaved, but sometimes goes overboard with the humping and the rough play - he <i>is</i> a teenage boy, after all. He comes from the school of hard knocks - a doggie version of South Boston! Having 2 older sisters is no joke! <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2AcBPOE-cb-BBZ_fGBkme66wZkOrkAz-EwN2ug_OqrNIWYfF5koUIJKkA7Kq9-vkBSzeGwsS2sU9N0EyygmkTp2wr6blftkZrgmppCY1yH7_MIUBjpBJGSsazwwk9foL42CoXkkz4Qw/s1600/2012-01-31+14.49.16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2AcBPOE-cb-BBZ_fGBkme66wZkOrkAz-EwN2ug_OqrNIWYfF5koUIJKkA7Kq9-vkBSzeGwsS2sU9N0EyygmkTp2wr6blftkZrgmppCY1yH7_MIUBjpBJGSsazwwk9foL42CoXkkz4Qw/s400/2012-01-31+14.49.16.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Mom? Is that you out there?"</td></tr>
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As I watch him through the window, I see him running and playing. I feel like a mom watching her kid on the playground. I watch him stumble and get corrected. I watch him run and jump with glee! I watch him sort out his relationships with other dogs, all on his own. Then he sees me through the window and I hear him squeal with recognition, and crane his neck to see inside. It's then that I realize he has my heart. No more a homeless little foundling, but a loved dog. A dog with a home. A dog in Arwen's Pack.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxdsZcy3R1rnkMms9PkoCnyor2JuEBZjWtVmdPU63hxZwFX3-xsvysz2rkZPYRAUiFdETzBSGWF8epRZim0S8P3soMGSMWtF9NO_Ly4AzBUALfemrmGXrtQwYiUBQSQb44i8W4nbNkwQ/s1600/2012-01-29+16.11.22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxdsZcy3R1rnkMms9PkoCnyor2JuEBZjWtVmdPU63hxZwFX3-xsvysz2rkZPYRAUiFdETzBSGWF8epRZim0S8P3soMGSMWtF9NO_Ly4AzBUALfemrmGXrtQwYiUBQSQb44i8W4nbNkwQ/s400/2012-01-29+16.11.22.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Home is where you can snooze on your back in the sunbeams</td></tr>
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">It's good to be in Arwen's Pack.</div>ForPetsSakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716344585805514703noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6116751281081144559.post-16216482554519766562012-03-11T07:00:00.000-05:002012-03-11T20:28:43.297-05:00A Day for Wellies and Movies by the FireI love rainy days. <br />
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T and I took the girls out for a nice long walk this morning. It was drizzly and grey, and the weather kept everyone else inside. An ideal walk day for a family with reactive dogs! We talked and walked - a great start to the day. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3YS6Rsw-sYlbbM6niQOXp8KxqwznvmMqDx24ggrtzFX9X3F1WXMF75H33MjdISs_fBKgFKkNEJYq4cJCfFNw00Twh0Df5UunnadjslZIgnfxHO15muAOaTZq_MNFKThzsHDjhbu6vKw/s1600/2011-10-24+07.49.58.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3YS6Rsw-sYlbbM6niQOXp8KxqwznvmMqDx24ggrtzFX9X3F1WXMF75H33MjdISs_fBKgFKkNEJYq4cJCfFNw00Twh0Df5UunnadjslZIgnfxHO15muAOaTZq_MNFKThzsHDjhbu6vKw/s400/2011-10-24+07.49.58.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A perfect morning for a walk!</td></tr>
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After some laundry and other chores, we settled in to marathon of Terminator movies. We cheered at the "I'll be back" lines, fretted over John Connor's fate, and marveled at Linda Hamilton's muscles, all the while snuggling in front of the fire. The dogs having walked and played most of the morning, were content to trade snoozing places between the couch and before the toasty warmth of the fire. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAzRDCQNKBjn8W1NqSmej_bQIJvDXkKTL0SUg6dhrVcNoUOm65lBMMqhNGDsp1ccqgH3ME7OqX2p64PlCxIWXs2-tkXECaWMcJjHY1XcwdwZpFRVum0-Z2iXhiTaM064mk7hcecvGnCg/s1600/terminator.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAzRDCQNKBjn8W1NqSmej_bQIJvDXkKTL0SUg6dhrVcNoUOm65lBMMqhNGDsp1ccqgH3ME7OqX2p64PlCxIWXs2-tkXECaWMcJjHY1XcwdwZpFRVum0-Z2iXhiTaM064mk7hcecvGnCg/s400/terminator.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Arnold Schwarzenegger in Terminator</td></tr>
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Nyxie has a favorite spot on the couch. It's right in the center where all the extra throw pillows end up. Matt and I sit at either end of the couch, legs outstretched and Nyxie will eventually find her cozy spot in the middle of us. I call this spot her "nest" - a safe haven away from Fenway, who tortures her by just coming too close.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggYHhBaNQCIfAShtDBz-5tcKYHD7YOgejFdcAAIq1D-YCLpDy6D-tg2JGZDeUCFSzMo9qLBlH8GSUqVOyn39kX0l6d8R_LxYci7p9gmk_q9rk8ScJ1pCc2ND3-31WAC9gpNXp8eET3YA/s1600/2011-12-08+11.26.02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggYHhBaNQCIfAShtDBz-5tcKYHD7YOgejFdcAAIq1D-YCLpDy6D-tg2JGZDeUCFSzMo9qLBlH8GSUqVOyn39kX0l6d8R_LxYci7p9gmk_q9rk8ScJ1pCc2ND3-31WAC9gpNXp8eET3YA/s400/2011-12-08+11.26.02.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Not another picture, Mom!"</td></tr>
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It's in these moments when she is cuddly, soft and trusting. She'll bury her snooter in the pillows beside us, her nose just touching us. Sometimes she lays with her head resting on the soft pillows, snoring quietly in a deep sleep. I'll rest my head on her back, grateful for her trust. If we watch a scary movie, her proximity and warmth keep me grounded and safe.<br />
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Tonight she snored quietly, head behind my closest pillow, paws resting against my hip. I felt her deep, slow breathing and knew she felt secure between us. All her fears and insecurities melt away in these moments shared with the people and dogs that make up her world. She could let her guard down knowing she was safe. <br />
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And we all knew it was a good day to be in Arwen's Pack<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ8fOH3JtTcWfjT7ym1Ise3k4-mDMWSuki2YAM4onWMsNtlsumaXV5snDtHD4qPiTXs8jVbauwZZfOIsVRe31zDxSq8WaHQwbcrx3Px0fQs9AytV5Z3K6FSvXF4vCtoEpyaiE9rJU7Jg/s1600/2011-12-05+21.36.23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ8fOH3JtTcWfjT7ym1Ise3k4-mDMWSuki2YAM4onWMsNtlsumaXV5snDtHD4qPiTXs8jVbauwZZfOIsVRe31zDxSq8WaHQwbcrx3Px0fQs9AytV5Z3K6FSvXF4vCtoEpyaiE9rJU7Jg/s400/2011-12-05+21.36.23.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Mom - can I share your monkey slanket with you?"</td></tr>
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">It's good to be in Arwen's Pack.</div>ForPetsSakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716344585805514703noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6116751281081144559.post-40198002941535511142012-03-08T11:04:00.001-06:002012-03-08T11:04:32.777-06:00Underdogs Go SouthOne of my family's favorite TV shows is <a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_483326880">Animal Planet's </a><i><a href="http://animal.discovery.com/tv/pitbulls-and-parolees/">Pit Bulls and Parolees</a>. </i>Although we don't always catch the show at its regular air time, we can usually catch it through our cable's "on demand" feature. If you've never watched this show, (where've you been?) it's about a tough, heart of gold Pit Bull rescuer who runs a huge rescue ranch in California with her daughters and extended family of parolee guys. See, <a href="http://animal.discovery.com/tv/pitbulls-and-parolees/bios/tia.html">Tia Marie Torres</a> doesn't just rescue Pitties. Her husband is incarcerated and she believes in second chances. She's opened her heart to parolees, helping them get their lives on track by caring for the dogs at <a href="http://www.vrcpitbull.net/dog/">Villalobos Rescue Center</a> in California. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2C8i0YQkT5k3BjMtfekxlJkP4L7kYrw97GV0MWFCz5ftWRipPOakzqhKQlOXXcSoNeEjzq91UoNJzqYTRPhtMx1dasFyU0edA5zwXxsmPFEGXUwWASLPnMFrdYgzhqahCXnuLNtzIuA/s1600/Pitbulls+and+parolees+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2C8i0YQkT5k3BjMtfekxlJkP4L7kYrw97GV0MWFCz5ftWRipPOakzqhKQlOXXcSoNeEjzq91UoNJzqYTRPhtMx1dasFyU0edA5zwXxsmPFEGXUwWASLPnMFrdYgzhqahCXnuLNtzIuA/s400/Pitbulls+and+parolees+1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yeah, she's pretty awesome...</td></tr>
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Tia is one of those women who really <i>knows</i> dogs. She also really <i>knows</i> people. She's tough as nails and has razor-sharp intuition. Her daughters impress me and I hope I can raise my own to have the same strength and sense of self that her two have. And to also instill in her a rescuer's heart. Raising a strong girl is tough work - she's done it twice. Cheers to you, Tia!</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr1eFruoOFDuSPXWvOR6wcxZy-Ji3dVm3KMThw2HLtIOFCzh76Gyxrw6ZbmQcbaYkMSzzqrOkc5GaKqZqgE03CO-WE7akFVb2w0UZiIkncUmwuIfglQUeedmLl24rCxATrFVODDOA5Qw/s1600/pit+bulls+and+parolees+mom+and+daughters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr1eFruoOFDuSPXWvOR6wcxZy-Ji3dVm3KMThw2HLtIOFCzh76Gyxrw6ZbmQcbaYkMSzzqrOkc5GaKqZqgE03CO-WE7akFVb2w0UZiIkncUmwuIfglQUeedmLl24rCxATrFVODDOA5Qw/s400/pit+bulls+and+parolees+mom+and+daughters.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tia with daughters, Tani and Mariah</td></tr>
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<i><a href="http://animal.discovery.com/tv/pitbulls-and-parolees/">Pitt Bulls and Parolees</a></i> is one of the few TV shows that has actually moved my own 14 year old daughter to tears. She says Tia is tough like me (aw, shucks). She's grown so attached to Fenway (who's suspiciously of Pittie lineage) and empathizes deeply with the plight of these rescue dogs. It's a beautiful thing to see, really. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvgE2udJ5Bz3fvlGyxZX-Wqvz7HE1I5vvH84u_HVN3QiQCXEXnKMALprnuL7X5IcKSP4GKz6agI7tOUOttZkM-S-RDOzcS8Qb2iFH0UToZemjf8Qp2uNTrIgGX7pw1OTLtdD88Zraoqg/s1600/2011-12-22+15.17.32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvgE2udJ5Bz3fvlGyxZX-Wqvz7HE1I5vvH84u_HVN3QiQCXEXnKMALprnuL7X5IcKSP4GKz6agI7tOUOttZkM-S-RDOzcS8Qb2iFH0UToZemjf8Qp2uNTrIgGX7pw1OTLtdD88Zraoqg/s400/2011-12-22+15.17.32.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">BFF's</td></tr>
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So why have I told you all this? </div>
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I just finished watching episode 12, season 3 -"on demand", of course- and got some wonderful news. <a href="http://www.vrcpitbull.net/dog/">Villalobos Rescue Center</a> has moved to New Orleans! Any of you who follow my blog know how much I love New Orleans. It's the city that truly holds my heart. </div>
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Now this was no easy move for them, I'm sure. People, belongings, and over 150 Pit Bulls were moved! Only Tia... </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht_EUTQxkKqkdxhzT42CR6Lb1cympUVinNbjd6VWrDPUFFlgpncD8ofLYMBA8OFnHN1wxzSPamgcicadPG23iPBz9Sc1HCA1mQa4v3ToKC9_L1JlD5CiESXaF4QCZ3J_FqtlKXj6A1aw/s1600/Pitbulls+and+parolees+crew.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht_EUTQxkKqkdxhzT42CR6Lb1cympUVinNbjd6VWrDPUFFlgpncD8ofLYMBA8OFnHN1wxzSPamgcicadPG23iPBz9Sc1HCA1mQa4v3ToKC9_L1JlD5CiESXaF4QCZ3J_FqtlKXj6A1aw/s400/Pitbulls+and+parolees+crew.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tia and her family</td></tr>
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<div>
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<div>
I wanted to help spread the word here and ask you to <a href="http://www.vrcpitbull.net/dog/about/">visit their website</a>. They're humanitarians, rescuers, and relentless champions for the ultimate underdogs - Pit Bulls<i> and</i> parolees. If you read through their site, you'll find they ask for doggie goods, volunteers, and financial support. </div>
<div>
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<div>
As though my family needed any more reason to go to New Orleans? It makes sense for them to be there. If ever there was a place that will be home to a tough fight, New Orleans fits that bill. Good luck, Tia! Maybe someday we can clink Hurricane glasses and talk dogs, raising teenage girls and fighting the good fight. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0LEygNRv3wfMEE4xoZUTeFRvEAe1c6N0jT7PSX1-bkZtIekrl4xgGvpvxnNhy9oVDWJeB4jLtQdhK2Yafyv67wWj8aVvkFvLBVxk0tgFbLDOWFhTtz8tyhKWN_tVkSzOkkP28UshHsA/s1600/dog+with+hurricane.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0LEygNRv3wfMEE4xoZUTeFRvEAe1c6N0jT7PSX1-bkZtIekrl4xgGvpvxnNhy9oVDWJeB4jLtQdhK2Yafyv67wWj8aVvkFvLBVxk0tgFbLDOWFhTtz8tyhKWN_tVkSzOkkP28UshHsA/s400/dog+with+hurricane.jpg" width="289" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cheers!</td></tr>
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<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">It's good to be in Arwen's Pack.</div>ForPetsSakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716344585805514703noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6116751281081144559.post-13516203966945994252012-03-01T22:36:00.001-06:002012-03-01T22:36:25.283-06:00Luck of the Irish month?<br />
As dog parents, we have the duty to keep our wards well-groomed and in working order. This often comes with the arduous task of nail-trimming. I know. I know - many of you are shuddering - the mere thought of cutting dog nails is causing sweaty palms and accelerated hearts. To celebrate the new month - March - my personal month-long Irish heritage festivus - I decided to trim dog nails. <br />
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Yes, it's nothing but good times here at my house...<br />
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Arwen is an old pro. Like everything else in her distinguished life, she handles nail trims like a champ. I call her over, she lays down on her back in front of me. I simply start trimming. She slowly pulls her legs away from me at times, and when we're almost done, she tries to wriggle away. For the most part, though, I just clip away and talk softly to her. When we're done, I cheer for her with lots of praise and she runs to the kitchen for a big treat. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWoVt_ZQmfmQOqfnvLhPkRjYZtW7BfKNgZQWYZPk7Ft0LY_QX_P1XmeDlDnWr0AE1sQpKbgbri7DGcuxE8xI2Id6AICpB7obye5UxXsgTbflvUO8WOGBRZow2PlvoTCy1_zg04MB4ULw/s1600/2011-12-18+15.07.19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWoVt_ZQmfmQOqfnvLhPkRjYZtW7BfKNgZQWYZPk7Ft0LY_QX_P1XmeDlDnWr0AE1sQpKbgbri7DGcuxE8xI2Id6AICpB7obye5UxXsgTbflvUO8WOGBRZow2PlvoTCy1_zg04MB4ULw/s400/2011-12-18+15.07.19.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Notice the patient look in these eyes?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Nyxie is next. This girl is big, smart, high-strung, and mostly compliant. A bag of training treats wins her over as I call her to lay down in front of me. I trim her nails as she lays on her side, taking softly to her and giving her a treat after each nail is done. In a vain attempt to resist me and the treats, she rights herself usually after each second nail. She's a drooling puddle of forgiving goo that while she wants so terribly to resist me, her desire to please me wins out every time. Thank goodness for her German Shepherd-ness!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3JxDEeIqXrLjesUJ5z5c9tDvvwiQBjdZQxL0bCR735R-Sy89yrxjIzMEkyQWvmchvZlGa8F_PyOzo2N8S3hJfRAOZavj44ZuiqmqsrRbGa8l2KIZp3vGE9IQtpK_b1YbJx1mlW0MjMQ/s1600/2011-12-08+11.18.23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3JxDEeIqXrLjesUJ5z5c9tDvvwiQBjdZQxL0bCR735R-Sy89yrxjIzMEkyQWvmchvZlGa8F_PyOzo2N8S3hJfRAOZavj44ZuiqmqsrRbGa8l2KIZp3vGE9IQtpK_b1YbJx1mlW0MjMQ/s400/2011-12-08+11.18.23.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nails? Whatever you say, Mom.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
And then there's Fenway...<br />
Fenway is a dog that's not used to being groomed. In his former mystery life, I'm quite sure there weren't regular baths or nail trims, ear checks or paw cleanings. When there's no suspicion that you actually have a grooming tool, or medication, he lets you pretty much do anything to him. But if you try to do anything to him, he treats you like a zombie bite victim. <br />
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"Will she bite me? Is she infected? Better to run away!"<br />
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Poor kiddo. With a ton of patience and treats, his nails were cut and then filed. He did pretty well, actually. I think he finally got tired of my unrelenting persistence in holding those little paws of his. Happy March, Fenway - maybe the rest of the month will bring you the luck of the Irish. But then again, you need to be neutered soon...<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiukN8WmpreDQYV9S8pgxfuyqIMd5tfN7eh96mINr8o6yNCeSySiDAqdDdWdouTbE4NZK9Fnt6a4IllNsGc2MhmfhAnlRkPIW0k_jVtxo2vwq_Ifr8ukHtejfRdhmmIC8S522lelPjWaQ/s1600/September+2011+066.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiukN8WmpreDQYV9S8pgxfuyqIMd5tfN7eh96mINr8o6yNCeSySiDAqdDdWdouTbE4NZK9Fnt6a4IllNsGc2MhmfhAnlRkPIW0k_jVtxo2vwq_Ifr8ukHtejfRdhmmIC8S522lelPjWaQ/s400/September+2011+066.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">YOU'RE GOING TO TRIM MY WHAT?!</td></tr>
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">It's good to be in Arwen's Pack.</div>ForPetsSakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716344585805514703noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6116751281081144559.post-73358814059479930662012-02-28T16:28:00.000-06:002012-02-28T16:28:52.127-06:00Anticipated and Not-So Anticipated Drop-Kicking<br />
Last night, our family went to the <a href="http://www.dropkickmurphys.com/">Dropkick Murphys</a> concert at the <a href="http://www.houseofblues.com/venues/clubvenues/dallas/">House of Blues in Dallas</a>. We're long-time fans, having seen them years ago in Portland, ME where we used to live. They're a Boston band, with a loyal New England following, so a Texas show is a rarity. This was T's first real concert with us and we'd all been looking forward to this show all these many weeks since we surprised her with the tickets on Christmas Day.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZrzFjar1V9zPW1Bsm4x9_CsnukRsJKaUuthIQaSieA5Xde-XrRZq_JYWbk6_aUHhDovH4EiH5FZYMxMMIEa5e6RNW0mpdzPTDSn_vCJW_dJlmZTAdXcazd9uVijP3RhrkYI6WpAmiVA/s1600/2012-02-27+22.44.26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZrzFjar1V9zPW1Bsm4x9_CsnukRsJKaUuthIQaSieA5Xde-XrRZq_JYWbk6_aUHhDovH4EiH5FZYMxMMIEa5e6RNW0mpdzPTDSn_vCJW_dJlmZTAdXcazd9uVijP3RhrkYI6WpAmiVA/s400/2012-02-27+22.44.26.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">House of Blues last night</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The show was cozy and intimate, which was both good and bad. While we were a stone's throw from the band, we were also very close to the speakers and the mosh pit. Much of the night was spent sheltering T from every shove and push. Now that we're getting older, and bringing a young one around, we'll be buying balcony tickets instead. Ah, the joys of growing up...<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4iqGHNDRfLkeoy4B_JamCUi7z57u2Oeu6Xin0tNMouGT8OOsmr2tKgcgJsg0pyAKKW2caKaQfe94Xvdq7159GLtyJAMHJegqm2Jw9XQ8aB-LUxrRkRMDAq1q9b1VqQVGZCplLYAUb1A/s1600/2012-02-27+20.59.45.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4iqGHNDRfLkeoy4B_JamCUi7z57u2Oeu6Xin0tNMouGT8OOsmr2tKgcgJsg0pyAKKW2caKaQfe94Xvdq7159GLtyJAMHJegqm2Jw9XQ8aB-LUxrRkRMDAq1q9b1VqQVGZCplLYAUb1A/s400/2012-02-27+20.59.45.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So close!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXNiQlcBeblcgzqlAyIReFUnbZm0N6z-h7dM5ahSMcKvoiw0hcIZ5tr92zYkbHFTkhSDOfwtkfguN5zs-FFbEOaujMnmaE8rINGkdYgydbJnKv5IyImZc8-Wc9Z7Z-mUYKw10Zesg62g/s1600/2012-02-27+21.44.01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXNiQlcBeblcgzqlAyIReFUnbZm0N6z-h7dM5ahSMcKvoiw0hcIZ5tr92zYkbHFTkhSDOfwtkfguN5zs-FFbEOaujMnmaE8rINGkdYgydbJnKv5IyImZc8-Wc9Z7Z-mUYKw10Zesg62g/s400/2012-02-27+21.44.01.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Acoustic set</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQiiuJGFM73R6YKCez7qU_N3Q6wfQ9b3Kb8QFnWmMxTaL_NGTrUMmhtTC2GuQtNIb1patZjc1EV43SNka-7q9GyRf9Iw76h16EgLHeIWWQPb3hgtfNB9Q_6n3uaBGfSk8GHzFLJBuDog/s1600/2012-02-27+22.00.18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQiiuJGFM73R6YKCez7qU_N3Q6wfQ9b3Kb8QFnWmMxTaL_NGTrUMmhtTC2GuQtNIb1patZjc1EV43SNka-7q9GyRf9Iw76h16EgLHeIWWQPb3hgtfNB9Q_6n3uaBGfSk8GHzFLJBuDog/s400/2012-02-27+22.00.18.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A little banjo...</td></tr>
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With my head still foggy from hearing loss and Guinness, we set out on our morning walk. As always, Arwen was very interested in these huge cabbage-shaped weeds in the open field behind us. I tugged at her leash a couple of steps ahead of her, urging her to keep up. Feeling annoyed at her desire to sniff every green thing between home and her usual potty area, I tugged again. Suddenly, she started sneezing deeply. These were the kind of sneezes that shake her whole body in thunderous tremors. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigultubbkRJP-o5mnRK8i2ErIgRwZ-wCW6hwuHhT-lFZ832_1i8Hasy8BWQNgvHM2uc5Oqk9IA79li6pAinacd-9qhRu-OJcAUHEImQeG-tBkJMfY0wMoaIiJoUMHkoF7Ncdz7EojCKA/s1600/093.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigultubbkRJP-o5mnRK8i2ErIgRwZ-wCW6hwuHhT-lFZ832_1i8Hasy8BWQNgvHM2uc5Oqk9IA79li6pAinacd-9qhRu-OJcAUHEImQeG-tBkJMfY0wMoaIiJoUMHkoF7Ncdz7EojCKA/s400/093.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Wait, mom! I think I smell coyotes!"</td></tr>
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This time, I turned towards her just in time to see Arwen leaning far backwards in the throes of an enormous sneeze, at the end of her leash as I pulled. Over she toppled, and then fell onto her side. She was still trying to get that sneeze out, but was now flailing her legs around trying to right herself. As I looked down at my beautiful, helpless Arwen, I was convinced she was having a seizure! All the symptoms were there - stiff, rigid body, legs flailing in helpless motion, and unable to stand up. I called for Matt who was far ahead of us now and he came running back over.<br />
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I was missing a <i>really</i> crucial piece of information, though. When Arwen had gone over onto her side, she was lying in a bit of a ditch - her body was actually almost upside down and I was kneeling over her. She was simply stuck! Here I was trying to deal with what looked like a seizure, when in reality she was stuck like a ladybug on her back! <br />
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So while I was relieved she hadn't had a seizure, I felt awful that I'd managed to flip my poor old lady onto her back and then I'd pinned her into a ditch. All because I was irritated that she wanted to smell some weeds and then got sniffly. <br />
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There are definitely extra belly rubs in Arwen's immediate future. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHwjlwmePol_qVnVNndXTB4laV9JDM5ABaaV7LBXsmtljhw1_q91FRW2zCEvsaDhjetkBUHjeY8vwDOPnVZQhwi-IiQtr03tL4JYCft0ERXiui7KAhomFT_UReSmHBNsj3Tdl0Ta4fUQ/s1600/045.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHwjlwmePol_qVnVNndXTB4laV9JDM5ABaaV7LBXsmtljhw1_q91FRW2zCEvsaDhjetkBUHjeY8vwDOPnVZQhwi-IiQtr03tL4JYCft0ERXiui7KAhomFT_UReSmHBNsj3Tdl0Ta4fUQ/s400/045.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Oh, this belly? Yes, you may rub this belly"</td></tr>
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">It's good to be in Arwen's Pack.</div>ForPetsSakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716344585805514703noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6116751281081144559.post-22982711961819593722012-02-16T19:47:00.000-06:002012-02-16T19:47:25.577-06:00FiveSibes' "What's Wrong With Gibson?" Canine Epilepsy Awareness Book Tour<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We had the most wonderful delivery come via snail mail just the other day...It was a book! Not just any book, Dears...oh no. It was <u>What's Wrong With Gibson?</u>, written by Dorothy Wills-Raftery and illustrated by Michelle Littler. It's a touching children's book about canine epilepsy, told with love and compassion from the <a href="http://fivesibes.blogspot.com/">FiveSibes</a> mom herself.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSC-L_Xlc-7ZhZ6-2yGYgHS7JJ3jvzbIlcgEe6Q2uPjtK6c0-oyWjWc-UOBOuKRLpAimYgnGrei1XEyj3vNdSjUdMIIYkcCS65rZzRL7KdlNWqBPBEiwr2Wa4SREjTmAZ6aSF0BnkR3w/s1600/2012-02-16+16.05.48.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSC-L_Xlc-7ZhZ6-2yGYgHS7JJ3jvzbIlcgEe6Q2uPjtK6c0-oyWjWc-UOBOuKRLpAimYgnGrei1XEyj3vNdSjUdMIIYkcCS65rZzRL7KdlNWqBPBEiwr2Wa4SREjTmAZ6aSF0BnkR3w/s400/2012-02-16+16.05.48.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Look at our awesome new book! So many pictures of my cousins!"</td></tr>
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The story unfolds in rhyme, sweetly illustrating the <a href="http://fivesibes.blogspot.com/">FiveSibes</a> pack at play. I won't spoil it for you, but I will tell you that through their seizure experience, they teach us some great information. The story is moving and actually had me choking back tears - I'm a big sap after all. Harley knows just what to do, and shows her pack to act with care and love in supporting big brother, Gibson.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhF1Uod2avHp4cHvNwdgS938RqQ32MJvSvW-x_sLcEfGNqSfip3_s1co0Yb1-XH02Vi5xa-NZfwbFmiiI-xYrkDApb3eVSBaioVWPiLnNl5AoWE4PBerzxJGWefoCNiC294qeUc3j_-A/s1600/2012-02-16+16.06.33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhF1Uod2avHp4cHvNwdgS938RqQ32MJvSvW-x_sLcEfGNqSfip3_s1co0Yb1-XH02Vi5xa-NZfwbFmiiI-xYrkDApb3eVSBaioVWPiLnNl5AoWE4PBerzxJGWefoCNiC294qeUc3j_-A/s400/2012-02-16+16.06.33.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Come here, Fenway, I'm going to read you a story about seizures..." "Seizures?! They sound scary!!"</td></tr>
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I remember watching my first seizure as a vet tech. I can still see that poor Rottweiler's body shaking and tensing, while her head hit the hard floor. We placed a towel under her until it was over, waiting anxiously for the electrical storm in her brain to stop. My heart goes out to all those that suffer from epilepsy and are forced to endure it alongside their kiddos.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtPbp9NqC8Nm_ec_bXFFLyLZsnV0Fe-diHS0nPpOQIKKzE3ygP5UztBggLytS-nCQxql0tUPdKd4JgZNjpCMIjUtyejEXmVvQa_DlUaRG89H7AquxW4yVYI7XAPh5LSgX1fkL06WqocQ/s1600/2012-02-16+16.07.00.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtPbp9NqC8Nm_ec_bXFFLyLZsnV0Fe-diHS0nPpOQIKKzE3ygP5UztBggLytS-nCQxql0tUPdKd4JgZNjpCMIjUtyejEXmVvQa_DlUaRG89H7AquxW4yVYI7XAPh5LSgX1fkL06WqocQ/s400/2012-02-16+16.07.00.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I'm too scared to look..."<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9zlCe6UO7N5w7ypCOtxZTXn6Cnkj9EE-ug3xZVhgBleLjc14w-LQw3VPYDbQxQ6CauEFwiBGkuXO52BEYMUjcKPcExc6uO8pab8AubORvNDPVmk7-9bj4bD5ckIK1366EPnllaU5Q2g/s1600/2012-02-16+16.07.16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9zlCe6UO7N5w7ypCOtxZTXn6Cnkj9EE-ug3xZVhgBleLjc14w-LQw3VPYDbQxQ6CauEFwiBGkuXO52BEYMUjcKPcExc6uO8pab8AubORvNDPVmk7-9bj4bD5ckIK1366EPnllaU5Q2g/s400/2012-02-16+16.07.16.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Nyxie, do we have to be worried about epilepsy?"</td></tr>
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Please support Dorothy by heading over to <a href="http://www.arctichousepublishing.com/">ArcticHouse Publishing</a> and buying a copy. Please visit my friend, Dorothy at <a href="http://fivesibes.blogspot.com/">FiveSibes</a> to read more about her fantastic pack, and please buy What's Wrong With Gibson - a percentage of each book will be donated by the author to <a href="http://Canine-Epilepsy.com/">Canine Epilepsy Resources</a>!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5DONXrHTCnvBsefQFtryecjrfvz5wx116Uy0jaxR-Keo6fIodVu8_bTzitCZHzlnvr5GB0s4t2iHvi0X4tOspf6U49buW_XlNmGttr6tTASNsy9mnw3YopCEAJsL-S2cC1W8nLXs_mw/s1600/2012-02-16+16.11.25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5DONXrHTCnvBsefQFtryecjrfvz5wx116Uy0jaxR-Keo6fIodVu8_bTzitCZHzlnvr5GB0s4t2iHvi0X4tOspf6U49buW_XlNmGttr6tTASNsy9mnw3YopCEAJsL-S2cC1W8nLXs_mw/s400/2012-02-16+16.11.25.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I've got you covered, Little Brother. Let's read it together..."</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2SNfDpl2RDRQrOS_3yqQ45JrDwRW3tP0IxL3s6_9QiX3ywLsYwAcjKIvH1agKhz_eJIEoimu3IywQHJ3ctFoyJlyZXPTmIHXVjOy_ESMPB_KlsPxwtJcTKvjuPUa0E4IyhBW-oA0-vQ/s1600/2012-02-16+16.08.52.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2SNfDpl2RDRQrOS_3yqQ45JrDwRW3tP0IxL3s6_9QiX3ywLsYwAcjKIvH1agKhz_eJIEoimu3IywQHJ3ctFoyJlyZXPTmIHXVjOy_ESMPB_KlsPxwtJcTKvjuPUa0E4IyhBW-oA0-vQ/s400/2012-02-16+16.08.52.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"We don't have to be scared! Thanks to The <a href="http://fivesibes.blogspot.com/">FiveSibes</a>, we know how to handle seizures!"</td></tr>
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">It's good to be in Arwen's Pack.</div>ForPetsSakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716344585805514703noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6116751281081144559.post-64549638110906182092012-01-30T22:12:00.002-06:002012-01-31T22:31:26.544-06:00Arwen has Arthritis<br />
Arwen's particular type of arthritis is more specifically known as spondylosis - osteoarthritis of the spine that causes bony spurs to grow on the ventral side of the vertebrae. These kinds of bone spurs result from trauma, or from a familial predisposition. Since Arwen hasn't had any trauma, she must have had this lovely characteristic passed down to her from her family. We knew she was starting to have some discomfort from seeing a prior xray, but this most recent visit to the vet for pain symptoms, showed us how very bad the condition was becoming. Here are her x-rays:<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwnXS_bKwIHRhliHJg93N-6WlZoZ7mNm03vJkFYAyKM3kpaPiGmJZVV_Z-LYtnHK2PzgWxC2ugxYlXfYuVVkrDas14ltbhY8hSueVyPFkROx9QZaIqcJdurlPBDRSz8oIfD4qjSpDolw/s1600/2011-12-22+11.59.16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwnXS_bKwIHRhliHJg93N-6WlZoZ7mNm03vJkFYAyKM3kpaPiGmJZVV_Z-LYtnHK2PzgWxC2ugxYlXfYuVVkrDas14ltbhY8hSueVyPFkROx9QZaIqcJdurlPBDRSz8oIfD4qjSpDolw/s400/2011-12-22+11.59.16.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See where the arrows are? Those are the bone spurs - ugh!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtMZ1sgV8Y7kqcXzIbe59mM2bvp4bfk98O86FiPHTyul4k4v-P_veZlptUGlzv_nWWej0KtcXogUyzVQeI6nYomLVwiSx6z_-h7NIPVtGRupygYKbixXFZAT0TnbPTCR4x9zaoL0mEOA/s1600/2011-12-22+11.59.28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtMZ1sgV8Y7kqcXzIbe59mM2bvp4bfk98O86FiPHTyul4k4v-P_veZlptUGlzv_nWWej0KtcXogUyzVQeI6nYomLVwiSx6z_-h7NIPVtGRupygYKbixXFZAT0TnbPTCR4x9zaoL0mEOA/s400/2011-12-22+11.59.28.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The arrows up show those nasty bone spurs. The arrow down shows how much poo the poor girl wasn't able to pass because those spurs were pinching her nerves!<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The bone spurs were pinching the nerves that tell Arwen that it's time to poo. My poor girl was painful from her spine AND uncomfortable because she couldn't pass a bowl movement. She was grumbly, panting and couldn't get comfortable. Now I understood why. We started her on a canine NSAID, Metacam, and she was back to normal in a couple of days. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">To get her off of prescription meds, I've been advised by her vet to stay on fish oil at high doses, and start tart cherry juice supplements. We've also started Dasuquin, a powerful joint supplement. I just started her on the tart cherry supplements. I'll let you know how that goes. I'm also considering acupuncture. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Arwen is still playing, jumping and walking as well as she always has, but there are subtle changes. She sleeps on her back mostly and while playing, she's pretty guarded with the other 2 jumping around her. She rarely sleeps through the night on her bed, which is something she's always done. Now she's changing positions more and often leaves her bed for the flat floor in her crate. Lest you think she's become weak and frail, she still runs the Pack with an iron paw. Discipline and leadership can't take medical leave!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Ac2NsGqLHmWBPSgtdltJ6L6ghyCyUrkoQm5ICMqtCwM6nM9JLNA69cJOwf8PZpJUtEh9xHOcy8dnv_Nz9UmjsdaDhV-RWm22SifuN_rk9bMuptRZqTTzx9K0B9YI1x6ZWNk_S99tkQ/s1600/2012-01-12+13.03.16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Ac2NsGqLHmWBPSgtdltJ6L6ghyCyUrkoQm5ICMqtCwM6nM9JLNA69cJOwf8PZpJUtEh9xHOcy8dnv_Nz9UmjsdaDhV-RWm22SifuN_rk9bMuptRZqTTzx9K0B9YI1x6ZWNk_S99tkQ/s400/2012-01-12+13.03.16.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">It's good to be in Arwen's Pack.</div>ForPetsSakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716344585805514703noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6116751281081144559.post-60237983186000776012012-01-26T13:26:00.000-06:002012-01-26T13:26:26.274-06:00No More Pine Sol<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-6PdnOtvtIWjAf3x_mmjGvpo1EOKcJDhU2Yqq-FhtScP_bdCcd_tA5R6BaKS1G8dZl3KzsrFqVRucH-T_S-ifCTGCyZ9qDVzCOmH1hJ7TIcNUq6oCRE5gNPf1RZocscXcIhlw2k2FlA/s1600/2011-12-01+09.32.39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-6PdnOtvtIWjAf3x_mmjGvpo1EOKcJDhU2Yqq-FhtScP_bdCcd_tA5R6BaKS1G8dZl3KzsrFqVRucH-T_S-ifCTGCyZ9qDVzCOmH1hJ7TIcNUq6oCRE5gNPf1RZocscXcIhlw2k2FlA/s400/2011-12-01+09.32.39.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"If only I had thumbs I could open this infernal bathroom door!"</td></tr>
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When Fenway comes home from daycare, he smells like Pine Sol. He doesn't have a secret cleaning habit, or a penchant for wearing cleaning goods cologne; he just can't help it. The kennels are cleaned with Pine Sol just as we close for the night. As I'm one of the last ones out the door, he ends up smelling pine-y fresh for a day or two after "going to school to play with the other kids", as I call it. </div>
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Sunday was a warm day here in Texas, so I decided Fenway needed a bath. I was reminded of the bath we gave him when we first brought him home and had to wash the gum and grime out of his fur. He wasn't impressed with his bath then, and his opinion of them hasn't changed one iota. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOchJ7t4v4PFESjr8Py-sQrrPbJPyviBsDifOjMarFtKZP-SzJZXDyfuAjRLL3Nb3hwLt-gg56TJI2jvguAWNJrda4uOcmQuCGG5AdUOqwi37-Zi_bRsaQLEN26DAYvbv81TlXINq35g/s1600/September+2011+011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="321" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOchJ7t4v4PFESjr8Py-sQrrPbJPyviBsDifOjMarFtKZP-SzJZXDyfuAjRLL3Nb3hwLt-gg56TJI2jvguAWNJrda4uOcmQuCGG5AdUOqwi37-Zi_bRsaQLEN26DAYvbv81TlXINq35g/s400/September+2011+011.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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We scrubbed him up in lovely oatmeal shampoo which caused T to worry that the girls might have a sudden and uncontrollable craving for breakfast...</div>
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Here's our handsome boy warming in the sunbeams post bath:</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_zrRAGCkJDYyurt-zYs9rPr8t2u-AqhIxZ4de8eqhwNQ6TsOkkKmiPyfzHN2kQSUKkJ_sqhTxCjLeHW_pMIm5pHD8DaRJpFk8b6rddwuMUSR8qZPBXQsfkmDfOKBR35itgbH4TQtmqA/s1600/2011-11-30+15.50.55.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_zrRAGCkJDYyurt-zYs9rPr8t2u-AqhIxZ4de8eqhwNQ6TsOkkKmiPyfzHN2kQSUKkJ_sqhTxCjLeHW_pMIm5pHD8DaRJpFk8b6rddwuMUSR8qZPBXQsfkmDfOKBR35itgbH4TQtmqA/s400/2011-11-30+15.50.55.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Happy Sundog!</td></tr>
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<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">It's good to be in Arwen's Pack.</div>ForPetsSakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716344585805514703noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6116751281081144559.post-34804238198001818272012-01-22T23:03:00.000-06:002012-01-22T23:03:53.391-06:00Nyxie's "It"<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu-jSzvpBGf4VaznyU0cnGl7sJGZWC4cnqAXM_tiNyOt68faun6s4Ux_LGA32AXVEB5cKgRYn5B9lh5MpAn2LGbjYF-2zNWh1Fx6rDShUb0k1FT7GN00bsAVH1ID6D6FDEyaXerlIjjA/s1600/Taylor%2527s+Etsy+and+etc+008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu-jSzvpBGf4VaznyU0cnGl7sJGZWC4cnqAXM_tiNyOt68faun6s4Ux_LGA32AXVEB5cKgRYn5B9lh5MpAn2LGbjYF-2zNWh1Fx6rDShUb0k1FT7GN00bsAVH1ID6D6FDEyaXerlIjjA/s320/Taylor%2527s+Etsy+and+etc+008.jpg" width="273" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"You're going to WHAT?!"</td></tr>
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"You're going to stab Nyxie in the chest?!"<div>
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This was what Matt asked me on Friday when I told him I needed a cytology of the growth on her chest. I originally blogged about "It" in <a href="http://arwenspack.blogspot.com/2011/12/nyxies-great-adventure.html">"Nyxie's Great Adventure"</a>. She's had "It" on the deepest part of her sternum since she was just past puppyhood. "It" has grown over time and has elongated, looking a bit like a large, flat, dog nipple. Kinda gross, really. So at her yearly visit, I asked if we should remove "It". This was when we discovered her heart murmur that I obsessively worked up to reveal that she has...well, a heart murmur. (Sometimes seeing heart disease in everyone else's dogs everyday, prepares me to expect the worst. Which is exactly what I did. Me worry? Simply unheard of!) </div>
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Having passed the initial heart concerns, I was finally able to focus back on this growth, bump, thing, on her chest. </div>
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~~Let me first go on record to say that any growth, bump, thing, should be examined as soon as possible by a vet. The sooner something is caught, the safer the resolution of that something~~ </div>
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So I took everything I needed home with me to do a proper cytology of "It" and asked Matt for my help. And now you're all caught up:</div>
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"I'm only poking "It" with a needle for some cells, not stabbing her! When you put it like that, it sounds awful!" </div>
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So he fed her treats and I indeed stabbed "It" with a needle, gathered some cells on a microscope slide and saved my sample for the next day. Nyxie never even flinched! I waited until Saturday so if there was something ugly on that slide, I'd have a day off to digest the news. The doctor set it on the microscope and searched for <s>an eternity</s> a few minutes. </div>
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"Nothing unusual - nothing that would cause concern." </div>
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So Nyxie's "It" is a callous. I feel a bit silly, but so very relieved. She got a few extra cookies this weekend, just because. And the "It" will remain with us, now free of suspicion and stabbing. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8iFEqPo5M8pnHeM7D-IQdJ6E-PAqtApQdsjbJIdkC5Gqbrvn1bZVwxPzXXp-zbNn5xPIwP_HOqtLRE_LWmmwbqD1cfwm38T3wPUfNFsnNaLUgyAMZJH5hfl7dSvRXkksAXONgsU_D2A/s1600/2011-12-08+11.37.53.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8iFEqPo5M8pnHeM7D-IQdJ6E-PAqtApQdsjbJIdkC5Gqbrvn1bZVwxPzXXp-zbNn5xPIwP_HOqtLRE_LWmmwbqD1cfwm38T3wPUfNFsnNaLUgyAMZJH5hfl7dSvRXkksAXONgsU_D2A/s400/2011-12-08+11.37.53.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My pretty girl</td></tr>
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<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">It's good to be in Arwen's Pack.</div>ForPetsSakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716344585805514703noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6116751281081144559.post-79984640796391973752012-01-19T13:12:00.000-06:002012-02-28T16:18:04.734-06:00Happy Dog is Happy!<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/GX_sGgjjvRE?feature=player_embedded" width="500"></iframe><br />
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Being the dog nut that I am, I'm compelled to search the web for all things dog. Passion, obsession - don't judge! I found this video through <a href="http://www.dogwork.com/">Dogwork</a> - a fun, feel-good website for all of us animal lovers. Please turn up the volume on this video for the complete experience. <br />
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If you don't laugh at this, you might be clinically depressed. If you don't smile at this, you're probably dead. Have a wonderful day smiling, laughing and LIVING!!!<br />
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">It's good to be in Arwen's Pack.</div>ForPetsSakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716344585805514703noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6116751281081144559.post-46043122191810236842012-01-16T12:25:00.000-06:002012-01-16T12:25:33.715-06:00Patience and the Passage of Time<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv_4IJYlRkDHExi1o9rQhf1I0DC0P-xSny9KNFLNvMV0rAL0GxOEKK6ItfkRWpx8HhjxlhqLqcSfpleU1YtNf8ylWitaAw_f9oyWDb673jcwlwFGDsSleZocvTG2od_PKjzahkGxyYgQ/s1600/2011-12-08+11.20.05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv_4IJYlRkDHExi1o9rQhf1I0DC0P-xSny9KNFLNvMV0rAL0GxOEKK6ItfkRWpx8HhjxlhqLqcSfpleU1YtNf8ylWitaAw_f9oyWDb673jcwlwFGDsSleZocvTG2od_PKjzahkGxyYgQ/s320/2011-12-08+11.20.05.jpg" width="309" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You can almost see the ones on her chin here...</td></tr>
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I just discovered some white hairs on Nyxie - a couple on her shiny, black head and a faint little row of them on her chin! When did this happen? When did Nyxie go from obnoxious, crazy puppy to a still crazy, white-haired senior? She's lost no vigor, no strength, non of her wild-child, cracker dog ways. But white hairs? No way.<br />
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There's no better reminder of the passing of time than the aging of a beloved dog. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. How time flies! They're so faint, I'm quite sure a picture wouldn't register them. <br />
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I took this picture a few weeks ago at the park after she saw the vet and was a bit sedated still. Behind the park is a Doppler radar tower. I imagine this as either Nyxie's dream come true, or a torturous tease - an enormous ball waiting to be caught!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKDghq4FqO_wGQcfykVG9vKKhk-OEvO21dSSv7_t1Ybny79JgVnV8BTI0Ev3hqkNWjuRMvmdJVHsiTA5bwFAGW4FS4s0i3evADafF0DwdW6GDEpCVRW5h3KHVBDMXlzwzp6jdFrTQ1Og/s1600/2011-12-08+11.19.58.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKDghq4FqO_wGQcfykVG9vKKhk-OEvO21dSSv7_t1Ybny79JgVnV8BTI0Ev3hqkNWjuRMvmdJVHsiTA5bwFAGW4FS4s0i3evADafF0DwdW6GDEpCVRW5h3KHVBDMXlzwzp6jdFrTQ1Og/s320/2011-12-08+11.19.58.jpg" width="307" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Why can't I catch it, Mom?"<br /><br /><br /><br /></td></tr>
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">It's good to be in Arwen's Pack.</div>ForPetsSakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716344585805514703noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6116751281081144559.post-86414538178912475022012-01-09T12:15:00.001-06:002012-01-09T12:15:11.698-06:00The Perfect Poo Spot<br />
Arwen is as particular at shopping around for the Perfect Poo Spot as a bargain hunter with her last ten dollar bill. This dog can truly take a 45 minute morning walk and finally select the Perfect Poo Spot when she's almost home. I've stood in torrential rain, sleet, nor'easter snowstorms, thunderstorms (last night), and blazing 110 degree heat, tethered to a dog with sphincter control so strict, it would startle Sigmund Freud. (Sorry to nerd out here, but I couldn't resist a bit of Psychology humor - can't let a 100K dollar education go to waste). I kid you not, folks - the dog is made of tough stuff. Tough, picky, hard-headed stuff. <br />
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Matt discovered a little trick recently to accelerate the Perfect Poo Spot selection process on days with miserable weather. If breakfast is prepared in front of her before she's walked, she finds that Perfect Poo Spot in seconds. The food is put on her plate (yes, she eats off of a lovely blue and white plate - spoiled? No way!) - complete with fish oil, medication for urinary incontinence, salmon, chicken and a small amount of kibble - and then we do the truly unthinkable. We leave! <br />
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"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" she must wonder.<br />
"WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!"<br />
"IT'S THE MOST GLORIOUS TIME OF THE DAY AND YOU'RE LEAVING?!"<br />
Poor Arwen. She's mistreated and put upon. Her life is one big frustration after another.<br />
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Somehow on these mornings, we are back inside, all the outside business competed within about 6 minutes. Quite impressive, really. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhltnBnTfOVepnUdLULnjq9MbW13nP3fusTxYQjiSXibGXOPoF1PK4rIsjak0TBGOw3J7BM7hs9J1-LxGcOGuNsT1YWzdeHgGDWoaECJ1IzNVyuhSEEJ5vDHu2dVD-BdRxKaoMZL7AV8Q/s1600/093.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhltnBnTfOVepnUdLULnjq9MbW13nP3fusTxYQjiSXibGXOPoF1PK4rIsjak0TBGOw3J7BM7hs9J1-LxGcOGuNsT1YWzdeHgGDWoaECJ1IzNVyuhSEEJ5vDHu2dVD-BdRxKaoMZL7AV8Q/s400/093.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Searching....</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvx5l2LRBchPXZjP8Mw6g3Rd_xQwrs_fk65fGX6uI6nDQX8m2tYvd4UmszRAScLvYV8f3WD7gbx_chlv2-o_XYTJ88czH_S4M4YdntELh8ZGwKjjIpFZz_pZ9pGM6huECv_DIz1kuUtQ/s1600/October+1st+Etsy+and+dogs+042.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvx5l2LRBchPXZjP8Mw6g3Rd_xQwrs_fk65fGX6uI6nDQX8m2tYvd4UmszRAScLvYV8f3WD7gbx_chlv2-o_XYTJ88czH_S4M4YdntELh8ZGwKjjIpFZz_pZ9pGM6huECv_DIz1kuUtQ/s400/October+1st+Etsy+and+dogs+042.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I am weak from hunger! Carry me to the Royal Plate!"</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg08gQpaBCgFSy9BIFQ7ZkJGoDpOCnz1M7uEgQDfGuTMIWZEN7Pmj9mGCWT-x95iQAiqNv8ulDgUSmLmINwoBuGodqVg0dvJkOE4dW2MAsgOG1ziZU2h0zFow3Kuen5Wsn3C793P4AZCA/s1600/September+2011+004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg08gQpaBCgFSy9BIFQ7ZkJGoDpOCnz1M7uEgQDfGuTMIWZEN7Pmj9mGCWT-x95iQAiqNv8ulDgUSmLmINwoBuGodqVg0dvJkOE4dW2MAsgOG1ziZU2h0zFow3Kuen5Wsn3C793P4AZCA/s400/September+2011+004.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Going outside?! But my food is ready?!"</td></tr>
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">It's good to be in Arwen's Pack.</div>ForPetsSakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716344585805514703noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6116751281081144559.post-68416493335735054702012-01-05T13:23:00.000-06:002012-01-09T11:37:36.350-06:00EzyDog<div style="text-align: center;">
Have you ever heard of <a href="http://store.ezydog.com/">EzyDog</a>?</div>
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The company prides itself on making rugged and attractive gear for active dogs. They were the originators of the shock-absorbing leash. If you haven't heard of the company, you'll be glad you read this!<br />
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I recently received an email from a very polite, likable product rep from <a href="http://store.ezydog.com/">EzyDog</a>, named Brady, who asked if we'd use some of his products and then review them here on Arwen's Pack. I wondered if I was really qualified to make recommendations on dog gear. I thought about this for a while and then realized that I'm the "every-dog-owner". Like any of us that have at least one dog, and like many of us that have a few. We all need good gear <i>and</i> have to save our monies for food and vet bills!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizBGeL_24nypbh_ryQjTlQiHVBBVWNT-nswvvK9hL0qLn-LyoIFUpWW2lLTJqKPo-UJK_2fT7vDd9DJi0cjjKQSvSRgoNM1yG4NevRKxj0SlIs1LvLHc8EG-AhrxKophs6qtPeVkWw3Q/s1600/2011-12-22+14.49.36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizBGeL_24nypbh_ryQjTlQiHVBBVWNT-nswvvK9hL0qLn-LyoIFUpWW2lLTJqKPo-UJK_2fT7vDd9DJi0cjjKQSvSRgoNM1yG4NevRKxj0SlIs1LvLHc8EG-AhrxKophs6qtPeVkWw3Q/s400/2011-12-22+14.49.36.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Easy to put on!</td></tr>
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Brady sent me a lovely blue <a href="http://store.ezydog.com/chest-plate-harness/#">Chest Plate Harness</a> in Fenway's size, with a car restraint attachment to allow the harness to double as a seat belt! The harness is made with a foam rubber pad that molds to the pup and allows for better weight distribution. Putting it on Fenway was easy - this harness actually makes sense. Chest support and clasps were placed where they seem logical. (As a vet nurse, I see a ton of patients wearing harnesses and some require a doctorate in engineering a bit of voodoo to put on or take off.) The fit was solid - he was comfortable when I first put it on him, and immediately started leaping onto Arwen for a round of "bitey face".<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5oqprSLY9zTOstjTXNigzTUiTSWU_yOUZxVd7iWoxGJTnZpWsLFcpdWcZ_MoTdlsIZ5C67A2idyuRzNDe0Gyqn9ofQcj3jvYjj1HcmYnE9ZQz_HPF6AOW8C00Qb8ruH1htpKRl23QBQ/s1600/2011-12-22+14.52.10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5oqprSLY9zTOstjTXNigzTUiTSWU_yOUZxVd7iWoxGJTnZpWsLFcpdWcZ_MoTdlsIZ5C67A2idyuRzNDe0Gyqn9ofQcj3jvYjj1HcmYnE9ZQz_HPF6AOW8C00Qb8ruH1htpKRl23QBQ/s400/2011-12-22+14.52.10.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here is the back of the harness with the seatbelt attachment clipped on.</td></tr>
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We also received a <a href="http://store.ezydog.com/cujo/">Cujo</a> leash (great name!) and 2 <a href="http://store.ezydog.com/standard-extensions/">Standard Extensions</a> couplers for walking 2 dogs. The leash has a fantastic rubber padded handle that feels just right to hold. A far better feel than most leashes. The <a href="http://store.ezydog.com/cujo/">Cujo</a> leash is designed to shock absorb the impact of even the strongest pullers (I wouldn't know anything about that - hehe). Great design, sturdy construction. One surprise was that the leash is made of a plastic / synthetic material, not a synthetic fabric which we're mostly used to in dog gear. But this outer construction accounts for the shock absorbency hiding within the leash - brilliant!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNPTCq1cxz9HCK9amvlorHjdjSjnFFODSEjrpo03JAxJ2GwGhR-usseugSpM0zf20P9Ofs0-Qh3U1wRIEShH66WbrFsURE36AzI8eQfLAjf2_ggSQk0Brv92q7BgWopXffJ7xGMd4oDw/s1600/2011-12-22+14.53.04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNPTCq1cxz9HCK9amvlorHjdjSjnFFODSEjrpo03JAxJ2GwGhR-usseugSpM0zf20P9Ofs0-Qh3U1wRIEShH66WbrFsURE36AzI8eQfLAjf2_ggSQk0Brv92q7BgWopXffJ7xGMd4oDw/s400/2011-12-22+14.53.04.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How do I look?</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguOlHI2U3HFejpCQ2mXh1QcLnfYoO771onnyTC_dFNXEBebDlpDxQJjD7zuihT1BZq0Ri_zi-RFy25PqOERSK_LKdRWoj0qzzangtLJjnSYQeSS4JakBQSkJ1d1DRhjktsRqCRDWaDZw/s1600/2011-12-22+14.54.10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguOlHI2U3HFejpCQ2mXh1QcLnfYoO771onnyTC_dFNXEBebDlpDxQJjD7zuihT1BZq0Ri_zi-RFy25PqOERSK_LKdRWoj0qzzangtLJjnSYQeSS4JakBQSkJ1d1DRhjktsRqCRDWaDZw/s400/2011-12-22+14.54.10.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here's a profile shot...</td></tr>
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All in all, the only criticism I could find, is that these products are made in China, rather than the US. I know I'd pay more for a great product like this if it were made here in this country by American labor. Aside from this, everything from the communication to set all this up by Brady at <a href="http://store.ezydog.com/">EzyDog</a>, the speed at which the goodies arrived, and the gear itself was spot on. If you're looking for durable, rugged dog gear that looks good and feels right for the walker, check out <a href="http://store.ezydog.com/">EzyDog</a>. You might just end up being a convert from traditional leashes and harnesses!<br />
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So as the <a href="http://store.ezydog.com/">EzyDog</a> website says: "Now go and Play!"</div>
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<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">It's good to be in Arwen's Pack.</div>ForPetsSakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716344585805514703noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6116751281081144559.post-80188658638129015152012-01-03T22:38:00.001-06:002012-01-03T22:38:14.884-06:00A Look Forward<div>
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With each new year that blazes in, I inevitably look back at the past year and try to settle my personal scorecard. <div>
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<i>Did I make positive changes? </i></div>
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<i>Did I grow as a person? </i></div>
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<i>Was I a good parent more often than a bad parent? </i></div>
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<i>Was I a stronger person than the year before? </i></div>
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<i>Did I learn new skills and evolve professionally? </i></div>
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<i>Did I come closer to becoming the daughter my late father would be proud of?</i></div>
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I suppose there's no denying that in even asking these questions, I'm still striving for better. I don't want to be envious of those that have more than me. I don't want to feel jealous or spiteful or negative. I don't want my pride to overshadow the good that I do. Sometimes it's painful to look around at all those things you think you need and want. And worse still to feel there's so much left unaccomplished and stymied in seeing that potential through. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0HzA47mqKRyTRwDhGMrlkIKeEC5hqMRkVzPIhbdvGniHqRzaGKQLyFIP6WHqdo0VVhznrb7JyDMlTT0i1Y3oYYfpSLzKLY1rrINDVuFiIue02xF5d18zBq6QmUaB1PJDzNk7gvxRrZQ/s1600/2011-12-08+11.22.40.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0HzA47mqKRyTRwDhGMrlkIKeEC5hqMRkVzPIhbdvGniHqRzaGKQLyFIP6WHqdo0VVhznrb7JyDMlTT0i1Y3oYYfpSLzKLY1rrINDVuFiIue02xF5d18zBq6QmUaB1PJDzNk7gvxRrZQ/s400/2011-12-08+11.22.40.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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It's these moments that I look down and realize that only inches from my typing hands, lies the velvety soft muzzle of a sleeping puppy. The black nose is pressing tightly to my leg, and I hear the soft inhale and exhale of each life-sustaining breath. I remember that this is a good moment. One that will never repeat itself.</div>
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It's in these moments that I know:</div>
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<i>I made positive changes.</i></div>
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<i>I grew both cognitively and emotionally as a person.</i></div>
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<i>I was a parent that acted out of love, the root of which is goodness.</i></div>
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<i>I found both physical and emotional strength deep within myself that allowed me to pick myself up.</i></div>
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<i>I strove to do my best possible job, to care when others were indifferent, and prevail over injustice.</i></div>
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<i>I thought often of my father and what he would want for me and from me as a woman of worth.</i></div>
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It's in these moments that I realize the past year is just a marker of time. Each day signifies the start of a new year, and each year is what you make of it.</div>
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<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">It's good to be in Arwen's Pack.</div>ForPetsSakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716344585805514703noreply@blogger.com9