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Happy Birthday, Grover

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grover1stbd.jpgToday Grover is one human year old. We celebrated by taking him to the store and getting him a new cat bed (yes, he's a dog) and a fleece football. At another store, we bought him special frosted and sprinkle-coated peanut butter dog cookies that he could share with everyone, and I do mean everyone. Loki and Sheba happily ate the happy cookies. But the ingredients were all human-grade, so the boys decided to try some, too. They started with the sprinkled ones (Grover, denied!) and then tried the frosted ones. I nibbled the edge of one, and that was enough for me.

Our boys are weird. Logan finished off the second cookie with a glass of milk.

Edit: Grover took about 20 seconds to work his way into the stuffing of the cat bed -- I knew I should have bought the fleece one instead of this soft furry one. Maybe it would have taken him a whole 45 seconds on the other one!

Second edit: Wait -- it's all good. Now he's sucking on the cat bed like a pacifier. It's why we buy him these cat beds. He sucks on them at bedtime, then goes to sleep. Too cute. Weird, yes. Guess that's a requirement in this family, being weird.

Big Dog

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Today Nolan, Grover, and I met a BIG dog, the biggest dog I've ever had the pleasure of seeing in person. It was a 185-pound Irish Wolfhound, also named Grover, and he was simply stunning. He was about 80 pounds heavier than his owner, so it's a good thing he's a calm dog. Scroll down on this link to see a size comparison with a tall man.

Irish wolfhounds are considered the tallest breed on average. Some Great Danes can be taller, but on average, the IW wins. It turns out that Irish Wolfhounds have a pretty short lifespan -- on average between 4 and 8 years. Grover the IW is about 6.5 years old, and happily he looks very healthy, though the owner said he gets shots for his hip.

Her other dog reminded me a lot of Stepan and Jen's dog Homer. Similar size, similar shape, similar color, and the same "bug" eyes -- S & J will know what I'm talking about. In fact, they are so similar, I almost wonder whether they could be mom & son. Homer is slightly more tan, but those eyes, those eyes... This dog is about 13, so technically it's possible!

While I was oohing and aahing over Grover the IW, the other woman was oohing and aahing over our Grover. She loved his temperament and thought he would be a great dog for Divine Canines. A neat idea -- I'll have to look into it. It would be a nice alternative to volunteering with the Humane Society, which I've been doing for the past year. I enjoy it, but it would be fun to volunteer somewhere with my dog! He and I would get special training and get to meet lots of people. Something to think about!

Happiness is humping a cat bed

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So our puppy has this little quirk... and it's a bedtime ritual, too. Nevermind that the cat bed looks like a giant, fluffy condom. And nevermind that puppy is neutered. Each night before bed, he eagerly gets the cat bed and carries it around and does his thing. Then he rolls on his side and does it some more. He kneads his little paws into it. He makes puppy love to it. And he's happy.

Maybe the cat bed is happy, too.

Puppy is growing!

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Grover is such a delight -- I suspect that my blog will be loaded with puppy pictures for sometime to come. I did take more pictures of my kids when they were babies, but I think Grover comes in third, lol.

For part of our spring break, the boys and I took a trip east to visit Nana and all our Nacogdoches family. Along the way, we stopped to take the traditional Bluebonnet photos. I always feel a little silly taking pictures along the roadside -- it's not really my style to do photos that everyone else does. But Grover, my boys, and Bluebonnets were all there together. Who could resist? See more trip pics here.


At Davey Crockett National Forest, Grover got to take his first 3-mile hike. For about a mile of that, he carried a pine cone in his mouth, looking like a little walrus. For another mile of that, we got to play "Dodge the poison ivy."

Grover the Walrus Dog


Puppy Love

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We couldn't resist the charms of our little boy puppy foster, and on the day before Valentine's, we officially adopted him. It was a tough decision. Aside from additional pet cost, our lives will be more complicated with walks and hikes and vacations. But truly we don't regret the decision -- he has fit into our family with ease. In fact, he's easier to deal with than both Loki and Sheba! Even Michael enjoys the playfulness and cuddliness of puppy, whose name is now Grover, although we are on the line about whether to change it to Harvey.



Grover is growing like a weed. During the night he decided to sleep under the bed, and apparently he had a growth spurt while sleeping because in the morning he got stuck, and Michael had to lift the bed up so I could pull Grover out.


Puppy is remarkably calm and well-behaved for a puppy. He is naturally curious about cats and other dogs, loves playing with Sheba and Loki, and has become quite the mama's boy (I even briefly considered calling him Elvis). It was a hoot watching him go out on the front porch to bark at the pizza-delivery person yesterday. I suppose that won't be so nice when he's big, but it's cute when he's little! He doesn't run so much as bounce along, boing boing boing.

In case you are wondering, we got to meet the person who adopted Cowgirl. He seemed very nice, and it sounds as though Cowgirl will have a happy home.

And lastly, though I am without a picture at the moment, we actually have yet another addition to our family. The boys bought themselves a hamster, with quite the works for a cage. So now an ongoing task is making sure that Tooga stays out of the hamster room. She is very, very interested in little Scout, for some reason...

Not so Keen

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Well, I went out into the backyard to discover that my favorite shoes, my pricey Keens that I got for free in a raffle and wear just about everywhere, had been mostly destroyed by one or both of our monster dogs, who apparently were "keen" on enjoying a classic dog-eat-shoe scenario. Grrrr.


KeensWhile it means that we'll need to fork over the big bucks to replace them (because yes, I want another pair), at least this unfortunate pair can officially become garden shoes, as it turns out that having no ankle straps means they slip on and off fairly easily, like a nice garden clog except more comfortable. It doesn't mean the dogs aren't on my bad side, though!

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