peskypippi.comBecause I have a lot to say…

Happy 1st birthday, Otis!

I took a weekly picture of my puppy and daughter for an entire year, to capture the moments and to watch how much they changed in one year’s time. He grew a little faster than she did.

Looking through these photos bring back vivid memories for our family. Seasons filled with laughter and silliness, frustrations and mess, teaching and energy, cuddling and love.

Hope you enjoy them!

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We had a pet chinchilla, for oh, about 48 seconds.

My son and I had a dream. A dream of owning a super cuddly, small-but-not-too-small furry animal. One that would eat sunflower seeds from our hands. One we could nurture and cuddle with.

A chinchilla.

Bigger than a hamster. More exotic than a guinea pig. Containable in a cage. The softest fur.

The perfect pet.

My high school buddy had owned a pet chinchilla. It was the cutest rabbit-ish and squirrel-ish critter.

So, my son and I traipsed to PetSmart to buy two 40 lbs. bags of dog food and then eagerly headed to the pet aisle to peer into the chinchilla cage. There he was! Our beautiful, grey pet-to-be!

I hailed over a sales associate and asked if she could please get the chinchilla out so that we could hold it.

“Are you considering getting a chinchilla?” she asked. (Duh.)

I glanced over at my son and answered excitedly for the both of us. ”Yes! We’d like to hold one!”

“Well, chinchillas don’t really like to be held,” she answered. (Debbie Downer.) “But I’ll get him out for you and you can pet him gently. But be careful. He has to get used to you.”

Our excitement dimmed. They don’t like to be petted? They don’t like to snuggle? Or play dress up?

Whatever. He’ll change! He’ll learn to love us! It’ll be so awesome!

The sales associate grabbed ahold of him, lost her grip, and he scurried away to hide into his house. She tried again. We looked on wearily, getting disappointed by the second.

Finally, she had that chinchilla in a firm grip, close to her chest, so he wouldn’t scratch her to death. And we reached out to pet that sweet little head.

And the little sucker flinched and then became paralyzed in fear.

That’s all it took to reinforce that a chinchilla was not the pet for us. We turned on our heels and bolted. As we hauled the jumbo dog food bags into the car and headed home, we realized, duh, we already have the best pets.

We have a pet fish.

He looks dead. But he’s not. He is totally faking.

Because, when you go to scoop him out, he swims away.

The backstroke. Of course.

If you have seen the movie Marley and Me, then you already know my Labrador puppy Otis, who just turned six months old. One word sums him up: zest.

Otis eats with zest. A bowl of food is gone in 5 seconds flat.

He drinks with zest. He slurps and then water drips down his chin.

He loves with zest. Always ready for a hug and cuddle (and maybe some accidental French kissing).

He snatches sandwiches with zest. One turn of the head and your turkey sandwich is gone.

He sleeps with zest. Stretched out, paws and belly in the air.

He shreds cardboard boxes with zest.

He digs large holes in the yard with zest.

He is lovable and a pain in the ass and playful and sweet and naughty. And he is already part of our family.

Here are pictures of him at the beginning of Summer and on his half-year birthday.

Otis at nine weeks.

Otis at six months.

Happy six-month birthday, you crazy-awesome big boy!

Meet Otis. The newest member of our family.

“I’m getting a puppy!”

Instead of being a naysayer, how about being a yaysayer. Here’s what I mean…

When you tell people you’re getting a puppy, these are comments you might get:

• “YOU’RE getting a PUPPY?!”
• “Do you KNOW how much they pee and poop?”
• “They will eat EVERYTHING.”
• “Do you KNOW what you’re getting yourself into?”
• “Are you SURE you want a puppy?”
• “It will wreck your house.”
• “Better hide your shoes.”
• “It will turn your yard upside down.”
• “Ugh. Why do you WANT a puppy?”

Naysayers and Debbie Downers. All of them.

I mean, imagine if you tell someone you’re pregnant or adopting a baby. And imagine these SAME comments for a human child. You would probably drop these friends like a hot potato. And, oh, by the way, have you ever HELD a hot potato? They are freaking hot.

I think the snarly comments are made by people who may lack boundaries, who simply like to blurt out their opinions. Regardless of their impact.

Some people are well-meaning and try to be helpful. They like to point out things you may not already know. As in, “You may want to put your shoes up high because puppies like to chew on shoes.” Haven’t we all watched Marley and Me? We KNOW the damages puppies can cause (we also know the love puppies and grown dogs can offer).

And some people are reality-based. As in, “Puppies are a lot of work. You have to train them to pee outside by taking them out every 10 minutes.” Gee, thanks for the pee tip.

While other people are just mean-spirited and want to burst your happy puppy bubble. As in, “Are you SURE you want a puppy??” When you’ve already told them you’re GETTING a puppy. Of course you are sure. And you are excited. (Again replace the “puppy” reference with “baby” and the comment is even meaner.)

As a future puppy owner, aren’t we simply expecting people to say:

• “That’s awesome!”
• “I love puppies.”
• “Puppies are the best.”
• “Your family is gonna love a dog.”
• “Aw, so cute. I can’t wait to see a picture.”
• “Very cool.”
• “I want a puppy.”

The next time you hear someone exclaim, “I’m getting a puppy!” Maybe ya might want to hold in the meanness for a second, and high-five the person instead. And shriek, “COOL!” #yaysayer

If a picture is worth a thousand words. This one is worth a thousand fence repairs, a thousand apologies to the neighbors for chasing their cats, a thousand holes dug in my garden, a thousand jump-ups to lick my face.

These two Black and Tan Coonhounds–Sweetpea and Elwood–are probably the cutest and naughtiest dogs I have ever encountered. Their eyes scream mischief. The mud on their noses screams trouble.

This story is filled with good intentions. You know the book Where the Red Fern Grows? Well, it’s one of the most tear-filled books I have ever read aloud to my children (that and Charlotte’s Web). In the story, the boy’s prized possessions are his two hounds. After reading the book, I thought my son needed two hounds of his own. For him to raise and nurture–and become part of his boyhood. My mad hunt for Coonhounds began.

Well, whaddya know?! A few lucky Internet searches turned up a rescue shelter with a litter of puppies that needed to be placed. It was love at first sight. We needed not just one, but two. Double love. My son proudly held both puppies all the way home on his lap.

These puppies grew and their legs soon doubled, then tripled in length. Perfect for jumping 6-foot fences 10-foot fences. Perfect for running loose through our woodsy neighborhood to roll in deer poop and scout out skunk, raccoons, and porcupine. Once, after adventuring, they returned home with faces full of porcupine quills.

Did ya know that porcupine quill-removal requires pliers?

It was never a dull moment with this dynamic duo. But it wasn’t quite the boy-and-hound experience like in the book, as I had envisioned.

Nevertheless, these dogs left a footprint of memories–multiplied by eight–in our family’s memory bank.

I love my dog…but…I don’t love my dog’s butt.

Her butt has the worst timing. She loves to poop while on our walk. Even if she has spent the whole day in the back yard–with a plethora of grass–she’ll save it. Like a present.

Aw, you shouldn’t have…it’s not my birthday, dawg!

A public poop requires you to:

• Stop (unless it’s a poop while walking, requiring you to backtrack)
• Sometimes wait…and wait
• Bend over
• Put your hand in a plastic bag
• Pick up the steamy pile
• Oh yeah, and carry it several blocks home, feeling a teensy bit degraded

It’s amusing to watch other dog owners clean up these presents in public. They get this weird expression on their face, as in “WHY ME?!” And then sheepishly pick it up and walk with the bag in-hand. I have a secret little chuckle as I watch someone carrying that bag. Because everyone knows precisely what’s inside.

But that chuckle quickly fades when we embark on our next walk.

You know when you and a friend laugh so hard? So hard that you are shaking and you can’t catch your breath. And it is really hard to breathe? And you have to bend over so you can get some air in?

Too bad that doesn’t happen to me that much. I love to laugh like that. I chuckle. I giggle. I laugh. I LOL. But I don’t laugh-so-hard-you-can’t-breath laugh that much.

Here is a little, tiny real-life laugh-so-hard-you-can’t-breath story my husband and I experienced not too long ago.

One day, my oldest son was sick. He was burning up with fever. Rifling through our first aid tub, my husband and I found Bandaids, ointment, Neosporin, Tylenol, cough syrup, cotton balls. Where the hell was the thermometer?? We needed it pronto.

Digging, digging, we finally found it. Under all the supplies.

And then we saw that on the thermometer—written with a skinny Sharpie marker—was the word…DOG.

Enough said.

Did you know that falling apples pose dangers to napping dogs?

So, here’s how. We have a dog named Lucy. She likes to sleep on her big, fluffy Costco dog bed right off the kitchen, next to the counter. Our family is usually in the kitchen, so this is a great place for Lucy to be part of the family. She is right in the middle of the action. Yet, the location of her dog bed might be too close to the action. Let me explain.

We keep a big bowl of fruit on the kitchen counter. It’s always filled with apples. Every time we walk over to eat an apple-a-day, Lucy tenses up, looking worried.

She is anticipating the apple that just might fall on her head. This has happened. A few times.

Do you see the fear in her sweet little face? Don’t worry, no animals were harmed in this photo shoot (Lucy hates having her picture taken).

I think it’s time to move the bowl of fruit. Especially because it’s apple season.