The French BullBlog

The New Kid: Meet Cousin Lou Lou

2010-11-20T08:04:00.000-08:00

She's French, she's fiesty and she's the worst disruption in Linus' life since Mommy started scooping the poop from the backyard. Lou Lou has arrived, and with an attitude all her own.

As soon as my sister's 9-week-old brindle, petite Frenchie pup was introduced to Linus (and friends) last week, it was apparent that each Frenchie is blessed with its own distinct personality. Lou Lou is confident, boistrous and an aggressor (hmm.. reminds me a bit of her mother). Linus is a hippie pacifist who shuns violence (and that's the way I raised him). Despite Lou Lou's attempts to engage Linus in puppy play, Linus shyed away from her even to the point of finding refuge in his kennel. He found quiet moments to lock his sorrowful eyes with mine, visibly exasperated, almost as if he was crying out, "Mommy, why did you let her come?"

I'll go ahead and admit it for the record: Lou Lou (named for her future home, Louisville, Ky.) is a cute and funny little girl who likes to give kisses, wrestle her toys and collapse for impromptu naps with just about anybody. She's got big sweet eyes, a true bulldog strut and an inquisitive nature about her, and I can't wait to get to know her better (and for her to settle down!). Believe me, I'm probably more excited than anyone about having another Frenchie to fawn over.

I enjoyed the puppy stage with my Linus, but I also know I've raised a wonderful dog who is obedient, intelligent and just as adorable in my eyes as he ever was. So, until little Lou Lou's puppy stage wears off, I'll be flooding Linus with all the love and treats that he can take. Just so he knows that to me, he's never old news.

Here's some pics Lou Lou and Linus!

Picking up my sister and the puppy from the airport - Linus wouldn't acknowledge that the little squirt was even in the car.

Lou Lou and "Aunty E," as I am being called.

Plenty of pink! Lou Lou chews her first Kong.

Hard to get a good, quiet shot of that little girl!

Lou Lou with her Mom, my sister Laura Marie. Less than two weeks until these two call KY home again!

Here's me with my lovely sisters: Laura Marie and Hannah.

And let's not forget our special Linus... don't strangle him Aunt Hannah!

The New Mommy Jitters

2010-11-04T09:36:00.000-07:00

The home phone rang around 11 p.m. two nights ago. When the home phone rings that late at my house, you can bet it's one of three things: a sister, a telemarketer, or a sister. It was, in fact, a sister.

A very anxious sister who has very recently made an extremely important decision in her life: to have a baby (doggie). A little wide-eyed, bat-eared, pot-bellied baby who looks like she may have dipped her front paw in a puddle of white paint and whipped it down her chest. I'm happy to announce that our Frenchie family is expanding, and just in time for my sister to move within 70 miles of Linus and me.

We discovered six-week-old No Name From Louisiana after Laura Marie semi-seriously began perusing puppies online last week. She e-mailed me some considerable candidates, none of them had "the undeniable look of love at first sight" that you have to have when you make such a momentous decision on the mere promise of a picture. When little No Name's image popped up in my inbox, there was no doubting the smushed face. Not only did her innocent eyes plea a serious case for sweetness, but I was overtaken by an overwhelming sense of "this is the one." Not the one for me, of course, but the one for Laura Marie.

So, after a series of payment processes and travel procedures, No Name is securely on her way to the arms of my big sis, who is also my best friend. She will arrive in Brooklyn (the sis' current residence) in time to turn around and hop on a plane to Louisville, where she, her Mommy and her Daddy will make Kentucky their permanent happy home.

Once I knew I could invest time, love and finances into my new dog, and had a support system set up around me, I was ready to become a Mommy.

As joyous as this all obviously sounds to the onlooker, the new doggie mommy is always struck with a period of overwhelming anxiety and doubt as the realities of dog ownership set in: What if she doesn't like me? What if I don't spend enough time with her? What if she has a health problem? What if she can't be trained? How will this decision change my life? As a former mother-to-be who experienced this spurt of pre-maternal fear, I was adept to respond to my sister's late-night anxiety attack when she called Tuesday night.

Purchasing a dog is a huge commitment, let's not gloss over that fact. It's a commitment of several years that requires tremendous patience, unfailing love, substantial playtime and, honestly, the finances to back up whatever need may arise. However, for those of us who truly love dogs, purchasing a dog is also a dream - a lot like getting married, buying a house or having a baby.

I have trouble with dog owners who make dog ownership seem like a chore. Yes, it requires responsibility that goes beyond making sure you dog eats and doesn't run away. But dogs are adaptable creatures that can be trained, can entertain themselves, can be crated for short periods of time, and, if cared for properly, can enhance a person's lifestyle rather than hinder it. I've found that it's been easy to integrate Linus into my lifestyle, you just have to know where you have time and flexibility to work him in. I enjoy taking him to the doggie shops, the doggie parks and on walks on the weekends. We sleep together every night and go on car rides together. I also am fortunate enough have doggie-loving friends who welcome him into their homes. He often has playtime with other dogs while Mommy enjoys some chat time and wine.

I am also blessed to live in a house with a backyard and an extremely supportive family that will play with Linus whenever he beckons. My greatest asset as a dog owner is having people in my life who are willing to assist with the caretaking of Linus. I can reassure Laura Marie that she will have no problem raising her pup as she will have the support of a dog-loving family and friends. For any aspiring dog owner: develop a community of friends and fans who will be ready to help you care for Linus or entertain him whenever you need some time to yourself.

New Mommy anxiety is super normal, but if it gets ahold of you it can make you doubt your POSITIVE decision to invest in a dog. It can spoil that fun euphoria of welcoming a precious new companion into your life. Don't get me wrong, if you don't have the financial means, the time or the heart to make sure your dog is living its best life, perhaps you should reconsider your interest in buying a dog. Plenty of people make bad decisions to buy dogs all the time - and I can't condone these decisions as irresponsible individuals continue to add to our problem of the population of unwanted doggies. But if having a dog around is something in your heart, you can't deny it, and you are willing to adjust your life to make it work, it can be a great decision for both parties. And, when you are ready to take the plundge, I can vouche from personal experience: it's an extremely rewarding endeavor that leads to a priceless, and ever-present friendship.

A Halloween Preview

2010-10-24T15:11:00.000-07:00

For those of us who are too old to break out a flagrant costume and not yet blessed with children to decorate on Halloween, our remaining pleasure is dressing up our creatures.

My creature is a little bit less enthusiastic about the holiday of swapping identities than, say, the average four-year old. Most grade school kids are eager to tell you what they are going to be for Halloween: a vampire, a ghost, Batman or a puppy dog. As the parent of a dog, not a child, I am in the advantageous (and marginally abusive) position of having the ablity to select the most demoralizing costume possible with no "child" input. Although, with Linus, I'm convinced that any costume that he can detect touching his fur gets a doggie frown face.

Yesterday we were running some errands, and we stopped by a couple doggie shops looking for doggie costumes. I've had an idea for Linus' first Halloween costume for months, but I wanted to scope out the simple costume-in-a-bag options. I was impressed with the Petsmart selection. Our options included ghost, lobster, pig, dracula, bumble bee, pumpkin, hot dog and shark. Martha Stewart also offer these ridiculously cute "pajama" style costumes of a skeleton and a zombie. I was sold on the skeleton, but they were sold out of mediums. So, we tried on a sparkling blue "alien" costume right there in the store. With costumes at 50 percent off, this wouldn't be a bad trial costume.

The smirks, giggles and sneers from fellow shoppers gave me enough motivation to fork out the $3.70 for the alien costume. C'mon, we're not laughing at him, but with him! Although I am not sure this will be the final costume, it's a great back-up if my other idea doesn't pan out. Here's some great photos of Linus "trying on" Costume No. 1 for the family. As you can see, Linus is thrilled with his alien costume.

ALIEN INVASION!

Me, Dad and Linus... a Papaw Halloween photo!

Angry about this costume thing.

With UNCLE NOAH AND PAPAW!

Still angry... "please take this off, I look ridiculous!"

Stomach in a Knot

2010-10-19T17:35:00.000-07:00

I've already had my fair share of doggie health scares. Doggie eats paint, doggie has upset stomach, doggie falls out of a tree house, doggie gets attacked by another aggressive dog, doggie gets slashed in the face by the cat, doggie runs out in front of a car, doggie tears ACL (darned bouncing boxers...). The these heart-stopping mini-disasters are lurking everywhere, waiting to pounce on new dog owners and catch experienced dog owners by surprise. We can prep ourselves with all veterinary advice in the world, but sometimes these emergencies just happen.

There are right and wrong ways to respond when something scary happens to your dog, such as sickness.

Sometimes we overreact. For instance, about nine months ago, my little baby Linus gobbled up some black acrylic paint during an art session. Despite the fact that the tube was labeled clearly as "non-toxic," my hysteria costs me a needless $75 poison control caller fee (and likely a couple grey hairs down the road). The worst outcome was that Linus' catfish mouth remained black for a couple days.

Sometimes we get angry. I remember the time my sneaky first boxer, Socks, snatched a bag of hershey dark chocolate kisses off our kitchen counter top. When we found the silver remnants of wrapper streaked with chocolate across our hallway carpet, I was immediately infruriated. "That idiot dog!" Nevermind that dark chocolate injestion is a huge health hazard dogs and can cause death. It was moments later that anger turned to worry, and we were on the phone with the vet. (Don't worry, Socks paid the terrible price of a lengthy stomach ache for her indulgence, but she survived her chocolate consumption).

Sometimes we find someone to blame (even if that someone is ourselves). The first time Linus started hung out with my Dad's dogs, he contracted fleas. While he was treated regularly for fleas, my Dad's dogs were not being treated at the time, and Linus consequently pick them up. When we made this discovery, I marched to my Dad, accused him of being an irresponsible dog owner and hinted at the fact that he was to blame for my trouble ridding all the dogs of their fleas. But we should all note, the blame game leads to nowhere and is ultimately a waste of time.

And, sometimes we have to go with our gut. After several days moping around the house and a precautionary vet visit, my aunt's laborador retreiver Jake started burrowing away in the backyard last week. His breathing was labored and he was out of energy. One night, when his breathing had gotten to a horrific point, my aunt called her vet begging to bring him in. The vet advised that she should "watch him" overnight and revisit his condition in the morning, but Amy refused. She demanded to take him to the clinic right away.

They hauled Jake into the car and helped him into the clinic, where he immediately collapsed on the floor of the lobby. X-rays revealed that he had a knot in his intestines, which the veterinarian had only seen a couple times before. They operated on Jake the next morning, extracting some of the intestine that has essentially "died." Today, with the exception of sporadic itching sprees where the stitches had been, he's doing fine.

Your response to a doggie health scare can make a huge difference in the outcome of the situation and your own sanity. The best way to respond to a doggie health scare is to:

Stay calm (nothing ever gets resolved in the midst of hysteria)
Contact your vet's emergency office immediately (depending on the nature of the scare) and always have your vet's contact readily available
Ask for assistance from a neighbor, trusted friend or family member (having someone around to support you during a scare makes a world of difference!)
Focus on the solution, rather than the problem (never get caught up in the shoulda-coulda-woulda mentality)

And try to prevent doggie scares by knowing your doggie's vulnerabilities (ie. escaping the yard, attacking other dogs, eating unhealthy foods) and taking steps to make sure worst-case scenarios are unlikely.

Bed Bugs

2010-10-08T10:20:00.000-07:00

I am gaining a renewed understanding of why my dog is intrinsically a bully, despite his outward friendly demeanor.

It has to do with the fact that lately I've allowed him to share some snoozes with me. He's such a nice little snuggler, and I rarely allow him to lay under the covers. Most of the time, he'll situate himself somewhere up by the mass of pillows at the top of the bed, curl up in a ball with his back to me and rest peacefully. He knows when it's time to go to bed and will sit up politely at the foot of the bed until I've brushed my teeth and washed my face in the adjacent bathroom. Once I lie down to go to sleep, he'll trudge up the covers beside me and with a big human-like sigh, he'll plop down for a night's rest.

Linus is becoming a pest at bedtime - a little bed bug!

Let's face it: when he's sleeping, he's at his sweetest. But after a couple weeks letting this go on, I am second guessing the "peaceful" nature of this scenario. With his increased confidence, Linus has begun pushing his way to the dead center of the bed. Often I will wake up in the early morning hours to literally find myself tettering on the edge of the bed - and without covers! The little man will be found in the dead center of the bed, cozily curled like a fat rolly polly. And I will have to remove him from the spot, replace him at the top of the bed and remind him that he's not the boss here.

Linus and I can now only take naps together.

Over the past few weeks, my explanations for his relocation on the bed have digressed from simply, "No, Linus, this is mommy's spot" to "Ughghg... you little turd." They are especially curt when I have only a few hours a sleep to go. While I am somewhat impressed at his ability to steadily push me to the edge of my own bed, his bed bullying is starting to rub me the wrong way. As in, off my own bed.

Last night, before I went to brush my teeth, I courted my little bed bug to his old kennel in the dining room. Before submitting, he peered up at me with apprehension. Those bulb-like eyes pleading to me, "You're not really going to do this, are you?"

Yes, I did. And when I woke up this morning, instead of finding a cream rolly polly in the middle of MY space, he was curled up in the corner of his kennel. Bed bug problem relieved!

Reviving the Bullblog

2010-09-24T09:11:00.000-07:00

So, I've committed one of the most atrocious sins of social media. It's a simple, reasonable rule that you would think I'd follow after consistently blogging for months.

Never, ever, under any circumstances, abandon your blog.

I realize that because my last blog was posted in the middle of July, any "followers" who might have fancied our stories or put us on their online radar may have since lost interest. And I humbly take the blame, but invite everyone back. Lord knows I've thrown my audience for a loop before (thanks to Uncle Noah!). But, blog abandonment is not an easily forgiveable sin. It's detrimental to readership. I can imagine visiting my abandoned blog was like attempting to shop at a boutique that's always closed because of its weird hours or going to a restaurant that was always out of your favorite item on the menu. A series of letdowns only leads to disappointment, and ultimately, distrust. But I hope, if you've ventured to the blog to read this post, you'll be persuaded to stay. And, maybe, we can rebuild that trust.

First off, it's not Linus' fault that Mommy abandoned the blog. So, if you're simply a fan of Linus the character (and don't really care about me), staying tuned would be worth your while. Because Linus has accomplished some extraordinary feats while we've been away the past few months. Here's just a few developments we'll be blogging about in the near (EXTREMELY NEAR) future:

Paging Dr. Linus. Linus has passed an evaluation to become an official trainee for Love on a Leash, the Bluegrass Chapter. This means in the future we will be providing "pet therapy" in the community, visiting hospitals, retirement homes and other venues where people can benefit from Linus' jovial presence. I expect the most heart-felt and warm blogs to come out of these experiences. For more information on Love on a Leash, click here.

Wedding bells. This fall, Linus will become the unlawfully wedded husband of a yet-to-be-named female Frenchie. My sister, who is moving back to Kentucky from New York, has been promised a female Frenchie by her loving husband (who is desperately hoping this pup will appease her desire to have a real baby). Laura Marie (the sis) suggested this little girl become Linus' cousin (which would make sense), but I think he needs a wife. It will, however, have to be a childless marriage due to Linus' lack of... potential. I like to think of them as a hip, new age couple that doesn't want to pollute the earth with more creatures and are so in love they don't need children to distract them from each other. How romantic! However, talking to Laura Marie about her new baby girl kinda makes me feel like a creepy mother fixing an arranged marriage.

New stuff. From nutritional supplements to clothes, we're trying out some great new stuff to make life Linus' as a dog much more groovy. We've grown out of our old UK jersey and bought a shiny new one for football season. We're taking a supplement that a pet store owner swears will take away all the goop in our eyes (still trying that). We've tried another medicine out that is proven to eliminate your dog's desire to eat some less than delectable items left in the yard - would love to write a blog explaining my thoughts on that stuff. What's more exciting, we've got a brand new doggie specialty store that opened in our neighborhood, we're just dying to "review!"

New friends. Linus has several new friends to speak of. We've made doggie friends through LOAL, including a Cocker Spaniel named Tucker and my boss' dog, Jake, an English Setter. We met a fellow brindle Frenchie a couple weeks ago at the Farmers' market, who was named after some wizard who turns into a dog from the Harry Potter books (does anybody know this name?). We met the biggest guy we've ever encountered, a Great Dane, at the Woodland Arts Fair. We've become good friends with our English bulldog friend Matilda, who welcomed Linus to her Dad's birthday party.

New tricks. In preparation for LOAL, we've been working on our behavior. This process has led me several conclusions about Linus: he is, infact, smart. He is adaptable. He learns quickly, but not easily. He really does need formal training. I've learned he doesn't like to heel, but he picked up on "high five" like he was born to raise that awkward little paw. We're going to continue to learn together, and will be sharing these struggles with you on the blog.

So, perhaps those reasons are enough to convince you to stick around and see what happens. Life is never dull with Linus. And I've had so much fun raising him, teaching him and enduring the trials of life with him at my side, that I owe it to him to share our experiences. And I hope, occassionally, we can touch your heart, make you laugh, reveal something about your relationship with your pet you never knew or at the very least help you burn a idle hour at work. Thanks for reading.

Love,
Linus and Elizabeth

The Firebrook FireSmush

2010-07-19T09:56:00.000-07:00

Below the hurried footsteps of kids in brightly colored swimsuits and rubber swim caps, Linus romped across the damp grass of Pinnacle swimming pool grounds Saturday afternoon. As a mini-mascot, he sported a red 'F' painted on his back. No, the 'F' didn't stand for Frenchie. Linus was joining me as an avid fan of the Firebrook Firefish.

Since moving home this summer, I've rekindled my connection to the neighborhood where I grew up. Sixteen years ago, I was nine years old and competing for the first time ever with the developing Firefish swim team. I was just like these kids on Saturday, nervously awaiting my heat to be called as I munched on healthy treats in the refuge of a giant team tent. Stretching, playing and painting the bare legs of my friends with our team colors. Watching these kids Saturday made me miss being a kid.

My brother is the last Troutman standing with the Firebrook swim team. It's his second year as the head swim coach, and likely the last year he'll be involved. Just as he has done since he was a mere five years old, he shaved his head for the championship meet, one last time. Below, Linus shares in the excitement of the summer swim conference with his Uncle Noah and some of the swim team kids. See how the "FireSmush" and Noah are both sporting the 'F' (in their own special ways)?

Go Firefish!

All-American import

2010-07-06T08:27:00.000-07:00

The skies above our suburban neighborhood gleamed with color and boomed like thunder Saturday night. While most dogs were trembling under beds, Linus joined crowd of neighbors and our family at the hilltop mansion for the annual neighborhood fireworks show.

As a true member of the "home of the brave," Linus was not in the least daunted by the powerful volume of the fireworks. He enthuiastically sat in my lap and watched the burst of fire sparkle over the lake. Still, with my concern for those big, sensitive bat ears, I used my hands as ear muffs for him when the fireworks show reached its most climatic point.

By birth, Linus is an all-American boy out of Oklahoma. By heritage, he is of course, French. On Independence Day, his French roots reminded me of our trusty allies during the Revolutionary War. The Statue of Liberty is a symbol of that alliance. The nation we love was fought for and won with the aid from a country that birthed the breed I love. To me, this makes the Fourth all the more special!

Below: Linus and I attend festivities downtown on July 3.

Linus gets some love for being so good during the fireworks show.

Linus chills out during the show.

Some of the kids give Linus a glowing halo during the show.

Happy Fourth, everyone!

In the heat of flea season

2010-07-01T07:37:00.000-07:00

I'm stepping away from my series on "Boundaries" today to address a timely topic affecting all dogs everywhere: the curse of the flea. If you're a dog owner, it's almost impossible to dodge flea treatment, especially during the summer months. Don't kid yourself. All it takes is one missed month for your dog to become infested with them. And it's not pleasant.

Yesterday I stopped by the vet to pick up some flea treatment for all three dogs. Mind you, it's not cheap. I'd much rather take the $400 Dad and I spent on the dogs' eight rounds of flea treatment and heartworm preventative and buy Linus a new toy or save up for my impending vacation. But that's one of the the hardest parts of being a responsible dog owner: there's no skimping on your animal's health.

Ponying up the cash to treat your dog every month with Frontline (R) or another vet-recommended flea treatment is the best way to prevent fleas. If you are thinking "it's just little fleas...what's the worst that could happen?" or "that's too darned expensive," then I would encourage you to take the flea threat a little more seriously. Because I once thought like you, but now I can speak from experience: you don't want to let fleas in your home or on your dogs. Linus HAS been infected with fleas before (when we had missed our regular dosage of Frontline) and subsequently he was infected with tapeworms. Tapeworms are caused by the larvae of fleas and they make your dog very sick. What's more, tapeworms will make you very sick if you are ever graced with their lovely presence in a warm bed of your dog's feces. Please excuse the candor here, but experiencing this is not something I wish for any other dog owner.

So, there's my horror story. I hope my regular readers realize that I am no expert at this, I have made mistakes as a dog owner, but I only mean to speak from experience so others won't make my same mistakes. Even missing a week of treatment can make them susceptible to these little bugs. So, I beg of you, don't just shake off your vet's recommendation to stay on top of flea treatment. As a pet owner in a down economy, I know we are all thinking: Where can we skimp? Is my vet ripping me off? And, in this case, I have to warn you that taking care of the fleas now will prevent strife, additional costs and further treatment in the future. Avoiding fleas will just lead to inevitable misery. And preventative treatment is easy. With a snip and a squirt on the nape of the neck, you are through with that worry!

The Companion Animal Parasite Council is a great resource for information on flea treatment, preventative tips and the scoop on other pesky parasites that can threaten the cleanliness and safety of your home, as well as the health of your dogs. Click here to read their article on how to test for and prevent fleas.

Below, Linus gets a bath - this is not a happy time.

Bathtime is a great opportunity to investigate your dog's coat and check for signs of fleas (little brown bugs or little black specks under your dog's fur). Flea baths are available your local pet store. Keep in mind, these baths will not take care of the problem for good. Legit flea treatment is only available through your vet's office.

Now, I've got to stop talking about this... it's making me itchy! Long live summer, and down with those fleas!

Because we love when our dogs invade our sleeping space...

2010-06-29T14:27:00.000-07:00

Following up to today's blog post: evidence of sleeptime invasions!

Debbie's "Princess" pug Lucy is the ruler of this bed, as you can see here.

After I leave for work, Linus often relocates to Noah's bed, which (I kid you not) happens to be the couch. Noah has made the couches upstairs and downstairs his bed for many years now. The irony: it's not a very comfortable couch.

Boundary No.1: The Bed

2010-06-29T09:02:00.000-07:00

So, I'm in the process of moving back home for a while. Yes, I know I am too old for this, but hush you ugly voices in my head! And I am getting reacquainted with my old bed. Since I moved out after college, my parents have stripped my bedroom of all its childlike pink and green flowery print furniture and themes, replacing the comforter with a plain white down and my nightstand with a Victorian style navy blue lampstand. This new decor doesn't mesh well with the pea green wall paint. I'm moving a ton of stuff into the room right now. The closet's a mess of old clothes that need to be dropped off at the Good Will and new clothes that I can't find because the old clothes are in the way. And there are boxes of old albums and miscellaneous trinkets that I can't find the courage to toss out yet piled upon my old desk.

And in the middle of this mess, there's a dog crate. And I must say, most of the time, a very empty dog crate.

Since Linus has arrived at Dad's, I am pleased to report he has lost a couple pounds. Not pounds that he needed to lose, but pounds that he has shed along with his old way of life. He's gone from chilling at the apartment all day with evening walks to spending his days exhausting himself with two playmates in a backyard. So, in the past few weeks, my (constantly dirty) athlete has discovered he can spring like a little wind up toy onto my bed without permission or hesisitation. And from the look on his face, you can tell he's quite proud of this new development.

It never fails. I'll walk into my bathroom, brush my teeth, wash my face and moisturize. I'll turn the corner to head to bed, and someone else's mound of a head is lying on my pillow. Literally, on my pillow as much as it will fit. He's already snoring, even though his eyes are open, and staring right at me as if to say, "Oh, I'm sorry. Were YOU planning to sleep here?"

I am almost certain his body gets heavier when he lies on my bed. I have to peel him away from the sheets, without any of his help, and cradle him in my arms. Once, I have to literally roll him off the bed because I didn't have the energy to pick him up. And he refuses to help you remove him. When we get to the crate, which sits at the foot of the bed (close enough, right, buddy?), he gives me such an expression of disdain, I usually apologetically resituate him on top of the comforter. I am such a sucker.

A few nights I have let him stay on the bed all night, as long as he remains on top of the covers. Mind you, his snoring is so loud that only a mother's love would permit the noise. He's the biggest bed bully I've ever known - and my sister, Laura Marie, is a pretty tough one to beat. I've woken up at 3 a.m. dangling along the side of the bed to find my monster sprawled out as far as his compact little body will allow in the dead center of the bed. How he manages to do this is a midnight mystery that I may never uncover.

I am a sucker when it comes to bedtime for two reasons, mainly:
1. He's so darned cute when he's tired. Either he's a perfect picture of innocence, or he really knows how to act. And I don't know who taught him that skill (perhaps one of my Dad's dogs). But he's good at it.
2. Bedtime is the only time he really shows much interest in Mom. Lately, Linus has entered a macho stage of his adolescence - he thinks he's too good for Mommy. He will greet me with genuine affection, but he never wants to snuggle with me. Heartbreaking as this is, I am always reassured that he still loves me when I see he has snuck up to snuggle on my bed. He doesn't invade Dad's bed, Noah's bed or anyone else's bed ... just mine. And there's something endearing about his choice of sleep location. I can't help but think he chooses me because he knows who Mommy is.

So here's my ruling on Boundary No. 1: The bed is a place for human rest, not doggie rest. If your pet is climbing with confidence atop your bed and snuggling under your sheets, as mine is, he is undoubtedly showing signs of dominance that are too easilly confused with adorableness. But every so often, especially if you are dealing with a macho man like me, soak up all the love you can while it lasts. Because before you know it, the alarm will go off. He'll leap off the bed to the food bowl or the back door. And that peaceful time you get to share together will be gone.

Household boundaries: When sanitary means sanity

2010-06-17T09:04:00.000-07:00

I have a steadfast theory on bathrooms: there are two things that don't belong in this very private space. Item No. 1 is food. This rule was reinforced while I was living with my sister. I nearly had a fit of disgust every time I saw a plate... yes, I kid you not... a plate decorated with little crumbs and smears of ketchup situated on the sink of my sister's bathroom. Simply stated, where things come out, things don't need to be coming in. It's a rule of thumb that just makes sense. There are specific rooms where eating is acceptable in the home - the area where your toilet resides is not one of those rooms.

Thing No. 2, and the subject of this blog, is animals. Call me crazy, but if I see a fly in a bathroom, that fly is destined for a swift death - or I'm not in there. It creeps me out to no end when an animal is around when I shower. Our most loyal dog Ellie will sneak in and lie on the bathmat while I'm showering, which I used to think was a weird mix of endearing and creepy. Now it's just gross and creepy.

Below: Do you really belong there, or is Mom letting you get away with it?

Animals, even the ones we love the most, are not the best models for personal hygiene. If their feet have been in dirty places, they are dragging dirt and germs into spaces where you are meant to get yourself clean for the day. Linus drops drool, sheds hair and carries along whatever germs he's picked up from the outside wherever her roams. He doesn't wash his hands or carry antibacterial soap, although, wouldn't it be nice if he did?

Now, generally, I am a pretty lax pet owner when it comes to pets in my spaces. Our pack currently has reign to jump on the couch, go to the basement and even cuddle on the beds for short periods (that's excluding Dad's bed). I'm not worried about kisses on faces or paws pattering through the kitchen. If I lived so uptight that I couldn't allow my dog to enjoy the space we share, then he wouldn't be a true member of the family.

With that said, I am fully aware that dogs should have boundaries in the household. It's something, now that we have a new living space, I need to consider to keep the human side of our family happy. We had a rude awakening after we hired a cleaning lady to thoroughy sweep our hunter green living room carpet last week. That very afternoon, Linus jovially entered and romped like a rolling pin across the carpet. As cute as this was, I dreaded being a witness as he painted the carpet with bits of creamy hair. Further strife ensued when all three dogs bombarded the kitchen to get a shot at some drippings as I loaded dishwasher. Dad has ZERO TOLERANCE for this: he kicks, yells and shoos them out of there. I'm beginning to be convinced, new boundaries need to be set for those spaces where our animals become nuances.

For sanity and my sanitary reasons, I am going to do a series of blogs on how to monitor your dog's boundaries in the home. My first question to readers is: Where, in your home, is off limits to your dog? Where do dogs NOT belong?

Fixing my birthday blunder

2010-06-13T13:58:00.000-07:00

Since I dropped the ball planning a doggie party for Linus' June 10 birthday, I planned a full day of activities for us on Saturday. Here's a few snippets from our outting. Mother and dog had a great day together shopping, walking, playing and, of course, eating!

First, we hit a hot spot for all of Lexington's doggie socialites, the Farmer's Market downtown. Below, we are browsing around, making friends and hunting for some local fare.

Our next stop on the birthday to-do list was the nearby Bluegrass Barkery where we shopped for presents. Our friend Jodi and other doggie product experts at the Barkery advised us on a toy, a chewie and ample treats for Linus' birthday dinner. Linus was mostly interested in Jodi and her generous giving of tasty treats. While we were there, we also picked up the oh-so-important birthday cake (above).

After all that shopping, Mommy was hankering her own sweet treat. We walked past Woodland Park and made a stop for water, a sandwich and a cup of pistachio gelato at the doggie-friendly new joint, 6 Friends. Their patio is the perfect summer spot for enjoying a delicious bite with friends and pups (patio-only). Below, we take a breather from all that walking.

We got home in time to start dinner and wrap the presents Linus (sorta) picked out at the Barkery. After my Dad, my brother and I enjoyed steaks and homemade potato salad made from locally grown new potatoes I found at the Farmer's Market, we invited Linus to the table.

As you can see (above) Linus was the man of honor, eager to gobble up his cake all on his own. But we had to encourage him to mind his manners and share with his guests (below).

After we sang "Happy Birthday," cake was distributed to the dogs, and Uncle Noah helped Linus open his presents. He received a sampler of rabbit food, a new cooling bandanna (which you see him wearing), a beef chewie, and a wool rope, as well as an assortment of Barkery treats to share.

And there was no messing around when it came to that cake. He couldn't get it down fast enough!

Happy Birthday, Linus!

When Mommy (sorta) forgets your birthday

2010-06-11T08:54:00.000-07:00

A year ago yesterday, a litter of honey-coated, wrinkle-faced, squinting puppies the size of your palm debuted to this world. Eight weeks later, one of those puppies literally wiggled his way into my world. And since, he has been a cheery spirit and delightful distraction through many challenges, decisions and tragedies my family has encountered in the past year.

But yesterday, of all the days in the year, I failed to show the little guy how special he is to me. No presents. No cake. Not even a walk around the block marked Linus' first year of life. I fretted on the couch with Linus last night after I finally got home from all my weekly obligations, apologizing profusely and promising, like any guilty mother, that we would celebrate this weekend. He chewed on his rope and seemed to glare over at me, as to to say, "whatever, Mom." My brother had to remind me: "He doesn't actually know it's his birthday."

I know I have been spilling a lot about how chaotic Doggie Mommy life can be, but let's face it, it's time to Mommy-up to these responsibilities. I say we're going to go to the dog park, we should go to the dog park. I say we're going to go buy some treats at the Barkery, we should buy them. I say I am going to stick with the healthier food for Linus and not settle for the cheap stuff, we should stick with the diet. I say I'm going to plan a big birthday party with pools, and hats and doggie birthday cake, that should be so as well. But I didn't do it. And that's what good Mommies do, they "Mommy-up" to their responsibilities.

Amid my failure, yesterday I remembered my own childhood birthday parties, complete with pony rides, waterslides and rented out party facilities. And a real Mommy, who despite all her obligations and distractions, was able to make me feel like I was riding along on a shooting star the entire day. Princess, mermaid, equestrian or rockstar... whatever I wanted to be, I was that day.

So, again, I realize Linus is not a child, he is a dog. And that if he could pick his day, he would probably spend it salivating under my Dad's feet while he's cooking bacon on Saturday mornings. But I am baffled at all you real Mommies out there who can make it up the ladder in your career, serve on your Girl Scout committees, host Bible studies in your homes, pack healthy lunches and make warm dinners before 7 p.m., workout at the gym every day and still have time to plan a dazzling birthday extravanganza for your child. That's nothing less that magical to me.

Fortunately, I have a some time to uncover your secrets in preparation for my own human children. Until then, I'll practice being the best Mommy I can to a "child" who won't burst into tears if I forget to throw a bash on his birthday. Rather than fret, I'll focus on what I can do next year. There's always Birthday #2.

Panic attack at the wedding...

2010-06-08T09:11:00.000-07:00

I woke up at 6 a.m. on the Saturday morning of Hannah's wedding and rolled over to check the time on the alarm clock. I was 4 a.m. Two more hours.

The next time I woke up it was to the shuffling feet of someone way too chipper ... the bride. I mumbled, only half awake:

"Hannah... I decided at 6:22 a.m. that I can no longer participate in your wedding. I am sorry."

It was 6:23 a.m., and I was running late.

She choked out a forced laugh, which indicated she wasn't too amused with my dry jokes this morning, then prompted me out of bed to get ready for the wedding. Time was a'ticking.

The wedding day fell into place perfectly. Hannah was a flawless bride who beamed in the morning light as she was united with her Ben. No, Linus was not included in the wedding ceremony. The arguments against his appointment to ring bearer ranged from "he could pass gas and make everyone sick" to "he'll creep everyone out." Fortunately, I can now admit that including Linus would have caused my stress level to rise, therefore, ultimately not being worth all the trouble and worry in the end. As cute as he may have looked in that little tux, I was dealing with enough on my mind that day already. I hate to disappoint our supporters, and thanks to everyone who pushed for his participation!

In the haste of adjusting my hair and tying my sash, the one thing I forgot to do did, in fact, impact Linus. With the chaos of adjusting the hair, finding my sash and getting a water bottle for the bride in the final moments at home, I forgot to ask someone to make sure Linus was in his cage. I ran out the garage door to make it in time for photos, and left him outside in the backyard.

Normally, I would not have freaked out about this. But Saturday's temperatures rose above 80 degrees with unbearable humidity. All the guests at the wedding were sweating down their backs waiting for the recessional. It wasn't until after the bouquet toss that I began to find my family members one by one and ask with hope that someone had remembered to put Linus in his crate. Panic struck when I realized he was outside.

Anyone who knows about bulldog health is aware that the breeds don't stand heat very well. I've heard horror stories about dogs being found suffering from severe heat exhaustion on airplanes and in back yards. I've heard a trainer say that English bulldogs will drop dead within minutes above 80 degrees (although I don't think this is entirely true, but still worth keeping in mind). During the reception, these thoughts crossed my mind. How terrible, I thought, if I lose my beloved dog on my sister's wedding day?

I couldn't leave the reception, this was my sister's big moment. And after she left, she would be gone to Florida then Colorado for the foreseeable future. I asked family members, but they were hesitant to leave and care for Linus as well, hoping not to miss the big exit. The most unlikely heroes stepped up to rescue Linus... my cousins Ellen and Aubrey.

I have to give some background on Ellen's relationship with Linus: she's frankly one of the very few people who would rather not have a relationship with Linus. She's utterly disgusted and repelled by the snorts, the snot, the gas, the slobber and the sight of my bulldog. Once his untimely gas sent her into a tirade of complete intolerance. I don't blame her for hating his flaws, but never did I expect her to offer to rescue him.

Below: Ellen and Linus.

Ellen hurried to the house to find a exhausted, but alive, little Linus in the shade. I am ashamed to admit he had been in the sun for more than 6 hours, but he was doing fine and in good spirits. A forgetful mother's mistake that I will never make again! Predictably, Ellen found his water bowl was empty. She gave him some fresh water then put him inside in his kennel where it was cool.

I called Ellen from my brother's phone to learn he was still alive and breathing, and this put my heart at ease until it was time to bid Hannah and Ben farwell. At that time, a different kind of grief came over me: the grief of parting with my loving sister.

Congratulations, Hannah and Ben (two of my first, and most dedicated, bullblog fans)! Linus and I love you very much.

Lessons in love

2010-06-03T09:08:00.000-07:00

So, this is love?

Cleaning up your pee on my new green rug. Researching your dietary needs to make sure you don't have severe allergic reactions. Monitoring your daily exercise. Giving up my mid-week latte to save money for your new toys. Spending more money on your doggie sweatshirt than a sweatshirt for myself (five times its size). Giving up my lunch breaks to spend time with you. Waking up at 3 a.m. in a foot of snow to take you to the bathroom. Sacrificing my favorite pair of heels because of your annoying chewing habit. Resolving I'll never have a house free of pet hair. Planning my weekend around your walks and trips to the park. Teaching myself to sleep through your thundering snores. Unabashedly scraping your poop off the sidewalk in the presence of not-so-accepting humans.

Yes, if you have a dog, this is love. And according to pyschologist Suzanne B. Phillips, this type of love teaches us a lot about another kind of love: marriage. Pet owners often exhibit characteristics of "unconditional" love, accepting the faults of their pet while continuing to love them despite the trouble they cause. In Phillips' article on how pets can improve your relationships, she points out that pet owners often learn to greet, forgive, release grudges and accept the flaws of their pets, which may carry over to their relationships with a partner.

Although I'm not married and don't plan to be anytime soon, it's worthwhile taking note of the nature of my relationship with Linus. In past human relationships, I admittedly have been quick to judge and react negatively. If a boyfriend ruined my stuff or crossed me, it was absolutely his fault. When a long-term boyfriend picked me up for a date, let's just say my greetings have not always matched the extreme salutation I give Linus when he approaches me at the end of the day. With people you become comfortable with, it's easy to hold grudges,
lose interest and resist forgiveness.

I'll encourage all of my fellow obsessive dog owners to start looking at their spouse, partner or boyfriend more like their dog (if that makes sense). Strive to treat your human companion with the unconditional love he or she deserves. If he forgets to take the garbage out, maybe treat him as if the dog had an accident on the carpet. If he keeps you up with his snoring, maybe find it adorable and endearing rather than a wall between you and your slumber. If he steals the remote during Housewives, maybe be content cuddling and watching football for a while.

If he poops on your carpet... well, that's taking it too far. That may require some more serious counseling.

The art of nicknaming

2010-05-26T09:18:00.000-07:00

Every evening when I get home from work, I enter the house and holler out an obnoxious, sing-songy, nasally call to beckon Linus to greet me. It's become a famous "call of the wild," and I love it because it gets him all excited and wiggly. It goes something like:

"Whay's mah smush?
Translation: Where is my little smushed-faced dog named Linus?

"Is it my smushin, wittle cushin? Is it my muffin man?"
Translation: Are you my little, cuddly, smushed-faced dog? Are you my adorable (scrumptous) little man?

Many people have joined the efforts to develop ridiculous nick names now latched to Linus. When you adore an animal this much, one name doesn't seem to cut it. My pup bursts with character and has developed a reputation that has earned him some of the most colorful, as well as shameful, nicknames. Whether the name reflects some untraditional eating habits, his waddle, his droopy face or his expressive looks, they all reflect an animal that many have come to love (or hate) for different reasons.

Here's some of Linus' nicknames. Please excuse the more vulgar ones.

Smush or Smushin (courtesy of Mommy)
Muffin, "Muff," or Muffin Man
Thug Life
Lovebug
Catfish (courtesy of Aunt Jessie and Uncle Josh)
The Goonch (courtesy of Aunt Jessie and Uncle Josh)
Little Helper
Turd Burglar (courtesy of Uncle Noah)
Brute
Booger
Sugar Cube
Turd or Turd Monster (courtesy of Shawn)
Anus (courtesy of my Dad)

Share nicknames for your dog with us on the blog today!

Weekend fun at the Barkery

2010-05-19T20:04:00.000-07:00

A few recent shots of Linus for fun. Linus and I stopped in at the Barkery this weekend to play with the sweetest 90-pound Bermese Mountain dog.And then we were pooped.

Investigating the backyard of the barkery.

Let's play!

You Frenchies are strange ones...

What can we do about canine cancer?

2010-05-19T09:58:00.000-07:00

Subsequent to my posting Debbie's blog, several people have posed questions to me regarding cancer in dogs. From my limited research and conversations with fellow dog owners, I've gathered that cancer is not uncommon in dogs, with many breeds being more susceptible to this wicked disease. Statistics suggest that as many as 1 in 3 dogs will be diagnosed with cancer.

I recommend reading Wallstreet Journal reporter Melinda Beck's article on her experience losing her Golden Retreiver to cancer, When Cancer Comes with A Pedigree . Beck provides expert insight into which breeds are most at risk and what you can do to help ensure longevity for your dog. Although every dog's case is different and cancer is often something we can't control, there are ways to keep your dog healthy and minimize the risks. You might be surprised what canine health experts suggest:

Limit your dog's exposure to smoke, pesticides and inhalents
Keep dogs lean and fit, providing daily exercise
During the puppy stage, make sure your pet is growing gradually by avoiding over-feeding
Reduce carb intake and provide a portion of fresh vegetables in your dog's diet once a week

Also, make sure you keep up good communication with your vet and attend regular check ups, especially as your pet enters his or her later years.

And most importantly, take my own advice: Don't fret about the statistics or possibilities, for the sake of your own health. Dogs have shorter lifespans than people, and though that's sometimes hard to accept, it should prompt us to appreciate every happy, loving moment we have with our dogs. Keep your spirits up, for the good of you and your pet.

Bulldog card

2010-05-18T09:49:00.000-07:00

Linus sent me a Mother's Day card (via Aunt Laura Marie and Uncle Patton in NYC). It's a little late for sharing, but thought I'd post it for fun! Isn't it adorable?

The battle of the bulge... and cancer

2010-05-17T09:15:00.000-07:00

Today I am posting a guest blog written by my friend Debbie Miles, whose pug Lucy has been fighting cancer for the past few months. In addition to being great friends to Linus and me, Debbie and Lucy are models of perseverance and hope through an extremely daunting task of battling Lucy's cancer. They have learned to appreciate every moment they have together and smile during times of turmoil. Please keep them in your prayers!

It started with a simple trip to the vet. We were only going for a nail trim. And within ten minutes, it became so much more.

First, let me introduce Lucy, The Fat Pug. She is nine years old - funny, personable, the life of the party, in your face, demands your attention, cute, loveable 35-pound pug! I got Lucy when she was barely six weeks old. It was love at first sight! She has always been a great dog - she slept through the night from the first day I brought her home, never tore anything up as a puppy, potty trained very quickly and was a true lap dog. Her favorite activities are eating and sleeping.

Nine months ago, I took Lucy to the vet to have her nails trimmed (we always go to a pet store to have it done, but I didn’t feel like going across town that day and waiting so I made an appointment with the vet). I don’t know if it was laziness, gut check or fate, but this appointment changed our lives.

The vet came out to talk to me. She asked if I had noticed the bump on Lucy’s hind leg. I had - it looked like a wart, flesh colored bump. I thought it was just part of the weird skin thingies that pugs and other dogs get as they get older. She seemed concerned and suggested we have it removed immediately. The next 15 minutes are in slow motion - they take Lucy back for pre-op blood work. I am trying to get a hold of my parents on the phone. The vet is explaining to me the possibilities of what this could be. All I heard was "cancer."

Lucy was scheduled for surgery the next day. While in surgery, the vet called to tell me they had found a second bump on the same leg and they were going to remove both and send to pathology. I was so anxious to pick Lucy up later that day. She came hobbling out, her leg bandaged and she was still doped up from anesthesia. I got her home, made her comfortable and she slept through the night. By the next day, she was back to her old self and nothing seemed to slow her down.

It would take five to seven days to get the results from pathology. I never let myself go to the dark side, never once considering the possibility this was going to come back as cancer. I knew it was just going to be a benign tumor and everything would be ok. And life would go on. On day seven, the vet called. The tumor was cancer. Both tumors were cancer.

So now what? The vet explained they were low-grade tumors and her prognosis was good. As long as no new tumors returned within six months, she would be good to go and considered in remission. I was just so thankful we had caught it early enough and felt confident this would be the end of it.

Until three weeks later. Another tumor. This time on her chest. I thought I was overreacting, but I made an appointment to see the vet. Just to be sure. And sure enough, she was concerned enough that she wanted to remove it. Immediately. Less than 30 days later from her first surgery, Lucy was back in surgery again two days later. And again, I got a call from the vet while Lucy was on the table - they had found two more tumors and were going to remove all of them for pathology. This time it was harder not to go to the dark side. I wanted to be prepared this time. And again, seven days later the pathology comes back - two of the three tumors are cancer.

So now what? Tumors are coming faster than we can remove them. She had three new tumors that were inoperable because of their location. Lucy has scars all over her body. And the last surgery was really tough for her. I had decided I was not going to keep putting her through that. The recommended treatment at this point was high doses of prednisone or chemotherapy. And unfortunately, because of her weight, the prednisone was not an option at that time. Instead of jumping immediately into chemo, we decided to put Lucy on a diet and see if we could lose 10 pounds in order for her to do the prednisone treatment.

And then I got a call. I was asked if Lucy would like to participate in a new clinical drug trial. After several phone calls, thorough explanations of the drug, talking to our vet and really nothing else to lose at this point, Lucy’s team of vets set up the protocol and we started the treatment. Lucy would spend every day, all day for a week at the vet’s office. She would receive the drug via I.V. The first few days we had absolutely no issues. She would come home with her IV port in her leg, covered in vetwrap but it never seemed to bother her. Lucy was doing great, seemed to feel good and showed no side effects.

On day three we had to stop the treatment. The pre-treatment consisted of prednisone. And it caused Lucy’s blood sugar to skyrocket. And her other blood levels were abnormal. The vet was concerned if we continued the treatment we would put her in permanent diabetes. So we stopped the treatment and we were back to square one.

The good news is Lucy is very fortunate and very blessed to have a wonderful team of vets. They adjusted the protocol and her treatment plan so she would receive the chemo drug without any pre-treatments of prednisone. She has had three treatments in the past few weeks and has three more to go. Within two weeks, the tumors were barely visible. And as of today, she appears to be tumor-free. She has suffered no side effects, comes running out of the vet’s office as if she has been at doggy day care all day! She gets excited the morning of her appointment, jumps in the car and is eager to see her friends at the vet’s office.

As for me… Lucy is the love of my life. We are taking this one day at a time. But she is a fighter. And I will continue to do anything to keep her cancer-free. As for her diet? Well, let's just say she enjoys a Happy Meal after every chemo treatment!

Here comes the pooch! Tuxedo options for my classy man

2010-05-11T09:49:00.000-07:00

In a follow-up to yesterday's post concerning Linus' future as a ring bearer, I have done a little bit of research on acquiring a doggie tuxedo. And boy, have I hit the jackpot. A simple google search will reveal just how many doggie tuxedos are out there. I could spend a few bucks or pay more than the cost of my own bridesmaid's dress for a doggie tux. If you have some extra $$$ on hand, you can even get a custom tailored tuxedo for your special event, in ivory or black. I don't think we'll be going that far...

Check out these Web sites to find out just how handsome and stylish Mr. Linus may (will!) look as he struts down the aisle.

Poochie Heaven
Love My Pet Supply
Doggie Designer
Posh Pet Glamour Boutique - probably my favorite!

Those are just a few options, feel free to share more ideas with me. While you're on these sites, check out the doggie ring bearer pillows and bow ties... too cute! Now, all we need are those rings. Oh, yeah... and consent from the bride and groom. Please post your support!

The ring bearer argument

2010-05-10T09:43:00.000-07:00

I've avoided addressing the whole ring bearer controversy until today. But now I want to make my final, decisive and public push. It's just that with two weeks away and no ring bearer accounted for, I think Linus deserves a serious consideration for the role in my sister Hannah's wedding. If the reasons aren't screaming obvious, I'll give you just a few ideas as to why this is a superb
"proposal."

Below: Linus makes an appearance at the ceremony of the wedding of my older sister Laura Marie in October.

1. Look at that face. Don't get me wrong, I like kids just fine. But if you think a rotten little boy equipped with a ring will get more ohs and ahs than my little Frenchie... well, you've simply lost your mind. Linus was created for performance: his sweet, blank stare, his perky ears and his bulldog grin. He is the very essence of adorableness.

2. He'd be dressed to impress. Everyone knows how much I love to show that Linus is fashion-forward. This would be a great chance to suit up my little man in a doggie tux. And, yes, I've already done my research - they do exist.

3. A chance to show our best behavior. Linus is surprisingly well-behaved for a dog with no formal training. He doesn't roam, he's an easy going follower. He is highly motivated by food, but there won't be any to speak of at Hannah's ceremony. Plus, he is naturally resistant to barking. And going to the potty has never been a problem for us in public spaces... he gets a little bit stage fright when it comes to having to relieve himself.

4. Family sharing. Several family members that I rarely get to see or have never even met will be present for the occassion. There won't be a better chance to share my beloved bulldog with them than through the ceremony. And in my eyes, he is a valid member of my family who deserves a proper introduction to his kinship.

5. Outdoor event. A perfect natural setting for animal inclusion. Birds, squirrels, bumble bees and ants will be present, why shouldn't my Linus be there too?

6. It's sooooo celeb-style! Adam Sandler, Ashlee Simpson and Jennfier Hudson are just a few celebs who included their dogs in their wedding ceremonies. I know Hannah and Ben usually aren't prone to following fads, but this one's a great idea! Makes for very cute pics, too. And we all know you two lovebirds are doggie lovers!

7. Blog-worthy event. Stated simply: the wedding experience will make a great blog.

Thanks for the consideration, Ben and Hannah. Remember, it's never too late. Post your comment and help us get Linus elected to ring bearer!

Cheers to a doggie-friendly Yappie Hour!

2010-05-09T18:10:00.000-07:00

Thursday night Linus and I attended Yappie Hour held at Buddy's Bar and Grill. While mingling with other doggie and human friends, Linus enjoyed a little too much doggie cake from the Bluegrass Barkery and I sampled Buddy's scrumptious human food, local beer and wine. We met up with another socialite Lexington Frenchie named Elvis and his brother Marty, a black pug. All the proceeds from this event benefited the Lexington Humane Society. Aside from a couple of dogs getting in a brief tangle, the night was all food and fun as we connected with other members of the Lexington dog community at one of our favorite Lexington restaurants.

Here's some photos from the event. Enjoy!

Left: Linus and I enjoy a laugh together.

Right: Linus and his new friend Elvis together at Yappie Hour. We met Elvis and his parents for the first time at the Easter Egg Hunt at the Barkery.

Below: Our new "smashed faced" friends. The dogs, that is, not the humans!

Right: Linus, Marty and Elvis all together. It was impossible to get them all to look at the same time!

Below: An assortment of dogs at Yappie Hour.

The trials of transition

2010-05-04T09:22:00.000-07:00

Linus has been living the good life at a cozy doggie resort for the past few weeks. There's plenty of space, always a person to cuddle with and numerous opportunities to snag a treat whenever he flashes a sweet expression.

Since we moved into Dad's house, he's tasted the hypnotizing effect of human food, rolled around with ample toys in a lush and expansive fenced backyard and enjoyed the company of two lovely ladies, my Dad's dogs Ellie and Lucy. He's even taken a short reprieve to Aunt Jessica's where he relished in a smorgasboard of endless food and enjoyed the constant company of his buddies Nina and Lady. In these environments, he is rarely scolded or restrained. Life for my buddy has been one big party.

Sunday, after several weeks in the company of family members, I decided it was time to go home. So, naturally, when we arrived back at our second floor apartment across town, he entered with the same familiarity that had been present through our first few months living there. He scampered light-footed up the stairs and through the door with excitement. He revisited every corner of the place and made sure his food bowl was in its right spot by the cabinets in the kitchen. But when he was done investigating, there was an unmistakeable look of disappointment on his face. He started to wind down slowly, then looked to me with utter confusion.

I poured a shoebox full of his toys on the floor to try to get him to remember how we passed the time together before, just the two of us. Squeaky skunk, squeaky beaver, stretchy elephant thing, tennis ball? I threw the squeaky skunk across the dining room. No interest at all. He found the remnants of an old plastic bone and spent most of the night chewing on mangled bone in his crate. Was he depressed? I can imagine he was dealing with the same feeling you get when you get back to your office after a beach vacation. No more Pina Coladas or pool decks. Back to real life. Wah-wah.

I've never worried before about whether my living space was condusive to the needs of my small dog. We get out every day, we take walks and socialize with our neighbors, he rides with me wherever I go where he is also welcome (and sometimes not). But after he's seen a glorious habitat offered at my Dad's spacious suburban home, I'm worried he'll fall into terrible jealousy of the things he can't have. And this thought process leads me to my next dreadful consideration: am I a bad mother for not being able to provide a resort-like home for my pup? I mean, I hope one day we will have our own large fenced backyard where he'll be able to play and romp around with my other French bulldogs (yes, there shall be more). And even without a yard, is it cruel for me to keep him at home without a companion? Should I have another dog to keep him company? What can I do to help my dog live his best life, even if it's not at my dad's house?

So many questions can haunt a doggie mommy. But for today, I'm doing what I can, which means as many walks and outings and the like that we can fit into our schedule. And, for now, a couple nights a week at "Papaw's" won't hurt us. If you have ideas on how to make the apartment dog's life as enjoyable as possible, without the pleasures of a large yard, please share your thoughts with us and leave a comment.

Happy Derby Day!

2010-05-01T19:29:00.000-07:00

Lost in Mommy's Derby hat.

Momma instincts

2010-04-29T17:44:00.000-07:00

Today, I've been reminded of the handful of mothers I know who swoop in to save their children before emotional or physical damage is done. Or even a distant possibility of harm, for that matter. In fact, on my flight to Cincinnati Monday, there was a child squalling and rolling like a rabid wildcat in front of the gate. And I couldn't help but to turn my head in annoyance and grit my teeth with the other 60 or so people waiting to board who were lucky enough to witness this poor excuse for a human being whimper and growl. My dog behaves better for goodness sake! Beside her on the ground knelt her mother, mercifully stroking, appeasing, negotiating a plan for peace with the little girl. Her grace was admirable, her tolerance, though, so beyond my understanding that I couldn't respect it. And I thought to myself, as I have many times before, "Someone please do me a favor and kill me if I ever become that mother."

Well, I have some bad news. I am that mother.

To bring you up-to-speed, yesterday I came across a development that was so vulgar, so disturbing, so immoral, so disheartening and betraying, that I was almost convinced I should toss this whole blog thing out the window and keep my petty dog thoughts to myself. It was the creation of my brother: a Facebook page titled, "I like to Kick Linus club."

As self-deprecating as it was, I had to join the group briefly to investigate. My heart sank when I saw the brutal truth: this blog was all about making a mockery of my baby. The blog described all of Linus' less desirable attributes (I've spared you thus far, perhaps it's time we address some of these), including his bad gas, goofy attire and other less than kosher "eating" habits. It was an obvious ploy to make me feel insecure about my blog, which could easily be construed as cheesy, obsessive or a hobby for someone who "has way too much time on their hands." Granted, maybe I do. There was even a building plot to form "National Kick Linus Day." The straw broke the camel's back when I realized this page had more fans than our newly launched blog page.

Who do these kids think they are? I thought, noticing many flirtatious female (and, oddly, male) posts directed toward my brother on this page. They don't understand me or my dog. Most have never even met my dog, and they are pledging to kick away, or in some circumstances, "punt." And why, after knighting my brother "Uncle Noah" and encouraging a special bond between he and Linus, would he embarrass us in this way?

I approached Noah as he sat at the counter musing at the latest Linus abuse posts, he was baffled I didn't join in the hilarity of it all. Rather than throw a fit, I thought it best to tackle this in a diplomatic way.

"Hi Noah," I said.

"Hi, E."

"I saw that Facebook group."

Pause.

"I don't think it's very nice."

He doesn't turn his face from the screen.

"It's awesome."

I went to bed discouraged last night, defeated without another attempt to disband the group. I didn't have the patience to throw a fit or the desire to ruffle my little brother's feathers. I tossed and turned and then I resolved to do something that pained me... I had to destroy our fan page.
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So I am telling the exact story told above to a group of co-workers at lunch this afternoon. I am describing the despicable content and the unbridled empty threats that dance down the page of Noah's club. I am making a case for turning the group in to the Facebook authorities on counts of "hate speech." And in the middle of my theatrics, I notice everyone is smirking. Then the truth came out.

"It actually is kinda funny," Debbie, a co-worker said. "I mean, don't you think Linus would laugh at it?"

I hated to admit it, but she had a point. Linus is the ultimate guy's guy. He's the type of little boy who doesn't need Momma to swoop in because he doesn't care. Snuggling is on his time. He shuns Momma's smooches and embraces when he's surrounded by his buddies. If he was a human guy, he'd probably have a beer belly and play golf all day Saturday. He'd probably be voted president of his fraternity. He'd religiously watch football on Sunday nights and make plenty of time for his "bromances."As Debbie put it, "he'd probably be the kind of guy to sit back and smoke a joint." He'd probably find fart jokes funny, collect old spaghetti Westerns and Bruce Lee films, fancy cars that make a lot of noise, pig out on beef jerky, pick on girls, and he would definitely not have a problem making fun of himself to get more attention.

So, if he's okay with it, why shouldn't I be? Is it that crazy don't-hurt-my-baby-or-I'll-slit-your-throat instinct inside me that says, "They want to kick Linus! Do something about it! Call the HSUS! Call Animal Services! Get Dr. Phil over here! No... forget Phil, call Oprah! They want to hurt him, and we have to stop it!"

No, it's not. My "Momma Instinct" is actually my "Me" instinct in disguise. It's not my baby's safety that's in jeopardy, it's my pride. As infathomable as it is, what if people really don't like my dog and actually do want to kick him? What if they think he's gross, or don't want to join his Facebook page? What if the only person who reads this blog is me?

The most important question: Why do I care?

And that's our little "Momma" lesson for today. When you break it down and tear away all the pride, a Kicking Linus club really isn't all that harmful. In the process of the organization of the Kick Linus club, Linus' feelings weren't hurt, nor was his body. The worst result was I made a bunch of people I know feel bad for thinking a practical joke was funny.

Now, I don't think joking about serious dog abuse is funny, and I'll never condone or support threats to animals that have any merit. But I also know as a dog owner I can get so caught up in enjoying Linus (and all dogs) that I categorize people who don't like dogs as much as me into a group of enemies. And for that I am sorry. As passionate dog owners, sharing the joys of your pup without pride, but with sincere humility and respect for others, is the best way to win over people to puppy love. Isolating them is the best way to make people fear or hate your dog, or even worse, yourself. And ultimately, crazy dog owners like me, we have to realize... nobody is gonna love our dogs as much as us Mommies and Daddies. And some people will just plain not like them. Let's just deal.

I am sorry Noah for stomping on your fun. Linus loves you dearly and you two are the best of buds. But always know, if any Kicking Linus club dialogue turns into action, you will see some real Momma Instinct come into play. And that won't be pretty.

Where Frenchie lovers reign

2010-04-27T10:21:00.000-07:00

When Linus was very young, say around two months old, I took him downtown to Triangle Park during a community event that attracted a large crowd. A grown man, intrigued by Linus' bat ears, asked to pet Linus. He squatted down low, with a look of apprehensive confusion, to greet my puppy. He stood with the same look of confusion, slightly altered by the obvious delight my puppy impresses upon those he meets. As the man walked away, I almost winced when heard him call back to me: "That sure is a funny looking Chi-waa waa."

In New York, purebred dogs are such a common occurence that people rarely mistake the increasingly popular French bulldog for another breed when one waddles down a busy street. I know what you're thinking, some of that big city snot has rubbed off on me this weekend. But most of the French bulldog owners I encountered were very down-to-earth people who were tickled to share the commonalities of French bulldog ownership: the weird noises, the constant attitude, the fearlessness of dogs twice their size. NYC Frenchie owners have the same high standards that I do for their bulldog, which include health, happiness, social interaction and human affection. These sort of dog owners really do see their dog as a member of the family, which is why they stress over details involving their dog's nutrition, daycare and grooming. In this overwhelming, fast-paced, diverse city, this is something I can undoubtedly relate to.

(Left) Little Baguette, a New York Frenchie, plays in Central Park. Her parents let us in on the Jumping Bulldog and the booming French bulldog community in Astoria, Queens, NYC.

(Right) Baguette shows off her personality playing with some sizeable German Shepherds.

So when I discovered a community full of these people, located in Queens, I jumped at the chance to know more. In fact, the pet store that unites this community is called the Jumping Bulldog, named after the owner's own Frenchie. Although my schedule did not allow a trek from Brooklyn to this Frenchie Utopia in Queens (we had determined over an hour train ride on Sunday), I looked up a New York Times article on the Jumping Bulldog that describes this community, which includes an estimated 32 French bulldogs. These New Yorkers turned to the French bulldog for the same reasons as I had, which included their adaptability to apartment living, their resistance to making noise and their sweet smushed faces.

To me, The Jumping Bulldog community of Astoria is like my version of Never Never Land. Perhaps the puppy version of Tinkerbell could come sprinkle me and Linus with pixie dust and we could fly away to Astoria, where Frenchie lovers reign. I become envious and dreamy when I think about living in a community where seeing a French bulldog and a friendly owner on the sidewalk is just as common as seeing any other breed. But what's more inspiring about this group is the sense of unity that bulldog owners derive from the interactions they have at the Jumping Bulldog. It's the kind of unity and closeness that gives dog owners, who deal with the same struggles, questions and concerns, a supportive environment that can't be developed at a Petsmart. I can imagine this community sparks human friendships and creates a comfort in a daunting city where individuality and self-reliance is key. I extend a warm thanks to all local community-oriented pet shops that seek to unify all breeds of dogs. Perhaps one day I'll be able to visit this dream land where nobody would every mistake my bulldog for a "Chi-waaa waaa."

NYC and Bulldogs

2010-04-24T23:22:00.000-07:00

It's been a long, long couple days with tons of fun to share, but I will keep it brief for now.

Bulldogs reign in NYC, making the place a natural home for me and Linus. Someday.

I ran into the most adorable local pet store in Brooklyn while shopping for vintage clothes. I found a Brooklyn sweatshirt, sporting the Brooklyn bridge, that Linus just must have despite the fact that there was only ONE of his size left, and I passed it up in order to get proper measurements via Aunt (babysitter) Jessica. I put the sweatshirt on hold, only to explain to the store clerk I was not a bonefide Brooklynite. Yes, this makes us automatically unworthy of the sweatshirt. Just more of an indication that perhaps Linus and I should consider making Brooklyn our permanent home. Maybe stop dreaming and start living. More NYC Frenchie encounters to come. Sorry so brief and dramatic.

A Taxi Cab gone Frenchie

2010-04-22T21:00:00.000-07:00

My ride in the cab was quiet.... well, half way through. Most of the way from the airport, my cab driver stayed on his cell, chatting away in the most authentic NYC accent I've ever heard. Then we started talking. My accent, southern as could be, gave me away. So, we started talking about a ton of things... sports, football, politics and city life. Can you believe it, the sweet southern accent even gets to the grits of the hard core NYC expert. Well, if you can stand him criticizing how bleeping slow you are at everything, even giving him a tip. Can you guess what came next?

Yes, it t'was my dog.

This blistery, chistled cab driver, who was born and raised in Manhatten, knew the French bulldog... and well! He asked me if I treated my dog like it was a human. Uh.... yes. So, I'm one of "those"? Yes, I am. He laughed, which was my reward. I love NYC.

Bulldogs + Water = Disaster

2010-04-20T09:43:00.000-07:00

With lake and pool season just around the corner, I've been thinking a lot about how to make my dog-owning responsibilities transition to the leisurely life of water sports. Before Linus came into my life, it was no problem taking off to the lakes of southern Kentucky for a weekend. Maybe I am living in a dream world, but I am determined that trips to the lake this summer will not be one of those things I "just have to sacrifice" as the owner of a, shall we say, "special needs dog." In fact, I've been semi-seriously considering solutions, if they should exist, for water people who want to bring coveted pets around pools or aboard boats. Maybe we're fetching too far on this one, but I have luckily come across one reliable source with testimonials of floating bulldogs to boot.

Pawsaboard specializes in lifejackets for pooches who weren't so blessed as to have been born with webbed feet - or, dogs with webbed feet who want live up the life of a water dog. Their products, which include designer lifejackets, puppy pool steps and even skii rope leashes, are backed up by touching testimonials. One of these stories includes a case of an English bulldog, Libbey, who plopped into the water while disembarking her parents' boat, and was able to paddle her way to safety thanks to her doggie lifejacket. The owner said the lifejacket kept Libbeys' bulky bulldog head "way above the water," preventing the 11-year old companion from inhaling in any water.

A directory to help you find your nearest Pawsaboard vendor is available at the Pawsaboard Web site. While the lifejacket seems like a good idea in theory, I still have my own reservations about relying on one to save Linus' life. If Linus ever was launched from a boat, suited in a lifejacket or not, I would probably lose my mind. Maybe for sanity's sake I should toss out this idea for now.

The Flying Tomato and his adorable potato

2010-04-16T08:53:00.000-07:00

No, I am not lusting after his beautiful red locks... it's his beautiful carmel bulldog!

Alright, Linus and I really don't like playing in the snow, snow sports or being cold in general. But I followed this year's Winter Olympics enough to gain an interest in snowboarding and know that Shaun White, "the flying tomato," is practically the sport's god. But now Linus and I have an even better reason to be huge fans of this Olympic prodigy.

Meet Shaun White's Frenchie, Rambo. He looks like a Frenchie with his daddy's devil-may-care skater style and hip attitude. Apparently, Shaun has the same problem with Rambo that many Frenchie owners have: a fatal attraction to water. So, more of a surfer Frenchie. Though I can't yet speak for Linus, I've heard many Frenchies will plunge into sources of water, including pools, lakes, creeks and the like, only to discover they are not buoyant. Danger.

As for Linus, I'm not that worried. He hates baths.

P.S.- I promise to have more practical (less celebrity) postings soon... this one was just too tempting!

My fascination with the "PUP"arazzi

2010-04-14T09:53:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I'm not going tell you my eyes have never drifted to the tabloids and celebrity news magazines while I'm standing in the check out line at the grocery store. And if you asked me whether I really cared about Paris' new line of shoes or the striking garb Jennifer Garner wore to the Oscars, the answer is a timid "yes." So, it's no wonder I have quickly fallen in love with People Pets, the celebrity pet site that connects celebs and non-celebs alike who adore their pets as much me (or at least like to flash them to the "pup"arrazzi).

Through this Web site I am moritified to report that I have learned:

Brangelina own an English bulldog pup
Martha Stewart is a big-time Frenchie fan
Gerard Butler hangs with Lolita, a pug
Nicole Richie owns a Pomeranian named "Foxie Cleopatra"
Orlando Bloom babysits his girlfriend's Yorkie

And there's more, in case you are interested. The best part of this just-for-fun site is the opportunity to network with fellow dog owners. You can register yourself and your dog, create a profile and share pictures with other looney dog owners (who will probably appreciate your photos more than the average facebook friend). You'll also find some whacky dog news and videos, including stories about doggie fashion shows, training tips and trendy products. It's another way dog owners (most likely young female dog owners like me) can express their wild enthusiasm for their dogs.

Let's face it: Dog ownership is fun, and this site's genius is uniting puppy love with every girl's guilty pleasure: the celebrity gossip magazine. Throw in some multimedia and social network functioning, and you have a winning package for every girl who ever included Barbie dolls and puppies on her "favorite things" list. Yes, I may be too old for this stuff or have entered a new class of crazy... but how can you resist? Let me relish in it!

If anyone ventures on the site, my profile name is KYFrenchie.

What needs "fixing?"

2010-04-08T14:03:00.000-07:00

Today I took Linus to the veterinarian to get "fixed." Let's ponder that word for a moment, shall we? To be fixed, I would think, is to be improved, upgraded, set right or adjusted to an optimal state of being or existence. When my car breaks down, I usually go get it fixed. The outcome: the car runs just as it was made to run. It functions properly and is able to perform the tasks or objectives it was created to accomplish, such as get me from Point A to Point B.

So, when I go get Linus "fixed," as I am told by innumerable dog owners and veterinarians, he's going to be made right... right? I've struggled with this issue for quite some time now. There's nothing "fixed" about having your natural, God-given reproductive organs removed from your body. It doesn't seem fair to me, especially when you're dealing with a dog as low-key, good-natured and, let's be honest, non-sexual as Linus. If he was embarrassing himself by accosting his fellow dogs all the time, then we'd have been to see Dr. Stoops several months ago. But, with the exception of a couple of incidents, he's really seemed unmotivated by sexuality. And, as the saying goes, if it's not broke, why fix it?

I think part of me has held out hope that we would run into some pretty little female bulldog who Linus would fall madly in love with, and they would have babies and live happilly ever after. I think I have had that fantasy for my dog (and myself... with a human man) since I saw Pongo and Perdie fall in love in a park in the original 101 Dalmations. I've practically bribed my sister to find an unrelated female"wife" for Linus. But I've gotten no dibs, though admittedly, my search has been constrained, and we've reached a point where we had to make a decision.

When I lifted Linus into the passenger's seat of my car this morning, he was innocently excited to go for a ride. Though I could sense he was suspicious - it's not common for us to wake up without breakfast and immediately take a ride. It was spouting rain and I was in a strange state of mourning (over Linus' ensuing loss of reproductive abilities). By the time we arrived to the vet's office, I knew he could sense something was about to go down.

I carried him across the puddles and up the stairs into Woodford Animal Hospital. I set him on the scale to get his weight. "Wow, we're 26 pounds now. All growed up." I could feel him quivering on the scale, and I knew he wasn't cold. He was scared.

We were led into an examination room where I helped Linus balance his shaky body on an examining table. A warm and way-too-awake for 7 a.m. vet technician entered shortly after us, and Linus greeted her with his usual enthusiasm for people. The questioning was standard as she sifted through the paperwork. But she detected my strife as I struggled to keep the tears back. As she held him on the table, I admitted to her I was nervous and didn't fully understand the benefits of this surgery. I expected that she would react with the same disbelief and annoyance as other dog owners had displayed when I brought up my anxiety about this "routine" procecdure. Instead she very knowledgably and empathetically shared facts with me about how I will be preventing prostate cancer in my dog by going through with this surgery. (SOLD!) She asked me his age, then followed up by saying he could still display more extreme signs of "dominance" in just a few months, and getting the problem taken care of now was a smart decision for both of us. She also told me the quick and easy procedure would likely not affect his pleasant personality.

"Unless you are dead set on breeding him, you are doing him a favor," she said.

Wow. Those words made such a difference to me. It struck me, the skeptic: this "fix" could possibly be something good for him. And while he was born with these natural reproductive parts that could be used for procreation, it's not mandatory. In fact, I would even say it's not important to him.

I kissed my puppy on the head and released him into her arms. I turned on the radio and tried not to think about the surgery as I made my way to work. Just over an hour after I walked in my office, I received a call.

"Ms. Troutman, Linus just got out of surgery, and he did great."

Now that was a quick fix.

Easter Egg Hunt

2010-04-03T16:39:00.000-07:00

For today's Easter egg hunt, Linus was "one with the egg." Literally.

With the help of Aunt Hannah, Shawn and some project management on my part, we crafted a Easter egg costume for our first Easter egg hunt hosted by the Bluegrass Barkery. The egg costume idea birthed last week when I noticed best costume won a prize during the Easter egg hunt. The picture of Linus carrying an egg across his back gave me a giggle, so I picked up some fabric and elastic and hoped the resourcefulness of my sister would carry us through this litte endeavor. I was right. I don't usually sew, but Hannah was gracious enought to wipe the dust off of Mom's old sewing machine and work a little magic. The finished product was a yellow, pink and purple egg costume, complete with squiggles and an elastic band. We wrapped up the sewing just moments before the Easter egg hunt began.

True to form, we were running a bit late. When we turned on Clay avenue I could see a sea of dogs and their owners at the front porch of the Barkery, probably receiving directions for the hunt. We parked and I anxiously lifted Linus out of my Honda and onto the pavement. With Hannah's help, we pulled the egg costume over his harness. He froze in objection to his new attire. His face said, "Mom, you've got to be kidding me." I didn't see any other costumes in the crowd. I felt kind of like that over-the-top mom that makes her kid look ridiculous by going all out making a costume for the school play.Fortunately, we saw some retreivers covered in plastic eggs, flowers and hats, and an English bulldog with bunny ears. It took a couple tugs before we could get him in the mix of the dogs.

Because most people were intent to find the golden egg, few were noticing the large egg tettering across this little Frenchie's back. But when they did notice, the reactions were priceless. I was so preoccupied with other people's dogs, I hardly paid any attention to the competition. We were immediately greeted by Haleigh and Kenzi, two of our favorite cousins, who came out with their mom Sandee to help with the hunt. Kenzi and Haleigh played with Linus and led him across the yard on a leash. They were so helpful adjusting Linus' bobbling egg and making sure he was getting noticed. When all the eggs were taken, they made sure Linus got some treats to take home and were kind enought to rehide a few eggs for him to find. They are the best for looking out for him.

Linus met many new friends during the hunt. We met a beautiful Doberman named Josie who wanted to play with Linus on the porch, despite her obvious advantage in size. Hannah and I were nuzzled by two rescued grey hounds whose sweet demeanor took us both by surprise. Hannah spotted a Great Dane, her "dream dog," and was immediately drawn away. While shopping inside the store, Linus and I met Eva, an English bulldog who was dressed to impress for Easter. On the sidewalk, Linus introduced himself to girl a Basset hound named Bear. We also ran into an incredibly friendly blue-eyed pit bull who was very eager to get to know all his canine commrades. We met a tiny black teacup Chihuahua who was accompanied by a sweet little girl with bunny whiskers painted on her face. Everywhere you turned, there was an interesting dog to be met. Most notably, we met two French bulldogs, Elvis and Hana. Elvis was a gorgeous, well behaved Frenchie with brindle spots. Hana was all brindle and very laid back as well. Linus could definitely learn from these two.

We left the Barkery with a wonderful bag full of goodies, just for sporting the giant egg, and a bunch of new friends that we'll hopefully see very soon. Our egg hunt was just another reminder to me that there's a wonderful community of dog owners here in Lexington who treat their pets as children. It's nice to know I am not the only "crazy" dog person around here and to know there's a great network of people who love to socialize and share the goodness of their dogs. We'll be out there, at parks and farmers' market and walking downtown, and we are eager to see you fellow dog people!

Thanks to the Barkery and all our friends there for the goodie bag and putting on this wonderful event! Happy Easter everyone!

Bulldogs and brackets

2010-03-23T19:23:00.000-07:00

It's NCAA tournament time here Lexington. You might say it's everywhere, but you can really feel it here in the Bluegrass. It's a great time of year when our Cats are on top: the excitement of the tourney met with the brink of warm weather, approach of Keeneland's spring race meet and relief of spring break for UK students. We've reached a hopeful period between fickle winters and humid summers when our basketball brackets and 60-degree temperatures seem like good excuses to take a Friday off early.

Not that I will.

While I am a Cat fan, I can't deny that bulldogs as mascots have peaked my interest throughout my life. My high school mascot was a bulldog. I've even been known to fall in love with an opposing team's mascot, that is, if it happens to be a bulldog. I dated a guy in high school whose dad had prime seats at UK football games. We once attended a game against the Georgia Bulldogs, a team that travels with "UGA" the English bulldog. At this particular game, UGA was lounging just below our seats, probably in danger of suffering a heat stroke. While most people were hollering "defense" or "hold em," I was calling out sweet nothings to UGA, who plopped down on the sidelines exhausted. I squealed when they showed him on the big screen in his cute little red and black jersey. No doubt my date was annoyed. I remember him asking, "Do you think we came here to see some dog or watch a ballgame?"

And while keeping up with the tournament this year, I couldn't help but notice the prevalence of the bulldog mascot. In addition to Georgia's bulldogs, we've got the Gonzaga bulldogs, the Butler bulldogs and Mississipi State bulldogs (who SHOULD have been in the tourney). With a little more research you find there's the UNC-Asheville bulldogs, Union bulldogs, South Carolina State and Louisiana Tech bulldogs. The list goes on.

But here's the thing about mascots: some can be really lame, obviously unfitting or nonsensical. Think of what you would want your team's mascot to express. It's probably a symbol of aggression, perseverance and pride. Some regal figure or creature that is widely looked upon as admirable and triumphant. It's also nice if it can slide smoothly into pre-game chants and cheers, or you can fit it into your team's logo.

You might think finding the right mascot out there would be easy. Off the top of my head I can think of some animals that achieve the aforementioned qualities: lions, wolfpacks and eagles (I think we hit the nail on the head with ferocious cats, wild dogs and predator-birds). I might even make a human reference, say a "colonel" or "commodore" if appropriate to the team's history. Then, often times, you get the random, the unexplainable, yet all the more coveted by the fan: the Volunteers, the Golden Gophers, the Terrapins or the ORANGE. Yes, it's true, sometimes the most formidable of all mascots are not animals or warriors ...they are simply colors: Big Orange, Big Red. Or, if you're Western Kentucky University, you get your inspiration from McDonald's Grimace and select a red, lump-like, unidentifiable blob, which you call "a hilltopper," not a more logical tiger, bobcat or bear. I'd definitely be more afraid to play the team of "golden gophers" than a team of red blobs.... as scary as both of those would be.

Then there's the bulldog. And to evaluate whether we can use "bulldog" to intimidate another team, I look to my own bulldog, as well as experiences with the English bulldog, the more traditional face of the mascot. And both bulldogs, to my knowledge, have an innocent love of people, a kind affection for the human race. Though some English can be defensive, they are not attackers, nor do they seek confrontation. Most owners I know say if their English or French bulldog had their say, they would lounge on the couch with a cuddle buddy all day. And with other dogs, they would rather play and wrestle than brawl.

So perhaps, as much as we love the grit of the bulldog's underbite and the wrinkles around his eyes, the bulldog is not so much a symbol of "go-fight-win" as a symbol of "let's play." But that doesn't mean we can't kid ourselves into rooting for a bulldog, because appearance is half the battle, right? Either way, bulldogs make delightful little side shows when the game is dull, or your team is getting beat beyond interest. And if they build team spirit, then what's the difference? At least they are better symbols for competition than a crimson tide (what is that anyway, a wave?), a volunteer (lame) or a gamecock (inappropriate). Either way... no offense, dogs, I have to say... GO CATS!

The unfathomable wolf origins of my Linus

2010-03-18T09:05:00.000-07:00

The attached link is a story I heard on NPR News on my way to work this morning. As a dog lover, and moreover a breed lover, I obviously think the classification systems of breeds and the varieties of dogs we have domesticated is a brilliant development, otherwise I would not have found the dog that fits my personality and lifestyle so well. That being said, I am definitely an advocate for rescuing dogs, whether they are stray mutts, abandoned breed dogs or puppies born on the side of the road. I hope to have a yard large enough to keep several rescued buddies some day, but right now it's Linus who reigns in my one-bedroom apartment.

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=124768140

It's hard to believe little Linus is descended from a wolf. His legs are only inches high, his muzzle is so flat he has trouble drinking without getting his entire face wet and there's not so much as a hint of a tail on his rear end. As far the sleek and regal silver animal we see rushing through the woods movies such as White Fang - that animal, Linus is not. Though he's a spritely little guy who can book it when he's going after his blue ball, he more resembles a white bowling ball barrelling through my living room than a swift resident of the wilderness. The one thing he obviously kept from his wolf ancestors was his giant and ill-fitting ears.

So, without getting into too much thinking about thousands of years of evolution and creepy breeding strategies, I am still baffled at how the Frenchie breed, as well as other odd breeds (Dachshund, bull terriers, Chihuahua's come to mind) came to be. How did the wolf turn into a compact little creature with a flat face, short coat and stocky build? What's even more interesting is that people have come to a point where they can classify dogs not only by their physical attributes, but by their temperments. My Frenchie behaves just as many breed sites described him, "clown-like," playful, "craves attention," a "natural performer." He's good with kids, rarely aggressive, but stubborn as they come when it comes to discipline. He doesn't need a huge yard or hours of exercise (thank God!). He's a great fit, and I knew it before I even met him.

But I suppose our tempermental and physical classification of animals can be applied to all species in the world, whether domesticated or not. For instance, a Great White Shark is a loathesome predator, but his relative the Whale Shark is a passive swimming buddy for many divers. I wouldn't dare mess with a Bobcat, but my Dad's Maine Coon is not so bad to snuggle with (when my allergies don't flare!). God's creatures were obviously meant to be diverse and beautiful, and that includes our beloved canines.

But there's really only one classification that really needs to be tagged to my Linus: my lovebug, my muffin, my sweetie... you get the picture. Because regardless of where he came from - wolf, slug, bear, alien space ship (my brother is convinced) - he's a source of comfort and happiness to me. And in my opinion, no matter what breed you are talking about, the species's very unique ability to bring so many humans such joy makes them very special. And whatever version of the domesticated wolf you prefer, Doberman, English bulldog, Great Dane, Lab, Corgi, Cocker Spaniel or a mix, all unique breeds (and non-breeds) are deserving of a place in someone's life today.

Someone to follow

2010-03-17T09:46:00.000-07:00

Milling around on the Internet the other day, I came across a blogger/journalist/veterinarian who shares my love of the Frenchie breed. Patty Khuly, VMD, MBA, is a Miami small animal veterinarian who writes a blog entitled "Dolittler: for pet lovers, vet voyeurs and the medically curious." That's me. She's written for USA Today and is a regular pet columnist for the Miami Herald. She's pictured here with her two French bulldogs Vincent and Sophie Sue.

I am grateful to her for a wealth of online pet resources recommended on her Web site that aren't easily accessible through a google search, and I'll be adding some of those resources for those of you interested. Check out Dr. Kuhly's blog at http://www.dolittler.com/.

Remembering Ann Troutman: Loving mother of doggies and daughters

2010-03-08T09:54:00.000-08:00

I inherited my undying passion for dogs from my mom, Ann Troutman. Mom was always at ease when she was with her coveted pups. She had a glowing and captivating smile that always came out when she nuzzled her dogs. While she was a wonderful mother to her four human children, she often quipped that her canine "children" never talked back to her. During my teenage tiffs with mom, I wondered if she loved her dogs more than me. Funny how my boyfriend poses the same question to me now.

Mom grew up with a testy Dachshund named Suzie, who passed away when I was very young. Dad recalls mom cuddling and kissing Suzie during their early stay-at-home dates, so deterring him to go in for his own smooch. Mom's family also owned a Beagle, who I never met.

The first dog we owned as a family was a brindle Boxer named "Socks." Mom loved her first "smashed faced" dog, so passing that same taste in the canine profile on to me. Once, Socks bit my sister, Hannah, in a squabble for food, snagging my little sister's lip with a puppy tooth. In a rage, my grandfather attempted to choke the puppy. It was my mom who begged for Sock's mercy, ultimately saving the dog's life.

Many years later, after Socks passed, we adopted a red Boxer named Ellie. For many years, Ellie and mom were true companions. Mom stayed at home many years while we were away at school with only Ellie as her companion. Convinced she was a lap dog, the 50-pound Boxer would leap into my mother's lap, threatening to tip over her wheelchair. Mom never minded this, and gladly stroked Ellie's back. The two enjoyed sitting together by the fireplace in the winter, with Ellie sprawled across the ottoman beside Mom's feet.

Nearly two years ago, Mom's Mother's Day gift was a tiny black Dachshund pup. Little Lucy fit in the palm of my hand when she arrived. From her first day in my mom's house, she because the apple of mom's eye, reincarnating mom's childhood dog, Suzie. Lucy was the perfect dog to nestled down in mom's lap. Even at the height of mom's sickness, when she was only able to say a few words, she managed to utter "Sweet, sweet..." when Lucy scampered under mom's comforter for her morning greeting.

My mom passed away last Tuesday night after battling MS for more than 20 years. While we didn't always agree on other matters, we could always come together and talk about our love of dogs. Though she never enjoyed the pleasure of seeing her grandchildren, she was thrilled when I introduced her "granddog" to her last year.

I am grateful she shared her love for dogs with me, but this shared passion will be only one of the many ways I will remember her every day. Mom was a model of love and patience through her actions and words. She lived trusting God even through times of struggle and doubt. I always think of her grace, her wisdom, her faith in the Lord and her devotion to my father and her children, and strive to follow her model of living for the rest of my life.

Being Away

2010-03-02T12:38:00.000-08:00

Due to family circumstances, we haven't found much time to blog. We have actually started on a couple, but will save them for later! Please excuse our absence and stay tuned for more doggie stories... we've recently had several wonderful experiences together that we are eager to share!

Linus' New Brothers and Sisters

2010-02-23T12:28:00.000-08:00

How could you not swoon over these sweet one-month old puppies? Miriam, the breeder in Oklahoma who sent me my baby, has two new litters by Annabelle (Linus' mommy) and Angel. I couldn't help but show off these recent photos of the pups- Linus' brothers and sisters. Do you see the resemblance?

Viewing these photos took me back to last August when Miriam placed Mr. Linus (then called "Taylor") in a red Barbie doll convertible and adorned him in a little Oklahoma Sooners jersey and sent me tons of precious photos of him. I immediately fell in love and to this day root for the Sooners, even though I am truly a devoted UK fan.

Three pups are still available (I am tempted but really must wait until my space can expand with my family). Miriam's Web site is www.smilingpuppies.net. And, yes, they really do smile.

Sweet Treats and Other Goodies at the Bluegrass Barkery

2010-02-20T14:51:00.000-08:00

I've known about the Bluegrass Barkery, a bakery for dogs located in our hometown of Lexington, for quite a while now, but never had reason to visit without a dog. I thought entering the dog lover's little treasure would be like entering a salon without hair or hanging out at a repair shop without a car. I often drove by the barkery's signature sign, always releasing a pitiful sigh, kind of like the kid who wants to be on the cheerleading squad but can't afford the uniform.

Admittedly, I would have jumped at the opportunity to venture to the Barkery while renting someone else's dog. Or, I may have had no problem wandering in the quaint little house on Clay Avenue without a pup in tow, but that would have solidified my status as "Crazy Dog Lady Without a Dog." I would have felt a little like a phony, living vicariously through other dog owners (AND LOVED IT). But nobody wants to be that person. Fortunately, I am now just "Crazy Dog Lady," as I am more recently reminded countless times by my boyfriend. Baby, you WRITE A BLOG ABOUT YOUR DOG. Nuf said. Hence, we had our ticket to the barkery.

Before I continue, after having visited this delightful little piece of Heaven, I must tell you my preconceived notion that non-owners are not allowed in the barkery is bogus. Come one, come all, dog or no dog. One rule is posted at the door: CATS BY APPOINTMENT ONLY.

I brushed Linus' coat and wiped off his face before we went -- we wanted to make our debut in high style. I also tied his UK bandanna around his neck as it was UK game day. Shawn rolled his eyes, pleading with me that Linus doesn't like wearing stuff. I beg to differ, but that's another blog for another day.

When we parked in front of the little house nestled in Chevy Chase, Linus' over-sized ears perked up. We set him down on the sidewalk and he darted to up the porch and to the door, aware that this was a momentous occasion. We walked into a foyer loaded with goodies, for mommy and pup, that were for only the pampered of pooches and their loving owners. Items varied from plush beds in cool prints that I would have gladly slept in if I were small enough to a smorgasbord or nutritious treats. We looked in the glass display, identical to what you would find in a human bakery, to see iced cookies and cake. The "baked" items were especially delightful to me as I am conscious of the health for both me and my dog and strive to shop locally and cook healthfully whenever possible. The store specializes in products that are all-natural, free of unhealthy preservatives and chemicals. Needless to say, I was in love.

Barkery employee Jodie was so generous to little Linus and adoringly followed him around the store as he investigated toys, treats and new friends, including a little girl wearing a purple cap. Jodie treated Linus to an extensive home-baked goods sampling, requesting him to sit for each treat but instead got an anxious Linus jig. The little bone-shaped biscuit flavors included Pumpkin Pie, Beef Stew and Hot Brown. While Linus was chowing down, I asked Jodie if she saw the French Bulldog compete in the Westminster.

"Yes," she said. "But I think yours is definitely cuter."

I'm liking Jodie and this barkery more and more every moment. But, unfortunately, Shawn told us it was time to wrap things up... game time! I bought Linus some natural wool toys, a cranberry and clove bone to freshen his breath and an assortment of the sampled treats. There are many more things I need to discover at the barkery, I feel like I haven't scratched the surface. Jodie, who owns two Basset Hounds (love 'em, we must meet) advised that we visit on Saturday morning around 11 a.m. We'll be there, and, of course, you'll hear about it!

Visit the Barkery Web site: www.bluegrassbarkery.com

Visit to Idlewood Dr.

2010-02-19T09:01:00.000-08:00

One of Linus' favorite things to do is romp around with his cousins, Ellie, a red boxer, and Lucy, a black daschund. I say "cousins" but I guess techinically they are aunts, which would make may parent's dogs my sisters. That's kind of weird, maybe we should drop the whole real-life family references as they pertain to dogs. But these sort of references become oh-so endearing at moments when Linus bounds to the garage door to greet his "Uncle Noah." Or when we're visiting my friends they earn the label "Aunt Jessica" or "Uncle Patton." You get the idea...

All of us loaded up in Shawn's Corolla and went on a visit to my parent's house last night. Since Christmas, my mom's health hasn't been so great, so we've been taking on dinner for the family a couple times a month to help out. The bonus of our trip out is that Linus gets to play in a big, fenced yard and hang with the cousins, who usually end up chasing him around the living room and under the dining room table. In their game of "chase," Linus will often try to scamper under a dining room chair, consequently knocking it over with his huge knob of a head, not realizing he's grown so much he can't dash under them anymore. This usually leads to chair toppling over left and right, nearly crushing him. Thank goodness he's nimble.

Last night we made spring risotto with asparagus and shrimp, an excrutiatingly long process that has to be timed perfectly. It's a great recipe, though (http://www.thefreshmarket.com/recipes/recipes_details_review.aspx?RecipeID=279). Fortunately, my parents had time to spare and the Winter Olympics were on television, and since I don't own a television, I usually get hooked on anything on the screen. Shawn and I play a lot of scrabble. Don't judge.

Oh yes, and for those of you who might be interested in making fun of me some more, I also don't own a dishwasher, I don't text and I just got a microwave a couple months ago. I do own a coffee maker, courtesy of my recently wed sister.

Linus loves many people, all people actually as most Frenchies do, but he especially loves men (no, not that way!). And of the many men in his life, he gets very excited ab0ut my brother, Noah. "Uncle" Noah entered the house after spending time on campus, to which Linus dashed from his position in the living room to greet him with his wiggling, stooped to the ground body. He snorts and pouts and sniffs. When Noah picked up the little chunk, Linus gave him a quick and sloppy face bath. I must note, Linus is very hesitant to share kisses with anybody.

But he also gave out kisses to my mom last night, which was particularly special. Her eyes fluttered and she let his muzzle run along her cheeks. And she almost formed a smile. And it's those sort of moments when you know your dog is more than just a "dog."

2010-02-19T06:57:00.000-08:00

Would love to rescue one of these babies one day when the time and dog is right. And cute logo! In the meantime, can always sponsor...
http://www.frenchbulldogrescue.org/

Bru at Westminster

2010-02-18T12:25:00.001-08:00

http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/unleashed/2010/02/westminster-kennel-club-dog-show-french-bulldog-bru-wins-nonsporting-group.html

Some info on our little hero at the Westminster.

The Start of a Dog Blog

2010-02-18T10:12:00.000-08:00

To the left, Linus plays with cousins Ellie and Lucy and Papaw Mike (my dad).

Laying some ground rules for my blog:

First of all, I never think anyone should pin themselves down to blogging only about a particular part of their life. While I say this, I won't deny this is a "French BullBlog" and I would love to it to become a place for Frenchie lovers and dog owners to come for entertainment and resources. But I will endeavor to include several stories about daily life and interactions, which may include encounters with my bazaar but ever-enduring family, my even more insane second family (my boyfriend's family) and other notable aspects of my life I feel are worth expressing to my seemingly non-existent audience (therapy time... woo hoo!). If you're not reading, which obviously YOU ARE, it'll be like me talking to a wall or screaming in a pillow or something. But, fortunately, most of my interactions outside of work do indeed involve my dog.

I would also like to make this point: I have been a lifelong dog lover, but I AM a new dog owner. I don't have anything figured out about this process of becoming a doggy mommy. It's gone pretty smoothly in the past six months, but there have been gliches and problems, accidents and difficult times. But, I will say, I welcome advise from those who have been around the block (literally and figuratively) with their Frenchies, or any other puppy for that matter. Please, please, please write what you will. Criticism is welcome, but let's keep it classy.

Thanks for reading! Love, Me and My Muffin