Dog gone goodness

I love dogs. Their desire to serve is humbling and heartwarming and whenever there is a dog store anywhere (even our local 11 o'clock news which often warrants an eye roll) I cry. A lot. I turn to Matt, who is often unmoved, and stammer, "Don't you...don't you see what they DO for us?! They are AMAZING!" I make quite the scene.

I don't understand people who don't like dogs with all they do for us: seeing eye dogs, dogs who serve individuals with epilepsy, rescue dogs, bomb-sniffing dogs, sled dogs, police dogs, parachuting dogs used in war (!) - the list is endless. Of course, then there's the ubiquitous pet dog who enjoys sniffing unmentionables and whining for kitchen scraps. They're pretty good too. Check out these amazing pooches!



UPDATE!: Wonderful, eye-opening photo essay on war dogs.

These dogs work with the Navy SEALS! Look at them strapped outside of that helicopter!

Three dogs who risked their lives and saved 50 military personnel from a suicide bomber (video).

I can't get enough of parachuting dogs!

Here's another parachuting dog in Norway!

Look at this amazing mutt!

Okay; the last one was Penny. Fine. You got me!

But regardless, show me a cat who can do any of this. Meeeeoooowwww!

Video: Dog Caring for Dog in Japan

Small pleasures escaped the days during my first week of unemployment. And then last Friday I learned of the earthquake in Japan, then tsunami, and now, of course the chilling news about the meltdown of Japan's nuclear power plants. When you're unemployed you watch a lot of television, and read a lot of news. I sift through these tidbits all day long in between applying to jobs, fixing lunch, and finally putting on different sweats (from the ones I sadly slept in) to take the dog for a walk. I've been watching what's happening in Japan with a sort of frozen half-belief, but it wasn't until today that I actually cried when viewing a clip of the devastation. And it was from The Today Show, no less! Not some venerated newscast! And about a dog! Jeez. I don't know what this says about me - or about other people who cried at the same clip - but there's something so innately vulnerable about animals and particularly dogs: they have no clue what is happening yet they nurture nonetheless. Their loyalty is startling. I talk to my dog, Penny, throughout the day and her ears always perk up at the sound of my voice. We cook together, get the mail together, greet our neighbors together, and together we wait for Matt to get home. She's my best friend.

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

Karate Cat

A forward my mom sent me. What can I say; I found it amusing (the photo is equally amusing).


The Dog's Diary
8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 PM - Milk bones! My favorite thing!
1:00 PM - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 PM - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 PM - Dinner! My favorite thing!
7:00 PM - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 PM - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
11:00 PM - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!

The Cat's Diary Day 983 of my captivity.

My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength. The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape.

In an Attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet. Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates my capabilities. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a "good little hunter" I am.

There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of "allergies." I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage.

Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow, but at the top of the stairs.

I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released, and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded. The bird must be an informant. I observe him communicating with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an Elevated Cell, so he is safe. ..For now.

Ella

I know in the past I have written about my love for my dog in no uncertain terms. Penny is the first being I see after a day of work. She follows me around the house and listens cheerfully to my humanoid ramblings, her head tilt in anticipation, her eyes following my movements as I make dinner or do the laundry. The few times she's gotten sick she's come to my side and pressed the weight of her body to my torso, her eyes looking directly into mine, wanting to know, yes, it's going to be alright. She's also done this when I was sick, or crying. I've found myself saying, "It's okay, Penny, I'm fine, it was just a sad movie" more times than I can count. I love teasing her with, "Where's daddy?!" as she runs to the dining room windows in hopes of seeing Matthew pulling up the drive. When she finally does spot him she sweetly howls in excitement.

She has also made a dog (or one dog) lover out of Matthew. The few times Penny ate something that didn't agree with her, she would remain in the yard for fear of vomiting in the house again. He'd be out there with her telling her that she'd be okay, and to take a sip of water as he stroked her backside. They would sit there together, him with his legs crossed, and her on her side, in the long grass.

I fully believe in the therapeutic advantages in being a dog owner, and I believe these animals, no matter in the home or at work, want to serve us. It's very humbling as I sit at Penn Station waiting for my train and the K-9 Amtrak units walk back and forth, with a German Sheppard or a Lab in tow. It's also very reassuring. (Introduce me to a cat who can do that.)

Here is a story my mom sent me about Ella, an incredible Rottweiler and companion. You needn't be a dog lover to appreciate the story, but I challenge you to not be one after you finish.


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Disturbing Developments

Development 1: I realized something yesterday that I was not prepared for: I can no longer suck in my gut. Now, let's be honest, my torso mostly consists of fat, but I relished those few pounds of muscle because they helped me suck in my big belly. Now my fleshy mid-section sticks out past my boobs and I really find this unsettling! (Especially since Spanx is so much!) I know going to the gym once I heal is an option so I wouldn't have to spend a quarter of my salary on girdles, but that doesn't really appeal to me either.

Development 2: It hurts to pee. Not the burning, frequency type of hurting to pee that is associated with a urinary tract infection. This is more mechanical. I woke up this morning and when I peed - especially when my bladder was almost voided - it HURT! The pain felt deep and ran up my groin. I know you can get infections from catheters but I had my out a whole week ago (and it was in for less than 24 hours). My mom said, "Maybe your bladder is bruised." So now I'm thinking Dr. P grazed my blad with his scalpel and conveniently didn't tell me.

Development 3: My incision is red and tender, particularly at the fat roll (sorry my fat roll has taken so much prominence lately, but it really is the center of my life at the moment). I still have a section of the incision where the skin is not connected, too. I called the doctor's office on Friday feeling very smug because I warned them about this fat roll, and Dr. P's nurse told me when I see him on Tuesday he may reinforce the incision with something or other and that, no, my incision was not infected because it had to be leaking goo and green stuff to have that lovely affliction. I told her it was not leaking green stuff but was just tender and gross, and she said I'm probably a-okay then.

Development 4: I cannot sleep (which is why I am writing this at 3 am). I guess this is the side effect of doing absolutely nothing all day; I have no way to use up energy! Fortunately, my friend Angela visited today with a Welsh Corgi she is dog-sitting, but to me that thing kind of looked like a fat groundhog. I say this in all kindness but seriously, its weight would wobble left and right as it walked with its stubby legs. The thing had a bigger gut than me. He also didn't like me and growled a few times, and Angela said this was because I kept calling him names. I guess that's fair.

I bet they'd rather enjoy a walk.

"Does this LOOK like it was my idea, Mister!?"

"She promised me a Milkbone if I sit through this, so don't judge."

"Psst! Yo, photograher, quit standin' there gawkin' and SAVE US!"

Now for something a bit more amusing. (Although the gastrointestinal distress Crohn's causes is always amusing to the 12-year-old in me, sometimes a girl has gotta move on.)

Take, for example, this article that appeared in the NYT a couple weeks back. It's about "Doga" - or yoga, with your dog. I urge you to look at the photos accompanying the article and stare into the innocent dogs' eyes. Somehow, upper-middle-class urbanites and found a new breed of animal abuse. Poor things.

Bonding With Their Downward-Facing Humans
Published: April 9, 2009, NYT

"Life Lessons From the Family Dog"

Penny

I will forever be a "dog person". I could not ask for a better companion, and above all, a better friend. I clench my teeth in frustration when people reduce dogs to its, or breed them as a commodity. Their capacity to love, and to nurture, is without boundaries. My black lab mix, Penny, was given up by her previous owners and placed in a shelter until Matt and I had the good fortune to stumble upon her, alert but weary, in her kennel. Since then she has lovingly roused us out of bed on Saturday mornings to start the day, and been a stoic fixture of calming comfort when I cried about anything, from the physical pain of a broken ankle to the emotional distress of my recent bout with Crohn's Disease. It's always the same: she presses her body hard against my legs, and rests her head on my knee. She is all soul and warmth. And it is the most beautiful sight in the world.

Please enjoy this essay by NYT Editor, Dana Jennings, on his ailing friend, partner, and member of the family, Bijou.

Animals Who Hate Baths (or, Why Cats Scare Me)

For more freaky photos, visit here.

Images courtesy of Best Week Ever.

Dog of the Week: Stains!

I only go on YouTube for a few reasons, but namely, it's to watch my dog-idol Stains, who is being hypnotized by the deliciousness of those vanilla cupcakes on "It's Me Or The Dog" on Animal Planet. Don't look into his eyes!

Throw the dog a bone! (Or a cupcake, for goodness sakes!)