The Blog of Eternal Boredom: My Pups

Never in my entire life have I lived without a dog... that is until I came up to Rexburg and now I’m feeling very dog-sick. I’ve had four dogs throughout the years and all of them have been huge in my life and in shaping who I am today.

I love dogs SO much! I simply do not understand people who don’t like dogs at least a little bit. They are literally put on this earth to please and to love. I mean sure they do other things like hunt, guard, track, pull sleds, etc., but honestly their main purpose is to please and to love their owner.

One of the most touching stories I ever heard was about this woman who lived with her abusive boyfriend and her dog, a Great Dane. One night, the boyfriend was drunk and came down on her very hard. He actually had a gun on her. He ended up pushing her through a wall and stood over her with the gun. The Great Dane saw his owner lying on the ground, crawled over to her, and then laid on top of her, shielding her from any further harm from the boyfriend, growling protectively.

I honestly get choked up whenever I hear that story. I’m not just saying that. I was teary-eyed while writing it. That dog could sense its owner’s pain and fear so it put itself in the firing line and protected her the only way it could. It loved her so much that it put itself in harm’s way to save her. I won’t put all the details, but the end to that story is that the boyfriend shot the dog (only injuring it), and he went to jail. The woman went to a rehabilitation center and insisted on having her dog with her even though pets weren’t allowed. She was permitted to keep him because the people there could see that the dog was good for her recovery.

Where else do you get such unwavering loyalty? I seriously do not understand people who don’t like dogs. All they want to do is love you. As I said, I’ve had four great dogs over the course of my life and I’ve loved them all so much!

So of course I have to talk about each of them (buckle up, I’m about to go on and on):

Mika. Miniature Doberman.

My parents got her a year or so before I was born, so technically she was their first child. I believe they got her at a pet store. I don’t think it was a shelter because they purchased her, and it definitely wasn’t a breeder. It must have been a store. Anyways, they bought her as a puppy. I can’t remember exactly where they got the name. I know my mom picked it... This is what happens when you weren’t around for the actual event.

I do know that she was one little ball of energy. Wow! She would just whiz around like a speeding bullet. I can still hear the sound of her panting and quick little footsteps as she ran up and down the hallway. I think it was my Uncle Allen who discovered her preference for rustling paper. I have no idea what it was all about, but whenever someone crumpled paper or rustled it in someway, she would get super excited and run around like a psycho. She wouldn’t attack the noise, just run around in a dither. This particularly amused me when I was a baby. I would just sit there and crack up as I watched her run back and forth with absolutely no point or direction.

She also loved warm laundry. Whenever my mom was taking a fresh batch out of the dryer, Mika was right there, waiting. She loved to lay on top of it and nap. Even when the clothes on top would start to cool off, she would dig into the pile to get to the warmer clothes.

When Afton was born, the two of them formed a close bond. She always slept on her bed. In fact, she even had a special stepping stool up to her bed to help her in her later years. She also really enjoyed sleeping on my dad's lap.

I will always remember how she would perk up at the sound of her name, “Mika!”, then tilt her head at, “Wanna eat?”, then tilt it even more at, “Wanna go for a walk?”

The one thing she loved above anything was eating. It was a good thing she was so energetic because she burned off all those calories. A famous story in our family was when my parents took her with them up to Canada to see my dad’s parents. While there, they had a dog birthday party with other dogs in the family. I can’t remember the exact details, but I know that Mika ended up leading all the dogs inside while the owners were gone and they found a stash of... Oreos, I think it was, and ate all of them.

Another one of my favorites is after we got our second dog, we had to leave his food out in the open because he was a growing puppy, but Mika liked to sneak down the hall and eat it. She knew that she could be caught at any minute, so she would stuff as much of the food in her mouth as

possible. When we would walk past the spot, we could hear quiet, sneaky chewing, so instead of simply stopping her, we would sneak up behind her and then yell. This would scare her and it was totally hilarious to watch all the food she was storing in her mouth spill out as she slipped around, trying to run away.

Of course, that played a big role in her downfall. As she got older, she lost a lot of energy, as you do when you get old, and she just didn’t burn off those calories. She got so fat! She was literally the size of a football (I know, I measured). Old age is what did it. She lived until she was fourteen, I believe. She was simply sleeping most of the day, she was fat, her eyes fogged up, she had breathing issues, she was frail. It was just time.

She was a fun, funny dog. Full of life and energy in her prime, and always full of love even until her last days.

Chase. Weimaraner- gray.

One day, when I was in fifth or sixth grade, my dad brought home an encyclopedia of dog breeds for us to look through. We all had our favorites, but my dad was especially fond of one bird-hunting breed which he deemed “beautiful” and “amazing”: the Weimaraner. That’s where it all began.

Eventually, he informed us that he was looking at some breeders. Just looking. But then he told us that he was talking to one of the breeders and finding out more about the dogs. And then he told us that we were actually going to get one of the puppies from the next litter! Oh we were so excited! My dad ordered a “mellow” puppy since those dogs are known to be high-strung and energetic. Once the puppies were born, the breeder picked one out and we were set to go.

Unfortunately, after a few weeks, the breeder called and told us that the puppy she had selected had seven holes in its heart. She could not sell it to us. The options were, she would keep it and let it live out its life and we could have a puppy from the next litter, or she could let us still have the puppy for free. Our family prayed about it and thought it over for a long time, eventually we decided that we would take the puppy and let it live out its life with us instead of the breeder. We knew we could give it a good, loving home.

So, we picked it up. We noticed when we first met him that he really liked to chase things down and bite them. We debated on the names Chewy and Chase, eventually deciding on Chase.

He was the sweetest, cutest, most playful little thing. We loved him so much! Except when you put your head on his chest, you didn’t hear a heartbeat, you heard a weird slushing noise. Eventually, my dad took him to the vet just to see what was up. The vet suggested an simple surgery where they would make a small puncture, stick a tube inside his chest, and plug up the holes. We agreed to it and went through with it. Unfortunately it failed, so we tried again. That one failed as well. By this point, Chase was as much a member of the family as the rest of us, so we went for full on open-heart surgery. This time, it was a success and... well, let’s just say it was like someone flipped a switch on his energy.

The reason Chase was a “mellow” puppy was because of his heart problem. After it was fixed, wow did he become one crazy cat (or pup?). He was always running, hunting something, chewing on something, or busy in some way. He was (as we called him) a “wild indian” (I apologize if that’s offensive to anyone).

He LOVED to hunt. He hunted everything from birds to squirrels to lizards to rabbits to toenail clippings. Yes, anytime someone was cutting their toenails, he was right there, very determinedly trying to catch them as they flew off. He could focus like you wouldn’t believe. And the fact that he was slightly cross-eyed made him look a bit demented while doing it. Ha!

He was a lover boy, big time! He just could never get close enough. We used to joke that if he got any closer, he would be on the other side. He loved giving kisses. I’ll never forget that big, wet tongue. None of our other dogs hardly ever give/gave kisses unless you were covered in food or sweat, and I kind of miss it.

He was always there for you. I think he might have been the most in tune with his master’s emotions out of all our dogs. I mean, obviously he had his stupid moments and/or he chose to ignore any common sense he had, but he was a pleaser. He always could tell when you were sad, sick, or unhappy and would be there for you. He was happy when you were happy. He was such a good boy!

Unfortunately, his obsessive behavior was the reason for his downfall. Towards the end of his life he got really obsessive and crazed. He would get so fixated on something-- even the tiniest things like flies and even flying bits of dust-- and would not leave it alone, even if it was long gone. He started hurting himself in his desperation to get to it. He broke out a lot of his teeth, permanently scraped off the skin of his nose, his nails were broken and filed down to nubs, he was constantly covered in scrapes, scabs, and gashes, and was basically on the road to killing himself. One summer, all of us were going out of town and we were going to have to leave the dogs outside alone where Chase would inevitably tear apart his bedding and/or escape and put himself and the other dogs in danger. It was then that my dad decided to take him in to the vet.

It was hard, but I do think it was for the best. He was not supposed to live as long as he did. When he was supposed to live only seven weeks, he ended up living seven years. And he had a happy life full of love, hunting, chasing, joy, excitement, and playing.

Macy. Weimaraner- blue.

The breeder who sold us Chase was so grateful to us for taking Chase off her hands that she contacted us and offered us another puppy for absolutely free as a thank you. Well, we took her offer. Again, we ordered a “mellow” puppy, and boy, did we receive one.

My parents picked her up this time and I first met her at home. We all sat in a circle on the ground and all she did was move from lap to lap and fall asleep. She hardly played or did anything. But, gosh darn it, she was so cute! Naming her was a little more difficult than it was with Chase, because we each had a name that we all liked and we were very stubborn about it. Eventually someone randomly suggested Macy and we each tentatively said that we could live with it. So Macy it was.

She is one of the strangest dogs I have ever met. She sleeps probably 20/24 hours of the day. I kid you not. When she’s not sleeping, she’s eating or peeing. That’s literally all she does all day. We call her a potato, because that’s what she looks like. Just a potato lying there doing absolutely nothing. She hardly cares about anything too. You can do anything, show her anything, and she’ll just lay there, looking at you with her eyes half open, totally indifferent. The only things she cares about are food and if the other dogs are getting something she isn’t.

If there’s something she loves as much as sleeping, it’s food. Unfortunately, she doesn’t do anything to burn off all those calories, so she’s a giant chub. She will always try to steal the other dog(s)’ food, so we have to keep an eye on her.

She’s secretly devious and manipulative. She acts all indifferent and innocent, but if you leave the room for just one second, she will be up and in the kitchen, stealing something off the counter. She’s also been known to frame the other dogs for something she did, just because you never assume she did it because she’s always sleeping in the corner.

She loves to have her belly rubbed. It’s so funny, whenever you walk towards her, she will always flop on the ground and put her belly up. She loves to be petted and touched, but she doesn’t like to have anyone near her (she’s got quite a personal bubble). It’s a bit of a paradox. She’s getting better though.

While Mika was Afton’s friend, I like to consider Macy my friend. She enjoys hanging out in my room. She even has a cushion set up at the foot of my bed (of course, she likes getting on my bed

when she can). She doesn’t really like sharing the bed because of her personal space issue, but sometimes she will allow me to get on with her. I think she likes the quietness and solitude of my room.

My dad’s catchphrase is “she’s gonna pee”. This stems from her puppyhood because we had difficulty potty-training her. She was one of those puppies who peed when she got excited or nervous. However, as she got older, even though she can control it for the most part, every once in a while she does pee herself. It’s very rare, but it leaves my dad paranoid and so whenever he sees her getting excited or nervous he says, “she’s gonna pee”.

She’s such a droop. Everything about her is droopy. Her face, her eyes, her ears, her demeanor. It makes her so adorable. The poor thing doesn’t know how to play like a normal dog though. When she does actually put in the effort, it’s a little bit pathetic. She’s just so big and clumsy. She’s like a horse galloping around. It’s kind of sad, but endearing at the same time. She tries so hard.

I think the best way to describe her is a cat trapped in a dog’s body who moves like a horse.

She’s the sweetest thing. I love her to bits. You can always count on her if you need someone to just lay near you while you’re reading or watching TV or something.

Troy. Weimaraner- blue.

Once again, the breeder who gave us Chase and Macy contacted us about a guy who lived in LA who was trying to get rid of a dog he had bought from her. She was wondering if we were interested in it. The guy wasn’t trying to sell the dog, just get rid of it. We thought about it for a bit and eventually

decided we would take it. My dad drove down to LA and picked up the dog. I first met him at our house. He wasn’t a puppy, he was already a year old and already named. Let me tell you, this dog had issues! He was spastic, he was nervous, he refused to mingle among the other dogs, he wouldn’t let us touch him, and was just a pain in the neck. After a few days, my dad was threatening to ship him off to a farm. He contacted the breeder and informed her of our problems. She told him to give it another week or so, let him watch the other dogs, and learn from them. She said he should calm down and eventually adapt. We took her advice and waited it out, doing our best to help him along. And wouldn’t you know it? It worked. He turned into one of the nicest, most lovable, caring dogs you could ever meet.

Now, this is only theorizing from what we could piece together from the information we had and from what we observed, but this is what we think happened to Troy before we got him: The guy in LA bought him as puppy from the breeder and of course he was so cute and little and he was doted upon and loved. But then Troy grew up, got bigger, became more time-consuming and busy, and the guy didn’t know what to do with him since he lived in a small apartment. So he just put him outside on the concrete with only a blanket for company. This would explain Troy’s scuffed up elbows and obsession with blankets (yes, I will get to that). Eventually, the guy realized he couldn’t keep him and that’s when we came into the picture.

Troy is the happiest dog you will ever meet. That is literally his only emotion. I am not exaggerating. He does not process anything negative, it just doesn’t go through. He doesn’t feel sad, or angry, or guilty. It’s mostly a good thing, but it does have its downsides, because he doesn’t feel bad when he does something wrong. You could be screaming your head off at him for something he’s done and he just has no idea. But, otherwise, he is such a good dog. He’s so friendly and happy. He will always brighten your day with his enthusiasm and joy. Everything is sunshine and rainbows with him.

He is one busy dog. He’s always up and about sniffing things, investigating something, searching for attention, and whatever else. “A sound? Oh gotta investigate!”. “You have food? Oh, gotta sit by in case you drop even the tiniest morsel!”. “Someone new? Oh, gotta sniff every inch of them at least twenty times over!”.

He has got to have the most quirks out of any dog I’ve met. As I mentioned above, he’s got this thing with blankets. He sucks on them. Sucks! Like a pacifier. We used to try and discourage it, but now

we’re always pushing it on him because it gets him to hold still for a bit and we know where he is. “Where’s your blankie?” is a common household phrase. He also loves rolling around on his back like a demented weirdo, often falling asleep in that position. I don’t know what the point is, but he looks like he’s dead whenever he falls asleep like that. He has a strange fascination with knees. While he does like sniffing literally everything, he especially loves people's knees. He also howls like a baby whenever the phone rings. I don’t know why. We think there’s some frequency that bothers him, but whatever the reason, it’s so funny and cute. Whenever he gets a bone, he spends most of his time trying to “bury” it instead of chewing it. He goes all over the house trying to find the perfect hiding spot. It is one of the funniest things to watch.

Those are just a few of his many strange quirks.

Troy is such a lovable weirdo. You have to adore him because he adores you.

Troy and Macy era

I have to talk about these two together because they’re the ones we have right now. They are the strangest duo because they’re such polar opposites. Troy is the energetic, outgoing jock who talks to everyone, while Macy is the laid back introvert who would rather just sit in the corner and keep to herself. They even look completely different. People always ask us, “how do you tell them apart?”.

How do you NOT tell them apart? I mean, sure, they’re the same color and about the same height, but that’s pretty much the extent of it. Macy is bigger and more horse-like in build, she’s got sleeker fur, is very droopy, and has a white spot of fur on her chest. Troy, on the other hand, is thinner and more athletic, he’s got a fuzzier face and coarser fur, he’s a lot perkier, and if one of them is at your side sniffing you, that’s him.

Macy is the alpha. No question. Back when Chase was alive, whenever either he or Troy caught something, Macy would always claim it as her own and they would just let her have it. Also, as I mentioned above, Troy never learns his lesson. You can do hardly anything that will get the message to sink in. However, there is one person who can do it, and that’s Macy. Troy gets on her nerves a lot, always jumping on her, or barking at her, or stealing something of hers, or whatever, and sometimes she’ll just snap and will take him down! It’s so amazing. She totally puts him in his place. It’s so funny to watch her completely pound him. She hardly ever does it though, she’s so lazy and doesn’t care. I wish she would though because that guy needs to be taught a lesson more often.

The two of them have this thing with ice. They love it, it’s one of their favorite treats. I have no idea why. It’s got no flavor or smell, but for some reason, they get so excited whenever they hear someone getting ice. (Chase also had this love of ice. I don’t know what it is!)

Even though Troy is more of a nuisance to Macy than anything else, I think they do love each other. They always get so sad whenever they’re separated. Sometimes it’s just because they’re jealous (like if you take one on a walk without they other, they will howl the day away until you come back). But sometimes if one is gone for an extended period of time, the other will actually get sad and mope. Especially Troy. He’s such a drama queen.

So, all my dogs have had their own fun, quirky personalities and have added so much heart and joy to my life. If you’re thinking about getting a dog, but are sort of on the fence about it, believe me, it is SO worth it. Whatever your doubts are-- money, mess, too much attention-- everything is worth it! Dogs are seriously the best! They have so much to offer, so much love, and it’s all for you!

Here's a few more pictures because I think my dogs are absolutely adorable!