| Dogs Gone Wild |
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Like all stereotypical males, Mr. Wild Dingo enjoys critiquing my driving skills. Last month I drove Mr. Wild Dingo to the airport. Loki and Juno came with us and provided an eye-opening, err … ear-opening critique of Mr. Wild Dingo’s driving skills. Internet, feel free to make your own judgements. But I feel the impartial critics have spoken. Two out of two backseat driving critics have agreed. Mr. Wild Dingo’s driving skills are hazardous to their health. Read the rest of this entry »
I know. I know. I never write anymore. I never visit your sites anymore. I could be dead or worse, you could be dead and lying in a ditch and did I even take the time to check in with you and see how you’re doing? No. I’m an ungrateful child to my Internet family. I’m so sorry. But I have a really good excuse. I have to move all my furniture across the country and then over the Atlantic ocean. Life is hard.
This past month, Mr. Wild Dingo, with the help of a wonderful real estate agent, went house hunting. He visited probably 10 homes and narrowed it down to three, then called me out. Loki and Juno insisted on joining me on the final house hunting chore, since after all, it’s going to be their house too. They promised me they’d fly home after we made a decision. And you all know what happened when they got home.
When we got to Lausanne, we decided to look at our top two choices. The first home was in the country, in a little village called Dommartin. The location was so remote, the address isn’t even found on Google. However the house was newly built, with all the comforts of a modern high-tech home. It had 4 bedrooms, 2.5 baths, a killer laundry room, a pool, a back yard that had farming and mountain views, a detached garage and tons of storage.
“This looks like a house suited for a Princess like you, uh, Princess!”
“Ya, I sure dig that fountain in the front. Oh the fun I can have with some Formosan dunkings. Read the rest of this entry »
“Nothing says “I missed you” like pillow entrails. I cared enough to shred the very best.”
After 6 long weeks, Mr. Wild Dingo returned home, err… back to Casa Wild Dingo, or in Mango’s terms, “The Wild Dingo Estate.” Though Mr. Wild Dingo is married to Wild Dingo, he’s no longer an official resident of California or even the U.S.! His company broke his residency for tax purposes and he’s now officially a Suisse resident. The Wild Dingo estate is no longer his home. Holy crap. How weird to be married but not residing in the same country. So now there’s a foreigner staying at Wild Dingo. This whole experience is so surreal.
Loki and Juno, on the other hand, don’t care what a piece of paper says. They had some choice words for him when he got home:
“Pop! Where the hell have you been?”
“You left us with that Jack-Booted Thug for six weeks! “
“Yowza! Rolf buddy, check out the dame with the long stems who just walked into class. She sure turns my crank.”
“Dude. We’re on the clock. Turn on your German Shepherd switch and go to work.”
One fear down, 87,000 more fears to go. Looks like Loki’s 12 step program got him over his crate fear.
“This is a nice pad, but it’s a little cramped for my style. Where will I fit the baby grand piano and the water bed?”
“Hey Big Boy, now that you’re an Iron Dog, let’s see how much Iron you’re really made of.”
Loki received his FeD (Dogtorate of Iron) this weekend. Iron Dog is a certification at our school, The K-9 Clinic. From the day I found out about this certification almost 2 years ago, I’ve wanted to Loki to go for it. I was determined to bring out his better (working) qualities and work through his anxious, easily-stressed temperament.
It’s been a mental, physical and emotional roller coaster ride getting here. We’ve had most of the required behaviors for this trial for about a year now, except one–the send the dog to the car. So in April, I signed up for the prep classes to clean up all the behaviors and learn the ”send to the car.”
We had our ups and downs during training and I remember at one point Loki went through a rough period and I threw a pity party for myself claiming we shouldn’t even try.
That’s the rule at Wild Dingo.
“That’s ridiculous. Clearly she can see there are two dogs on this bed.”
Astute readers will notice a decrease in postings last week. My brand new computer, which did not have a back up system installed, had a melt down. And while I got it back last weekend, it’s taking a while to get all the systems in place and recover what I can off of my old computer. Sigh. Always back up.
While we waited for the computer to be fixed, I figured I’d soak up some vitamin D so I lugged out a beach chair. Juno jumped up on it and began kissing me and before I could say, “Get your own beach chair,” I had 2 dogs sitting on the back of my chair with me hanging off the front of it. The one draw back of training your dog with “props” is that they think everything is a prop that will get them a treat. So I got the camera.
”If I just do a little doga on this here chair, maybe she’ll let me stay on it.”
“A great big sibe smile always makes her cave. The chair is mine now.”
“Ahh geesh. Who invited him? Move over stud, you’re gynormous ears are blockin’ my rays.” Read the rest of this entry »
