Couple of videos for your enjoyment...but I can't seem to get the youtube code to work right...so you have to click the links. Sorry!
Sam "dancing", as well as wandering aimlessly.
The Fonz doing his thing. Yes, he does this a lot. Especially when he is really excited.
Showing posts with label The Fonz. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Fonz. Show all posts
Friday, June 11, 2010
Friday, May 21, 2010
No Motherly Intuition
Do you ever have a “gut feeling”? Like Gibbs on NCIS? I started feeling a little uneasy about The Fonz lately, Dr. Nadene brought up how he was limping (still don’t see it!), I found a couple of new lumps on him, and he’s been really clingy lately. And then, the other night, just lying on the floor of the nursery while Sam brought me book after book to read one page of, his teeth chattered for like, 10 seconds, and even the top of his head was quivering. Something was not right.
I’ve never been a big fan of my gut, whether the one that sticks out from a shirt that is too short because I have a weirdly long torso, or the one that tells me things. Specifically, the one that tells me things incorrectly. Like how Samantha was going to be a boy. Yeah, missed the mark on that one. Or how I was sure my wedding would have no major disasters. (lost childhood photos, anyone?) I seem to have no intuition at all.
So I was hoping that my gut was again wrong when Fonz and I went to the vet this afternoon. I LOVE my vet, and even though I didn’t get to see her, I got to see the tech that I love, the office manager who I love, and also another one of the vets there…who I love. She found four new lumps on Fonz, and rotated and manipulated his legs and felt there was nothing wrong, except maybe a tweaked knee. But she was happy to oblige my request for x-rays, you know, since I am a hypochondriac. Well, a canine hypochondriac.
And lo and behold, not only is there NO CANCER, but there is HARDLY ANY ARTHRITIS! No wonder Fonz runs around like he is two, he’s all hopped up on pain meds! (or, as one friend pointed out, addicted to pain meds) It would seem as though the years of supplements might be doing him some good. (or he has good genes…I’d like to think the money spent is why) And YET AGAIN, my gut is wrong. Awesome.
I think that perhaps Fonz has adopted my canine hypochondria, because as soon as we got home, he was literally bouncing up and down in front of me, playing bowing, tossing a toy in the air, bringing it to me, running away, hopping up on the bed, hopping down off the bed, and begging for treats. He must’ve heard me when I said that he was as healthy as a horse. I really think he wanted me to drop $157 just so he could feel better. I know I do.
I’ve never been a big fan of my gut, whether the one that sticks out from a shirt that is too short because I have a weirdly long torso, or the one that tells me things. Specifically, the one that tells me things incorrectly. Like how Samantha was going to be a boy. Yeah, missed the mark on that one. Or how I was sure my wedding would have no major disasters. (lost childhood photos, anyone?) I seem to have no intuition at all.
So I was hoping that my gut was again wrong when Fonz and I went to the vet this afternoon. I LOVE my vet, and even though I didn’t get to see her, I got to see the tech that I love, the office manager who I love, and also another one of the vets there…who I love. She found four new lumps on Fonz, and rotated and manipulated his legs and felt there was nothing wrong, except maybe a tweaked knee. But she was happy to oblige my request for x-rays, you know, since I am a hypochondriac. Well, a canine hypochondriac.
And lo and behold, not only is there NO CANCER, but there is HARDLY ANY ARTHRITIS! No wonder Fonz runs around like he is two, he’s all hopped up on pain meds! (or, as one friend pointed out, addicted to pain meds) It would seem as though the years of supplements might be doing him some good. (or he has good genes…I’d like to think the money spent is why) And YET AGAIN, my gut is wrong. Awesome.
I think that perhaps Fonz has adopted my canine hypochondria, because as soon as we got home, he was literally bouncing up and down in front of me, playing bowing, tossing a toy in the air, bringing it to me, running away, hopping up on the bed, hopping down off the bed, and begging for treats. He must’ve heard me when I said that he was as healthy as a horse. I really think he wanted me to drop $157 just so he could feel better. I know I do.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Whoo-Hoo!!
It’s snowing!! I know that we are only supposed to get a couple of inches, but I would skip if I could. The Fonz is going to be sooo excited when I get home and let him out. Zoomies for everyone!! 
Thursday, November 20, 2008
2 Families?
Last night, The Fonz disappeared. I let him out and he was more than thrilled to go…he loves this kind of weather. You know…the cold, windy, blustery kind that makes you want to sit in front of a fireplace? Yeah…he stands in the backyard, facing into the wind, checking out his domain, looking a bit like Mufasa on top of the rock in The Lion King. Apparently last night, he decided his domain was boring. And went a-wandering.
I told Workaholic that I think that he has another family, one that sees him every night, and feels sorry for him, and lets him into their house, and feeds him and gives him treats. And when he has gotten his fill of this new family, gotten all the love and adoration he can handle, he probably knocks the doorknob of their back door, asking to be let out, and they let him. And then he comes home.
Either that or he is having an affair with a coyote.
(This reminds me of Private Practice last night, where a guy brings in both of his pregnant wives. Yeah...he had two families)
So when he finally decided to make an appearance last night, he was all out of breath, and came trotting in like, “Hey, I’m home, let’s play!” As if nothing was wrong. Traitor. I punished him by making him sleep on the bed with me while I finished reading about Guns N Roses and their drug use and downfall. (ironically, the drug use was not their downfall) I am going to be such a mean mom…
I told Workaholic that I think that he has another family, one that sees him every night, and feels sorry for him, and lets him into their house, and feeds him and gives him treats. And when he has gotten his fill of this new family, gotten all the love and adoration he can handle, he probably knocks the doorknob of their back door, asking to be let out, and they let him. And then he comes home.
Either that or he is having an affair with a coyote.
(This reminds me of Private Practice last night, where a guy brings in both of his pregnant wives. Yeah...he had two families)
So when he finally decided to make an appearance last night, he was all out of breath, and came trotting in like, “Hey, I’m home, let’s play!” As if nothing was wrong. Traitor. I punished him by making him sleep on the bed with me while I finished reading about Guns N Roses and their drug use and downfall. (ironically, the drug use was not their downfall) I am going to be such a mean mom…
Monday, September 8, 2008
Missing The Fonz
A weird side effect of going south for the weekend is the The Fonz does not come with us. They have a bit of a different view on dogs down there…pretty sure they won’t let him in the house, much less sleep in bed! And I am quite sure that they would frown on the tartar control biscuits, 2 meds, plus fish oil capsules that he gets every day. (whaaat?? I like my boy healthy)
The weird part of it all isn’t necessarily that he isn’t there, but it’s before we leave and after we get home when he still isn’t there. Grandma picked him up while I was at work on Friday, and walking around packing, I felt like I should try to hide the bags so he wouldn’t know that we were leaving. (yes…he recognizes that packing means CAR RIDE!!!! Never mind if he isn’t going…he’s in the car anyway) I also kept turning around whenever I was leaving a room for just a second to tell him to stay, I would be right back, but he was not there! (no reason for him to follow me when I'll be right.back.) Creeeepy. And there were no random outbursts of growling and barking whenever someone dared to walk on the sidewalk in front of our house. So sad. It was a good thing that Workaholic was home, otherwise I would have been sceered. Big quiet house does not mesh well with my tendency to hear things, you know, like when I swear I hear things falling in the basement, but the only thing in the basement is….nothing!! (yes, there was an investigation that followed, led the way by a golf club)
It’s also kind of sad when my dog comes home and takes his sweet ass time getting into the house to see me. I mean, really? It’s been more than 2 days since we’ve seen each other, couldn’t you at least pretend to be excited?? Guess not…he went straight to his food bowl and looked at me expectantly. (feed me bitch!) It’s like he knows that I feel bad for ditching him (even though he spent the weekend swimming and boating…but I wasn’t there, so he knows how to play the guilt card), so he expects mucho attention, in the form of treats. And yeah…I caved. Even though his head smells like poo.
The weird part of it all isn’t necessarily that he isn’t there, but it’s before we leave and after we get home when he still isn’t there. Grandma picked him up while I was at work on Friday, and walking around packing, I felt like I should try to hide the bags so he wouldn’t know that we were leaving. (yes…he recognizes that packing means CAR RIDE!!!! Never mind if he isn’t going…he’s in the car anyway) I also kept turning around whenever I was leaving a room for just a second to tell him to stay, I would be right back, but he was not there! (no reason for him to follow me when I'll be right.back.) Creeeepy. And there were no random outbursts of growling and barking whenever someone dared to walk on the sidewalk in front of our house. So sad. It was a good thing that Workaholic was home, otherwise I would have been sceered. Big quiet house does not mesh well with my tendency to hear things, you know, like when I swear I hear things falling in the basement, but the only thing in the basement is….nothing!! (yes, there was an investigation that followed, led the way by a golf club)
It’s also kind of sad when my dog comes home and takes his sweet ass time getting into the house to see me. I mean, really? It’s been more than 2 days since we’ve seen each other, couldn’t you at least pretend to be excited?? Guess not…he went straight to his food bowl and looked at me expectantly. (feed me bitch!) It’s like he knows that I feel bad for ditching him (even though he spent the weekend swimming and boating…but I wasn’t there, so he knows how to play the guilt card), so he expects mucho attention, in the form of treats. And yeah…I caved. Even though his head smells like poo.
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