A girl and her dogs

Our dogs have really gotten the raw end of the deal since moving back from Wyoming. They very suddenly went from having free reign of unrestricted open space, to running circles in a dirt lot masquerading as a dog park in the city. Not long after our move, their lives were turned upside down again when a tiny human moved in to their house and invaded their lives. 

L absolutely adores them, and now that she is mobile, all up in their grill is the only place she wants to be. With as much change as they've experienced over the past year and a half, Daphne and Cash couldn't be more patient and sweet with her. 

I love seeing the bond she is forming with these hairy beasts. She loves them so much and I'm certain they secretly love her back.  

It's a known fact that children who grow up in homes with dogs have better immune systems. This photo proves why.

It's not easy being Chooms

Guess who turned three yesterday?!

That's right...this guy. 

And guess who's had a pretty rough few days?

Right again! 

After eating 6 of my mother-in-law's chickens (slaughter house style), he sliced his leg on some metal over the weekend and had to go to the emergency vet hospital at 11:00pm for stitches. 

He now wears the cone of shame for the next two weeks. (The technical term being "Elizabethan Collar." Who knew you could learn so much from a vet bill!)

Poor little dude. 

To celebrate our little boy's special day, we took an evening walk sans cone and cooked him a bone– a mellow night to make up for a very chaotic weekend. 

Your mama and papa love you so very much, Mr. Chooms. You captured our hearts from the moment we brought you home from the Boulder Humane Society. Despite being told you are the most beautiful dog by every stranger that passes by, you always remain humble. Your cuddling skills are second to none and you've proven to be a world-class hunter (RIP chickens). 

Happy third birthday to our favorite white dog. 

I got 99 problems and a dog is one

All my years of doggie ownership could never have prepared me for what we experienced last night. 

As we took our evening walk in the hills near our house, Cash bolted toward us, foaming at the mouth, gagging and sneezing. He darted around in a panic, rubbing is face in the grass and shaking his head. I thought he might have been bitten by a rattlesnake so I wasted no time inspecting his face. 

That's when it hit me. An odor so putrid, it made my eyes water and my throat constrict.

"A skunk!" I called to Keane, who was searching in the grass for a culprit. 

I spotted the black and white stink bomb retreating, tail still high in defense. Its movement sparked Daphne's interest and she began to charge after it. Screaming for Keane to stop her, I realized the smell now covered my hands and clothes. 

We made it back to the truck and called every dog wash in town, only to find they were all closed. We were on our own. Because we live in an apartment and don't have access to a hose, we drove to Keane's job site so we could handle our skunky boy outside. 

I was thanking the sweet Lord for Google where I found information on what to do when a dog gets skunked. Apparently tomato juice is a wives' tale and only masks the odor temporarily. Instead, we used a mixture of hydrogen peroxide, baking soda and dish soap. Two hours and three applications later, our poor boy started to smell a little less like burning rubber. 

 Last night rivaled the time we opened the doors of Keane's truck to find (orange liquid) diarrhea EVERYWHERE because a certain boy dog had a bad tummy. And who could forget the chronic poo-rolling problem we've battled for the last 2 years?

Parenthood? You don't scare me.

It's her party...

...and she'll chase squirrels if she wants to. Which is exactly what our doghter did on her 5th birthday yesterday. 

It blows my mind to bits to think this little girl has been a part of our family for 5 years! The summer after I graduated college, I came down with a pretty severe case of puppy fever and was finally able to convince Keane to entertain the idea of us becoming doggie parents. I spotted the 8 week old pup on the Boulder Humane Society website and showed her picture to Keane at which point it was game.over. because seriously, who could deny this?!

These dogs are spoiled rotten and we wouldn't have it any other way. After spending a couple hours at the park yesterday, the birthday girl picked out a new bone and squeaker toy at the pet store. Both dogs ate tilapia for dinner and coconut oil for desert. 

Happy 5th Birthday, Daphne Ray. You bring so much joy to our lives. 

We love you to the moon and back.

xoxo

Winter Walk

Last Sunday was one of the prettiest winter days we've had here in Casper. The temperature was in the upper 30s, the sun peeked out from behind its usual wall of clouds, and it wasn't windy. 

Allow me to reiterate. It wasn't windy.

Knowing the pleasant weather wouldn't last long, we headed up to Casper Mountain for an afternoon of snowshoeing with the pooches. 

I started noticing a pattern on this little blog. Daphne doesn't appear very frequently in our pictures. It's not because we love her any less than our Cashboy, it's just because she rarely wants to stick around for photos. She'd rather be off hunting small animals or exploring mountainsides or sleeping under the kitchen table, away from any disturbances. We've always said, if Daphne could talk, she would sound like a pretentious British woman, a la Lisa Vanderpump. So with that said, here is the only picture I managed to get of our girl, mid shake-face, barreling past us. Oh well, I tried.

Midway through, we stopped to catch our breath at this peaceful little brook running beneath the snow. There wasn't a single person in sight and only the sound of water trickling around us.

This serene moment was quickly followed by my graceless descent down the mountain in three feet of fresh powder. Keane's attempt came with much more ease and in about half the time. 

Surely I get some style points for smiling, no?

Thursday Throwback

Our Cash boy when he was just 12 weeks old.

He still lies like this today.

2009

I love my little man <3

An Issue of Epic Poo-portions

Ummm, this is awkward. 

We have a problem. Well, actually it's our fur baby who has the problem, we're just left dealing with its  aftermath. 

About once a week, while we are doing our parental duty (no pun intended- you'll see in a minute) of exercising our dogs, our Cashboy finds the freshest pile of doodie (see? there it is) he can and promptly drops a shoulder into it. He then proceeds to roll around, proudly sporting an ear to ear grin as if he has just accomplished a remarkable feat.

And right when you think the horror is over, he gets up, only to smell the pile once more, and again body slams himself down to compact the poo even further into his neck, shoulder and ribs. 

Now, this is a problem for two reasons. 

One: nobody wants to be the parent of the "stinky kid." 

Trust me when I say it's super awkward to have to shout warnings to a fellow hiker or dog park patron about petting your very friendly dog because he has poop smeared all over his white fur. 

It's a shaming look they give and not one to be easily forgotten.  

And two: cleanup is a thankless job. 

It usually involves rubber gloves and a lot of curse words. If I could only count the number of texts the mister and I have sent to each other to inform of yet another poo related casualty. I'll admit that sometimes I choose to take scissors to the affected areas rather than go through the hassle of yet another bath. 

We are dealing with a very serious issue here. 

We try to scold him, banish him, run at him wildly with hands waving in the air to scare him. 

None of it works and we end up looking like crazy people. 

The boy loves poop and I'm at a total loss. 

There will undoubtably be more fece fiascos until we come up with a solution.

Cesar Milan? Take pity on us? Please? 

I can't make this stuff up

We spent last weekend amidst the trees and blue skies once again.
We're working hard to make up for idle time spent recovering from surgery over the last 2.5 months. So far, I'd say we have been pretty successful in packing full what's left of our summer in beautiful western Wyoming.

We played on the water with our friend and his infamous dogs horses during the day and spent the evening around a campfire, trying to count the stars above.

I realized I've taken quite a liking to collecting dirt under my nails and brushing my teeth in the black of night with only a water bottle. Who knew this girly girl would one day raise chickens or long to spend the rest of her life on a ranch, riding a 4-wheeler and making her own clothes?

But I digress. Back to the weekend.

I have to share an example of why I consider myself to be one of the luckiest gals out there:

Early Sunday, after we docked the boat at the base of an untouched mountain, we embarked on what turned out to be the most difficult hike I've done since before my surgery. I moved slowly, holding the hand of my mister so he could help me traverse a particularly steep and rocky face. Because I'm hardly back to my normal strength or flexibly, I apologized to Keane for cramping his style since I couldn't go as fast as I knew he secretly wanted to.

Without hesitation, he responded, "Babe. You are my style."

I know, right? I swooned and told him that was one of the greatest things he's ever said to me.

Anyhoo, here are some pictures from the weekend.

This is Daphne, staking her claim in the front of the boat. I can't really blame her for wanting the best view. 

Let's talk about how this dog's horse's head is about 3 times the size of mine, shall we?

This pictures makes me laugh.
Daphne was digging a bed for herself while Cash was taking dirt to the face behind her. At least he's still smiling.

And, you will never guess what happened yet again on this trip! Just like last time, a life was saved by our heroic efforts. We spotted a baby bird flopping around in the water so we floated over for Keane to scoop it up. He let it dry off and catch its breath in his hands, then returned it to its squawking mama on shore.

What are the odds that something like this would happen twice in a few weeks?! I can't make this stuff up, people. 

It was a special weekend for us and probably our last of the season spent sleeping in a tent. In a couple weeks we will embark on our Griswold family vacation to Yellowstone in an RV and after that, we will tour the surrounding states on a Harley for my birthday weekend!

And to think, all this fun packed in just days before we pick up and move to a new town. 

Bring it Casper. Bring it. 

I love this boy

A story of more than just boating

It was our first time boating on the Flaming Gorge Reservoir. Nearly 100 miles long, we drove (boated?) for hours without ever reaching an end. The shore was lined with little coves and private beaches perfect for docking and exploring. 

We went with a friend of Keane's from work and his two Great Danes. Naturally, we brought our pooches along as well.  

We docked a couple times so we could get out and stretch our legs, but not without first letting the dogs take a dip. 

They hiked- two men, two dogs, and two horses, while I stayed behind to sun bathe.

 

The highlight of the trip was discovering an island and on that island, there lived a buck. 

This buck quickly became spooked by our two dogs and two horses and decided to swim to safety. 

That's right. 

He darted into the water and began swimming across the reservoir. 

Now because this isn't something one typically sees everyday, we had to get a closer look. We hurried back to the boat to catch up with the surprisingly good swimmer. 

Who knew deer swam?

See him? Look closely...

We ushered him to the closest shore and high-fived to saving a life that day (after being the ones who caused him to nearly commit suicide in the first place, but let's not focus on that, ok?) 

Moral of this story: last weekend we went boating and we saved a life and all was well that ended well. 

Hurray!