All Rileyed Up

Oddly, this is not the dog with all the issues.

See more WW shots here and here.

There is something wrong with the Notorious F.O.X. I don’t know what it is, and unfortunately, right now, neither does the veterinarian.

We adopted Notorious F.O.X. from the animal shelter when she was between three and four years old. She’d been brought to the shelter, adopted, returned, then adopted again, then found roaming the streets pregnant and they couldn’t track down her owner (she could be her own Lifetime movie). She had her puppies at the shelter and watched all of them get adopted away from her within two months, after which she was spayed. By the time we came along, she’d been in the shelter for three months (it’s a wonderful shelter that keeps all their animal friends as long as it takes for them to find a home). She was depressed, they told us. She never ate. But she was so calm and sweet. When Husband Then Fiancé and I walked around the shelter, she just looked at us, with those eyes that look like they’ve lived a million lifetimes, and when we put our fingers to the metal wires, she walked up and licked us.

We left the shelter with Notorious F.O.X and brought her to her new home, where she promptly got into the potato salad while we weren’t looking. We didn’t even get mad. Oh, early love. Over the following months, we learned things about Notorious F.O.X. – how she could take down a Christmas tree, for example, and bust through a window and its wooden blinds. Later, we discovered she could chew through and/or break any kind of metal crate. We have addressed the anxiety in different ways over the years, sometimes with better results than others, but inevitably, she reverts to her original namesake self. She’s notorious. There’s nothing else to say. What other dog do you know of who has tried to escape from a house through an AC vent?

Her anxiety is at its worst now. She’ll crawl on top of me in bed, jump up and walk along the outside wall, attack corrugated cardboard boxes like there’s raw meat hidden inside of it. She’s also between ten and eleven years old now and her eyesight and hearing are waning. A few days ago, I came home to her shaking violently. As in, looked like she was having a seizure. I immediately called the vet and asked to bring her in.

The vet is on the same block I live on, on the opposite corner, and across the street. It only takes a few minutes to walk there, or a half hour depending on how distracted the children are (Look, leaves! Look, a car! Look, a speck on the sidewalk!). It was my first visit to the vet with both children, since this visit.

To start, as soon as the veterinarian walked into the room, the first words out of his mouth were “So what seems to be the problem today with—oh, hello.” See, The Boy decided that he should walk up and grasp the veterinarian’s legs in a big bear hug. I smiled and nodded like this was totally normal. Rather than explain to the vet “My son has autism and we’ve been working really hard on encouraging him to socialize and be affectionate but he doesn’t always understand the differences between friends and strangers, not that you’re a total stranger of course, but blah blah blah” I simply smiled and said, “My son’s very friendly. Son, you can let go now.”

The good doctor let it drop and we began our dog discussion. We went through the usual list of Notorious F.O.X.’s anxiety issues, then I added that they seemed worse lately, and coupled with the shaking/possible seizing, I feared the worst. He asked me if there was anything different at home, did we have a new baby, did we get another pet, did we buy her a new bed—

“Ahhhhh! A cat!”

Apparently, Little No Limit thought that an appropriate moment to prance the toy cat the receptionist gave her through the air.

“Please keep your voice down while Mommy is talking with the doctor, thank you,” I said, and smiled at the doctor. “Um, the only thing new is her leash. I can’t imagine that’s an issue.”

Just then, The Boy tried to climb up on top of the table where Notorious F.O.X. was resting while the vetertinairan petted her head. “I’m going to ride her!” he exclaimed.

I immediately informed the veterinarian that the children are not allowed to ride the dogs (even if they can dance with them). He asked if Notorious F.O.X. ever lashed out at the kids, or anyone, and I said, “No, she’s really quite calm and well behaved around them [even when they do succeed in riding her]” at which point Little No Limit thought it necessary to TURN THE LIGHTS OUT and scream “Daaaaark!!!!!”

In my best mother voice, I said, “TURN THAT BACK ON – THIS. INSTANT.”

It is either a show of my acting capabilities and/or complete idiocy that when the lights came back on, I kept a straight face and said to Dr. Probably Now Scared Of Having Kids, “So what do you think?”

He, for his part, maintained a calm demeanor and acknowledged that it could have been a seizure, or worse (eg: central nervous system tumor), but nothing was giving him that indication now, as her vitals were all normal.

Pause, with look at the kids.

“I think I’d like to prescribe an anti-anxiety medication for her for the next two months and see how that goes.”

Another pause, as Little No Limit and The Boy start arguing over their imaginary personas – “No, I’m a robot!” “No, you’re a dog!”

So, uh, doc, you want to prescribe any of that for me too?

Today, a post of mine was featured on 5 Minutes for Parenting as part of their Daily Dose of Humor series, courtesy of Rachel at Grasping for Objectivity in my Subjective Life. Some of you old timers might even remember when I originally posted it, a trip to the veterinarian, as told by a sports commentator.

Of course, now I feel compelled to write something funny because what if someone reads that over there and then clicks over here to read more of my posts, expecting to laugh? What if I don’t live up? What if they think, oh, she’s not funny after all? What if I’m crazy? What if can’t concentrate on writing this post and the thought going through my head is youhavetobefunnyyouhavetobefunnyyouhavetobefunnybefunnybefunnybefunny
aaaaahhhhhhh!!!!!

Why don’t you tell a joke, Ms. Funny Girl?

Ooh! A joke! I love jokes!

Nobody asked you.

Okay, I got one. Why did Riley cross the road?

Why?

To chase down the Notorious F.O.X.

That’s the dumbest joke I ever—oh, I see what this is about: you still mad about this morning. Riley, let me be blunt: if I didn’t ever escape, you’d never get any exercise. I’m doin’ you a favor.

Yes, well, the next time you think I need to exercise, pop in some Billy Blanks. I’m totally worn out now.

Me too. That early morning run wore me out. You faster than I expected.

Don’t let the smooth taste fool you.

Whatever you say, fool. I’m goin’ to sleep. Peace out–

This dog of mine…

Anyone care to venture a guess as to what thought is going through Notorious F.O.X.’s mind?

This is a sink:

This is a sink on CLR:

Any questions?

Yeah, I got one. You a filthy, disgusting slob.

That’s not a question.

Why are you smiling like that?

I think I inhaled too much CLR. Whee!

(This post contributed to 5 Minutes for Mom’s Tackle-It Tuesday)

Aaargh!!!! It’s time for another round of International Talk Like a Pirate Day!

Shiver me timbers, not again

I can’t believe you making me do this, fool.

Yes, it is time, again, ya foolhardy excuses for man’s best friend! I knew I should have gone for a parrot, arrrrrghhhh!!!!

A parrot would be just as confused as me, because YOU DO NOT TALK LIKE A PIRATE. All you do is say “Argh.”

Avast! That’s where ye be wrong, lassie. I say ‘buccaneer’ and ‘walk the plank’ and I sing! I sing of the sea and pirates of yore! Aaaaarghhh!”

Sing one pirate song for me.

And it can’t be from any of the Pirates of the Caribbean movies.

(silence)

Smartly, now!

Uh…

Baby beluga in the deep blue sea—

That ain’t no pirate song, damn!

I am a pirate, aye, and I know what music we sing. A song of whales and the sea, of beauty, arrrgh!!!!

Baby Beluga is a kid’s song.

You shut up now, lassie! You’re ruining the pirate sexy!

Whatever. I’m out of here. Aye aye, weirdo.

Aye aye, indeed, you thoughtless wench. Why don’t you go crawl into a bung hole and choke on a hornpipe—

Yo, if you do any more piratespeak, we gonna have a problem. And by ‘we’ I mean ‘you’.

AAARRRRRGGGGGHHHH!!!!!

********************

We interrupt this blog to bring you some happy music from a fellow pirate.

How great thou arghhhhhh, how great thou arghhhhhhh

Happy International Talk Like a Pirate Day.

Noodleboro is a line of games from Hasbro that help children learn about manners and how to listen and share. Little No Limit and The Boy have been enjoying the Learning to Listen Pizza Palace Game:

The premise of the game is to follow instructions on making a pizza, and then pack it into a delivery box. It also comes with a CD and storybook. Sometimes we don’t even play the game, but just listen to music or read the story. Other times, the kids make their own pizzas and deliver them to one another, so chalk up a few points for imaginary play. The pieces are sturdy and there are enough of them that if you lose a couple, you can still play the game. Unlike my useless jigsaw puzzles.

When I showed the game to Meredith Carrillo, a licensed MFT who focuses on working with new moms, she described the game as “A wonderful way to bond with your child through play. This game offers children the opportunity to practice important skills such as taking turns and following directions in a fun imaginative way.”

All in all, it’s a big hit with everyone in the house, except the dogs, who have expressed serious distraught over these “not-real” pizzas.

It doesn’t just taste like cardboard. It IS cardboard. Quit taunting me.

Feeling lucky? Here’s a link to enter a sweepstakes to win a free game. Good luck!

If I enter, can I request a real pizza instead?

I was recently asked to review a new product from Recycline called the Preserve toothbrush. Toothbrushes that care. For real–
The handle is made of 100% recycled plastics.
The packaging doubles as a travel case with a ventilation hole, and is fully recyclable.
You can obtain a postage paid mailer from Recycline to send it back once you’re done with it because they recycle the whole thing again (not to worry, you’re not using anyone’s old bristles ;p).

After reading about the product, I thought it sounded right up my alley. Some of you may recall my issues with interesting the children in brushing their teeth. I signed up to review the product, thinking I’d let the kids use them, another way to get them excited about brushing their teeth—having new toothbrushes arrive in the mail! They love the mail! They love deliveries!

(Seriously, we have an organic vegetable delivery service and every Thursday, when the veggie guys drops off a box of fresh produce, I am guaranteed that the kids will be eating broccoli or cauliflower or whatnot that night for dinner because they’re just that excited about it being delivered to our front doorstep. The downside to their excitement over deliveries is that the second they hear the doorbell ring, they open the door whether or not I’m with them. They don’t even ask “Who is it?” We’re working on it.)

So. Two toothbrushes arrived, but they were adult size, so I let the kids keep the plastic travel cases and I used the toothbrush myself. The curved handle is easy on the hands. So easy in fact, I’ve decided to use the other one to brush the dog’s teeth, because to date, none of the dog toothbrushes at the pet store have worked out, and I suspect it has something to do with the straight handle.

Wha…?

Me: Yes. You need to brush your teeth. Your breath smells.

No it doesn’t.

Me: Yes. It does. Haven’t we been through this before?

By the way, to all interested parties (read: anyone with teeth, or anyone who has a dog with teeth), Preserve toothbrushes, and tons of other household goodies, are available at the Recycline website and at Target. Right now, you can use a coupon.

Happy brushing.

We shaved the Notorious F.O.X. a few weeks ago. Last time she got shaved, I said Lion Cut and they actually made her look like a lion, complete with shaving her tail except for a pompom at the end. I guess I’m an idiot in the world of dog haircut vernacular – I really just thought lion cut and buzz cut were the same thing – because why would you WANT your dog to look like a lion? Really! Why?

You can get past a dog. Nobody f*cks with a lion.

We got her a buzz cut at PetSmart. It’s always amazing to everyone what a difference it makes to shave a Chow Chow. All that hair. ALL THAT HAIR. Gone. My sweeping and vacuuming time has dropped from twice a day to once every other day.

A couple nights ago, some friends came over. Their daughter, Lizard Queen (I call her this because she LOVES insects and lizards), is five. She’s only two weeks older than The Boy. If we lived in a different time or culture, they’d be betrothed to one another. I already have the perfect wedding slideshow pictures, of them as newborns, leaning against one another for support.

So Lizard Queen came to our house, and could not stop staring – STARING – at the Notorious F.O.X. with deep, serious concern in her big blue eyes. After they’d been at the house for an hour or so, she walked over to me and slipped her hand into mine, all dirty and rough from playing with roly polies, and motioned for me to lean down so she could whisper in my ear: “What did you do to her to make her shrink?”

And I don’t belong in this box!

: Riley, let me ask you this—would YOU think it was fun to be shoved into a box and have the lid closed over you?

Me: No, that’s why I made them let you out of the box.

: But you took a picture first. Ha ha, very funny, look at the kids harass the dog. You got problems.

Me: So, would this be a bad time to tell you I posted the picture online?

: You WHAT! Oh, hell no. You just wait. I’m going to go through your albums and find that dumb picture of you in high school. The one with the red jeans and big hair.

Me: I’d like to see you try and use the scanner.

: Oh, I know how to use a scanner. I watched Office Space with you. Remember? In the days before kids when I was allowed on the couch with you?

Me: You’re still allowed on the couch, as long as you don’t mind if the kids sit on top of you. And that scene from Office Space was a printer, not a scanner. And they weren’t using it.

: Whatever. Looked cool to me.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T6syezOHJ2Q&hl=en]