Same strike, new chapter

I underestimated my dog.

Loki's bowl was empty, so I thought she'd finally given up, and ate her food.

I rewarded her by giving her new dog food, and adding in some of the tasty, wet food she likes.

When I reached into the cage to bring out her water dish and food dish, I found out she had duped me.

Behind the water dish was a stockpile of dry dog food expertly hidden by one of her soft toys. Loki made a wall of food behind her tall water dish, which I was totally unable to see unless I got into her cage.

She's crafty, this one.

I looked over at where she sat in the kitchen, and noticed she was shifting around on her paws.

She tried to come over to the cage once she saw me digging in the secret corner, but I ordered her to stay.

I admit, she got me good.

I rounded up all the dog food, about two and a half cups worth, and dumped it back into her bowl.

I put the wet food treat awaay.

We're back where we started again.

Sigh.

Hunger strike, day 3

Loki has begun to nibble at the dog food, but is not happy about it.

She showed her protest when I took her out last night.

As usual, the dog found a chicken bone, or something else disgusting while we were walking. Before I could snatch it away, or snatch her up, for that matter, she gobbled it down.

She was punished, but she still appeared to give me a smug look like, "Ha ha. I got to eat it."

I don't think she was feeling quite as smug when she puked it back up later. Matter of fact, she looked a little green around the gills, or as green as a black Lab can look.

So, she's eating, a little.

Hunger strike, day 2

The dog has decided she doesn't want to eat dog food.

It's probably our fault, because we've been giving her a lot of table scraps lately.

We did well for the first six to eight months of her life, never giving her the food from the table.

Needless to say, we got a little, OK, perhaps a lot lax with it.

Now, she's refusing to eat her food.

When I put it down, she sniffs at it, then turns her nose up and walks away. In the meantime, she's began to beg constantly.

I know it's my fault, but that still doesn't mean I like it.

With the hunger strike in Day 2, I'm feeling the pressure. You can only look into those sad, puppy eyes for so long. . .

But I'm not giving in. Her dog food is waaaaaay too expensive.

What is that noise?

I thought an old man with sleep apnea had broken into our apartment as I crept downstairs to get some water late last night.

Turns out it was just the dog, and she was snoring.

Apparently, when Loki gets into a good sleep, she snores. And I'm not talking about those cute, little puppy snores, I'm talking about some big, bad Leroy Brown-type snoring.

It's so loud. How loud, you ask?

Well, let's just say that it's so loud that I won't let any light-sleeping houseguests sleep in the rooms downstair, or they will be disturbed by the sleeping animal in the kitchen.

Loki has no shame about her snores, sometimes snorting and even whistling while she sleeps.

I was worried something could be wrong, but the vet says she's fine.

My dog, she said, is just a snorer.

I learn new things every day.

Almost got the wabbit

Loki is a mixed breed dog (read - mutt), who is a Labrador Retriever mixed with a Chesapeake Bay Retriever.

She loves to chase things and fetch things.

Today, she almost got a rabbit.

We don't ususually let her chase wild animals, mainly because we're scared they may hurt her.

But on her evening walk, she spotted one and went into hunter mode to get it.

If she'd been a little faster, we would've had rabbit stew, but the bunny zigged when Loki zagged and got away.

So, Loki now wants a bunny - bad.

Loki needs a bath

We wash the dog.

My guy takes Loki out.

She rolls in something putrid.

We wash the dog again.

I've come to terms with many of my dog's strange behaviors, but this one may make me lose what little mind I have left.

A few nights ago, my guy brings the dog back in smelling like she played at the sewage plant. He tells me she rolled around in something, and we both shake our heads in commiseration.

The problem is - she smells so bad that no one wants to go near her. She needs a bath - badly.

Nowadays, this isn't nearly as much fun or as cute as it was when she was a pup we could wash in the sink. She's damn near 80 pounds now, and still growing.

Since I have the luck of being unemployed, and the dog being my only company for most of my waking hours, I got to give her another bath.

It took three scrubbing to get the smell off the dog.

The good news: I only almost puked twice during the whole process, as the smell seemed to be amplified as I washed it off our dog.

During the ordeal, I got the "sad, abused puppy eyes," and Loki looked at me as if to say, "Why do you torture me so?"

For the whole bath, I'm scolding her about rolling in whatever she rolled in, trying to keep my mind off this smelly, wet, bad dog.

After her bath, we had the usual fight with the towel (She attacks the evil towels that trys to dry her off), the excited puppy laps (this is where she runs around the house like a maniac because she's clean) and the struggle to put back on her collars (she has three - flea, ID, and choke).

What happens the first time I take her walking after her bath?

She tries to roll around in something that stinks. I had tackle her to get her off whatever awful smell she'd found.

I would like to say again for the record that the cats don't do this crap.

No running in the street

Sometimes, we take Loki outside without her leash. It usually on a short trip, like to the mailbox, or out to the car to get something, etc.

Most times, it's not a mistake.

Today, it was.

Loki has the stealth of an eager toddler when it comes to getting away from me quickly.

I have to keep an eye on her so she doesn't pull stunts like she did today - running straight out into the street.

We went out for our usual quick trip to the mailbox, but as soon as I opened the door, she was outside, down the steps and then in the street.

I yelled her command, "COME!!!" She ignored me.

Enter the minivan, which is driving down our street slowly and notices my dog in the street.

Loki looks up, sees the car and decides being in the middle of the street is no longer the coolest thing to do. She trots back up to the sidewalk and sits down politely next to me.

The minivan's driver makes sure to give me a "terrible pet owner" look before speeding off to cause traffic troubles somewhere. I almost expected him to wag a finger at me and say I was being a bad puppy parent.

I look down at Loki, who is looking up at me with the innocent puppy look as if to say, "What's wrong, mommy?"

She knows she's not supposed to go into the street. We've been over this one more than a few times.

We head for the backyard and an area with more grass than streets and no minivans.