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Archive for the ‘Scottie Fun’ Category
Posted in Scottie Fun, tagged 5 Things you should never say to a Scottie Mom, Adopt Don't Shop, Animal Rescues, Pet Blogs, Scottie Dogs, Scottie Mom, Scottish Terrier Rescue, Scottish Terriers on May 16, 2014| 19 Comments »
Sometimes, things are better left unsaid. There are times, however, when people don’t think before they speak or are just plain insensitive and go on to say something they simply should not. Below are five things I believe no Scottie Mom should ever be told. Sadly, I have heard every single one of these at least once in the years I’ve been a Scottie Mom. What are some of the most unusual things someone has told you about your Scottie that you wish you hadn’t heard?
5. I know the black one is a Scottish Terrier but what kind of a dog is that one (points to the wheaten Scottie)? It looks so similar your Scottie dog but surely, it is not one.
As Scottie Mom to Heather, I get this question all the time. It has become a somewhat laughable matter and doesn’t usually bother me at this point. I just go into autopilot mode and explain that she is, in fact, a Scottie dog, but her color is rather rare. I go on to tell them there are black Scotties, brindle Scotties and wheaten Scotties – that Heather is considered a red wheaten Scottie. A look of bewilderment crosses the person’s face and most of the time, they come back around to say how beautiful she is and that they had no idea. Some shake their head in disbelief, saying that she certainly is a mix. And that, my friends, is where they cross the line. Mixed breed or purebred, she is my sweet Heather Beather and I love her just the same so step aside, son!
4. Your dog is fat.
Heather hadn’t been home for more than a day or two when people stopped by to meet her and that’s when it all started. “Wow – she’s overweight.” Then, it was, “Man, she’s BIG!” And my personal favorite: “Well, we know who would win if Mr. K ever put up a fight.” Heather is the most lovable dog I’ve ever known and while she can bowl you over trying to soak up as much of the back scratching and head petting she can get, she is not fat. Heather came to me weighing 27 pounds. Today, she weighs an even 25 pounds and we’re watching her to make sure she doesn’t lose anymore weight because she is perfect the way she is. Calling a Scottie Mom’s fur kid fat is no different than telling a mom her child is fat. It is rude and inconsiderate. Just don’t say it.
3. I will never love your Scottie(s) or It’s me or the Scottie(s).
Pack your bags, pal. Nothing and no one comes before Scottie Love and if you ask us to choose between you and the dog, I can tell you it won’t be the dog I’ll be giving up. He who loves a Scottie Mom must also love her Scottie dog(s). It is as plain and simple as that. Once you accept a Scottie dog into your life, it is a lifelong commitment until death do you part. I once dated a guy who thought people who posted pictures of their dogs on Facebook were “stupid.” Needless to say, that relationship didn’t go very far. Can you imagine what he’d say now with Heather and Mr. K stars of their very own Facebook page? It really doesn’t matter. Heather and Mr. K are way cooler, anyway!
2. Your Scottie’s a jerk!
Okay, let’s be honest here. Scottish Terriers can be temperamental creatures who definitely possess an air of Scottie-tude about them and can come off as a little rough around the edges sometimes. Mr. K is no exception. However, just because he is selective with his friends (human and furry alike), does not mean he is a jerk. Like individual people, every Scottie is different. Mr. K is actually a sweetheart who protects his own like no other. He is proud and actually is quite sensitive – he just doesn’t want everyone to know it. Gotta protect that Scottie pride!
1. You shouldn’t rescue. Rescue Scotties come with all sorts of problems.
If you really want to get this Scottie Mom’s blood boiling, tell me I shouldn’t rescue another Scottie. No, I’m not talking about Scottie Dad not being ready to take in a third rescue yet. I’m talking about those who tell me that I should never rescue a Scottie…period. Not realizing both Heather and Mr. K are rescues, I let the foolish people give me their spiel about why one shouldn’t rescue (they have mental problems, all sorts of bad behaviors, you just don’t know what you’re going to get…) before I look at them, smile politely and say, “It’s funny you say that. Both of these Scotties are rescues.” Then, I watch their jaws fall to the floor – as if that thought had not previously occurred to them beforehand. Someone actually said to me, “…but they’re so well-behaved!” Yes. Heather and Mr. K are well-behaved but what makes you think other rescue Scotties are not? All it takes is a little patience and a lot of Scottie Love, people!
I don’t like to be away from Heather and Mr. K but when I have to be, it is good to know I have a place I can turn to and know that they will not only be safe but will enjoy themselves just as much as (if not more so than!) when they are with me. Initially, I was against boarding Heather and Mr. K at all costs. The only way I would vacation was if the Scotties came with us or someone I trusted could watch my precious pups. Now, thanks to a thorough (and somewhat neurotic) Scottie Mom hunt to find a place that met my standards, I have some peace of mind when I drop the fur kids off at Pet Paradise. With four weekend Scottie staycations behind us – all ending with smiling puppy faces – and round-the-clock access to a web cam, it is safe to say I am over any anxiety and reservations I had before I boarded them! An added and unexpected bonus? Mr. K seems to have lost his sometimes rough-around-the-edges nature around other dogs thanks to the consistent socialization! What do you look for in a place your pups can staycation while you’re away?
New York, here we come (again)! Today, Scottie Dad and I venture north to meet and interview potential vendors for the Scottie Mom wedding. Heather, my maid of honor, has done a great job helping us narrow down the choices for a pawtographer and florist. Every night for some time now, she hops on the couch with me and props herself up on my lap to look over the pawtographer websites with me on the laptop. Our goal is to choose both the pawtographer and the florist by the time we return to The Scottie House so that Heather can make the announcement to all our friends when she updates everyone on the Scottie Mom wedding planning progress soon.
This time, the fur kids will stay in Atlanta at their favorite vacation spot Pet Paradise while we’re in New York. Heather and Mr. K were a little bummed they wouldn’t be returning to Central Park of Squirrels but as soon as I told them where they’d be going instead, they marched over to the kitchen, began packing their Scottie bag (made for them by a Scottie Mom reader!) and were ready to go in a flash. They truly love their time at Pet Paradise and I worry less and less each time they stay. You might recall the anxiety I had the first time I ever boarded them in January 2013 – if not, you can read about it here). It amazes me to think that how comfortable I am taking them there now. I know well that when I go to pick them up, they probably won’t be ready to leave…
Wish us luck, friends! Paws crossed that we’ll have some wedding news to report soon. Oh, and if you find any great ways to incorporate Scotties into the wedding like that fabulous wedding cake design we posted on our Facebook page yesterday, let us know! Much love, The Scottie Mom.
Meet Coco, the darling nine-year-old Chow Chow I met in the parking garage at work yesterday. A colleague discovered Coco taking a nap on the concrete floor of the parking garage and went over to make sure she was okay. That’s when Coco hopped up and trotted away, limping as she went. Two security guards helped my colleague keep tabs on Coco, making sure she didn’t go out into the street or get hit by a car. My coworker called me, asking me to bring a leash with me when I came to work. Just five short minutes later and with leash in hand, I walked over to the trio trying to coax sweet Coco into their arms.
There were two security guards on one end and my colleague on the other. Coco hobbled her way through the maze of parked cars. I watched her carefully and put myself directly in her path but out of her sight. I got down on both knees and greeted her with a warm hello and something like a hug as she walked around the corner. She still had a collar and license tag on her so I hooked her up to the leash and took my phone out to call the number on the tag. Luckily, Coco was registered to a home in Roswell, Ga., some 20 miles north from where she was found. The lady at Fulton County Animal Control gave me the Chow Chow Mom’s name and number, and I thought for sure we were about to make a happy ending.
I couldn’t reach Coco’s Chow Chow Mom. Neither could the security guard. That’s when he revealed that he had caught a few other people dropping off their dogs in our parking garage time and again. He said he wouldn’t be surprised if this was another case like that. I was disheartened. My coworker and I looked over Coco. It was clear she needed to go to a vet. She was limping and she was dangerously thin, especially for a Chow Chow. We slowly coaxed Coco into the car and were about to drive away when the security guard came running back saying Chow Chow Mom had returned his call. He handed the phone to me and the conversation was short and not so sweet.
Chow Chow Mom claimed sweet Coco had gone missing only one day ago. Clearly, Coco had not eaten in days, perhaps weeks. She was matted and her eyes were caked with dried goo – as if she had conjunctivitis. Then, she said it might be two days. Chow Chow Mom told the security guard Coco had jumped from her car door but told me Coco ran out the front door of her new apartment. She asked I not take Coco to the vet and that I return Coco to her so she could follow up with her own vet. At first, this seemed like a completely reasonable request and I told her I’d gladly meet her at her vet – where was it? Chow Chow Mom didn’t know. That’s okay, I said. Do you have the name? I can Google the address and still meet you there. She didn’t.
I began getting an uneasy feeling about the whole situation and decided it was best we take Coco to a vet to see if a professional could tell us whether this pup had been neglected and if it was safe to send her back home. Chow Chow Mom seemed to be getting irritated at my insistence that Coco needed to see a vet. I told her I’d send her the address to where we were taking her and she could meet us there. In the minutes that passed, Chow Chow Mom blew up my phone – calling me from three or four different numbers and leaving me angry voicemails saying, “You have my dog. I want my dog.” She kept calling the security guard, too, who repeatedly assured her Coco was safe and we were headed to the vet and would call soon.
We arrived at the vet who welcomed sweet Coco in without an appointment. The vet took a look at her and said it was obvious that Coco hadn’t been treated very well, assuming she had been at home with Chow Chow Mom just a few days ago. She said it looked like Coco had a very large tumor in her mouth but test results came back negative for cancer. The vet fed Coco and gave her water. Now the question was: what to do? The vet offered to call Chow Chow Mom and feel her out. She said she had to give Coco back to her owner but if she felt at any point that it wasn’t a good situation for Coco, she would report the situation immediately. Chow Chow Mom’s story was again different from the one told to myself and the security guard but other than that, the vet felt she checked out and said she was sending sweet Coco home. I called later that afternoon to make sure Coco had indeed been picked up and a part of me wished she hadn’t because of this feeling in my gut that she might not be going home to a good situation. Alas, sweet Coco had gone home.
My colleague and I haven’t stopped thinking of Coco since we left her at the vet’s office. We keep telling ourselves and each other that we did the best we could and what happens from here is completely out of our hands. Scottie Dad tells me I just have to trust that Chow Chow Mom was just stressed out and that Coco really did go back to a loving home. He says that no matter what, we did a great thing that day. I wish I believed this was true but there is something to be said about a woman’s intuition. All I can do is hope. Hope that Coco is safe. Hope that she is happy. And hope that she has the care, love and support she needs to live out the rest of her sweet life.
Friends, there is one place in Savannah we visited that we haven’t yet told you about and for good reason. It is a little shop called, “The Grateful Hound.” Not only did the place have Scottie dog wallpaper by Anthropologie behind the register, they also had a Scottie dog door stopper, Scottie dog magnets and…toys seemingly tough enough for Scottie dog jaws! I was skeptical at first but I decided to splurge and pay $20 to take a chance on a Fluff & Tuff toy after talking to the nice lady behind the desk about how her dog had yet to destroy his. So, I picked out “Walter the Wabbit” (now nicknamed Mr. Bunny) and brought him back to Mr. K – the ultimate toy destroyer.
The reason we hadn’t yet told you about this fun, little boutique is that we wanted to give fellow Scottie Moms a review of how Mr. Bunny fared during his playtime with Mr. K. I was sure I would be writing about Mr. Bunny’s demise within a week – two at the most. It’s been about a month since we returned from Savannah now. Would you believe Mr. Bunny is intact with no tears and still squeaking away? I wouldn’t either if I wasn’t sitting here listening to Mr. K squeak him right now. (Warning: Mr. Bunny squeaks much like Mr. K’s last “favorite” toy…although, not quite that bad. If you need a reminder of how that toy – which lasted a whopping two minutes – sounded, click here.)
Could this be the answer to Scottie Moms’ prayers (and wallet woes)? At nearly $20 for Mr. Bunny, it was a hard price to swallow initially. Then, I considered the fact I could buy three or four Air KONG squeaky tennis balls (Mr. K’s true favorite toy) for the same price and I realized I was lucky to get a half hour to an hour’s worth of quality (and supervised!) playtime with each before it ended up “deaded.” You might remember how quickly Mr. K went through all those squeaky tennis balls we stuffed in a stocking for him this Christmas. Surely, it would be cheaper to pay more up front for a toy like Mr. Bunny and have it last longer than a day. I figure if I can get a few months out of Mr. Bunny, he will be worth his price! We’ll keep you posted on Mr. Bunny’s status. In the meantime, tell us: what toy has lasted longest with your pup?