My Shedder Sleeps on the Sofa
by Lela Davidson on February 20, 2009
in Uncategorized
When Simon first came to live with us we were very strict about where he slept and lounged. And he was good, staying on his little bed. But over time we have all become a little lax. And how can you say no to that little face? It’s gotten to the point where I almost feel guilty kicking him off the couch and back into his cozy little bed. Almost.
Parent Bloggers and Pledge are asking us to show off our shedders on their favorite furniture You can win big money from both companies by getting involved!
More Doggie Stuff:
Found Dog: Here’s the little doggie that was lost, then found, then lost and found again. She’s back with her mama now.
Top 10 Things to Know About Italian Greyhounds: The good, the bad, the ridiculous.
Add an Italian Greyhound to Your Family: The ins and outs of finding and keeping this special breed.
Thanksgiving Aftermath: Found Dog
by Lela Davidson on December 1, 2008
in Uncategorized
Top 10 Things You Should Know About My Italian Greyhound
by Lela Davidson on October 24, 2008
in Uncategorized
1. He’s pretty.
Italian Greyhounds are elegant. Their sleek bodies are a miniature version of the regular Greyhound racing fame. Italian Greyhounds walk like a prancing horse, or a tiny deer. This trait is wonderful if you’re looking to add a lively accessory to your living room. And when you walk him everyone wants to talk!
2. His poops are small.
Because Italian Greyhounds only weigh 10-20 pounds, thye are easy to clean up after. They’re also cheap to feed and can be quite happy living in a small area.
3. He runs faster than my first car.
Beware – this is a racing dog. Italian Greyhounds are pretty happy as long as they get to walk every day. However, they like running better and if the skinny little monster gets out of it’s leash – well, good luck. There’s no way to catch this dog. You’ll just have to follow it around until it tires of playing with you.
4. He only LOOKS like a diva.
Short, fine fur makes grooming and easy task. There are no nasty clumps of fur all over your house and the most hair I ever see is in the dryer after I wash his bed. The downside to the short hair is that he gets cold easily. I’ve tried to find a sweater that a) fits him, and b) doesn’t humiliate him. I’ll let you know when I succeed.
5. He’s quiet.
Italian Greyhounds rarely bark. However, mine sings, or howls, quite a bit when he wants ot come in or go out and we haven’t beckoned to his initial signal soon enough.
6. He’s a snuggler.
My Italian Greyhound’s favorite time of day is late in the evening when I lie down to watch TV. He’ll burrow into my armpit or the crook of my leg. He’s a very loveable companion.
7. He’s dumb as a rock.
I have read that Italian Greyhounds are very intelligent, but I haven’t found it to be true. I’ve also been told they’re typically shy, and mine is not. So apparently my dog just has some sort of heightened social intelligence – at the expense of other valuable skills, like knowing better than to pee on his own leg. Yeah, he does.
8. He’s got little stick legs.
Italian Greyhound owners need to be very careful about letting their [highly intelligent] dogs jump from high places, like a table or high bed. Although my dog plays rough with the neighbor Labrador, the breed is prone to broken legs, which can really drain the Christmas fund. To treat a broken leg you’re looking at upwards of $1,500. Because this dog also likes to follow you around the house, you have to be careful not to step on his slender legs.
9. He pees in the house.
This dog is notoriously difficult to housetrain. Mine is 2 1/2 and I still don’t trust him alone in the house. Invest in a crate, or cement floors.
10. He will turn you into a dog person.
I am really not a dog person. Really. Especially if you’re a cat person like me, and you’re pressured by your family to get a dog – this could be the one for you. Italian Greyhounds have the best qualities of cats and dogs – they’re low maintenance like a cat, but loving and friendly like a dog.
Need to know more? Check out these resources:
Italian Greyhound Club of America
American Kennel Club
What You Need to Know Before Adding and Italian Greyhound to Your Family
Clean Your Carpets
by Lela Davidson on April 10, 2008
in Uncategorized
After more than four years in this house, I figured it was time to clean the carpets. For some reason, I planned it for a day smack dab in the high point of preparing for the monster fundraiser, Touch-a-Truck, and the rain storm of the century. I had no control over the latter, but I should have known better about the former. However, there is really no good time to clean the carpets. That’s why it’s been four years.
Here’s what I learned:
- My guest room really was ‘sort of orgnized’ in a messy way.
- Furniture is heavy, so
- Preparing for carpet cleaning counts as a workout.
- My son likes to collect paper.
- We still have Polly Pockets shoes hiding in the corners.
- Two vacuums is not enough.
- My kids view Erector Set nuts as vacuumming challenges.
(Quote: If it’s not for picking stuff up, then what’s it for!) - The under-bed storage area is full – everywhere.
- The Salvation Army is my friend.
I swear I saw my dog snicker when I made the appointment.
It’s raining lady, I imagine him thinking, and these paws were made for digging.
Oh well, maybe next week we’ll do the windows.
When You Can’t Find Your Dog
by Lela Davidson on October 22, 2007
in Uncategorized
Puppy Love
by Lela Davidson on October 4, 2007
in Uncategorized
Another column from the archives:
I’m no dog person and I certainly didn’t want a puppy. And a male? Fuhgetaboutit! All I wanted was a mellow girl to bark at strangers and match my décor.
I am now the proud owner of a male puppy.
Still, I’m not a dog person. I set boundaries. No pet nannies, organic dog food, or doggy cashmere sweaters. No Juicy workout duds for this pup. And no dog is licking my face. Never-ever-ever. I’ll feed him, alter him, and get him the shots, but no licking.
It all started with this Italian Greyhound I met once in line for my latte at Barnes & Noble. Maybe the anticipation of caffeine stole my senses or maybe my moon was in Pluto, but I’d found my soul mate. She seemed to love me and mere words fail her beauty. Since the owner would not take a child in trade, the search was on. I needed to find me one of them dogs!
I had heard you could get an IG (lingo is everything) at a shelter and wouldn’t it be so wonderful of me, the non-dog person to actually rescue a dog? Also, there was the slight matter of the five hundred dollar price dog for this particular pooch. Okay, some people think I’m cheap, but I prefer frugal.
The problem is that abandoned pets are damaged – sometimes badly so – they might pee compulsively or have a broken leg. Oh well, motherhood hadn’t broken me. I figured I could handle it.
I found a dog a couple of hours away, but those overprotective dog people – they wouldn’t let me have him because my real children were too young. Apparently IGs are very fragile and don’t take well to young hockey jocks. That settled it. Soul mate or no, the IG was out.
A smooth pet peddler talked me into a ChiHuaHua. I would cart my pooch around Wal-Mart in counterfeit couture bags and that seemed good enough. Then I spied an ad for an IG puppy – and at only a hundred bucks, a mere pittance of his worth.
The kids and I made the forty-five minute trek deep into the country in search of Dog. On the drive out there I reminded them we might not take him home.
“Not if he’s not nice,” I said. “Or if he smells.” You know – like a dog.
“You mean we drove all this way for nothing?”
They had a point.
But once we saw him, I had no trouble handing over the five crisp twenties. My precious skinny puppy, my miniature racing-dog peered into me with deep, blue eyes and I took in all his gorgeous dog self. We rushed straight to the pet store for all the stuff. Everything was cute and fresh, smelling nice, like spankin’ new clothes.
Nothing is that easy. A week later I lived with reeking dog beds, hair everywhere, and yellow designs in my carpet. I’ve also got competition. About ten minutes after I brought Simon home to suburbia, two of my neighbors appeared with puppies. The cul-de-sac became a dog park and now I’ve got to keep up with the Dog Joneses.
“My dog never pees inside.”
“My dog’s poops are small.”
“My dog doesn’t chew the carpet– did I tell you about my new carpet?”
However, I know my dog is best because he loves me the most. I know this because when I let him, he snuggles in my lap, arches his visible spine, and places his long snout on my chest. Then he looks at me with those puppy dog eyes. Literally. It makes me think about love – unconditional love. Because, honestly, other than that, he’s of no use to me.
A supposed watch-dog, Simon barks for one reason – when he wants me to come to the back door to play psych. As in, bark-bark, please let me in, oh please won’t you let me in, open the door pleeeeeze. And then when I open the door he prances back on the deck and I swear he smiles. Psych!
He smells bad, has no manners, and he’s expensive. I just spent nearly twice his asking price to ensure he doesn’t bless anyone else with a puppy.
My dog is a complete pain-in-the-ass, but it doesn’t matter because he’s part of our family now. I’m committed. And that reminds me of all the people in my life I am bound to love, despite their pain-in-the-ass-ness. Simon gives me what I need but don’t always want, a reason to sit, to stay. His annoying whine forces me to slow down and rest a spell, to stroke his ears just so and let him love me just because.
Face licking is still out, but Simon’s found a way to express affection. He ever so gently places one paw on my cheek, where I let it stay for half a breath before I brush it away.
Surely that doesn’t make me a dog person.
