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Last weekend we enjoyed what may have been the last weekend of our California summer. Hunter and Griffin enjoyed the sprinkler (Griffin so much that the sprinkler is now dead…).
Hunter enjoyed pouring water on her brother; Magnus enjoyed it less so. And Griffin wanted to play in the paddling pool too.
The first of many happy summers is on the books… it all seems to be going so fast. Too fast.
Our little Maggie… She wasn’t the smartest dog, or the cutest, but she was loyal. Sure she liked to chew her way through chain-link fences, but it was only so she could wait for Michael by the front door. And sure, she ran away sometimes, but she always came back.
She loved Nala (even though Nala sent her to the vet more than once), was willing to snuggle with the cat, and was the fearless protector of the vacuum cleaner. She didn’t really care for kids, but she endured Hunter’s attentions with forbearance and may have even enjoyed being covered with cloth napkins and dish towels.
When we took Maggie for walks, she was always game to try and attack other dogs and stopped to pee on everything, even after her bladder was completely empty. She would sit next to you for as long as you were willing to pet her.
Maggie was a good girl. We miss her.
Maggie has been failing. She’s been having trouble getting up. She’s been having trouble walking. Last night she sat down to eat her dinner. She’s never done that before. We also noticed last night that her right foreleg was swollen from her shoulder to her toes.
This morning Maggie went to work with Michael. She will visit the veterinarian today and she may or may not be coming home.
I’ve been back at work and neglecting the blog… but here’s a little sample of what we’ve been doing:
Hunter has taken to dunking herself in the tub. Is especially funny when she feels the need to tell us something while her ears are under water… since she can’t hear very well, she yells.
Hunter is also very adept at folding things… dish towels, cloth napkins, pieces of paper. We didn’t show her how to do this, it’s something she started all on her own.
Michael coaxing our suicidal puppy across the narrow concrete bridge over a ten-foot drop into a spillway on our family “hike”. This is their second trip across the bridge… on the first, Griffin didn’t seem to notice there was a drop on either side of the path, and nearly plunged to his death. Or at least the vet… Fortunately for the dog, Michael was the one holding his lead. He managed to catch Griffin without snapping his neck and lowered the ninety pound dog to the bottom and safety.
This is Hunter, on our family “hike” (a total of maybe thirty minutes of walking…), refusing to go any further.
And finally, Magnus. He’s reached the tile… now what?
It looks like Griffin may not eat the cat after all…
One of Jackson Little Bear’s favorite places to nap is on Magnus’s changing table. Of course, the cat does not agree that the changing table is Magnus’s and lately, has been straight refusing to get up when it’s time for Magnus to use the changing table.
So I’ve been laying Magnus down on top of the cat, and they lay there like this while I change Magnus’s diaper. As you can see, Magnus thinks this is great fun, and Jackson Little Bear doesn’t mind it so much because he subscribes to the ‘any attention is good attention’ school of thought.
After Magnus’s diaper is changed, we leave and, the cat resumes his nap. I suppose this little arrangement works for everyone…
Hunter calls it: “Don’t Kick the Puppy!”
Griffen calls it: “Bite the Baby!” (Extra points if you can drag her off the swing…)
I wish you could hear their laughter…
It looks like the Hillman Family blog has gone international. And all because of our new puppy.
As it turns out, some well meaning friends of Griffin/Apollo’s breeder found our blog (am super interested to know how… so if you’re reading this, please comment…) and reported back that my sister-in-law, Michael’s sister Sheila, who herself is a breeder, gave their dog away to some family.
This report spread across three different continents before getting back to my sister-in-law and sparked an email exchange between the two breeders to sort out why Sheila had “given away” Griffin/Apollo. Am, of course, sorry for any confusion, so, here are the facts:
Griffin/Apollo is not, technically, our dog. He is Sheila’s dog, whom she asked us to look after for her because she knew he would be happier with a family than in a kennel. As he grows, Shelia is keeping an eye on him, and when he’s ready, he will be shown. And subsequently bred if necessary. The international bouvier community has nothing to fear; Apollo Amber van Dafzicht will not be “wasted”.
Griffin’s official name is still Apollo Amber van Dafzicht according to the AKC and will never be changed. We decided to call him Griffin for a couple of reasons: one, Apollo was not something that was easy for our two-year-old daughter to say. The closest she came to pronouncing Apollo was ”Pot Luck”. Two, Apollo looks like a Griffin. He has this giant, lanky, cat-like body, and with his lightness of foot and the way he rubs against our legs he just seems like a cat. He also has a way of cocking his head to the side that is decidedly bird-like, and, well, shouldn’t we get some props for sticking with the mythological theme?
Shelia is an excellent breeder and she always wants the best for her dogs. That is why pretty much every member of the family has at least one of her bouviers. Bouviers are the best dogs on the planet and we love “ours”, Nala (a.k.a. Vanleighof’s Great Expectations) and Griffin (a.k.a. Apollo Amber van Dafzicht).
Griffin/Apollo is quite happy with us and loves playing all manner of games with Hunter. As you can see, he’s well on his way to being very, very fancy:
I predict that I will be posting a picture of Magnus in the same dress in about a year’s time…
This is Maggie. Our twelve to fourteen-year-old “lab mix” from the pound. Maggie is clearly not a lab mix. Our best guess is that she is a mix between a red-nosed pitt bull and some very short dog… maybe a beagle. One thing is for certain, Maggie is the luckiest dog on earth.
Michael adopted her years ago as a companion dog for his Australian shepherd, Bubba. Michael picked Maggie (a.k.a. Mag Pie or, more often, Pie Pie) because she was the quietest, most timid dog at the shelter, thinking that she seemed so sweet, she would be no trouble at all.
Over the next few years, Maggie demonstrated her proficiency as an escape artist, chewing, repeatedly, through the chain-link of the dog run to run around and lay by the front door. She was also quite the barker when Michael wasn’t around. Driving his former neighbors insane to the point of threatening violence. Maggie, of course, no longer has a voice. Maggie was also quite adept as a Dumpster diver… and will still take advantage of a diaper bag left on the floor with a bag of craisins in it.
Compounding this bad behavior is the fact that Maggie may be the dumbest dog on the planet. Running away when it’s time for a biscuit. Refusing to enter the house when someone is holding the door open for her. Barking her silent bark at people for no obvious reason.
She used to snap at children too, not too big of a deal because she broke off every tooth in her head crewing through fences. Maggie only tolerates Hunter because her little pea brain has made the connection that snapping at the children equals a swift trip outside.
Anyone but Michael would have taken this dog back to the pound.
Why am I telling you about all of this? Because yesterday, Maggie bit me. Really bit me. Almost breaking the skin on my arm with her blunt little nubbin teeth. If she still had real teeth, she would have done some damage. And what did I do to deserve such a thing? I tried to usher her into the house for her morning biscuit just like we do every single day.
Michael thinks she was just confused, and, I’m sure that’s part of it, but, in the meantime, she won’t be spending any time around my children.
Next time I’m baking cookies, hell, baking anything, put the freaking puppy OUTSIDE.
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