The Doggy Bloggy

The life of a 12-year-old puppy, in love with squeakies and Ol' Roys

Posts Tagged ‘Squeaky Toys’

Cleaning out the Phone

Posted by faiththemutt on January 27, 2011

My phone has a lot of photos on it.  Mostly of my pets.  Or things regarding my pets.  Or stuff that my pets would like.

I have a life.  I promise.

Unfortunately, I have yet to purchase a memory card for my phone, so I have a limited amount of space,  that means I have to save what I want and delete the rest.  Figured, I took them, might as well share them, so here’s a little trip down photo lane:

Anybody who thought this was for me-- clearly hasn't met my Guinea Pigs...

"I'm not on the couch, I'm not on the couch, I'm not on the couch"

Our dearest Mickey... Luka did love thee-- Perhaps too much.

I was studying and she wasn't happy-- So she watched TV.

She's a circus performer in her spare time...

I know, I know– Get a life.


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We Wish you a Merry Christmas…

Posted by faiththemutt on December 25, 2010


Merry Christmas one and all.  Faith, the gang and I hope everyone has a pleasant and spirited holiday and that 2011 starts out wonderfully.

I’ll post photos later about our own celebration and what and alllll the toys the fuzzy faces got.  Because, frankly– They got way more than the rest of us.

Until then!


Posted in Baxter, Buddha, Evie, Faith, Love, Luka, Squeakies, Uno, Watson | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a Comment »

Faith’s Face Redux

Posted by faiththemutt on September 5, 2010

Faith is home!

I knew my worries were probably a little overzealous– but you can’t blame a girl for caring.  I wasn’t actually kept up to speed with her surgery on Friday morning since I hadn’t dropped her off and wasn’t really available until after she was done with it and recuperating anyway.  I spent most of the day worrying and waiting for someone to call to tell me any news at all.  Friday was also the day everything was happening: Work, Faith’s surgery, a mandatory orchestra audition, more work, paperwork, blahblahblah.  A lot of it stuff I didn’t want to do– I know, I know, suck it up, you’re an adult.


Regardless, I was looking forward to seeing her and got home, just in time to see her with the cone of shame, barging through the house towards the door.  Seeing her face made me cringe:


She got a lot more stitches then we were expecting, and they apparently became concerned about the cyst near to her nose that’s been there for years and hasn’t caused nearly as much trouble so they had us authorize it’s removal.  It’s sad how much they have to cut in order to get all of the cyst, but I would rather them be thorough than sloppy, especially if the cysts are less likely to return now or if there’s even the slightest chance they might be cancerous.  So, although it might look pretty nasty now, I’m sure it’ll improve and her fur will grow back and if the scars don’t hide under that… She can tell people she got into a brawl with a Puma or something.

I’m just glad she’s home.  Since someone has been at home at some point to watch her, she hasn’t had to wear the cone of shame too often and strangely enough, Paisley has been leaving her alone.  She’ll talk to her and all of that, but she hasn’t tried to bite Faith’s face more than once the last day or so.  In fact, once her painkillers kicked in, Faith kept trying to goad Paisley into playing tug.  To which my mother promptly grounded them.

Of course that didn’t stick, since I bought about $40 worth of treats, toys and other fun stuff for her to make her feel better.  She had a rough first night home, her pain medication didn’t seem to be working and she was miserable.  So I was a good Mom and brought her own version of “Graham crackers and Sprite”.  Her stitches don’t come out for 14 days, which I think is way too long, but what do I know?  So I might as well make her happy.

Thank you all who kept her in your thoughts (I know of a few friends on Facebook that have been following as of late, I appreciate your well wishes.) it helped me and I’m sure it helped Faith, knowing you were thinking of her.

I know she’s fine, but it got me sentimental thinking about her– I’m a little rusty working with Final Cut, since I haven’t done anything substantial on it since my U of I days.  So bear with me if there are issues–  I know it’s just pictures, but everything in the video is of those people and things that she has loved throughout her life 🙂

Hope you enjoy (Ohh, by the way, before I get sued– The song is Forbidden Friendship from the How to Train Your Dragon soundtrack– by John Powell.  I know, I don’t own it.  If I did, do you think I’d have to stoop to using other people’s music?)

Until then,


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Posted by faiththemutt on January 15, 2010

Paisley Puppy is trying become famous and with your help she might do just that!  Paisley is currently entered into the Bissel Vacuum: Most Valuable Pet contest.  Her voting period started on the 15th and runs until the 21st.  As of now she only has 20 votes and she’s way behind several other pets!

If Paisley wins the contest she wins a $500 shopping spree (You can get wots of squeakies wit dat!) and PAWS & More Shelter gets $10,000 for whatever they need!  AND as if that weren’t enough, Paisley’s face will end up on a Bissel vacuum box!  What could be better than that?  She sheds so much, she should be a shoe in!

So get crackin’  Here’s her link:
MVP Pet Photo Contest sponsored by BISSELL, maker of pet vacuum cleaners.

How coowd you say no to dis?

In case you forgot who you were voting for 😉

We’ll let you know how it turns out!

Much love!

Jaina, Faith & Paisley

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Belated Christmas: Paisley’s First

Posted by faiththemutt on January 7, 2010

Yes… I forgot to write a Christmas post.  I suck at this blogging thing–

Anyway, we had a very Merry Christmas at our house and the dogs, made out like the bandits that they are.  Really.  I have pictures.  I was pretty spoiled too, but I have to say the dogs did pretty well!

But before we get started with the evidence, we in the midwest hope you all had a Merry Christmas and as Paisley says “And a Hippee Nude Deer”.  You might need an online translator for that one.  And now on to what we’re really here for.

Dad woke Faith and I up Christmas morning as he traditionally does, with Mannheim Steamroller playing to wake us.  It’s one of my favorite traditions and I think after 10 years, Faith has figured out that this is her cue to run to the door because Santa Paws has come and gone.  She loves getting presents so she was pretty excited when I kicked back the blankets and made my way to the door.  She wasn’t the only excited one.  Paisley had been let out of her kennel and was making a ruckus when she saw all the new things under the tree.  They hadn’t been there when she had gone to bed the night before and like a little kid, she knew immediately that there was something new:

Ohhhh, Chwismas twee ohhh Chwismas tweeeeeee, how yummy awe yowr bwanches!

Since Paisley likes to gnaw on Pine tree branches– I felt it was appropriate.  Just so you know, all of the packages wrapped in blue, are for the dogs… And you can’t even see them all from this angle…

I got a Sock Monkey! Paisley thinks it's hers but it's mine.

Oh man, were they ever excited to see all of those presents:

See what I mean?

Iz dat mine too?

They were quite excited to get their presents open.  A few of them were rather stinky (A real dog magnet) and they could tell it was for them just by sniffing them.  Yuri, is really rather good at getting presents open on his own:

This is the best Christmas EVER!

Paisley and Faith were just as happy:

Whatevewr yew're opening, it's miiiiiineee!

I would post photos of all of us opening our gifts as we all received some awesome gifts.  My Dad and I actually found gifts for Mom that she loved and for once, she had no idea what they were.  A typical Christmas includes Mom grabbing her gifts, giving it a little shake and calling it before she opens it.

This is rather aggravating.

But this time– HAHAHAHAHAHA.  WE WIN!!!  So, she was surprised, we were surprised and the puppies were happily gnawing on toys and Beggin’ Strips and not surprised– Because we’re wrapped around their little paws.

Anyway, like I said, I would have added pictures of the non-fuzzy people, but it was early in the morning and none of us were exactly– Attractive at that time.  I’ll post one that is a little less scary of myself– I had just received a Garmin Nüvi for Christmas and was very excited as I’ve needed one of those for years.  As I’ve mentioned in previous entries, I am directionally challenged.  Sometimes, I can’t even find my way around my own hometown and it’s rather humiliating.  Soooo, I was about two seconds away from kissing it.

At least I brushed my hair before I came downstairs, so there's that...

Sorry if you feel a sudden need to stab your eyes out…

So, I would say overall we all had a good Christmas.  We had a lovely Christmas meal, delicious turkey and sides and I’m very happy to say my Dad was able to accurately recreate my Grandmother’s turkey gravy; a recipe that had been lost for several years after she passed away.  I loved my Grandma very much and when she died it was hard to get used to holidays without her.  I remember family gatherings being what they were because she was there.  She made things from memory and the recipe for the gravy was no exception.  It was one of those “A dash of this, a handful of that” sort of things and we were fairly sure after many, many failures that it was a lost cause.  Well, this year, Dad tried again with the ingredients we knew were necessary and it was success.  So much so that I nearly cried when I tasted it as it transported me back to those days at her house during Christmas, her hovering over everyone and making sure her grandchildren were stuffed to the gills.  I miss her and I hope she and my grandfather who has also passed are celebrating together again.

Sorry… Reminiscing.  But as I said, the puppies were well spoiled this past Christmas and although I know it’s over for a while, Paisley is already plotting what she gets next year!

Much love and a Happy New Year!

Jaina, Faith, Paisley & Yuri (Oh and Mom & Dad too)

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The Doggy and her Bloggy

Posted by faiththemutt on July 15, 2009

Bark, Buhbark, Barkity, Bark…

Translation: Hi, where are my cookies?

If it isn’t obvious, this blog revolves entirely around a 10-year-old, 65 lb, atrociously mannered mutt named Faith.

“And squeakies, Mom!  Do NOT forget my squeakies!!!!”

Oh, and she loves squeaky toys.

(It seems we have a back seat blogger here.)

“I’m still sitting here you know.”

I can’t say that I’m very out of the ordinary, writing about a pet, there are plenty of pet owners that also think the world would be a better place if introduced to their special fuzzy pals (or feathered ones as seen in one of my favorite blogs:

In any case, I doubt anyone will really benefit from reading Faith’s blog…

“That’s what you think!”

But, perhaps her daily encounters and child-like (emphasis on child-like) nature will bring a smile to your face, like it does mine.

So let me introduce you to the star of this blog.


This is Faith.


Faith is… Well, Faith is a lot of things.  Breed-wise, no one really knows  (A genetic catastrophe I’m sure) but by the light of day, she looks more on the side of a Yellow Lab (With ears too small for her head, spots on her paws that don’t make sense and a serious hatred for water).  I guess its up to you, dear reader, to decide what you think she is and if it ever strikes me to shell out the cash, I might get some testing done to see what the Wolf-Woman is really made of.

“I’d say perfection.”

I’d say… Well, I better not.  Kids might read this.

But I digress.

“That’ll happen a lot.”

Faith also has the extraordinary ability to talk.  Usually this phenomenon only occurs when she and several other people are in the room to translate, but yes, she talks.

Anyway, her story is actually a lot cooler than her attitude right now.  About ten years ago (I was actually in middle school, can you believe it?)– My mom and I were heading out to pick up some dinner, my dad having to work late.  I think, though I feel sick for it, we were heading to Long John Silver’s, but that’s beside the point.  Our destination lead us down a dark, poorly lit back road, one that lead passed (at the time) an open area for anything to gallop through.

Including Faith.

Mom and I were cruising along, talking and doing the mother-daughter thing, when all of a sudden, this flash of white-yellow comes out of nowhere and right in front of our Van.  Despite her speed, it was obvious it was a dog and although there was no telltale thud to indicate we had hit her, my mom was afraid we had.  Seeing as she and our big softies and had a zoo of animals at home, it’s not hard to figure out that hitting a dog would be heartbreaking.  So, mom cautiously opened the door and stepped out into the summer heat, the light of our headlights barely scratching the surface of the evening dark.

“Puppy?” My mom asked quietly, for about a millisecond it was still and then all of sudden I was face to face with dog I’d never met.

Typically, I’m not afraid of animals, I love just about all of them and if I had a bigger house, a lot of money and a hired hand to feed them all, I would probably have a collection of animals that would make the Arc look like a petting zoo.  However, when you’re like, 11 and there’s this rather hungry looking, very smelly, very muddy dog that wasn’t in your car previously, suddenly standing well within your “bubble”, you really reconsider your idea that all fuzzy things are nice.  For all I know, she wanted to eat my face off.  So as I lunged for the door, my mom leans into the car and yells:

“Puppy!  SIT!”

I swear to you, I’ve never seen a dog’s butt hit the ground so fast in my life.  As soon as she heard mom’s no nonsense command, her behind discovered the now muddy, gray carpet of the van in a jiffy.  Looking at her for a moment, I realized just how on her own she had been.  Now that I knew she was not, in fact, going to tear my face off, I saw that she was severely emaciated, ribs sticking out all across her sides, heaving from the run she had just taken, her fur was caked with days, if not weeks worth of mud.  And yet, just looking at her, you could see she wasn’t a vicious dog.  She was just very tired of running.  After further inspection, we found she had an old green collar (also caked in mud) around her neck, that was missing any identification, but did discover a length of nylon rope, still attached to the leash ring… It appeared to have been chewed through, which I can only imagine meant she was tired of wherever she was before.

I’m a genius, I know.

Well, seeing as we’re softies, mom and I didn’t have the heart to kick her out of the van and go on without her.  So, despite stinking to high heaven and dripping mud every which way, we carried on with our quest, with an extra passenger.  By this time we had to change venues and bought some KFC– Which was fine, until the dog realized we were actually bringing food within inches of her very hungry nose.  She was inhaling so hard, I thought for sure a chicken wing was going to come punching through the container.  We also discovered that night, that the dog liked Pepsi; seeing as the one cup that passed her face had just little bit spilled on the lid…  That didn’t last a second as she slurped it right off.

Mom was sure to hand that one to me, like I was EVEN going to drink it after that.

By the time we got home, we had found out that she could sit, stay and shake.  When we got home, we also discovered she doesn’t share.  Having put down food for our two dogs and herself, we found that, because of her extended stay in the wild, she had forgotten that although no one was taking it away and she could eat it at a leisurely pace, she wanted to make sure she got it all in one sitting.  So, she slurped hers down and then made a break for everyone elses’… Which funny, because at the time we had two fairly dominate males and neither one of them was OK with sharing their food with a stranger.

Mom ended up scrubbing her clean for what seemed like hours.  Several refillings of the tub later and the newcomer finally looked like a dog again.  Though, mom also spent quite a bit of time trying to scrub spots off her feet that didn’t seem to be budging– Took a minute to realize they were permanent– Add that to the list of possible breeds.  When she was finally clean and no longer reeked of months of gross, mom let her run around in the house, getting to know our two boys (Yuri and Ozzie) and letting her play with their toys.  Before The Great Bath incident, mom had called my dad at work, beginning her story with “Now don’t get mad…” Seeing as dad had made it clear we were not in need of any more fuzzy friends.  When mom finally finished explaning dad wasn’t that thrilled with the thought of another dog staying at the house, even if it was for a short while.  His tune changed when he got home early in the morning and mom and the newbie were waiting up for him.

The dog, apparently never having seen a tug toy before was gleefully rolling around, playing with the toy, the thing shoved so far back in her mouth she could barely breathe (or so I’ve heard, I was in bed at this point).  She heard the car door slam and knew that someone was there, but of course, didn’t know that he belonged.  Whipping up to stare at the door, she waited for whatever it was.  When my dad popped through the door, the dog was so torn between protecting the house and her toy, she couldn’t decide between barking or continuing with the toy.

So she did both.

“Boofk.” Escaped her full lips and dad, who as I’ve said wasn’t thrilled about her staying with us said, to which my mom swears to this day he said:

“I think I’m in love.”

The next day my parents called the animal shelter to report her being found.  There weren’t any reports matching her description and since she was already so skinny and muddy, it was likely that even if there had been one, it had since been forgotten.  That’s when we found out that after 5 days, if no one had come to claim her and we decided she was welcome, she was legally ours.  Seeing as there are so many dogs being housed in shelters anyway and the fact that I couldn’t bear to think she’d be euthanized, my parents gave her the go ahead to stay if an owner wasn’t found.

Almost 11 years later.  She’s still here.  And what a joy.

“You better believe it.”

Shh, I’m telling your story right now.  In any case, since five days obviously came and went, we knew we couldn’t continue to call her puppy. After a vet check-up that gave her a surprisingly clean bill of health, we discovered she was probably around a year old when she hitched a ride, so in reality, she wasn’t really a puppy.  So we tried to think of cool names, stupid names, old names and significant names.  And so we came up with

Leapa Faith.

Because if she hadn’t of thrown herself in front of our van and leaped into our lives, she probably would have died somewhere along the road, with no one to love her,

“And no squeakies… That would have been terrible!”

And no squeakies, you’re absolutely right, Faith.

Now she has a family that loves her:

My girl!  I luvz her!

My girl! I luvz her!

Afenced backyard to play in, plenty of Kibble–

“And Ol’ Roys!  I LOVE Ol’ Roys!”

If I were a dog, Faith, I’m sure I’d love them too.

Two big brothers:

My stupid brother, Yuri

My stupid brother, Yuri

The better brother, Ozzie

The better brother, Ozzie

An overflowing box full of squeaky toys:



So, now you know how Faith came to be and why, maybe her story will be significant to you.  I know taking care of a dog can be difficult, but sometimes the rewards are worth it.  Faith can be a pain (especially when she gets into the garbage),

“I have NEVER done such a thing… That was always Yuri.  Every time… Even if he wasn’t in the house…”

but she can also be a God-send in tough times.  I know for a fact if she hadn’t of been around when I moved into my first apartment and schleped through two years at a terrible university, I wouldn’t have made it. So I sincerely suggest, if you think about getting a dog, don’t go straight for the designer dogs (What in hell is a PuggaDoodle?) but check out your local animal shelter.  I’d say the majority of the time, mutts can look just as good as a purebred and they certainly appreciate life a lot more, especially if they’ve had it tough all their life.  Think about it.

Until tomorrow or whenever we figure out what to write next!

~Jaina & Faith

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