Cuddle-Max

Lately, Max has been very hyper in the evenings—to the point where I am beginning to wonder if he has a manic condition. He bounces around the apt; runs circles full-speed around the yard; and insists on ‘properly launching,’ as MJ put it, himself at me randomly while I relax on the couch.

Whether it’s the seasons changing, or the fact that he hasn’t been out as much, who knows. What I do know is it makes it difficult for sleeping so he inevitably ends up in his cage for the first portion of the night.

Last night I woke up about 3am and opened the cage for him to join me in bed. As I resumed sleeping position, I felt a gentle nudge against my side. I ignored him as to imply, ‘It’s sleeping time,’ and he did it again.

When I continued to pay him no mind, he tapped my hand with his paw. And again. And again.

Finally I rolled over and sat up to see what he wanted and he nudged the blanket draped across my stomach with his nose. I lifted it and he crawled under, crept as close to my body as he could and leaned across my legs. It’s his way of cuddling. He leans on you and slides off so he’s nestled up as close to you as humanly (doggily?) possible.

It was adooooorable. I don’t know if he was cold or just needed some snuggling but he knew how to get what he wanted.

How can anyone stay mad at the lil’ guy for being a maniac when he cuddles like that?

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A Weekend with MJ

I might as well start this entry like my other recent ones: This daily blogging gig isn’t turning out so well.

Yet with that said, I must add that I am proud of myself for getting words down as often as I have. Between a full-time job, 3-hour daily commute, part-time weekend job and prospering social life, it’s not easy getting online to write down some thoughts—not to mention coming up with thoughts.

When I do need some relaxing, mind-numbing downtime, I like to dedicate it to late-night walks with Max. Although this weekend, we did not spend a lot of QT together. With MJ in town—all the way from London ladies and gentlemen—the last three days have been packed with sightseeing, city-exploration, EATING and female bonding.

In the last three days we have:

• Explored the graffiti of Brooklyn (MJ and Triple A enjoyed this while I worked);
• Attended a performance of the sold-out Fall for Dance series (performances ranged from ‘pretty good’ to ‘phenomenal’).
• Over-indulged in a “gorgeous”—as the Brits would say—Cuban meal accompanied by pitchers of Sangria.
• Went apple and pumpkin picking—although we spent more time playing on the children’s playground equipment than we did picking the one pumpkin we purchased. (Side note: There was an awesome sign at the pumpkin farm that pretty much summed up my opinion of children.)
  
• Drank—sorry, “tasted”—numerous kinds of wine at a handful of Long Island wineries, and hung outside in the beautiful fall weather.
  The highlights include meeting a labradoodle, who was really just a oversized breathing and moving stuffed animal, that I seriously considering stealing. He was named Bogey, how awesome is that? And we watched turtles having sex—to which a young girl described to her dad, “Dad, look, the daddy turtles riding on the baby turtle.” “Yes hunny, come on, let’s go look at the goats.” This lasted for like an hour; turtles have some killer stamina.
• Indulged on sushi from, none other than, Merrick Sushi and Tea.
• Indulged on $5 Martinis at our “local” (I’m not even going to mention the people we met there.)
• Played with the dinosaurs, stole some pretty gems and danced with the Native Americans at the National History Museum.
• Hit up the Tea Spot AND the Peanut Butter Co before relaxing in Washington Square, where we listened to the same guitar player/singer perform that we heard last year during MJ’s first visit to the park.
• Got Crumbs?
• Introduced MJ to The Cheesecake Factory, whose post-meal response was, “I have never before felt so defeated by a meal.” She ordered a burger; enough said.
• Ate Crumbs!

All in all a good weekend if you ask me. Not only did we go on some exciting adventures, most of which revolved around eating fantastic food, the company throughout it all was fabulous!

Alright, there you have it. Over and out!

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Max Gets a Bone!

If Becky Brandon née Bloomwood ever got a puppy, I think I could give her a run for her money. Every time I see a cute doggy treat, I have to buy it for Max. Last week we went to the pet store to pick up dog food and some treats. Unfortunately all the treats we bought, Max didn’t like. Luckily my brother remembered which ones he tasted in the store and bought him some of those. He adores the little smelly crusty looking things.

Last night I grabbed a rawhide bone when picking up dog food at the supermarket. If Max wasn’t excited enough just to see me and be let downstairs, he was super-duper ecstatic when I pulled the bone out of the bag. He attempted several times to jump and grab it from my hands while I unwrapped it—but what Max doesn’t know is that I am quite quick myself. Ha! (Yes, I occasionally tease him, but not nearly as often as I tease babies and toddlers… you get a much better reaction of frustration from them! Ha!)

When we finally got the wrapping off, I let him jump up and grab it—and off he went. I told him “Go show Grandma your bone,” and he ran right into the living room over to grandma’s chair. How smart is he!!! Good boy Max!

Then he stood IMpatiently at the bottom of the stairs waiting for me to move the door so he could run up. I wasn’t sure if he wanted to eat it or hide it, so I let him go and waited IMpatiently (we have that in common) in the kitchen for him to return for dinner.

He didn’t!

A while later I checked in on him to discover he had already eaten about 1/3 of the bone and he wasn’t planning on stopping anytime soon. While I probably should have taken it away and made him eat his dinner first.

I didn’t.

I just let him eat the rawhide until his heart was content, and he decided it was time for a bowl o’ chicken and gravy.

Although since he has arrived I have spent much of my time at home playing with him and entertaining him in every way possible, I realize that I cannot keep that up forever, and am happy that the rubber Kong (daytime only!) and rawhide bones make him very very happy.

I also must remember that rawhide causes dogs to pass very smelly gas… and Max likes to sleep the opposite direction of me in bed!

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More about Max!

Now that you know the worst, let’s talk more about Max. (I’d never be a good sales person, I’m too honest and open with my emotional experiences!)

Max came with a crate and two toys—both of which he has eaten the ear-shaped fabric flaps off of—and a lot of energy. He is apparently used to being alone—or at least subdued—during the day as my wonderful brother has been kind enough to walk him in the afternoons, and he usually finds him curled up on my bed.

Yes, he sleeps on my bed. I know people have very mixed feelings about that, but I’m a sucker for a cuddler. I was told he preferred to sleep in his cage, yet his first night here, he climbed right up on my bed and laid down—no, that’s wrong, the first night he bounced around my bed tearing the knickers off Minnie Mouse and barking at himself in the mirror! (He’s gotten used to the mirror thing, but with double full length mirrors covering my closet, it was a long night.)

The SECOND night, Max climbed up in bed, laid down and rolled over so his body was right up against mine with his head propped up on my stomach as a pillow. This, we have learned, is his preferred position. He likes to have a pillow, whether it’s Azzy’s legs on the couch, one of my limbs in bed or my pillow—which we have been known to fight for at night.

He greets you with a big hug and a few doggy-bounces on his back legs every time you come home and he learns very fast. He already knows that when we go downstairs, we say “hi” to Grandma and then go straight into the kitchen, and when we come in from outside, we go right back upstairs—which he hops up and down like a bunny, legs together.

He is house-broken and has never had an accident, even considering it’s such a new place. (knock on wood) We let him run around the backyard but he tends to wait for the leash and the walk before he does his business.

Since arriving at Elizabeth’s house, Max has become addicted to the Kong toy but only with certain treats. He is quite a picky eater and it has taken a lot of trial and error to find something he likes—chicken!! Must be chicken and it must be very wet so the dry food gets all mushy. I know, I know, nasty, but that’s the way he likes it!

Oh and Peanut Butter! He LOVES peanut butter!!! This is the key to getting him to take his pill!

Here are a few pics: When Max Came to Stay

Want to know more about Max? Drop me a line!
Max is also on Facebook with his own Dogbook page… you should friend Max!

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Hi, my name is Max. I’m a dog—oooo, lightening bug!

So as many of you already know, I have a puppy. And to answer the question that you may be asking: No, Grandma did not finally give in to my constant begging to adopt a pet—we are fostering him.

By means of one of those friend-of-a-friend-type of situations, I opened an email to view an adorable photo of Max the puggle… Max’s owner had moved out of state and decided not to/was not able to/didn’t want to (no idea what the deal was) bring him, so he left him with the wonderful founder of Sugar Mutts Rescue Foundation. Max spent two days with a temporary foster mum until her cat decided it’d had enough and she needed to find him a new temporary home.

Max the puggle who popped up in my inbox

Well, a phone call to Grandma that involved a little pleading, and a promise to never ever ask for a dog again if this didn’t work out, she gave Max permission to come visit for a few weeks. And now I have a built-in alarm clock, bed heater, exercise stimulator, water dribbler… and new best friend! Max the pup has settled in remarkably well and has already left me with a pit of guilt in the bottom of my stomach about the stress he will experience when he once again moves to another new home. [sniff, tear]

While his sweet and playful personality, adorable smushy face and pudgy little body are close to perfection, his mind had a flaw. Max has a seizure condition. Apparently more common in dogs than most people realize, Max has to take medication to help control the seizures—and even then he still gets one every 4–6 weeks (apparently… we’ll find out more when we go to the vet this weekend). I was warned about what to expect and foretold that he hadn’t had one in a while, so there was a chance I would have to face this.

Two nights ago, during our walk, Max stopped to sniff. I just assumed he didn’t like the smell when he bucked away from the grass. Yet, after a few times it was obvious that his actions were out of his control. In seeing his eyes—unfocused and dilated—I knew he was having a seizure. He’s little, but he’s a tough guy! I sat down and used all my strength to hold him as still as possible so he wouldn’t hurt himself. From what I was told about canine’ seizures, it wouldn’t last too long.

Ten minutes later, my wonderful friend came to help. Another ten minutes and Max’s body, from paws to tail, were stiff as wood, so I scooped him up, and with tears in my eyes, carried him home. It was another half hour till his mind was 100% calm and his body too tired to move. And thanks to my dad who came over and got out the hose to water him—and myself, as I wouldn’t let him out of my lap.

Dark now, laying in a puddle in the backyard, I carried him up to the towel-covered bed I prepared in my room and laid him down to rest up. All he moved was his head, following my every move to make sure he wasn’t alone. Eventually I just laid down on the floor with him so he could rest his neck too.

I was prepared to panic if/when faced with this experience, but I was not prepared to worry so much. I think it was the length of time that really threw me, but seeing how helpless he was, and dependent on his owner—currently me—to love him and take care of him, tugged at my ‘heartstrings.’ (What are heartstrings anyway? Why do people say that?)

Seeing his flaws and watching him struggle with such a tough obstacle in which he couldn’t control, made me love, and relate, to him more. Nobody’s perfect and that’s what makes us beautiful!

I just hope someone else can love him, seizures and all, as much as I do…

…otherwise I’ll be the one moving out and packing him up with me!

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