Tag Archives: Dog

Holiday Get Togethers are For Everyone in the Family

You might think I’m nuts, but when I invited my family to my house for Christmas dinner, I had them bring Everyone in the family. That included everyone’s four-footed children.

Twenty-six people and seven dogs over 50 pounds each (except for the puppies) Yes, chaos ensued for a bit. But those pups sure did appreciate it. they had a great time, and my Chloe was sad to see them all go.

The nice thing was that no one had to rush home to feed their dogs or let them out. My yard may never be the same, but who cares?

Here is a precious moment that came out of the event. This is my Chloe taking some time out away from the other dogs to play with her mother, Mitsy.

Chloe is the silver with the pink bows.  And Yes, dogs do remember their birth mothers.

How cute is this?

For Memorial Day, Remember. Read this post and remember to thank someone for all they’ve done for us.

This is a story that touched my heart. One everyone should read.  I can’t tell you how much this touched me.  It sounds like another silly dog story, until you hit that hook in the end.  If this does not make you cry, and want to support those fighting to keep our freedom, then I don’t know what will.

I don’t know if this is real or fiction, but either way it packs a punch

Reblogged from Jenny Keller Ford’s post from Sept 7, 2012

***

This is a great story…worth reading.

They told me the big black Lab’s name was Reggie, as I looked at him lying in his pen. The shelter was clean, no-kill, and the people really friendly. I’d only been in the area for six months, but everywhere I went in the small college town, people were welcoming and open. Everyone waves when you pass them on the street.

But something was still missing as I attempted to settle in to my new life here, and I thought a dog couldn’t hurt. Give me someone to talk to. And I had just seen Reggie’s advertisement on the local news. The shelter said they had received numerous calls right after, but they said the people who had come down to see him just didn’t look like “Lab people,” whatever that meant. They must’ve thought I did.

But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me in giving me Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog pad, bag of toys almost all of which were brand new tennis balls, his dishes and a sealed letter from his previous owner.

See, Reggie and I didn’t really hit it off when we got home. We struggled for two weeks (which is how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his new home). Maybe it was the fact that I was trying to adjust, too.  Maybe we were too much alike.

I saw the sealed envelope. I had completely forgotten about that. “Okay, Reggie,” I said out loud, “let’s see if your previous owner has any advice.” ____________ _________ _________ _________

To Whomever Gets My Dog:

Well, I can’t say that I’m happy you’re reading this, a letter I told the shelter could only be opened by Reggie’s new owner. I’m not even happy writing it. He knew something was different.

So let me tell you about my Lab in the hopes that it will help you bond with him and he with you.

First, he loves tennis balls. The more the merrier. Sometimes I think he’s part squirrel, the way he hoards them. He usually always has two in his mouth, and he tries to get a third in there. Hasn’t done it yet. Doesn’t matter where you throw them, he’ll bound after them, so be careful. Don’t do it by any roads.

Next, commands. Reggie knows the obvious ones —”sit,” “stay,” “come,” “heel.”

He knows hand signals, too: He knows “ball” and “food” and “bone” and “treat” like nobody’s business.

Feeding schedule: twice a day, regular store-bought stuff; the shelter has the brand.

He’s up on his shots. Be forewarned: Reggie hates the vet. Good luck getting him in the car. I don’t know how he knows when it’s time to go to the vet, but he knows.

Finally, give him some time. It’s only been Reggie and me for his whole life. He’s gone everywhere with me, so please include him on your daily car rides if you can. He sits well in the backseat, and he doesn’t bark or complain. He just loves to be around people, and me most especially.

And that’s why I need to share one more bit of info with you…His name’s not Reggie. He’s a smart dog, he’ll get used to it and will respond to it, of that I have no doubt. But I just couldn’t bear to give them his real name. But if someone is reading this … well it means that his new owner should know his real name. His real name is “Tank.” Because, that is what I drive.

I told the shelter that they couldn’t make “Reggie” available for adoption until they received word from my company commander. You see, my parents are gone, I have no siblings, no one I could’ve left Tank with .. and it was my only real request of the Army upon my deployment to Iraq, that they make one phone call to the shelter … in the “event” … to tell them that Tank could be put up for adoption. Luckily, my CO is a dog-guy, too, and he knew where my platoon was headed. He said he’d do it personally. And if you’re reading this, then he made good on his word.

Tank has been my family for the last six years, almost as long as the Army has been my family. And now I hope and pray that you make him part of your family, too, and that he will adjust and come to love you the same way he loved me.

If I have to give up Tank to keep those terrible people from coming to the US I am glad to have done so. He is my example of service and of love. I hope I honored him by my service to my country and comrades.

All right, that’s enough. I deploy this evening and have to drop this letter off at the shelter. Maybe I’ll peek in on him and see if he finally got that third tennis ball in his mouth.

Good luck with Tank. Give him a good home, and give him an extra kiss goodnight – every night – from me.

Thank you,

Paul Mallory

____________ _________ _________ _______

I folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope. Sure, I had heard of Paul Mallory, everyone in town knew him, even new people like me. Local kid, killed in Iraq a few months ago and posthumously earning the Silver Star when he gave his life to save three buddies. Flags had been at half-mast all summer.

I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbows on my knees, staring at the dog.

“Hey, Tank,” I said quietly.

The dog’s head whipped up, his ears cocked and his eyes bright.

“C’mere boy.”

He was instantly on his feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor. He sat in front of me, his head tilted, searching for the name he hadn’t heard in months. “Tank,” I whispered.

His tail swished.

I kept whispering his name, over and over, and each time, his ears lowered, his eyes softened, and his posture relaxed as a wave of contentment just seemed to flood him. I stroked his ears, rubbed his shoulders, buried my face into his scruff and hugged him.

“It’s me now, Tank, just you and me. Your old pal gave you to me.” Tank reached up and licked my cheek.

“So whatdaya say we play some ball?” His ears perked again.

“Yeah? Ball? You like that? Ball?”

Tank tore from my hands and disappeared into the next room. And when he came back, he had three tennis balls in his mouth.

***

http://jennykellerford.wordpress.com/2012/09/07/wet-nose/

Sunday Snippet from my Paranormal Romance Une Variante

Sunday_Snippets

Happy Sunday Snippets!

Today I decided to give you a snippet from a completed novella that I will be sending out to query sometime mid-January.

Une Variante is a Paranormal Romance, and I am really tickled with it.

Now, I am going to admit that I did the random-number thing here, but when I saw where it landed, I had to giggle, and I stepped up two lines just to get the whole scene in.

Yes, leave it to me to include going to the bathroom in a story.  I had a good reason though.  I needed her out of the room, and hey, when you gotta go, you gotta go, right?

Here’s 112 words from Une Variente. Amanda is getting water for another character who has an upset stomach.

swish swivel squiggle

She walked to the powder room and turned on the faucet. As the cup filled, her own stomach gurgled. Maybe the pizza got her, too. She set the cup down and closed the door, readying to do her business.

Amanda’s reflection stared back at her in the mirror, tracing every imperfection in her aging face. Jason was worried about his body, and he was absolutely beautiful…and look at her. So many little lines and a few silver highlights adding to her dark hair’s glow. My God, what does he even see in me? She hit the bathroom fan and flushed the toilet, scrunching her hair with damp fingers after washing her hands.

swish swivel squiggle

So what do you think?  Ever had a character stuck in the can? Do tell. :-)

Join me with your own Sunday Snippet.  Sign up here and we can bop around and giggle or be wowed by randomly selected snippets of whatever you want to post.  It’ll be fun!

Or post your snippet below.  Hey, I’m easy going.  Whatever makes you happy!

JenniFer_EatonF

Flash Fiction Tuesday – A picture under a door

Rich sat sobbing, leaning over a box, stroking the hair of a little brown ferret.  His friend.  His accomplice.  Ferris had been his best friend since his dog died eight years ago.  They played hide and seek.  They cuddled on the couch.  She always made him smile when he had a bad day at work.

Today was not a day for smiling, as he stroked her side, waiting for her to breathe her last breath.

A piece of paper slid under the door.  He ignored it.  His son was on the other side, peeking through the glass panes.

“Not now, Jason.”

Jason’s lip shot out in a five-year old pout.  He didn’t move.

Rich turned back to the box, grieving over his loss.  He ignored the child staring at him through the glass.  Jason was the problem kid.  He never knew when to leave his Dad alone.  This time was no different.

Jason pounded on the door.

“I said not now!”

Jason stood his ground, and Rich picked up the paper his son had slid under the door….  A simple drawing.  A stick-figure person, and a little brown animal…  A boy and his ferret.

Rich opened the door, and scooped his son up into his arms.  They sat on the couch, and cried… together.

By Request: Who verses Whom

Before I get on to this, I have an overall opinion (I know, shocking)

The English language is evolving rapidly.  Whom is one of those words that is unfortunately falling into the realm of obsolescence.  Mainly, this is from lack of use due to people not understanding how to use it.

Also, when you do use it, whether or not you use it correctly, you end up sounding “hoity-toity” because it is one of those words that has become synonymous with “upper class” for some reason.

So, if you don’t mind sounding hoity toity, and you can stop in the middle of a sentence to figure it out… this is what you need to do:

Decide if the “who or whom” is replacing the word “he/she or him/her”

He/she=who

Him/her=whom.

***Let’s explore this, shall we?***

Who/whom fed the dog?

Eric (he) fed the dog. (Chloe is a happy puppy)

He=who

Therefore, Who is correct.  “Who fed the dog?”

Who/whom should I ask?

Should I ask for he? (NO) Should I ask for him? (YES)

Him=whom

So, Whom is correct.  “Whom should I ask?”

(yeah, like anyone is actually going to say that, right?  Do you hear the hoity-toityness?

Here is an example from Grammar Girl:

We all know who pulled that prank.

But

We want to know on whom the prank was pulled.

Now, let’s be serious.  Does anyone see what I’m seeing?  If you tried to use the second “whom” example in your novel, unless you are writing Historical Romance, people would laugh at you.  Who in their right mind is going to say “We want to know on whom the prank was pulled.”?

You guessed it:  no one.

My suggestion?  Use who, even if it is not correct… especially if it is in speech.  Unless you have a character that is a grammarian, I see no reason to use the word “whom” in realistic speech anymore.

Sad, but true.  Goodbye, whom.  We will miss you.  Please say hello to “whilst” for me.

Canine Good Citizen

This is my “Hundred and One-th” post.  I find that incredibly amusing.  When I started this blog 7 months ago, I had no idea what I was going to write about.  Now you can’t shut me up.  Who Knew?

Anyway… on with today’s rant.

Canine Good Citizen
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In a few different “I accept this award” Q and A sessions over the past month or so, I mentioned I had a Poodle, and that she was training for the AKC CGC test.  A few of you have asked how my little mischievous puppy was doing.  Well…

Today, after six weeks of training and practice sessions, Chloe passed her Canine Good Citizen test (Just barely… she refused to lay down for some reason, but the trainer finally got her to do it–It still counts, though!)

For those of you who are unfamiliar with this huge honor… The Canine Good Citizen is an award given to a dog by the American Kennel Club.  Now, not just any dog can get this.  You actually have to be tested for it by a representative from the AKC.  You have to meet their very stringent criteria.  It is the behavioral training “Bar Exam” for the canine community.

For weeks, we’ve been learning to walk correctly, how to meet a stranger properly, how to react to metal pans being flung against the floor, how to stay and come when called, and how to react with people and other animals, and how to act while left in a room without your owner for an extended period… tons of things.  Ten tests in all.  It’s an awful lot for a puppy that is not even a year old yet.  She even reacted well when the “test” dog snarled at her.  Yay!

We are very proud of our little girl.

Why do this?  Well, for one thing, I… um, Chloe is very competitive, and her litter mate, Kairos just won a ribbon for “Best Gun Dog” in a show, so we had to beat him at something.  (Yay, Chloe!)

Waypoint's Kairos: Pretty Boy with a ribbon

Waypoint's Chloe: Pretty Girl & Canine Good Citizen, in her ribbons

After the test, we celebrated with a romp around Pet Smart shopping for a new toy.  We walked in, I unhooked her from her leash, and she had a great time shopping.  She stayed right by my side.  Sans leash.  And everyone stopped to congratulate her when they heard the news.

Good Girl, Chloe.  Good Girl.