For Puddles on her Birthday

I wasn't sure how to roast a weiner, to tell the truth. I didn't know if I could come up with those witty one-liners that the roasters on teevee use, but I found I could come up with some very bad verse. So that's what I did. You're going to have to work out meter for yourselves. They didn't teach iambic pimiento or any of that in obedience class. All I know is that it rhymes in places, ergo it's a poem. A poem for Puddles:

Reflections on a Roasted Weiner
by me, Lola

She's the lemon in our sweet tea
The Tabasco in our soup
She's always up to something
Even while she goes to poop

She went to intervention
Told them, "Talk to the paw!"
Albert's home just hoping
She's in no trouble with the law

Now Puddles, she is a Preacher
So she's been heard to say
Puddles has a brand new scam
For each and every day

Still, we pray she'll be all right
And come to no bad end
'Cause Puddles Duddles Rainwater
Is our much loved, dear, furiend

Happy, happy birthday, dear Puddles! Stay! just the way you are.

Good Golly Miss Molly!

We just want to post that we're so happy for the good news about Miss Molly-Pops. She sure is a strong, fiesty girl. I won't be uncrossing my paws until she's home with her Mom and feeling herself completely, but that doesn't mean I'm not full of joy at the improvement.

Can't wait to hear that you're home where you belong, Molly. Mr. Pip will be pretty happy, too.

100th Post and Very Belated Award Post

Well, this milestone kind of snuck up on me, I'll tell you. Here it is, my 100th post and I had nothing. Nothing special planned at all. Due to my blogging assistant's injury - which is finally healing - we don't even have new photos. I had to use one from a month or so ago so you'd remember who I am. Another thing that almost got by me was that Road Dog Tales gave me a Versatile Blogger award a while ago and I am terribly late acknowledging that here.

Thank you so very much for thinking of me and I'm sorry for the tardiness. As many of you know, the rules that accompany the Versatile Blogger award include listing 7 things about oneself.  I thought let's put that together with my 100th post, mix well, bend the rules and post a list of things I've learned about being a blogging dog. So that's what I'm doing here, right now.

1. Big Welcome Licks: The pet blogiverse is incredibly welcoming to newcomers.  In my first post I cited two early inspirations. One was Hero and the other was Wimsey. Both came right over to say, "Hi" and Hero has become a very special blogging furiend ever since. Soon after that, yet another VIP (Very Impawtent Pei) Bolo posted about my blog and sent more new furiends over and pretty soon we were right in the middle of the pack! It was just a warm, wonderful beginning!
2.  Does Good and Promotes Animal Rescue: Some blogging pets are from rescue and some are from breeders.It doesn't matter where we came from. We're all for saving our fellow animals from homelessness, abuse, BSL and other horrors. Many blog posts raise awareness of particular situations.There are often contests or other promotions to benefit our less fortunate brothers in fur - or scales, or feathers for that matter. And sometimes we can come together in a concerted effort to make a difference to one furiend in pawticular, as in the case of Shelby. Lots of furiends are trying to help Mona's Mommy and the Pittie Pack help her. It's not all fun and games, pawple. We can be rather serious when it's necessary.
3. Pet/Human Project: Blogging turns out to be a project we do together with our humans, just like training. Those are always good. If they're going to help us blog they have to pay close attention to everything we're doing, thinking, feeling. Not that they didn't before, but blogging doesn't hurt, does it? And who's to say that knowing something will make a great blog post doesn't tip the balance when they're deciding if they should take us along or leave us home? Plus, I've developed my skills as a model. Where I used to be annoyed by the flashy beast, now I pose for it. I figured out that whatever it is, it's all about me, Lola! Well, now I guess it's about Franklin, too. And sometimes the kitties. But it's still a good, not bad, thing.
4.  Good Training: For the humans, that is. From advice about problems we may be having to news about the newest product out there that we might enjoy, our humans have access to a huge number of knowledgeable and informed pet pawple. That can only help them take care of us even better than ever.
5.  Few Aggression Issues: You have to figure with all these pet bloggers from all over the country and the world, there must quite a few humans who would have different views on a lot of things. And yet, we pretty much all get along and learn about each other as individuals, which makes all the difference. We're thinking that if everyone in charge of the country and the world was required to bring a pet everywhere and if everyone at super impawtent meetings sat down and talked about their pets before getting into issues there might be a better chance at reaching understandings. What do you think?
6. Oh, the Places We Go!: The only real way to learn about far away places is from pets who live there, don't you agree? From the steeples of Raleigh, NC to the jungles of Maylasia, we learn about the world. We get to join our furiends on their walks in India, Mexico and Chicago and travel to Airstream festivals, which we never even knew about before, and out west where the buffalo roam (and our cuzzin coyotes, too). We go to Collie-rado and Central Park and all over our  NYC. We have time traveled in Canada. Almost every morning we get to visit a village in rural France and we got mail (and pressies) from Singapore! And there is so much more than we can put down here. Our horizons have been way broadened by our furiends all over this country and the world.
7. Support System: It's a fact that bad things happen sometimes. We get hurt and we get sick and someday each of us will cross the Rainbow Bridge, which is such a sad time for our humans. There is nothing like having furiends and human friends who really, really care.  You know when we send or receive healing vibes we're not just being  polite. We really care about each other and we really feel it one of us is sick or hurt. Whatever the outcome, we'll be here to provide as much support and encouragement as we can during those times and celebrate when things turn out just fine. To that end, we want to dedicate this 100th post to one of our newer furiends, Miss Molly-Pops, who is very sick and in the hospital right now. She and her Mom are never far from our thoughts while they go through this ordeal.

We want to thank you all for coming to visit and teaching me, Lola, all about what it is to be a blogging dog and why that's such a wonderful thing to be.

My Little Brother's Absolutely Final (we think) New Name

I have a couple of apologies to make. Of course none of this is my doing, but it's the innocent who suffer, is it not? Firstly, we were hardly online last night so I know I missed some of my furiends' posts. I will try to catch up today. That couldn't really be helped and does happen sometimes, but I still feel badly about it.

The second thing is where I'm more than just a little embarrassed. After all the encouraging comments you left about my little brother's new name (Brookstr) they changed it again. They said it just wasn't sticking to him. I'm not sure what that means, but you have to remember that even though there are four four-leggers here my humans didn't name any of them, until my brother. They are way out of  practice in coming up with names for anyone at all. (That was my attempt to be the loyal dog that I am and to make excuses for them.) Blog Mom saw something on the TeeVee last night and had an "inspiration". And everyone liked it. Even my little brother is showing early signs that he'll answer to it. So, without further ado, my little brother will henceforth be named Franklin. (You better be sure this time, Mom. I'm telling all my furiends - again.)

So, what was the inspiration, you might ask? Was it something on the History Channel about Benjamin Franklin who was so impawtent he's on some of our best green papers? No. Franklin D. Roosevelt, who was elected president about 100 times? No. My human brother was home and was catching up on episodes of True Blood that he'd missed, and there's a new vampire this season named Franklin. Now Blog Mom says that it's not that she's naming my little brother after a vampire who is kind of crazy even for the undead. It's just that the name sounded right. However, she does see a resemblance.

Not a vampire

Vampire

I don't really see it myself, except that in the show Franklin's eyes are kind of red rimmed a lot and my poor brother basically had his lower eyelids removed in a very drastic surgery for his Entropion and will probably always look like he's very, very hung over.

All of this was almost a moot point as we thought we lost him last night. Someone - I'm not naming any names (Daddy) wasn't careful when opening the front door and he shot right out. These humans are not used to having a doggy who does that. Not since they had labradogs, they said, and that was many years ago. So all hell broke loose. Everyone was running around looking for him. It was very dark and no one could see him. They were all yelling at each other to get flashlight and a leash. No one thought of putting me on a leash and letting me find him, which I would have, right away. Anyhoo, all of a sudden they saw him down the block, under a street light just ambling around. He didn't try to run away when they got to him. He seemed quite pleased that everyone had come out to join him on his evening ramble. All of this only took a few minutes but everyone got some more gray hair because of it. Now they have to learn how to train him not to do that,  and they have to train Daddy to always be extra careful in the meantime.

Thank You to Sue, On Behalf of My Little Brother

We have bark a big thank you to Sue at Dogs-N-More and also the Portuguese Water Dog Blog for devoting a whole post to welcoming Brooklyn. That was so very nice of her and we can't thank her enough. That is why we love the pet blogiverse. It's the friendliest place ever

Say "Thank you to the nice lady, little brother.

. Brooklyn will probably  be the dog formerly known as Brooklyn shortly. It turns out the whole family agrees with me, that while Brooklyn is a pretty good name in general, it doesn't suit the kid. He's not at all cool. Or tough. Or anything you might associate with a name like "Brooklyn". In fact, he's kind of nerdy, in a very nice way. We agreed it might be best to keep part of his original name, so we're strongly leaning toward "Brookstr", leaving off the "e" to be all Web 2.0 about it, like Flickr and Tumblr and whatnot. We have to get used to it ourselves, after calling him Brooklyn for a week.

Sending Huge Vibes to Mango and Other Items

A lot of others have posted about this by now but one more never hurts. We have our paws crossed and are sending good thoughts and much love to the Relentlessly Huge Mango, who had a seizure last night. Woofs can't express how we hope and pray that Mango is just fine and that this turns out to be an isolated incident, which is possible.

Feel better and stay well, huge furiend

Mona and her Mommy have a PayPal button on their blog now, by popular demand. Now you can send green papers to help with Shelby at the click of a button, almost. Even if it's just a little, I know that would help. And continued good vibes for her healing are much appreciated by her Guardian Angels, too. Also, spreading the word that the PayPal account is up and running couldn't hurt either.

Lastly, Blog Mom is hoping to return to work tomorrow. She's been home since Tuesday because of the injury she sustained when adopting Brooklyn. If you didn't read that part, she stepped backward into a hole in the dog run at the shelter and strained her Achilles tendon and tore a calf muscle. The Vet told her to stay home all last week. He said total recovery would take 6 to 8 weeks, but was a little vague about how much better she needed to be to go back to work, so she's going to give it a try. She figures she's only a little better, but most of the improvement came in the last couple of days so maybe she's on her way. Sooo....we don't know how well we're going to be able to keep up with everybody this week. She's way behind at the office and expects to be pretty tired after dragging the foot around all day. We'll try to keep up. But we figure we're sure to miss some posts.

Have a great week, everybody.

Brooklyn - One Week In

Me and my shadow

It has been one week since my new little brother, Brooklyn, joined the family. I've been working with him and we're making good progress. He's responding well to my instruction. What helps a lot is that we're both Shar Pei. While we're not the same person, we do speak the same language. When I "Woof!" he knows exactly what I'm telling him most of the time.

What is up with the nose, dude?

Nothing demonstrates the importance of clear communication better than the trouble the kitties have had with him. I thought Simone had made herself clear to him, but she hasn't been able to in any permanent way. He just doesn't get that they really, really, really don't want to play with him. That's because he doesn't speak kitty. Still and all, you'd think he'd pick up on "Yowl!", "Hisssss!", or at least a claws out swipe. Every cloud has a silver lining, though. I really think that Simone and Happy are starting to bond a little at last.

You keep a look out. I have your back. Way, way back.

The moose is definitely Brooklyn's go-to stuffie for now. 

Don't be alarmed by the choke collar. That wasn't for training. From the human point of view he hardly needs any basic training. It was on there for a couple of days so that he could be walked safely. Due to Blog Mom's injuring her leg and her already damaged foot we haven't been able to go out and get Brooklyn a proper starter wardrobe. He's still wearing his collar from the shelter, which was a little big for him and not safe for walking on the street. Any extras of mine would be too big too, not to mention too girly. He's already filled that collar out so the chain is off. Once we get all Moms functional we'll all go out and get him his own leash and a properly sized collar and harness.

As I mentioned in a previous post, he needed to take Dog Bed 101 and we were already making good progress. I think we can agree that he's  passed that course with flying colors.

Synchronized Sleeping

I had to teach him not to bug me too much. That course is still in progress but he's doing much better. It doesn't hurt that now that he's gotten used to not having to spend his time in a crate he isn't as hysterical to be active every minute. We Pei can do zoomies with the best of them, but we are not generally hyper doggies and can even enjoy vegging out at a pretty young age. He's getting there.

The best thing of all is something we didn't catch on the flashy beast. We have achieved successful play! Somehow or other Daddy helped explain what to do to Brooklyn. Daddy's still not sure how, but it looked to me like he was demonstrating a little. So, on Thursday we had an abbreviated but successful play session during my lively period. My liveliest periods of the day are when I come out of my antihistamine induced languor. It's been a ruff summer, pawple. Yesterday we had a more extended play session which was a little rambunctious for the living room,  perhaps, but it's way too hot to play outside as far as I'm concerned.

The biggest adjustment for me is dinner time. I've gotten used to taking a leisurely approach to dining. When dinner is served I decide if it meets with my approval. If it does, I still might only eat half of it and come back later for a bit here and there as the evening goes on. It keeps the humans on their toes and they're pathetically grateful on the rare occasion when I decide to just eat dinner right up. You can't really do that in a two doggy household. Luckily, I'm experienced in living in a pack that includes other dogs, and I've been a mother as well. So, I'm learning all over again to eat with an eye to the competition. That's not to say that it's not going to be a huge problem for someone when they serve me something I'm bored with. I'm also used to being a picky eater and Brooklyn certainly seems to have the potential to be the same.

Brooklyn! Don't be so eager. Make them beg you to eat it.

 As far as Brooklyn's temperament and general personality are concerned - he's very sweet. He's a bit of a big baby and the name "Brooklyn" is just ridiculous for him. If you're named Brooklyn you should be either kind of tough or very cool in a hipster kind of way. Brooklyn is neither. We considered changing it, but he seems to know it and family policy is not to mess with adopted pets' heads too much. He's not a fearful dog, but he scares a lot easier than I do. He's clingy, too. His biggest problem is who to follow when we don't all stay in the same room. He naps with one eye open so he knows if anyone tries to get away. No one really minds, though, because he's clingy in a sweet, cute way, according to the humans. He doesn't lick, though. No licky kissies, which is kind of a shame because it's an area where we Pei excel. Maybe he was trained not to. Some humans don't like doggy kisses, which I think is totally ridiculous and my humans all agree.

One worrying thing is that he has no prey instinct whatever, as far as I can see. Do you know what I saw when I looked out the upstairs window this morning? Two squirrels on the ground within  ten feet of our back door and a variety of birds all kind of hopping around and my little brother, just drifting around as though there was nothing happening that required his attention. It looked like a forest scene out of Snow White if you overlook the parched, brown grass.What is up with that? When I go out and run after a squirrel Brooklyn runs after ME!  We'll have to work on this when the weather is cooler. If he's going to be here, he's going to help me double-team those tree rats.

Blog the Change for Animals

I only just recently learned about Blog the Change for Animals days and found out that today was one such day late yesterday. No time to do a really proper post about such an impawtent subject, but I'm going to do the best I can on the spur of the moment. The rules say you can post in support of your favorite shelter, a foster or a friend. It's all up to the individual.

To start with it seems like a pawfect time to post about Shelby and the efforts that are being made to save her by  Mona's Mom and friends. Lots of people have told the story of Shelby, the pretty little pittie who was probably used as bait. Here is my post about it. At the request of many of us, Mona's Mommy is going to put up a PayPal account for anyone who wants to donate to Shelby's care. Shelby's not out of the woods yet and is going to need a lot more medical care no matter what, but the loving care she's gotten so far does seem to have some nice results.

Mona's Mommy and Sandra went into this planning to take on the whole financial burden by themselves. They are angels of mercy is what they are. We are all grateful. As a great writer once wrote, "No dog is an island, entire of itself...any dog's death diminishes me, because I am involved in caninekind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee." I think it's for this very reason that Mona's Mommy is asking for the Power of Paw. She never really asked for money. Some have just wanted to give. But she has asked for good wishes, prayers, any kind of pawsitive vibes that could be sent along. Maybe if someone who doesn't know the story already sees this today they'll stop by and lend moral or other support.

Next time I'll blog all about my alma mater - Sean Casey Animal Rescue and also about the very recent adoption of my brand new brother from the Islip Town Animal Shelter. It will be a pleasure, really. But it seemed like this was the moment to bark about Shelby.

Assessing Brooklyn

I've been doing some serious reflection and soul searching on the subject of my new little brother. I was a little startled at first, you understand. The biggest thing I was planning  to cope with last Saturday was a bath and it turned out that major life changes were in store. Plus the bath. But the fact is that I was rescued. Yes, I also rescued my humans. I rescued them from a life without me, Lola, which was simply not nearly as good as life with me. Be that as it may, I was the one living in a crate waiting for a furever home and I have been so very happy in the one I found. It would be wrong, wrong, wrong to be unwilling to Pei that forward and Brooklyn represents an opportunity to give someone else a bit of what I've got. Not to mention that giving him a home might get another doggy a little more time to find his or her forever home at the shelter. That doesn't mean  it's all peace, love and understanding every minute. And it doesn't mean I'm not going to call him Dorkface Boy from time to time, because sometimes that's what he is.

When you can take the pebble from my paw, Young Grasshopper, you will be allowed on the couch.

Of course there's rather a lot of distance between deciding that I should welcome the chance to make a pawsonal sacrifice and actually enjoying my little brother.We're just starting that journey. I hope it doesn't turn out to take forever. In all honesty I have to admit that he's going to be a pretty good dog if he learns a few things and gets a little more life experience. I just don't know how long that's going to take.

From the human perspective he's quite a find, like most Pei. He doesn't chew anything he's not supposed to. He doesn't think he's allowed on the furniture so he doesn't get up on it even though I do. We don't actually have that rule, but we're not telling him quite yet. He's totally housebroken.  Blog Mom was a little worried about that but charged ahead anyway. What's the matter with her? What happened was that on Saturday, while Alpha Mom and I were both getting groomed (same time, different shops) she sneaked went down to the shelter. It seems she'd been looking at the Petfinder site again and when there was a Shar Pei at the local municipal shelter she couldn't stop herself.  She got there, asked for him and he was brought out into this room they have for that kind of meeting. She wasn't worried when he went all crackadaisical, running all over, because she knew he was living in a crate and not everydog can handle that situation with the kind of poise that I did during my time in shelter. She was a tad concerned with the fact that he lifted his leg and marked in the room - indoors, pawple - every 15 seconds. Obviously, this didn't stop her and she went ahead and dragged invited Alpha Mom and me down to meet Brooklyn that same day. In fact, turns out our stop at Petco was to get him something to wear around the house in case this behavior continued at home. Not needed. Once in my our home he did not lift that leg once inside. He sits, and he even stays if you tell him just right. Not for long, but then I'm not one for the long stay myself unless I didn't want to get up anyway. He's barkier than I am, and they have mixed feelings about that. More of a guard dog, but also more of a nuisance. I don't much care either way.

That's the human angle. From the canine perspective he's a bit of a dunce. First off I had to demonstrate the purpose of a dog bed. We dragged out my old one for him to use for now. He seemed to think it was a giant stuffy.   He did pick that lesson up fairly quickly, I must admit.

Is this right, Big Sis?

He doesn't know anything about chasing squirrels or birds. Birds just walk around the yard , not even bothering to fly, when he's out there without me - and if he's out there it's without me if I have anything to say about it. I saw a squirrel just hanging out on a tree trunk not more than 3 feet from the ground with Brooklyn just standing there a couple of yards away. I think the squirrel was taunting him.

What I found out last night was that despite his constant and noisy demands that I play with him, he doesn't actually know how to do that either. He gets into play stance - you know, front down, haunches up and make all kinds of "C'mon, play with me. Let's go! Please, please, please!" noises,but he's all talk, no action. That was most clearly demonstrated in what will live forever as one of his most embarrassing  moments if I have anything to do with it. I was feeling expansive and lively after dinner so when he started I rolled over and made the appropriate noises indicating my willingness to do a little bitey face. He just stood there looking confused. But wait! It gets better. Being confused didn't stop him from starting the whole routine over again when I got up so I got in play position myself, only with haunches down and said, "OK, bring it. You want to romp? We'll romp right here in the living room."  Do you know what he did? He looked like a deer in headlights and very slowly lowered his back end onto the ground and then pretended that he just wanted to take a little rest anyway.

I think that was even funnier than the other day when I was interrupted from my morning nap by the sound of a terrifed "Yelp!!". Simone was chasing Brooklyn down the hallway and he was running as if for his life. Simone may be getting older but she's still got it. Happy's way of coping is different. He just sought higher ground until Simone schooled Brooklyn in the ways of the feline.

 It didn't take long and Hapless is already back in his basket. Simone doesn't mess around. I don't want you to think that Brooklyn is a total wuss, though. He did take down a moose.

 So, that's where we're at right now. It's a mitzvah to take him in and I'm OK with that. He's good raw material but needs a lot of molding and educating. And right now he's a pain in my tail.

Wordless(ish) Wednesday

Must. Not.Let.Her.Sleep.

Pressies from Zelle

I got some lovely gifts today from the very lovely Zelle. She didn't have to, but she did. Besides being great pressies, I believe I'm the first one in my family to get mail from Singapore. Normally we'd have a photo of my opening the box and savoring each item. Things aren't normal here right now, however, what with a brand new little brother sticking his nose in everything. However, all is not lost. My box was pretty much just like Hero's and his is properly displayed in his post. I also don't have a photo of the doggy biscuits. Because they're in my tummy. Oh my Dog, they were delicious! I have e-mailed Zelle to find out what they were. I'm not normally a fan of the biscuit, but I loved those. I hope they're something that can be gotten here in the U.S. and that they're not something I'd have to count on one of the Moms to make from scratch.  Of course, the handmade star was the star of the package and I have photos of that.

I feel pretty! Oh so pretty!

I had to go show this off a little. Walkies are a problem because we don't have too many humans who can walk right now. Blog Mom is off to the Vet again tomorrow. After her mishap with the hole in the ground at the dog run all her lower leg and ankle are blown up to twice their size. Daddy always has big trouble with his feets these days. Luckily Alpha Mom is not broken. Yet. And our foster bass player was at home, so we had four good legs and I got to go show off out in the world just a bit.

Of course I didn't want Brooklyn to feel left out. He might be driving me a little crazy and maybe he is a bit of a dorkface, but he's still got feelings. I let him wear the pawty hat for a while. After all he just came out of confinement himself.

Brooklyn always seems to be in a pawty mood, so a pawty hat is most appropriate for him.

Thank you so much, Zelle. This was so extra nice and thoughtful of you. And every time I wear my star, I'll think of you. Your Mom is so creative and talented, too.

The Biggest News Ever for Me, Lola

Yesterday was the most amazing, surprising day ever since the day I moved in here. I'm still in a bit of a tizzy over it, although you can't always tell that with me. I guess I'll just tell you about it from the beginning.  The day started out normally enough. I went for my bath. Alpha Mom picked me up and brought me home. Blog Mom was out, but came home shortly after. I sniffed right away that she'd been with another dog. Well, of course that happens once in a while, but I studied the smells on her pants very carefully. (This is foreshadowing.) Quite soon after she came home all three of us ladies got into the car to go out again. I couldn't imagine where we were going. It was pouring rain. I hate that. It was no weather for a noseventure, but here we were, heading out someplace.

Our first stop was a Petco store. I love shopping so that was fun. For some reason there was no flashy beast to capture me adorably standing up and putting my paws on the counter while we were checking out. I wanted to pawticipate in the whole shopping experience. After that  it was time to head home, right? Not so much.

Our next stop was a building that I'd never been to before. Or rather the parking lot of the building. There was a lot of barking coming out it and some very interesting smells in the air. Blog Mom went in alone and then came back out and then we all just sat in the car for a little while. This is just not making a lot of sense to me. Finally a lady came out the door, with a doggy on a leash. Normally I'm delighted to meet new furiends, but I don't care for hanging out in parking lots in the pouring rain and this is what it seemed was expected of us. The doggy sniffed me like mad and was all, "Hey, you're a Shar Pei! I'm a Shar Pe! How cool is that? My name's Brooklyn, what's yours?  Let's be best friends right now! We'll sniff each other and then we'll sniff some more and it'll be great!Please, please please." And I was all, "Some other time young dude. It's freaking raining cats and, er..cats out here. "

Next up in this whacked out scenario was to walk over to a fenced in spot, with an awning, thank Dog. There was also lots and lots of mud in there. Once in there, it was leashes off . I was interested in two things: Staying under the awning and climbing up on a bench that was there to get away from the mud. Young Brooklyn, despite clearly being a Pei, seemed oblivious to the rain and mud and just want to advance the friendship that we had not established. He sniffed me. I pretty much ignored him. We both had to jump up on the Moms from time to time to check in and cover them with mud. Served them right, seems to me. About this time, Blog Mom stepped backwards and into a sizable hole that was there. With her bad foot, of course. She yelped like she'd been bitten and, oh it was bad for a little while there. It's still bad today but not AS bad.

Ok, finally time to go home for really truly. We got our soaked, muddy selves back into the car, but hey, wait just a freakin' minute. Three of us had arrived and by my count there were four of us in the car now. What was up with that?  Could it be?

Hi I'm Brookyn! I'm very glad to meet....EVERYONE!

Yes, it could. It seems I've got myself a little brother, like it or not.  He's about a year and a half old and we got him from the town animal shelter. He was given up, according to his owners, because they had to move to a place where they couldn't have dogs. I'm sure they didn't mean to screw up like that, but he hadn't been neutered - the shelter did that. He needed entropion surgery, which you have to figure could happen if you get a Shar Pei puppy, and the shelter had to do that, too. He should have been treated for it as a puppy, but it didn't seem he was. In fact his eyes haven't finished healing from that yet. We're taking him to the vet next week to follow up on them.

You can kind of see here that they look funny, but you can't see how red they are all around the rims and I think there might be a couple of stitches still in.

So how did this happen? I gather it was Blog Mom's idea, but she was supported in this by the others. They give reasons - wanting another doggy to help me stay young and active and wanting to give back to the Shar Pei community, seeing as I turned out to be so nearly perfect that they didn't feel they'd paid enough dues or something. The people at the shelter were pretty happy that Brooklyn was going to a home with another Shar Pei. I do have to say that.  But I know the real reason. Shar Pei are like potato chips. It's really hard to stop at just one.  Of course, no one asked me, Lola. Oh, I suppose that meeting in the rain was supposed to be where they asked, but I don't think they explained the question very well. I'm still considering what I think of it all. I don't dislike him. He's kind of sweet, it's sort of interesting having him here and he's submissive to me, Lola.  Oh, and he loves, loves, loves me. Those are some of the positives.

Checking him out, trying to decide what I think.

 He always wants to play. If I play with him a little, he just wants to keep it up way longer than I feel like it. He loves, loves, love me and he follows me everywhere. EVERYWHERE. That can get old fast. I have a lot of work to do if I'm going to get him trained to suit my lifestyle. Those are a couple of the negatives.

C'mon! Play with me! I wanna play. I love you! Please, please play with me!

He barks when he's trying to get me to play. You see what I have to put up with? Life was very peaceful. However, it seems the family has made a commitment to Brooklyn already, so sending him packing is not going to be an option.

When I say he's always up my butt, I'm just telling it like it is.

 As you can see from this lovely shot, he's a different type of Shar Pei from me, Lola. He's more like the traditional Pei. He keeps all his wrinkles on this head. None on his body at all. And he's teeny bit taller than I am but he's a lot lighter. He has long thin legs. He looks skinny compared to me, but you can feel my ribs and not his. He'll probably fill out a little more by the time he's two, but not all that much. He does have a nice meat mouth, though. It's his best feature.

The kitties, of course, are none too pleased. He's not too bad about them. He doesn't mistake them for prey or anything, but I think he mistakes them for puppies and tries - you guessed it - to play with them. They don't want to play with him and they never, ever will. I tried to explain that but he doesn't get it yet.


Other general impressions are that he's as much a goody two paws as I am when it comes to house manners. He's also just as picky an eater. I like that. On the other paw, he does slobber rather a lot. I only rarely slobber. He seems to foam up at the drop of a leash. He's not doing it as much today as yesterday, though. So maybe it's the excitement and stress of moving into a new pack.

A decision was made by the human contingent that I would continue to sleep upstairs with Alpha Mom as always and Brooklyn would sleep downstairs. Blog Mom fully expected to have a fairly sleepless night with a young doggy in a brand new situation, whereas everyone was sure that, being given a break from Brooklyn, I would happily fall into bed and sleep deeply until morning. Well, you know the old saying, "Man plans, Dog laughs.". Turns out that Brooklyn totally gets lights out and spent a quiet night. I, on the other hand, could not seem to sleep. Which meant that Alpha Mom didn't get much sleep either.

I guess you can stay as long as you understand who's top dog. And I see that you do.

 So that  my furiends, is my big news. Life here is never going to be quite the same again. I'm leaning toward being OK with it, but I expect it'll be a bit of a rocky road while we adjust to our new situation. I do think that Brooklyn has some potential and if there must be little brother, he's probably as good a choice as any. I'm just not sure whether I wanted one or not. I suppose I'll be posting about our progress in establishing our new family configuration quite a bit for while. And I hope to get some advice from experienced older siblings like Ranger, Mango, Asa And  you can bet I will be turning to Twinkie's Advice Column quite a bit in the coming weeks, I think.

Sofa Tortitude

Well, Simone just had a hissy fit when Happy was featured in a post and she was not, so tonight is for her. Here she is, having tortitude on the back of the sofa.

OK, happy now, Simone? But hey, watch this space. The next post will have real news. Big news. I hope we'll have it up tomorrow. There's quite a lot going on here so it's hard to be sure. But it's big, I tell you.

Grey Pei Hits The Stage

What do you get when you cross a Greyhound with a Shar Pei? Acting! This beauty is playing Sandy in a Sioux City production of Annie, after which she'll be available for adoption. I bet she won't have any trouble finding a furever home. The question is, will she be content to be a stay-at-home dog after this, or will she long to try her luck among the bright lights of Broadway. My advice would be "Stay!". It's ruff out there. But with a smile like that she's going to get offers, I bet. Do you think she's wearing eye liner or is that just natural beauty?

While I'm here, I want to apologize for spotty visiting and very light commenting the last day or so. My assistant is having a lot of trouble with her sinuses  and pain and up half the night and all that and while I've been reading as many blogs as I can without much help from her, she keeps whining instead of typing the comments I've been dictating to her. If we can get her fixed up, we should be back in decent form over the weekend. She better hurry. Simone says it's her turn to have her picture up. I don't know where Simone got the idea that this is in any way a group blog, but I'm a little afraid to set her straight.

Power of the Paw and Maybe the Purse Needed for Pittie

Hi everybuddy. I expect that most of you know that Mona's Mommy and her friend are trying to save a poor little pittie girl who was probably used as BAIT!  They were pretty sure that a shelter would see her as a lost cause and euthanize her so they're taking this on themselves. They named her Shelby and it's no sure thing that she's going to make it, but they're trying their best to get her the medical care she needs and give her a chance.

They didn't ask for any help, but some pawple asked them about sending some donations and we are certainly going to send something as soon as we can. And what I thought was if all of us sent something - even a very little - it would add up to quite a bit. And if we all blog about it, maybe word will get around and their expenses will be mostly covered or at least considerably defrayed. Mona's Mommy will send her address to you if you e-mail her about it. She can be reached through the address on Mona's profile. It's a wonderful thing they're doing and I just thought that a lot of us would probably like to help them do it.

Dining With Kitties

One thing that kind of drives Blog Mom crazy is that the kitties' dishes have to live on the kitchen table most of the time. That's because if they put them on anything lower the dog eats the cat food. Oh, wait a minute! The dog would be me, Lola. All right. I guess I do that. Why is it that cat food tastes so much better than dog food? I even like it better than most human food, except cheese, of course. I even like the dry cat food. Won't touch the dry dog food. Anyway, my humans insist that unlike the goose vs gander situation, what's good for the kitty is not good for the doggy. Too much protein or something. So it goes up on the table. But I digress. Blog Mom thought of putting the dishes on trays or something so they wouldn't be right on the table and could more easily be whisked away. She had a sort of basket tray thingy handy when she thought of it so she used that.  A little later she found that Happy seemed to approve. But not in the way she had in mind.

She'd forgotten that Happy loves baskets and his favorite baskets are ones that are too small for him. So now the dishes still live on the kitchen table and Happy's been spending his days like this:

But the basket has turned out to be useful for one kitty's dining comfort:

Score this one Happy 1, Blog Mom 0.

Frankie's Name Game - Or How I Became Me, Lola

Today is the day to play Frankie's Name Game. First off, I guess I have to tell you that my name story is not so very fascinating. I'm mostly playing because, being a dog, sometimes I indulge in a certain pack mentality and the rest of the pack is doing it, so...well, there you go. For one thing, none of our current household pets were named by any of our current humans. In fact, Blog Mom tells me that the last pets that they got to name themselves have since passed on to the Rainbow Bridge of disorders connected with old age. The only member of our household who was named by anyone in our household is my human brother, who is 31 and he was named after Daddy. Boorrring.

As I've mentioned before, I'm a graduate of the Sean Casey Animal Rescue in Brooklyn, NY. I got the name "Lola" while I was matriculating there. There are some connected issues that are interesting to me and my humans. I wasn't surrenderd to Sean Casey. I was surrendered to Animal Control with my puppy and Puppy Daddy. We all went to Sean Casey right after that. Sooo, all the Sean Casey people had was my Animal Control records and the name on my paper from them was "Juson". I never answered to that, though. They thought maybe they weren't pronouncing it right and maybe they weren't, being that it turned out that French was my first language and they didn't know that. But really, it's only two syllables and there are only so many ways to say it. There was this man working there who loved me a pawticular lot and would take care of me whenever he was there. Spanish was his first language and for whatever reason he thought that Lola was a good name for me. I guess I did, too, because I answered to that very quickly. When the Moms came and adopted me they thought I'd been through enough changes and didn't really consider changing my name since I seemed OK with it. They did try out the name that was on the papers, though, and once they figured out that I was a French speaking dog they tried it with the best French accent they could. Still nothing. It was like I'd never heard it before. So we stayed with Lola, which is fine by me.

The Moms think that maybe the people who surrendered me weren't my original owners at all and my name (and maybe my age) might not have been right. One of the reasons that they think this is that on the same paper with what was supposed to be my name was the information that I was in dirty condition when I was surrendered. Now let me tell you that a dirty Pei is an uncared for Pei. We need our ears cleaned and also we tend to have skin issues. I know I do. If I'd been neglected for most of my life I would have been a mess by the time I got to rescue. As it was, all I really needed was a bath (ugh). As my new humans got to know me they had to conclude that I'd spent most of my life being well cared for. I was affectionate, friendly, confidant and  optimistic. I wasn't fearful or defensive at all. I seemed very familiar with all manner of creature comforts. I was very well behaved and socialized. Once the language barrier was cleared up it was apparent that I was trained, too, at least in basic commands. Sooo...what happened there? I guess we'll never know for sure, but it is the subject of a fair amount of speculation around the house.

Now I'm going to stay out of the heat and just read everydog's entry in the Name Game for awhile.

Coming to America

The United States is often called a "nation of immigrants" and it's one of the things it's most known for, too. While there have been those who came here out of a sense of adventure and because they believed they'd find limitless opportunity and some didn't come of their own free will, a whole lot of our forebears have come here to escape something. They came to escape religious persecution, famine, poverty, class stratification and political oppression. We Shar Pei are no different and we belong in the last group. Of course, all Chinese Shar Pei know our breed history and our brush with extinction but perhaps not everyone does. In any case, it seems fitting on the weekend when the USA celebrates its national birthday that I post about being a grateful Shar Pei-American.

This video make an excellent musical soundtrack for my post. You don't have to turn it on. Just saying that if you want to, it adds dramatic value.

 Give me  your tired, your paws
Your wrinkled masses yearning to breath free

While I was born here, my American roots only go back as far as the 1970's at the earliest. What happened was that up until the middle of the last century Shar Pei were not known outside of China.  We were, depending on who you believe, farm dogs, guard dogs, hunting dogs or fighting dogs. Probably we were all of those things over time and depending on our humans. We are one of the most ancient breeds and had plenty of time to get to everything on that list. Then in the 1960's the Cultural Revolution happened in China. That turned out badly for a lot of Chinese humans and all Chinese dogs. I guess at some point, someone wanting to score some points with Mao came up with the idea that they should wipe out all the dogs. Because things just weren't dismal enough. So they did. And because Shar Pei were only IN China, after being around since at least around 200 B.C.E. we were about to be no more. And we'd have just been history by not if not for our hero, Matgo Law.

 Matgo Law was a young, Hong Kong businessman and dog breeder. The long term future of Hong Kong itself was very much up in the air at the time, as it was leased to Great Britain and the lease would be up in 1997. Mr. Law didn't want to see the end of the Shar Pei, so sent out an appeal to dog breeders in the US and Canada, too, I believe, to help him save the Shar Pei. And some did. The breeding stock was small and not always the best, but we were for a time the rarest dog in the world and people were paying a fortune for one of us. In fact, the pool of surviving Shar Pei was so small that it's very likely that Hero, Bolo, Lois Lane, and the few other blogging Shar Pei we've found, and I are all fairly close relatives, even though we may live in different countries. Actually, Hero's in Maylasia, but his grandpawrents came from Calfornia, if memory serves.

Of course there've been problems along the way. The limited breeding stock produced terribly short life spans and some dogs with unfortunate temperaments, Familial Shar Pei Fever and allergies among other problems. Some breeders had the bright idea that if some wrinkles were cute tons of them would be even better so they bred us to have too many for our own good for a while. I've heard that there have been times when Mr. Law has regretted that he did what he did because of all the problems associated with our breed. I hope that's not how he really feels now, though. We're still improving. We're living longer and healthier and while there are no doubt Shar Pei out there with temperament issues there are many more as friendly and calm and lovely as we blogging  Pei are. And what immigrant group hasn't encountered huge challenges, I ask you? Most have. You just have to keep on going and overcome. I, for one, am grateful every day that I'm here to take care of my human family and I know that my family is at least as happy about it as I am.

Things have loosened up in China too, of course, and people can have dogs there again and even paint them if they so choose. It's still considered OK to eat dog in China, and although I read somewhere that there's an effort underway to make that illegal I think I'll wait to visit my ancestral home until that's settled law. Just in case.

I'll be finishing my July 4th celebration by playing Frankie's Name Game, wherin we tell the story of our names. I better get working on that one pretty soon, huh?

Let's Go Mets

I'm starting out the holiday weekend by helping the humans root for the Mets. Daddy and I like to watch the games. Well, I might sleep through some of the very long ones, but then, so does Daddy, sometimes.

Tonight my human brother is here. He's having a night off. His friend is here, too and Daddy and the Moms and we're all watching baseball. That's a pretty pawfect evening and a great start to the weekend. Plus our team is winning, at least so far. Probably because of the support they're getting from me, Lola.