We are SUPER touched to have been given a blogging award (our first) by the amazing Kristen, Zaphod and Hailey over at The Hailey and Zaphod Chronicles! It's called 'Seven Things About Me', where you guessed it- we list 7 things y'all don't know about us!

2) Scott initially thought that Zoe didn’t have a tongue (weird- I know). When we adopted her, she was barely three months old and didn’t know how to properly clean herself. Somehow this all led to Scott coming to the conclusion that she was missing her tongue, a concern I quickly dismissed after explaining how the humane society would have definitely mentioned if she were missing something like that. Ironically, Zoe licks everything, including Scott’s head.

4) I have never seen a dog get as excited as Bonnie does when I show her the leash. I mean- ever. She doesn’t care where she’s going- I think she’s just happy that she’s leaving the house WITH us, and not watching us go to work. She does this happy Snoopy dance around the front hall, with some intense ‘hands up’ action.

6) I suffer from a condition called anosmia, which basically means I don’t have a sense of smell. Long story short, I fell off my bike while riding without a helmet and severed the nerve (let that be a lesson to all you kidlets!). And before you ask, yes my taste sucks and I haven’t been able to smell for almost 12 years so I don’t overly miss it. It does however make it difficult to find out where the dog has peed…..or pooped…You know the ‘find the poop’ game? Well it’s like triple harder for me. It’s more like “find the mysterious poop that is purposely hiding from you’. Dark rooms with hiding poop are my nemesis.

Here are some of my FAVORITE blogs- not all are pet oriented. BUT still deserve some honorable mention :)

The Hailey and Zaphod Chronicles
The Lucky Dog Rescue
Furry Four Legged Fosters
Life With Desmond
The Joyful Turtle
Life With Claire
Barley & Ali (not active, but old posts are still a fabulous read!)

A friend of mine sent me this link to a site called 'A Letter To Your Dog'. Before y'all click on that link, I suggest you grab a box of kleenex. Maybe even clear your schedule, cause you MIGHT be bawling by the end of it.

How awesome would it be if we all wrote letters to our dogs. Heck, how awesome would it be if they could read them! I'm sure they'd appreciate our witty humor, rolling their eyes as they read over how much we love them. I know my dogs would probably blush saying "Jeeze Mom....why'd you have to be so gushy about us". Then I'd fix them a snack and we'd all cuddle up to watch Long Island Medium, cause that's how we roll in our house.
 
So, here's what I'd like to ask. If you have a dog blog (which by the way IS cool), write your own letter to your dog(s) and post it on your site. If you don't have a blog (which you might as well should), then post your letter under the comments section of this one. It's okay, we can share! (Cough...clearly directed at you Laura. Let's get some Loki stories up in hurrr). Let's face it- there's nothing better than getting a good laugh in the morning at a hilarious letter someone wrote their pet. And you know what- you don't have to be a current pet owner! Ya, that's right Kimmy. Heck- write a letter to your bunny, cat or fish! They will appreciate it, I'm sure :) And we can all benefit from a funny read during our morning coffee.

Here is my letter to my furry monsters, Bailey and Bonnie.

Dear Dogs Butts that take over the couch,

You’d think that when I wake up each morning, cold and shivering, that I’d be upset with the sheet stealing dogs lying comfortably beside me. You’d also think that I’d be mad when I leave the room and return to the remains of a once expensive dog toy all over the place, leaving tuffs of fake snow in its path. Sure, sometimes I wish that you wouldn’t eat the cat’s poop. Actually, I wish that all the time. But there have been times where I do things I’m not proud of, and seeing as how you don’t judge me, it seems only fair I return the favor.

Although I pretend it doesn’t, it makes me incredibly happy when you go crazy the second I walk through the door. The destruction of the blinds covering the windows and intensely high pitch dog scream seems like the right price to pay just to have something be so incredibly happy that I’ve come home. I love the craziness that ensues when I show you both your leashes and the realization on your faces when you figure out we’re going to the dog park. I know there are moments where I can simultaneously embarrass both of you around your dog friends by being too lovey, and I think it’s hilarious that I can do  this to dogs.  I know you don’t agree, but those sweaters I buy you are both adorable and very fashionable. I’d love it if you’d just please Mom just this once and wear them with no arguments.

I know you love me, because it’s written all over your faces. There’s never been a doubt in my mind that the two dogs that I call mine love me until the end of time. But I don’t know if you both know how immensely I love you. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect or care for you both. I’d spend all the money I have keeping you healthy and happy. I spend hours telling friends and family all about you, whether they asked about you or not. Doesn’t matter because I’ve developed the amazing ability to relate any story to something funny you’ve both done. I don’t care when a strand of dog hair ends up in my baking; it’s my special ingredient, and makes everything taste better.

You’ll always have a home with us. It doesn’t matter where we live or move to, because we will always take you with us. You’re not just our pet, you’re a crucial part of our funny little family. I’ll always have a warm bed waiting for you. And maybe, just maybe, there might be some Dentabones waiting for you too. I know you don’t know this, but aside from being yummy, they’re good for your teeth. See? That’s how much I love you.

Thanks for being my dogs. In exchange for the awesome devotion you’ve given since day one, I’ll pretend that while you’re drooling on my foot at the sight of some delicious meal that it’s just lightly raining inside. You can do no wrong my two sweet dogs. Even when you eat my shoes I’ll forgive you. But touch my Christian Louisboutin and we might be in a pickle. Either way, it doesn’t matter because life with my dogs is better than anything I could have planned.

The adoption papers are misleading. They show our names clearly printed along the ‘adopters’ line, with your name scribbled on ‘pet’s name’ under the Adoptee section. They say we rescued you, which I suppose technically is correct. The truth however is that you rescued us from a boring, dog-less life. Where would we be having not known the love you can only receive from a pet? Thank you for making sure we never have to find out.

I love you both more than you can know.

Lots of embarassing kisses and cuddles,

Mum xoxo

Exactly one year ago today, this tiny little black puppy entered our lives. Since then, things have never been the same. Our lives have changed in the best possible way.

The story goes like this........

I had wanted a dog. Badly. One night, I rolled over in my sleep and said the word 'dog' to my husband. That's right- I wanted a dog so much I was dreaming about them. Scott was fairly adamant on not getting one. "We don't have room for a dog! We don't have time for a dog! The apartment isn't tidy enough for a dog! When will you walk the dog?". These statements haunted me. I knew that we could give a dog the most amazing life. We were dog people! We had the lifestyle that would allow a dog. Between the two of us, we have a cottage beside a lake, and a hunting camp that sits at the bottom of a mountain, covered in trails. The Sundays we spent doing nothing at home could very easily be traded in for a few hours at the dog park. I just knew that we were meant to have a dog.

I spent weeks trying to prove to Scott that I was ready to have a dog. I kept the apartment clean, I got up early to prove I could walk her before work, I came home straight from work to prove I could make the time commitments to let the dog out. I even re-arranged the furniture, highlighting the perfect space for a dog crate. Simply put, I was determined!

It was SHOCKING when Scott agreed to respond to the add I found on the internet. Yes, I know how terrible it is to get a dog online, and believe me I would never support it again. But for the sake of this story, we have to admit that we got Bailey from someone with a bogus story about why they were selling her. I emailed the woman, and woke up periodically throughout the night to see if she had emailed me back.

Thankfully, somewhere in all of this I managed to not only I convince the woman to not sell the dog until we saw her, but lightly influenced Scott to drive out to the middle of no where with me to go see her. All I had to do was make it through the next day and a half with Scott not changing his mind. Don't get me wrong, he definitely invited me out to lunch the day of the visit, and expressed his second thoughts. The whole conversation was devastating, as I had already imagined my life with this little black dog, that I would name Stella. Thankfully, using my inherited big brown eyes, I drew on the puppy dog look and whimpered my way through begging Scott to go see her.

That's all it took. He saw her, she saw him and that was it. For a while I was worried that things wouldn't work out- Scott wanted a night to sleep on it. We politely told the questionable people that we'd call them later tonight with a final answer, and I somberly walked back over to the car. About ten minutes into the drive home, a song came on the radio. I like to think it was whatever higher powers that are out there telling us that we were meant to have that dog. It was "Good to you" by Marianna's Trench. The words are along the lines "If you were good to me, I would be so good to you". It struck a chord with him. All he could think was that if we gave this dog a chance and were good to her, the amazing things she would bring to our live would be irreplaceable. He turned the car around, and the rest is history!

I've learned so much from Bailey. She introduced me to the world of dog owners, and in particular dog blogs. She ignited this passion for dogs that I never knew I had. It's because of her that I volunteer with Hopeful Hearts. It's the utter happiness on her face when I walk through the front door that makes me want to help other people find their dog. The love you get from a pet cannot be replicated. It's something I wish on everyone- I always have. It took Bailey showing me how great it is to help me make a difference and do what I can to get other dogs home.

I knew that I would love having a dog- I just had no idea how phenomenal it would be.

Yay for Canada. And yay for long weekends!
Last weekend was officially the last calm one before our wedding. Naturally, we took every opportunity to be lazy and relax on the dock with a caesar in hand. Best part? Fireworks!

I love me some fireworks!
Anyhow, here's a few shots of the dogs enjoying the summer breeze and refreshing water. Rizzo has been our house guest for the past week while the brother is in London- but more on that later ;)

We hope you guys had a chance to relax on the long weekend. How many more days until the next one?

Sheesh. What a bunch of slackers!

Well. Let me tell you a story.......
Last week our kitchen suffered not one, but TWO floods. After spending the bulk of our Monday with buckets, mops and every towel we own, we called in a plumber. Apparently our pipes had leaked, which caused the water anyone above us used to empty onto our floor. And so, when said plumber was called and came over for a visit we learned that a leaky pipe was the least of our problems. After cutting a hole in the wall (you know. The only red accent wall in the entire place) they discovered that there are vast amounts of mold growing.
On Monday morning we were dealing with a leak, and by Tuesday afternoon we were packing up our clothes to vacate the premises for at least two weeks!
Because of all of this, we had to figure out an immediate game plan for the furry family. Sadly, our cats cannot come with us to my parents house, as their cat is somewhat CRAZY and wouldn't be able to deal with others in his house. Thankfully my bestest friend in the entire world graciously offered up her apartment for the cats.

This is Rascal and Zoe on their way to Auntie Kimmy's. Bailey, Scott and myself are camping out at my parents place. While I know this is temporary, the idea of being seperated from my cats is killing me. Yes, I'm aware this might make me a crazy lady, but I don't care.
Zoe and Bailey are great- barely even notice they're not at their home right now. Rascal however is NOT doing well. Usually he's pretty laid back, social and lovey. I thought that Zoe would have been more upset about the move before Rascal. But he's not eating, drinking or socializing at all. He crept into the farthest point of a closet and wouldn't come out. I arrived at my friends last night to sleep over and try to coax Rascal out of his depression. I managed to get him to come out, but he refuses to eat :( I've put some of my clothes around the apartment for some familiar smells....but I don't think my Scooner is going to last long in such a different environment.

So if anyone out there knows of a short term, pet friendly, furnished rental space....please let me know. I'm on the hunt for a place where WE (and I mean pets) can stay together.

I hate mold........

I have mixed emotions about fire alarms. I get that they are in place to help save you should an actual fire invade your home. But for some reason, the only 'fire alarms' I've experienced were nothing more than a routine drill.
Our apartment building has a routine fire drill quite often, making it's tenants a little less frantic about there ever being a real fire. Personally, when I hear those bells go off I want to throw my pets in a bag and run for dear life. My fiancé however knows that they are simply drills and reminds me that there's no need for urgency.
A few weeks ago we were on our way out the door when the fire alarm went off. Unlike the beloved drills, this sound wouldn't stop. This constant "BBBBBRRRRRIIIINNNNNNGGGG" was filling every single corner of our apartment. The whole thing went something like this.
Me: "I think that's an actual fire alarm"
Scott: "No. It's just a drill"
Me: "Ya....but people are leaving the building"
Scott: "It's a drill, they do it all the time"
Me: "Fine. But if I hear fire trucks, we are out of here".
Outside world: "FIRE TRUCK SOUNDS!"
Me: "Holy crap! There's a REAL fire!"
When we brought both cats home, I opted to keep a cat carrier near the patio door should we ever need to make a quick get away. As Scott and I start to scramble trying to figure out what to do, I say "The cat carrier! It's by the patio door!". Look me at go, all prepared and such for these events. Sadly, I hadn't thought about the fact that Rascal is the size of a dog, and there was no way we could fit BOTH cats in this tiny wee carrier. Rascal butt actually burst the door open, and both cats made a bee-line for under the bed.
In the past, I've always been worried about my felines' absolute love of treats. I hated that they were so obsessed with it, and would drop whatever they were doing to respond to the sound of a treat sounding bag being opened. So as were freaking out because both cats are MIA, my brains goes "SHABAM!" Treats! Turns out my cats will risk their furry little lives for some Temptations! We coax them out, throw them in the dog crate and leave immediately. The entire thing probably last less than four minutes.

Turns out someone on the fourth floor "forgot" they were cooking something, and the smoke set the fire alarms off. Thankfully, we were on the second floor and had no trouble getting out of the building (if it meant saving my pets, I'd jump off any balcony!). Aside from strongly wanting to kick the "I like to cook and leave it to burn" person in the shins, the whole things ended up being pretty funny.

So, it turns out that dog crates double VERY well as a "don't let your cats burn to a crisp" escape option. Another highlight- people asking us if Rascal was some kind of exotic cat because of his size. Thinking back, I should have said a lion or something!

Bailey, my lovely little poochini is in fact a mix of two different breeds of dog. She's a lab/beagle mix, and depending on the day we see different characteristics coming out. When she runs, she gallops. Almost like a donkey learning to leap off the ground for the first time. When she sees some delicious food, she drools. Badly. Like a baby teething. And when she sleeps on the bed, she takes up as much room as possible. All of this, I believe, is the lab in her shinning through.
But then there's the beagle side. Tis a little bit sneakier, this side of Bailey. Beagles are smart. Not book smart. Nose smart. When a scent crosses her path, her little wet black nose is down on the ground and following a trail. Sometimes I want to put a trench coat, fedora hat on her and magnifying glass in her paw. It's all very detective looking

This weekend we were up at our hunting camp for Easter dinner. Bailey and Scott went up a night earlier than I did, leaving me to drive up the following day (without getting lost, despite the bets I'm sure were taken assuming I would!). When I got up there, Bailey was pleased as pie to show me what she found in the woods. You'd think it was a stick.......but it's not

It's a deer leg. A DEER LEG! It had been left over from the hunt in the fall, and Bailey with her beagle nose went into the woods and found it! She was quite proud of herself for discovering it, and went out of her way to keep it from the other dog up at the camp.

As I'm sure you can understand we did NOT let her bring the deer leg home. Knowing our luck and her beagle/lab tendencies, that stupid leg would end up under my pillow, and I would be caught in the middle of a scene from a horror/murder mystery movie! I'm surprised I haven't already had nightmares about some three legged deer out there, calling out "Give me my leg back......wooooooo (ghost sounds)"