Jenny's energy

From the start, Jenny was full of energy. I bought her from a private breeder, and when the door to their pen was opened, I paid attention to which dog was the most outgoing.

In high school, I had a cat who hated everyone but my mother and I. He hissed and scratched at any visitor just for walking by. It was funny in a way, but I hated having a feeling of apprehension every time someone was over, not only for the guests but also for Twilight, who was clearly unhappy when anyone else was in the house. So when I was picking a dog, I wanted one who loved people.

Jenny came bouncing out of her pen, ran over to me and did some flips and jumps and licks and I was sold. I felt sorry for the future parents of those other puppies who were timidly walking out unsure if they should approach me.

NEVER pick the most outgoing dog.

When we got home that first day, I thought Jenny would cry and be scared of her new surroundings, or miss her mom and brothers and sisters. I carried her inside and put her down on the floor and WOOSH, she was gone like a bolt of lightning, zipping around the entire place from wall to wall, up, down, behind the couch, running at full speed and seemingly ecstatic about this strange new play place.

Forty five minutes later in the midst of her excitement, she fell asleep.



Since then, her excitment level has remained, I'd say, about....exactly the same. We're told on a regular basis that they should make Doggy Ritalin for her. Sometimes when she's REALLY excited, she'll just run laps around the house. And yes, I walk her. Really! All the time. But a girl only has so many hours in the day to spend walking her dog, and Jenny would like that to change. To 20.






Today, four and a half years later, my friend let Jenny inside after she had been out for a few minutes doing her business.She came bouncing into my room, leaped on top of me - all 70 lbs. of her - licked me as best as she could while the excitment was vibrating through her body, and told me in her dog way that she loves life, and me. She had seen me just ten minutes before.

In another instant she was off again, racing around the house to find her soccer ball in hopes that someone would play with her. I forced myself out of bed on this rare day off and played soccer for a while outside, all the time daydreaming about Jenny's siblings and the quiet life they're probably providing for their owners. My dog is obsessed with playing soccer all day long.


But, no matter how demanding or bad Jenny is, I can forgive her in a heartbeat for everything she's chewed, all the injuries she's caused, and every temper tantrum she's ever had. Sometimes when she's taking a nap, I'll walk into the room and although she's too sleepy to pick her head up, she'll open one eye to look at me and her tail ever so softly wags a few times before she falls back asleep.

A Day in the Life of Jenny

A couple of you have asked for more photos of Jenny. Since I'm a newspaper editor slash reporter slash photographer, I always have a camera with me. It's like my trademark. Naturally, Jenny is my favorite subject.

Here is a photo diary of Jenny, or, a Day in the Life of Jenny.

At about 8 a.m., Jenny and I begin to wake up. She either sleeps under my bed or on my bed, but either way, in the morning she'll scoot up to snuggle with me. She's the most snuggly dog ever. When I made the decision to get a dog, I wanted one who was sweet and snuggly and I hit the jackpot.

As I get ready for the day Jenny takes her time waking up. Then she looks around the house for something to do. Sometimes she'll work on a puzzle and she gets frustrated by the whole no opposable thumb thing:

After the puzzle and playtime, Jenny gets pretty lazy. So at around11 a.m. she'll lounge on the couch and watch The View and maybe take a late morning nap:

After lunch it's bathtime. She doesn't like bathtime at all, but she sure does enjoy rinsing and drying off:

In the afternoon we'll head outside for a game of fetch, with a stick, her hamburger toy, a soccer ball, or some other random thing like a half chewed wiffle ball:

In the evening, Jenny rummages through the cupboards trying to find something for dinner. Spaghetti? No. Pudding? No. Cereal? BINGO!:

After dinner, Jenny helps me out by doing the dishes. She's so sweet when she wants to be!:

The last thing we want to do is let that dinner sit around in our bellies so in the evening we'll drive to one of our favorite walking places and have a nice long walk through the woods or along her favorite abandoned dirt road:

After walking for about an hour, Jenny is ready for a swim. Well, she's ready for a swim anytime but especially after her long walks. So she plays in the water and I sit and throw her a toy/stick/ball and try to get some photos of her:

And that's a day in the life of Jenny (and me).

Already revamping the new blog

Alright, I've made some minor changes and tweaked things a little in this blog and now I'm ready to go . I still feel like I'm talking to myself but I guess I'll give this more of a try than I thought I would.


So, my brother (backpackingdad.blogspot.com) hinted around that I write my blog posts like articles. I write articles all day long, that's my job, so I guess it's only natural that this blog sounds article-y, but I guess I'll try to sound more...informal?

Speaking of my job, this week I put a bunch of pictures of Jenny in the paper. I call her my celebrity dog. A lot of people around here probably get mad when they see Jenny in the paper over and over when we refused to put more than two pictures in of their health fair/lacrosse game/graduation ceremony/grandmother's birthday, etc. But Jenny is CUTE. I mean, just look at her:























How could anyone hate her? And people DO hate her. Like the girl who had borrowed a friend's shoe and while she was visiting me Jenny chewed it into a million pieces. She actually had borrowed both shoes by the way. Jenny only chewed one.

People try to ignore Jenny all the time. People just don't like dogs around here. It's so sad to see Jenny meet someone new who doesn't like dogs. She just truly believes that everyone likes her as much as I do.

Ok, this is boring. I'm going to bed now. I got home late from helping paint my pregnant friend's nursery. I know nothing about painting by the way.

The Time Jenny Became a Murderer

As a puppy, Jenny was so, so sweet. She loved everyone and everything. She tried to play with my mother's cats when we'd go there to visit. They didn't want to play with her, and they'd tell her by scratching and hissing, but she didn't care. She was just so damn bubbly.


Jenny was known to run up to any living thing and try to play with it. She literally wouldn't hurt a fly. (Believe me, I tried to make her. She just didn't care that the fly was buzzing all around her.)


Then one day, Jenny became a murderer.

At the time we were living in an old house in the country. Jenny was about 1 1/2 years old. We were playing in the backyard, which was bordered by cow pastures, corn fields, and forest. I was kicking Jenny's soccer ball around with her and when she got bored she wandered into the edge of the fields.


A few moments later I heard a really strange noise and Jenny was off behind an old abandoned barn. I ran around to see what was going on. For some reason I was scared she was caught in an animal trap.


But it was nothing like that.


Instead, Jenny had the mother of all groundhogs in her mouth, shaking it violently while it made strange noises. She tossed it across the field and with a loud thud it fell to the ground. This thing was massive. I'm not good at the whole "how much do things weigh" or "how many feet from here to there" calculations, but this groundhog was big.


Jenny was back at it in a heartbeat, gripping its fur in her suddenly ferocious teeth and when she would momentarily let it lay at her feet, she stood in the most intimidating of stances, never taking her eyes off of it and waiting for it to die at her mercy.


I had mixed emotions on this day. I stood screaming at her the entire time and she looked at me a couple of times obviously confused as to what my problem could be when she had clearly just become the world's best hunter.


I wanted to be happy for her. I know dogs are supposed to hunt, it's in their blood, blah,blah BLAH. But that day my sweet little baby become a cold hearted animal killer. She showed no mercy.


I felt like maybe parents do when they hear their child has bullied someone on the playground.


Now Jenny kills everything. Mice. Bugs. Birds, lotsa birds. She attacked a doe once but luckily it got away. She tried to kill a skunk. (That didn't go over so well.) She has killed a snake. She once ran across the frozen river when she saw a goose sitting out in the middle. I didn't try to stop her because it was a bird and I knew it would fly away long before she got to it. I should have stopped her. The bird never saw her coming and she had a field day in the middle of the frozen river.


Oh Jenny, she surprises me sometimes.


She went from this sweet little innocent thing:














To this beastly killer:
















And now that she's discovered hunting, she always looks like this:


















Oh well, she's mine and I will love her, but only because I have to.

The Time Jenny Humped a Baby

Did I mention Jenny humps kids?

Yeah it's pretty much her mission that when little boys are over at my house, she will hump them at least once. Sometimes there is crying involved but usually her main victim totally ignores her. He's my 5-year-old cousin who I usually refer to as my nephew. His name is Flint and he's been getting humped by Jenny for a few years now.

Let's get some things straight. Jenny does not have a pee-pee. Jenny is a girl. Jenny also has been spayed and should not even have anything going on down there that would make her want to hump. Jenny is confused.

When I say she "humps" I mean that she jumps up on a little boy's back and proceeds to make the humping motion. Flint literally ignores her and it's pretty funny. He just keeps playing Super Nintendo (yep, the Super Nintendo my brother gave me like ten years ago is still kickin' and Flint loves to play it) or eating or doing whatever he was doing. I never leave Jenny alone with the kids so I am always right there to yell at her and pull her off. She gets so mad at me it's ridiculous.


This is a photo of Jenny about to hump Flint. He has no idea what she's up to, he's just busy cheesing for the camera. I could see Jenny through the viewfinder and you can see my finger as I try to push her away so I can take the picture.















When Jenny humps Flint's little brother, who is 2, he cries. He already only borderline likes her, so when she humps him he freaks out.

Yesterday, though, Jenny humped a baby. It was Flint's little little brother (yep, they just keep em coming) who is only 7 months old. I was holding the baby, and Jenny came over and ever so gently rested a paw on the baby's leg and proceeded to move her hips back and forth. Now, I have to give her a little bit of credit for knowing she couldn't jump on the baby the way she does with the older kids, but seriously, why does she hump little boys?!

Are there any vets reading this? (And by vets I mean people who don't really know anything about dogs but will give me some suggestions and advice anyway.)

Please help me.

The Time Jenny Chewed a Bingo Dabber

I won some free bingo cards and a bingo dabber a couple of months ago at the Tsi Snaihne Recreation's Easter Egg Hunt. Grown-ups got to play too which was VERY exciting. I won the CKON Radio Bingo Package. At the time I thought I was going to play radio bingo that Tuesday, win the $6000 jackpot, and live happily ever after.

Well, I played bingo that Tuesday, I didn't even come close to winning, and this past Sunday Jenny chewed the bingo dabber. In my living room. On the carpet.

In case you don't know, bingo dabbers are filled with ink. It's usually a bright color, and in this case it was hot pink. Not that this matters because a hot pink ink stain is not any more attractive than a purple one, a blue one, a green one, etc. If they made bingo dabber ink in cream/beige, I'd be in a perfect place right now.

She chewed the bingo dabber while I was on the treadmill. Hooray for me being on the treadmill. It's great for me; not so great for Jenny. Though she is a pretty well-behaved dog (in my eyes, because I love her), anytime I do something right in front of her face that is at the same time ignoring her, she just can't take it. This applies to being on the treadmill, talking on the phone, taking a bath or doing the dishes. Her little dog mind just can't accept that there are things I do AT HOME that she's not invited to do with me. If I leave the house, she is content to lie down and wait for me to come home, without laying a paw finger on any of my shoes or getting into any trouble. She seems to be satisfied with her alone time. If I'm home and ignoring her, it's a different story and she reacts.

When I take a bath, she reacts by bringing every single one of her squeaky toys and plopping it into the tub with me. Yum. This is her way of telling me to play fetch with her. My bathroom really isn't set up great for a game of fetch, but sometimes I make the effort, and give up after Jenny's flipped over the bathroom garbage two or more times.

When I do the dishes, Jenny grabs my pant leg and pulls me across the kitchen. This is because she has brought me her toys and dropped them at my feet and I've ignored them.

When I talk on the phone, Jenny takes this as a free-for-all. She chews anything in site, mostly shoes and plastic hangars - and jumps up onto every surface in the place to pull whatever she can down. This makes me stand up and run to take away whatever she's grabbed, which is what makes this game fun for her. She pulls down my car keys, my purse, my bag of Wal-Mart stuff, my remotes, my picture frames on the shelf, my magazines on the table, my cell phone, my jacket. It's also pretty much a guarantee that when I'm on the phone she'll go and open up my tupperware cupboard and take bowls out for her chewing pleasure.

When I'm on the treadmill, she stands in front of me and drops half-chewed up squeaky toys onto the moving platform hoping I'll kick it for her in a soccer version of fetch. Since they are sad little scraps of rubber, kicking it is hard enough, but kicking it when it's moving along the ramp is a lot harder and she spends most of the time going behind me to pick it up and try again. This lasts for a few minutes, after which she leaves me alone and I think "Thank God." Until I get off that is. This is when I have the pleasure of walking out into the living room and seeing what Jenny had found to occupy her frustrated boredom.

On Sunday, the bingo dabber was her victim. There, in the middle of my living room, was an empty bingo dabber with the top totally gone and the former contents now in a puddle - and yes, it was a PUDDLE - on my nice area rug. It didn't take me long to discover that the ink had soaked through the carpet onto the brand new room carpeting underneath.

It's two days later and after much scrubbing, soaking, "Shout"ing, rinsing, dragging outside and hosing, I still have two very hot pink stains on my carpet.

Jenny goes on-line.

This is my very first blog. Yay me.

My brother (backpacking dad something) has apparently been pretty busy writing his own blogs, and it looks fun so I wanted to do one too.

But what could I write about?

After thinking long and hard about this, the idea of writing about Jenny popped into my head.
She's my 4-year-old black lab and she is what you might call perfect. Well, aside from a few minor things like the 40-plus pairs of shoes she's chewed, the 9 long, wet, stinky months it took to house train her, the 300-plus times(and counting) that she's knocked someone over at the front door, the time she got sprayed by a skunk during an outing and I still had to put her in my car to get her home, the $1400 I spent on her knee surgery (and don't even let me mention that total lifelong accumulated vet bill), or the number of nights I've had to wake up at 3 a.m. because she decided she wasn't tired anymore.


Yes, Jenny is the perfect dog.

She comes when I call her (as long as there isn't anything else she'd rather be doing.)
She loves my kisses (even though she turns her face every time I try to give her one.)
She never eats off my plate (because she knows I'll give it to her when I'm done with it.)
She only plays with quiet toys (after she squeaks the life out of her squeaky toys - literally.)
She loves kids (so much she tries to hump them.)
She knows what "no" means (and "no" means "Try to Get Me" apparently.)
She loves her "Grandma" ( and pees on her kitchen floor to prove it.)
She's great to take on walks (so long as you're not actually trying to walk her on a leash because you may as well say goodbye to the skin on your knees if that's the case.)
She never embarrasses me (because dogs are SUPPOSED to drink out of the toilet during your housewarming party tour.)
She's a pretty girly girl dog (as long as there are no deer carcasses around, because, let's face it, there is just no ladylike way to eat a calf bone).



Yes, Perfect Jenny. She is what I'll write about.