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Boy, Do I Disagree

Boy, Do I Disagree

Quoted from the New York Post: “Women sleep better next to dogs than their human partners, according to a study published this month by researchers at Canisius College in Buffalo, New York.”

Uh, no.

This woman doesn’t.

The study goes on to say that: “The study found that both cats and humans were equally disruptive to women’s sleep and provided them with fewer feelings of comfort and security than dogs.”

Unless you have a 24 pound Scottish Terrier mix who paints himself onto your derriere and moves when you move. Heaven forbid you want to sleep on your back. He’ll climb onto your front.

He also snores.

Nope, I go along with the Mayo Clinic/Arizona report (quoted in the same article) that found that people who slept with a dog in the bedroom got more rest than people who didn’t, but that having a dog in the bed with you could disrupt your sleep.

Stanley sleeps in the bathroom. I sleep in the bed. We both get along better that way. 🙂

How about you? Do you sleep with a dog?

The Rich Are Different

The Rich Are Different

This little puppy is $1140.00 

This, my friends, is a dog bed. 

It costs $1140.00.

Okay, then. 

This dog toy costs $62.00

This is a dog toy. 

It costs $62.00. 

Are you kidding? 

This is the European website. (I think it’s German.)  Evidently, they cater to a certain clientele. I’m not their demographic. 

You know what Stanley played with last night? A box. He had the best time for a whole hour tearing apart a small box. The mess was astronomical, but he really enjoyed himself. I guess he’s not their demographic, either. 

I feel like the hoi polloi. 

Do You Ever Wonder About Some People?

Do You Ever Wonder About Some People?

The other day I had to sign for a foreign package. The postman was standing at the door waiting for me as I walked Stanley to the door.

He and Flash have/had the same attitude about strangers. Strangers are no good. No bueno por nada.

Flash, however, just lunged and barked at people. Stanley has attempted to dine on them.

I opened the screen door, holding onto Stanley’s leash. If I could have put him inside my office I would have, but I didn’t have time. He was growling. The postman, who was a woman, handed me the package and the machine to sign. So, leash, machine, package. Then SHE REACHES IN AND STARTS TO TRY TO PET STANLEY.


I said, in my most dulcet tones: DON’T DO THAT!!!  DON’T TRY TO PET HIM. BACK OFF!

Look, I’m normally a Southern Belle, y’all, but I could not understand why that woman was trying to pet a growling dog. I was trying to control Stanley while holding onto that other crap, but I was scared he was going to bite her. We’re still working on manners.



Honey, if you used to train dogs, you know better than to try to pet a growling dog. He didn’t bite her, but he didn’t stop growling. I told him NO and he finally stopped, but she was an idiot.

Then I told her that he had only been with me two weeks and we were still working on manners. She said, WELL, THAT DOG NEEDS A WHIPPING.

I came so damn close to throwing that package at her. Or letting Stanley bite her.

That had to be the stupidest woman I’ve ever met in my life.

Do you ever wonder about people? 


Stanley, Day 1, Part 2

Stanley, Day 1, Part 2

I have actually gotten a lot of work done, surprisingly, between zipping out to the backyard as well as playing ball. Stan the Man (see, I’ve started with the nicknames already) can play fetch! Occasionally, he carries this squeaky ball around in his mouth and it’s one long squeak.

I forgot to tell you that I have a vibration setting for my automatic bed. I turned it on last night and Stanley jumped up, alarmed, then settled back in. He then proceeded to roll over on his back with his legs in the air. I think he liked the vibration thing.

Today he’s taken over one of the chairs in my office. The look is because I’m not playing with him right now.

I have him on a 30′ training lead, but I did an experiment a little while ago and removed it. He followed me everywhere anyway. He really is my shadow.

He has now learned the command WAIT. Yay, Stanley!

In other news, have you ever gotten to the point that you want to eat one particular food and you’d almost kill to get it? It’s not chocolate. It’s not ice cream. I want meat. I want a steak. I want meat loaf. I want a burger. I want ground beef. I want meat. Me, cavewoman. You, better go get mastodon. I can’t eat meat right now because my UA is still too high and I don’t DO pain. But man, this is a serious craving. Nope, it’s a NEED.

Off to work again and also to do a significant amount of pouting. 🙂



A Letter from Stanley

A Letter from Stanley

A couple of things have happened to me in the past few weeks.

I got tired of being sad.

I read what I quoted yesterday: Measure your years by the number of dogs that loved you and how many you loved.

I saw the following blurb on a rescue site, God’s Dogs.( I really respect that organization.)

Dear Ladies in Waiting,

I am a gentleman so I’m writing you a paw written note. I know it’s been transcribed to text as per the rule of internets, but pretend it’s caligraphied. My name is Lord Stanley the Arf Duke of Kissington, but you can skip the furmalities and just call me Stanley. I’m a short yet dashing 20 pound, 1 year old doggie.

My exact hairytage is unknown, however I once greeted a Scottish Terrier and he did look like my 3rd cousin once removed. Howlever, a self pawclaimed Cairn Terrier expert said I very much favor that breed and have sprinkles of brindled patches to prove it.

You needn’t have a large dowry, but a large lap is a must. I am housetrained with a doggie door. I very much enjoy the constant companionship of a human. I currently dwell in a Foster Home and Foster Mum tries to leave me to my own quarters for sleep. I do not like this as I prefur the company of a human while I slumber and will whine until you agree.

Foster Mum takes us on leashed walks, I turn to look back periodically to ensure she is still behind me, a true gentleman always shows concern for his lady. Foster Mum can share a video with you where I slay an actual dragon to protect her. (Note from volunteer: it was a stuffed dragon, but we’d be happy to provide the video footage).

If you adopt me, I will be your constant loyal non judgmental friend. You will be lavished in love, tail wags, wiggles and kisses. Despite the French making up their very own kiss, dogs have always been experts in that regard.

Kind regards,


I checked with God’s Dogs to see if Stanley was available and learned about his sad history. He’d been found on the mean streets of south San Antonio when he was about six months old. He’s had two foster homes and two adoptive homes, but he’s been returned from both adoptions. (It’s thought that Stanley is still a puppy – about a year or maybe slightly less.)

Stanley has separation anxiety. Every time his adopted family went to work he made himself sick by whining and crying and generally being miserable. His first foster mom had four dogs and whenever Stanley was separated from them or her he made himself sick, too. His second foster mom was a perfect match (and is a lovely person) because Stanley was the only dog in her home.

Lord Stanley, Duke of Kissington, came to live with me yesterday.

He is the sweetest dog. After the first hour when he was skittish around me he has grown to love cuddles and pets and his belly rubbed.

I have yet to see him pee, however, and I stood outside for so long I’ve almost grown roots. He hasn’t had an accident in the house so I guess he’s just a stealth excreter. 🙂

He is kind of strange about eating. He won’t rush to the bowl. He’ll just walk away and then come back about five minutes later and eat everything.

He’s a super smart terrier. I think he has a lot of schnauzer in him, plus some Scottish terrier plus some Cairn terrier. I have five new holes in the back yard where he tried to dig to China. (Those can always be filled in.) I bought him a huge stuffed duck that’s almost as big as he is and he has commenced to war with the duck. You know how a terrier can grab something and shake it until it dies? Well, the duck has been killed several times.

He and the black cat met each other last night. The cat didn’t look impressed and Lord Stanley didn’t bark.

See the black thing in the corner? That’s the cat’s tail. He’s sitting there on the fence (and hidden by the leaves) just like the Cheshire Cat.

Stanley was once crate abused – the first time I’ve ever heard that expression – and will NOT go into a crate. Trust me, I tried. So, last night Stanley slept on my bed, the first time I’ve slept with a dog in decades. He may look small, but he demands his share of the foot of the bed. I wish I could say that I slept well. I didn’t. However, it’s early days yet. He can leap onto my tall bed in a single bound. He can also leap onto my desk chair in a single bound, too, but he’s a little too big to be a lap dog.

I can attest to Stanley’s separation anxiety. He’s been about five inches away from me since yesterday. He also watched as I showered last night. Voyeurism, doggy style.

He whines when he has to go out, but he doesn’t bark. Or I haven’t heard him bark yet. I’m told that his bark is a lot louder than his size. However, he growls at weird things, like the rocks outside and something in the living room this morning. I have NO idea what set him off this morning.

Bottom line, Lord Stanley is a love. We’ll go through that “getting to know you” phase, but I’m surprised at how easy it’s been so far. (Other than the sleeping with me. I have a feeling that isn’t going to change.)

(I didn’t get ANY work done yesterday. Right now he’s sleeping at my feet so I’m going to take advantage of the moment and get some work done. So glad he’s getting his rest. 🙂 )