On picnics, sandwiches and my heart...

Today, Trevor had to work from home, so Banner and I were on our own for karate and lunch.  I figured we'd grab sushi, but the little guy surprised me when he announced that he wanted to bring lunch to daddy and have a picnic in the backyard instead.

It was very sweet.

And also a little frustrating because (apparently) proper picnic fare involves sandwiches.  Which is awesome when the one insisting on sandwiches is the very same individual who HATES all things sandwich.  Not sushi or tacos or any of the other things on the list of "things my kid will eat".  But arguing with a three year old is futile, so sandwiches it was.

(Spoiler alert:  Said three year old wouldn't TOUCH his sandwich.  Luckily he also requested fruit and carrots, so he didn't go hungry.)

Banner wanted it to be a family picnic, so the dogs were not only included, but were also required to sit around the picnic blanket as well.  Not that any of them were complaining because UNEATEN SANDWICHES!  ON THE GROUND!:

They were totally all over this picnic thing.

Banner has never been so popular.



Of course, Banner would only share with his best buddy, Haskell.
In fact, I'm not entirely unconvinced that Banner didn't get said uneaten sandwich FOR Haskell.

Which explains why Haskell never left Banner's side during the entire event. 
Not for a second.  Not even for a squirrel.
(Smart dog)

Regardless of the uneaten sandwich, it ended up being one of the best parts of my weekend.  Because, quite frankly, life just doesn't get much better than this:



 Sometimes I sit back and realize how truly lucky I am.  This was one of those moments.

Just looking at this photo makes me happy.  It was a good day.

About the Woo...

Oh, Gypsy, Gypsy, Gypsy.

Earlier this month Gypsy came down an ear infection and double yeast infection on her back paws.  Because of course she did. 

She's now so hyper sensitive to yeast that she has zero tolerance and immediately starts to worry the affected area.  Which is fabulous if it is late on a Friday when you first notice that the itchy b*tch is itchier than usual.  And when I say "itchier than usual" I really mean "gnawing and licking her paws until they bleed".  So, I did what any reasonable dog mom in a desperate situation would do.  I filled socks with corn starch and taped them on her back paws (hey, corn starch works for diaper rash!).  And you know what?  It was a miracle.  The corn starch dried out the yeast and the socks kept her from licking her paws anymore.  Problem (temporarily) solved!

Of course, she totally got back at me by WALKING.  Clearly, I didn't think everything through because:

Well played, Woo.  Well played.

Later that same night, or rather the wee hours of the morning (specifically 4 AM), her ear started to bother her.  Earlier it had just been warm and tender to the touch.  But in the predawn hours of the day, it suddenly escalated to I MUST SHAKE MY HEAD EVERY TEN SECONDS.  This was not only annoying (4 IN THE MORNING!), but also cause for concern because Gypsy has a history of ear hematomas.  And, OMG, I CAN'T GO DOWN THAT ROAD AGAIN.

Which is how this happened: 

Yes, that's my dog with a dish towel duct taped to her head.
In my defense, I used Avengers duct tape.

Before you go and call the SPCA on me, the vet actually congratulated me on my efforts to both soothe Gypsy and keep her from making a bad situation worse.  Because dogs with a history of ear hematomas are more likely than those without to get another ear hematoma.  Believe me when I tell you that a dish towel temporarily duct taped on her head (until we could make it to the vet) was the most humane of all the options.   

Even if she does look like a little, old lady with a head scarf.

The results are in, and they are amazing...

The Awesome Pawsome

As you may remember, we did a DNA test on Gypsy earlier this year.  Her results can be found HERE.

For my birthday next month, I asked Trevor to get me a test for Haskell.  Because doggie DNA tests are like potato chips.  You can't test just one.  Especially when every mutt in the house presents its own four-legged mystery.

(Or something like that.)

Which (sort of) explains why Trevor threw a third test in the virtual cart for Alley, because he wanted in on the fun, too.  

I collected samples from Haskell and Alley back on July 7th, and we just got the results back today.  

Let's start with Alley Cat:

S'up?

We always kind of assumed Alley was some sort of pit bull mix, and...well, we weren't all that far off.  She is part American Staffordshire Terrier.

What we weren't expecting was this:  

She is also part Pom.  Because, I'm sorry.  What?

Alley is clearly much more mixed up than Gypsy, but - even though the test only goes back three generations - the results provide a good educated guess about the make-up of the remaining "mixed breed" relatives.  It is all about breed markers or something.  Anyway, in Alley's case,  the five breeds with the strongest statistical likelihood of having something to do with her ancestry are identified below:

Surprisingly, "seal" wasn't an option.

 Moving on to Haskell:

C'mon Maury Povich.  Tell me who my daddy is!

Ironically, he is the only one of the three that is bonafide a lab mix (lab and golden, actually).  Which is funny because if you throw a ball at the dog, it bounces off his head and he's all like, "What did you do that for?"

That said, years ago in Durango, Haskell somehow managed to catch a duck (he's obsessed with birds).  He very carefully picked it up in his mouth, swam across the pond (he rarely - if ever - swims), and placed the duck gently in my hands. It was like he knew that was what he was supposed to do. Of course, I was completely freaked out, because the poor duck! It was still alive. I actually don't think it was hurt badly at all, but died anyway. Poor thing was literally scared to death. Anyway, somewhere back in the deep, dark recesses of Haskell's brain, the lab/golden came out and my little idiot dog did exactly what his ancestors were bred to do.

Kind of cool, right?

But I digress.  Here is what goes into the making of a Haskell:

Told you he isn't part pig (TREVOR)!

But my FAVORITE part of his analysis is the "other" breeds that went into all of those mutts on the mixed-up side of his family tree.  Because the breed with the strongest statistical likelihood?  Yeah, a Chinese Crested.  Because OBVIOUSLY.

I've always thought he was a little dog trapped in a big dog body.
And he (sort of) is.  Because 3 of those 5 are wee little yappy things

I think the most surprising thing about the test results is that Gypsy, Alley and Haskell have nothing in common breed-wise, but look like they could be litter mates.  I find that fascinating.

(Although, I've always been easily amused.)

In other news, Wisdom Panel should totally take me to dinner, because of all the people that have told me they have ordered kits to test their mutt.  I can't recommend it enough!

One of life's little mysteries is finally solved...

Wipsy-Woo

For YEARS I've been asking for DNA tests for my dogs for every birthday and Christmas, but no one took me seriously.  That is, until Trevor finally relented and bought me one earlier this year.

I think he was tired of listening to me beg ask.

We decided to test Gypsy Kitty, because...well, she's eleven now.  Obviously, at this point, I'm not concerned with how big Gypsy may or may not grow up to be, or how the breeds that went into the making of a Gypsy might affect her temperament, energy level or overall health.  Because, after a decade together, she's just my Woo.  She's smart.  She's needy.  She licks a lot.  She's allergic to EVERYTHING.

She's just herself.  All.the.time.

But I've always been curious, you know?  So, really, why not find out her breed lineage?

And, guess what?  The results blew my mind.

We've always thought Gypsy was some sort of lab-mix.  But were COMPLETELY wrong.  She has absolutely no lab in her.  Not even a little bit of retriever.

Also, I always assumed Gypsy was pretty mixed up, but her great grandparents were all purebreds.  The blending of breeds only took place in recent generations.  Specifically, when both sets of her purebred grandparents got together and created the first generations of mutt on either side - Gypsy's mom and dad.

So, want to know the recipe for a Gypsy?

Well, here you go:

That's right.  Gypsy is a mix of American Eskimo Dog, Rottie, Border Collie and Standard Poople.  Which explains so much.  Like why she tries so hard to be a guard dog (Rottie), and why she hardly ever sheds (Poodle).  Why she herds us (Border Collie), and why her snot is short and forehead dished (Rottie again).  It also explains why she's never been much of a water dog (Rottie be like,"erm no Dog, dont do it"), and - while she likes to play fetch on occasion - why she's never been super obsessive about the ball or frisbee.

And, her brains?  Obviously, that came from the Border Collie/Poodle side of the family.

As for the Eskie, yeah...I'm not super familiar with the breed. But THIS description on Wiki sounds a lot like her with Banner,

"American Eskimos, with their high intelligence and inquisitive nature, will love to 'investigate'. If they find something very interesting they will often want their owner, or handler, to investigate as well, and will at times, not let the 'matter' go until the person complies. You will often find this behavior when it comes to children, for instance, if a baby or child is crying, the American Eskimo will want you to see what the problem is and will not stop 'worrying' until you do. The American Eskimo being so 'tuned in' is one of the characteristics that makes them a desirable breed around children."

Because Gypsy is nothing but an epic worrier.

Does any of this change how I feel about Gypsy?  No.  Of course not.  But there is a lot of fun in knowing, and now I can't wait to test the other two.

Banner shorts, Take II...

Me:  "What do you want for dinner?"

Banner:  "Food."

Me:  "Okay.  What kind of food?"

Banner:  "The kind in my mouth."

The BEST part of this conversation is that he opens his mouth and points inside, like I'm unfamiliar with the whole eating process.  Then he laughs and walks away as if he is in middle school or something and he just said the funniest thing ever.

Not even 30 months old, and already a smarta$$.

(No idea where he gets THAT from.)

Me:  "Ready to take a bath?"

Banner:  "No.  I wanna ride Haskell."

Me:  "No.  We don't ride Haskell."

Banner:  "Gypsy?"

Me:  "No.  We don't ride Gypsy either."

Banner:  {frustrated sigh}

Speaking of the dogs, Banner periodically blames them for things.  My favorite was when I served him carrots the other day, and he fed them to the Haskell (who LOVES raw carrots, by the way).  When I caught Banner in the act, he looked at me with these big, blue eyes and proceeded to tell me that Haskell STOLE the carrots off his plate.  He even turned to Haskell and said, "Give back, A$$ Cow!  Now!".

Stinker.

Well, he definitely got this from his father...

“Truly wonderful the mind of a child is.”

- Yoda

I've never seen Star Trek Wars.  Trevor tried to make me watch once years ago.  I fell asleep.  It is still a sore subject.  But he got back at me by telling me that Gypsy looked like Yoda.  I wasn't really familiar with Yoda, so I thought this was a term of endearment.  That is, until Trevor showed me a picture of Yoda years later and...well, Yoda may be a lot of things, but "cute" isn't one of them.



Any questions?



Anyway, to mock me, Banner has several Yoda toys and even a Yoda shirt that he insists on wearing from time to time (i.e. several times a week).  But this morning, Banner woke up calling for Yoda (not mommy.  Yoda.  Seriously, kid?) and insisted on taking both big Yoda and baby Yoda to school with him this morning.  He even shared his goldfish with the stuffed Yodas during the ride.

This is how Banner looked as I loaded the car this morning:

He even TALKS to Yoda.  Creepy.  

Please note that Yoda was STILL in the same position twenty minutes later:

What do you mean we are here?  Already?

Ugliest toy in the world, and my kid is in love.

Big Yoda and baby Yoda also HAD to go to dinner tonight, and sit with various family members around the table.  He even "fed" them some of his sweet pickles, and they are both in Banner's crib as I type.  William wants Trevor to start showing Banner Star Trek Wars clips to reinforce this Yoda adoration.

I don't even know what to think about all of this, but it suggests I'm not going to have the opportunity to live out my days basking in the warm glow of Star Trek Wars ignorance.  And it isn't like this Yoda obsession started today.  This has been going on for MONTHS.  Back when Banner was in the toddler room, he chose big Yoda and baby Yoda to take to school for big/little show-and-tell day.  Everyone else took stuffed dogs, bears and Elmos, but not my kid.  Ebony said it was the ugliest soft toy she had ever seen and she couldn't believe Banner had two of them.

Luckily, Banner is equally enamored with his trains and puppy lovies.  Substantially less creepy than a balding, green alien in a robe.  So, I guess, there is hope.

May The Force be with me.

Update:  I just asked Trevor if this is the stupidest post I've ever written (which is really saying something since I've had this little corner of the internet for nearly a decade), and he said, "No.  Nothing about Yoda could ever be stupid".  So there is that glowing endorsement.

(Shakes head.)

The ranch, the tractors and the Spartan Race...

So, Trevor registered for this Spartan Race months ago.  Which is funny in a way, because Trevor promised that he wouldn't register for any new races after I got pregnant (because I have a tendency to be a LOT little competitive).  And then - not even kidding you - ONE WEEK after I told him I was pregnant again back in January, he came to me with news of this "really cool race" down in Burnet in May that he just HAD to do.

Trevor needs a refresher on the definition of "promise".

But I relented.  Mainly because Trevor has always wanted to be a spartan and push tires in the mud.  And by "always" I really mean "since 2007 when he first saw the movie 300".  Who was I to stand in the way?  Plus, since the whole pregnancy thing didn't work out, it gave Trevor something to train for and look forward to after the miscarriage.

The nifty thing about this particular Spartan Race was that it close to the ranch.  So, instead of driving to Burnet, running a race and driving back to Dallas, we all just spent the weekend in the hill country.

Haskell was thrilled because this meant he got to go.

It also allowed us to come and watch Trevor run.  I don't know if anyone who reads this blog has ever gone to or participated in a Spartan Race, but it is quite the spectacle.  There are something like 30,000 participants spread out over two days.  Spectators are encouraged, and there is even a mini Spartan Race for the 4-8 crowd.

Of course, Saturday was toasty, and there wasn't much shade.  Which sort of explains Banner's sunscreen mohawk:

To be fair, we tried to put a hat on him, but he didn't like it because it was hot.  Desperate times, desperate measures.

Honestly, Banner didn't mind too much because we were waiting in line to ride on a school bus from the parking area to the starting line.  Little man was thrilled.  It was his first ride on a bus and he savored every second.  Sometimes I wish I could go back in time and be two again.  There is something magical about watching another human being be so genuinely happy and excited about doing something as mundane as riding a bus.  I wish I could bottle that enthusiasm.  It was contagious, and he is still talking about it days later.  Because, dude, he rode A BUS!

But back to the race.  Y'all.  There are no words, so I'm just going to show you some of the pictures I took of a few of the obstacles:

Waiting for daddy...

It was crazy.

Sadly, we missed Trevor crossing the finish line.  But only just.  Once we did find him, though, all he could say was "never again".  Which is hysterically funny since he was already planning a second Spartan Run a mere two hours later.

It took him 3 hours to finish.  The race was supposed to be 8 miles long, but ended up being 9.5.  Any obstacle you either couldn't or failed to do required 30 burpees.  It was hot.  It was dusty.  But the water they had to crawl and swim through was icy cold.  Might sound refreshing, but it was a recipe for muscle cramps.  The poor guy could barely walk afterwards, but Trevor finished!!

Banner also got a metal.  Technically, he was too young to do the mini Spartan, but Trevor registered him anyway.  Spectators cost $20/each, but mini Spartan registration was $25 AND you got a t-shirt and two FREE spectators.  What would you have done?  ;P

Plus, Banner was so good all morning.  It was about a mile from the parking area to where the buses were picking up, and about another third of a mile to the starting line/observation area.  Banner was a trooper the entire time despite all the heat and sun.  So, I asked the guy handing out the mini Spartan metals if Banner could have one (since we had registered and paid for the metal anyway), and he gladly handed one over.  Banner was so proud:

Just like daddy!

After the race, we got lunch in town and spent the rest of the day hanging out at the ranch; complete with an evening cook out at the dam just like when I was a kiddo.

The ranch really is turning into one of Banner's favorite places, and it is neat to see him doing the things I did as a child.  Of course, nothing is cooler for a(n almost) 2.5 year old than getting to drive the tractor with Uncle Yum.  He was in heaven!

Thank you, William, for being so patient with him and taking him for rides!

Last but not least, Sunday was Gypsy's 11th birthday (or the tenth anniversary of her adoption from the SPCA of Texas).  She celebrated in style (even if she looks horrified):

All in all, a fabulous weekend filled with good fun, good food and good people.  Now if I can only figure out a way to talk Trevor out of doing a 13 mile Spartan Run in November.  Because...SERIOUSLY, TREVOR?!

So, you know it has been a week when...

...Monday starts with a flat tire (on tires less than 48 hours old to boot) and Sunday ends with one of the dogs having diarrhea exploding in the back of your car.

To be fair, I told Trevor I thought Gypsy needed to stop for a potty break as we passed Cedar Hill on the way back from the ranch.  He thought she could make it and...well, she *almost* did.

Sh*t.

(Literally.)

Long weekend at the ranch. A photo blog.



Last Friday night, we packed up and headed to the ranch for the long holiday weekend.

 

The place is pretty much heaven if you are a two year old boy.  Or a dog.  Or just a person who wants to relax, drink beer and breathe in some nice country air.  Plus, you could not have asked for better weather.  It was BEAUTIFUL.

 

Here are some (okay, a lot) of my favorite pictures:

 

Saturday sunrise.

Buh-bye!

 

Saturday Sunset...

Tottenham wins!

OMG.  I make that face!

Butterfly porn.

Post nap hair fabulousness.



There was no taming the hair on Sunday.

Sunday sunset.

Hand prints.

Snuggly Pil.
(Oh, wait.  I mean, "Uh oh, Pilgram!  UH OH!")

Bath time with Auntie Amy.

Last snuggles before heading back to Dallas.