Pet Washing Machine: Cool or Cruel?

Apparently, pet grooming services abroad offer a new way for bathing dogs and cats. They call this the Pet Washing Machine. It literally works like one, complete with the wash/dry buttons.

Here's the video of the cat inside the machine. Clearly, the cat is not loving it. Trauma alert! I feel bad for her:

And here's the video of the dog, who didn't lose it like that cat above and seemed okay with it:

I'm just not sure all dogs will behave like this one. I highly doubt any of my male dogs will. They don't even like bathing the traditional way.

What do you think of a Pet Washing Machine? It does seem like a convenient way to clean pets. But convenience vs. trauma? I don't know. It's probably best not to use this.

How big is this thing, anyways? Would I fit inside it? *planning to bathe inside a pet washing machine*

Here, There & Everywhere...SAVE!!!!

Like Bob, it's not easy to take a photo of Marty's face up close. It's like this dog can sense when I do that. It's as if he knows I take pictures so that I can post something online.

If it were possible, I think Marty inherited this trait from their human-brother, our son, who practically chides me each time I violate his, uh, "privacy policy". Marty knows when I have my phone-cam on. And he does his best to avoid it. Wants nothing to do with me when I have it in my hand.

However, off camera? Marty wants everything to do with me. He is on me ALL THE TIME. Even when I pee in the bathroom, he's there. He'd watch me do my business. He would even try to sit on my lap sometimes. As I do my business! (His mother used to watch me, too but has since learned to respect my "privacy policy".)

Marty is over-eager whenever he sees me. And when I say over-eager? Think of a yapping dog, with his tail wagging, his body twitching and his ears slightly pointed downwards-backwards. It's a pain to be followed by a dog all the time, but Marty knows the power of looking cute and irresistible. He's a master of this (which is why of all the dogs, we think he's most handsome). I turn to jelly each time he works his charm.

He also loves my lap. So much. Perhaps wants to marry my lap. I dunno what drug Marty took to fall in love with my lap. But as soon as he sees me sit down anywhere, he takes ownership of it. Remember how as kids, we try to claim a spot we want, or a seat we want, we would shout "Save!" to announce to anyone within hearing distance that it is ours? That's how I imagine Marty does it every time. His siblings know fully well my lap is his and his alone.

He has a quirk, however.

When it's time to sleep at night and all the dogs are on the bed with us? Marty actually prefers to sleep under the TV. There's a certain time at night where, after he's had enough of my lap, he jumps off the bed and stays under the TV till it's time to wake up in the morning.

I find that weird. Like an auto-shut off feature. My lap, however, finds that a relief.

Anyway, this photo was taken about two days ago by Sean, while Marty and him were playing "Pretend Marty's a raccoon".  I don't know how that game goes.  My human kid and dog kids have their own language.  But this one's awfully cute!

The raccoon formerly known as Marty.

And yes, we have a photo of Marty this time. He didn't shy away from the phone-cam. Because that's not Marty. That's a raccoon!


I Don't Do Photoshoots! Nor Kisses! Can I Bite You Instead?

By contrast (to Eddie), we can never quite see Bob being affectionate. It doesn't suit his built and personality. He's distant and would never do those cute antics. He doesn't do "puppy-dog eyes" like this one:

This cuteness? It's beyond him.

I've tried many times to ask for a kiss from Bob, but the dog would just look at my face blankly. I even did the "pweeze" face at him and I'm pretty sure in his mind he's saying, "Ano ka te, hilo???"

He would, however, come up close to Philip and wag his tail at him. When I say "up close", I mean IN YOUR FACE close. Like inches apart. Like someone near-sighted trying very hard to look at your face. It's his favorite thing to do, I think because we'd see him do this regularly. And only to his human-dad. And only when he sees his dad working on something in his laptop.

The other thing about Bob? I could never get a decent picture of him. NEVER.

This set was taken this morning, since I'm working my way to introducing the pets on this blog. And see? Not one decent shot of his gorgeous face:

No to paparazzi!

This dog also bites. Whenever he's excited, he'd bite. Albeit, playfully.

The cable guys were here a few days ago, and the dogs were following them around, Bob included. At one point, I heard one of  the cable guys said, "Ayayayayay!!"  Bob apparently jumped at him to nibble his hand. When I scolded him, he was looking at the cable guy and he seemed to say, "C'mon, dude. I was just playing with you!"

Now that biting and jumping? Bob thinks *that* is cute.

Best. Kisser. Ever!

Eddie loves to kiss. None of Eddie's kids can kiss the way he does this. NO ONE.

He slobbers all over the face.
He'd close his eyes.
He can do it for over twenty minutes, if he wants to.
He'd kiss anybody.

Eddie is a real tease.

This morning, it was my turn to get those wet kisses.

Kissing scene.

It's a good thing his mouth smells better this week.

And if I weren't so careful or I forget to close my mouth? I'd get French-kissed by Eddie.



A Little Drama For Momma

I didn't think my first post about Frasier on this blog would be this little "sad" story.

He injured his leg this morning. He did it to himself. The dog jumped some two meters long and didn't land quite perfectly.

Worse, he did it 2x.

And whimpered both times.

Both times, he called for help. I was nearest when he got hurt the first time, so naturally my instinct was to scoop him up, carry him to my lap, soothe him with my voice and massage his leg.

Well, the darn dog must have thought, "Wow! Free massage!!!" Coz the 2nd time it happened, which was about thirty minutes apart by the way...Frasier milked it for all the attention he can get.

So, now he's playing the helpless victim. You would think he's been beaten and that his injury's really bad.

Just look at this face:

Hurting... Keep rubbing my legs, Mom!

I took this photo a few moments after they had lunch, where Frasier was able to walk to his food bowl. Which meant that while the leg was hurt, he was actually fine.

Except... Marty and him got into a fight in the middle of eating. And then Frasier probably remembered his leg was supposed to be hurting. So you know what he did when we tried to stop Marty and him from quarreling over food? Cried loudly and then raised his leg as if to say, "I'm not the bad guy here, see I'm hurt?! Punish Marty!"

My son, Sean, had a good laugh. "Tinaas pa niya talaga paa niya, Ma."

This dog has a future. I can hear it now: "And the Best Dramatic Dog Actor Award goes to..."

Perfumes and Colognes Drive Him Crazy

Anytime I'd spray perfume or cologne on our bed so that it smells better, Niles will automatically do this:

Crazy dog on the loose!

He'd jump and roll over our bed. Would lose his mind for a while.

The first time he did this, he was on the bed. So, I was thinking that maybe I irritated his senses and he was trying to rub the smell off.

But the next time it happened, Niles wasn't there. He was by the floor, just outside our bedroom. But the minute I sprayed cologne on the bed, he jumped and behaved like a crazy dog again. I thought nothing of it, until I observed that he does this each and every time.

With fabric sprays or fresheners? Not so much. But with colognes and perfumes? He'd go berserk.

Once, I was cleaning the bedroom and Niles saw that I had a bottle of perfume on hand. He was curiously watching me --- which by the way, Niles' gaze? Deadly. He has this "look" that says to me, he's up to no good. (I have to get a picture of that one time!) Anyway, his eyes were locked on me holding the perfume bottle and the moment I aimed it on the bed, he was up there ready to take it.

We even caught him one time jumping up the bed as Philip sprayed perfume on himself. Niles thought we were spraying the bed with it.

I dunno what is up with this dog and perfumes. Maybe he just wants to smell really good. Or in his former life, he probably was this olfactory expert.



Most dogs love to get into stuff they're not supposed to be playing or eating. Jack Russell Terriers do all of those things. And worse.

I can't tell you how many slippers I've had since the pups were born (July 2010). I stopped counting on my 8th pair. And that's just mine. They also ate my son's slippers, the hubby's slippers, the hubby's friend's slippers (which we had to replace, bummer!).

I can't tell you how many of my bags they tried gnawing. Or how many soiled clothes they took from the hamper to play with, leaving holes in them. Or how many of our son's school socks the dogs took from his basket, thinking these are balls.

You get the picture.

Everyday is always a discovery.

If you're visiting our house, you've got to watch out for this army of destroyers. Please don't come wearing something expensive. We will not be liable for the damages (haha!).

These are just some of what I found destroyed today:

The lounge bed in our living room.

Newspaper rack.

Rag. This is rag #1005. They keep playing with rags.

There's going to be more, that's for sure. Which is why I'm particularly dedicating an Exhibit DDD category for this blog.

Girls Are The Smartest!

Good girl, Roz!
Of the dogs, Niles and Bob are notorious for peeing and pooing on our bed. They know where their potty mats are but I feel that some days? They just want to test my patience. Sometimes I catch the boys, sometimes I don't.

Last night, I found poop on our bed and figured it was either Niles or Bob again. Naturally, I scolded the dogs and cleaned up the mess.

I was already resting in bed, watching TV with them sleeping so cozy next to me, when I noticed that Roz stayed to the side of the bed the whole time. She was uneasy and she started to cry.

I kept calling her to come up. The bed's all clean and I was no longer mad. She wouldn't move. She just sat there looking at me. So, I let her stay.

When I finished the program I was watching and I checked on her again, she still wouldn't move from where she was sitting. I finally came up to her and saw why.

She had poop on her butt! It was the kind that wouldn't drop because it stayed stuck.  She was the one who left her mark on the bed. And she stayed on the floor, crying for me, because she didn't want to mess it all over again.

I was amazed how much she understood. I had to reassure her what happened was an accident and I didn't know she had a hard time wriggling out her poop.

And then I ended up wiping and washing her butt that night.  Just like with babies.

But I was mighty proud of how much smarter this girl is compared to her brothers.

Girls are truly the smartest!

I Actually Don't Know Where To Start

Since I had Eddie & Daphne, I've been posting about their dog adventures on Facebook. The albums are open to public and I think that it has made them a celebrity of sorts among friends of friends.

Please check their milestones and my stories about them via these links:

I also have them on video: DOG MOVIES

There are tons of stories there. I even divulged about Eddie & Daphne's sex life:

Not fit for kids below 21.

My son is right. I do over-share stuff online, which explains why my teenager is so allergic about it! =)

It's a good thing these dogs can't ever complain about it, huh?

Falling In Love is Like Owning A Dog

First of all, it's a big responsibility,
especially in a city like New York.
So think long and hard before deciding on love.
On the other hand, love gives you a sense of security:
when you're walking down the street late at night
and you have a leash on love
ain't no one going to mess with you.
Because crooks and muggers think love is unpredictable.
Who knows what love could do in its own defense?

On cold winter nights, love is warm.
It lies between you and lives and breathes
and makes funny noises.
Love wakes you up all hours of the night with its needs.
It needs to be fed so it will grow and stay healthy.

Love doesn't like being left alone for long.
But come home and love is always happy to see you.
It may break a few things accidentally in its passion for life,
but you can never be mad at love for long.

Is love good all the time? No! No!
Love can be bad. Bad, love, bad! Very bad love.

Love makes messes.
Love leaves you little surprises here and there.
Love needs lots of cleaning up after.
Sometimes you just want to get love fixed.
Sometimes you want to roll up a piece of newspaper
and swat love on the nose,
not so much to cause pain,
just to let love know Don't you ever do that again!

Sometimes love just wants to go for a nice long walk.
Because love loves exercise.
It runs you around the block and leaves you panting.
It pulls you in several different directions at once,
or winds around and around you
until you're all wound up and can't move.

But love makes you meet people wherever you go.
People who have nothing in common but love
stop and talk to each other on the street.

Throw things away and love will bring them back,
again, and again, and again.
But most of all, love needs love, lots of it.
And in return, love loves you and never stops.

- By: Taylor Mali


About This Blog

All my life, I grew up with dogs. There was a time I we had about 13 dogs in my grandparents' house, where I was raised.

I had my first pet when I was 9. A brown dachshund named Hutch, Starsky's brother and Pretzel's son. Pretzel was the family princess. Hutch wasn't really MY pet per se. I didn't feed and bathe him, Lolo did. But of all the dogs we had in the house, I was drawn to him the most. Hutch was gay. He'd walk with this forelegs crossing each other. One time, we heard him squeal and discovered that ants had bit him by the balls. I can't remember how I lost Hutch.

I had another pet in my teens who I named Bart. When Pretzel died, my grandmother took in another "princess", a toy poodle named Olive. Bart is Olive's first born. I named him. I bathed him. But Lolo was still the one feeding him. I lost Bart when our car ran over him. He wasn't supposed to be out of the house. I cried in my room when I learned he died.

I was in my 20's when I had Denzel, a black dachshund. He had been a gift from my father for graduating college. He had been my first real pet-baby. Only, I had to give him up because I gave birth a couple of years later and had to take care of a real live human being this time. Denzel died because he got sick. I sort of feel it's partly because of neglect, too. I didn't have a dog for a long time since then.

A decade later and I was gifted by the husband with Eddie, our Jack Russell. Two months after that and I was gifted with Daphne, of the same breed. A year and a half later, our dog family grew to five more.

This blog is all about my dog kids: Eddie, Daphne, Roz, Niles, Frasier, Bob & Marty.

Since their arrival, our world has been insane. But it's the kind of crazy-fun I would love to talk about and share to the world.

So let me tell you all about my furkids...