End of the hiatus

73 excruciating days. That's how long it's been since I left my boys in MN (and even longer since I last blogged about them!)

Let me rewind a little. This past winter, J and I debated the idea of moving out of the Midwest and trying somewhere else for a change. Free from too many major obligations, like kids or a mortgage, we figured this is the year to do something different before we settle down further. We agonized for months, going back and forth, tossing ideas around. Change is scary, and neither of us was sure if we wanted to commit to such a dramatic change as moving across the country. We researched many locations, but ultimately decided that we wanted to live near some sort of family. And it just so happens that my sister lives in the Southwest. 

Fast forward a couple months, and I find myself in the hot, sunny desert - Arizona to be more precise. Due to a whirlwind interview process and job offer with a great company, I made the road trip down here in April, pulled into town on a Sunday, and started work the next day. Unfortunately, the quick transition did not give us enough time to arrange for the dogs to come with. J is staying behind to work through the end of their peak season, so he's been a single papa to the dogs since I left. It's been hard on all three of them. J works such long hours during the summer, so the dogs have been on their own a little more than usual.

I did get to see them over Memorial Day weekend, but it was such a short trip it hardly counts. And I literally can't even describe how melancholy life has been without my Newfies, so instead I will share the news: they're joining me this week. I'm flying into Minneapolis on Wednesday, then J and I are driving the pups down. Needless to say, we're in for an adventure. Aside from the 26 hour drive down here, we're going to have to learn to adjust them to these extreme temperatures. We've got a few months left of scorching heat, so we'll have to get creative with finding ways to keep the Newfies healthy, cool and happy. The huge pool in our backyard should help a little, but I know that we're going to have to be extremely cautious when it comes to outdoor activities. 

J is staying in Minnesota through November for work, so Thatcher and Boden are going to have a ton of quality mommy time for the next several months. I think we'll take care of each other just fine. Time to see what this desert adventure has in store for me and my drooly giants. 

Memorial Day 2013

Rain or shine

Mailmen have a tough job. Rain, snow and sleet make no difference - they have to go outside and get the mail delivered. Although I appreciate the work they do, I've always thought that I would never have the motivation to do their job. Yet as I trudged through pouring rain with the Newfies this morning, I realized that being a dog owner is actually pretty similar to being a mailman. Doesn't matter what kind of extreme elements you have to battle (and there are plenty here in Minneapolis), the dogs must be walked. The major difference, of course, is that mailman are at least getting paid to face the elements. Not us dog owners. It can be blizzarding outside, but I rarely give it a second thought as I bundle up to trek through the snow. The dogs could care less if I get frostbite from trying to scoop up their poop, which requires removing my mittens, in 15 below temperatures. And they definitely don't care if I can't see where I'm walking because my glasses are splattered with rain drops. They just want their walk. So while I respect those brave mailmen, I can't help but think that being a dog owner is one of the most hardcore "occupations" out there.

Open window weather

The last few days have finally felt a little bit like spring. Sun shining, temperatures in the high 40s to low 50s. During the warmer parts of the day, we've been opening windows just to clear the stale winter stuffiness out of the house. Thatcher and Boden now post themselves in front of any open window and monopolize the cool breeze that floats in. They sit with their chins resting on the window sill, sniff out new scents in the air and keep an eye on the ever-increasing squirrel population in the front yard. The snow is mostly melted, except for the few spots of the yard that are shaded from the sun. So Mr. Garbage-Disposal (aka Boden) has taken it upon himself to eat any stick, leaf or clump of dirt he can find. And whenever I let the dogs out to use the bathroom, I find them a few minutes later lying next to each other in the yard, basking in the warm sun. Instead of calling them inside, I let them enjoy this lovely weather all they can before the hot summer months roll around.

Bath day

Thatcher and Boden have super thick coats that require pretty constant care to keep them somewhat tamed. Ever since we first got Thatcher, J. and I found it worked best to divide duties. Grooming is my job, baths are his job. I groom them at least once a week, brushing them out from head to tail. This means fighting through the never-ending matts and dreadlocks, picking out pieces of sticks or food crusties, cleaning ears, etc. I'm not going to lie, it's a messy job. Oddly enough, both of the dogs and I really enjoy this little routine. Whenever I pull out the brushes and grooming wipes, they beeline straight towards me, wagging their tails. 

Baths, although much less frequent, require even more work. We only give baths once every few months. It's not that we're too lazy, but because washing Newfies water-resistant coats too frequently will strip the natural oils away. So yesterday was a much-needed bath day. J. quickly learned with Thatcher, who loves water but absolutely hates being splashed, that the most efficient way to keep him in the bathtub is to be in there with him. Before this, Thatcher used to hate baths and it took pretty much all of J.'s power to just keep him in the tub with that scary water faucet. So J. always strips down to shorts and stands with Thatcher in the shower while he washes him. That's dedication. And it's miraculous how much this helps. Well, that and a portable shower head. Boden doesn't mind baths (this was only his second or third since we got him), and pretty much stands perfectly still the entire time he's being washed.

The best part about baths is how happy the dogs are afterwards. You will never see Thatcher run as fast as he does right after a bath. He sprints around the living room, jumping from the couch to the floor to the couch to the floor, rolling around and barking. I have videos this. We aren't able to sit on the couch until it dries a couple hours later, but it's so worth it to see Thatcher act like a maniac. Boden for some reason is always tired after baths, like they zap him of all of his energy. He crashed for the rest of the afternoon, on our bed of course, all wrapped up in the towel and snoring. I brushed them out after their frizzy hair dried, and now they feel as soft as little ducklings. I'm snuggling them as much as possible, because I know the clean, soft fur only lasts like 6 seconds, before it's once again a crusty, tangled mess.

Training: Week 5

Before I get into training, let me first backtrack to yesterday morning. I took the Thatcher and Boden out for a walk as usual. The sidewalks are still thickly coated in layers upon layers of ice, due to the random mixes of weather spring throws at us. I was running a little late, so I decided to stick to the sidewalks and do a quick loop around the neighborhood rather than go to the park and let them run in the field. Everything was fine until we rounded a corner to the last block before our house. An older couple was down the street walking their poodle, and headed in our direction. I immediately knew I had to get off the sidewalks and into the snow, because it was so slippery that if the dogs pulled me at all, I'd fall. Unfortunately, their reaction time is faster than my own. They spotted the poodle down the block and jerked forward. My feet flew out in front of me and I crashed down onto my lower back. Better yet, the dogs kept pulling, so I couldn't even get my traction beneath me to stand back up. I scolded them harshly and they finally let up enough to give me time to stand and yank them into the snowbank. One of the neighbors with the poodle came over to see if I was ok, and the dogs jumped all over with excitement and tangled him in the leashes. I'm positive that if I had been watching this whole incident from afar, I would be laughing so hard at this woman who can't control her dogs. But instead, I angrily walked the dogs home with a bruised, aching lower back.

Fast forward to training last night. Over the past several weeks, we've noticed we're the only ones in class who are still struggling with their dogs pulling on leash. We kind of figured it was just because we have the largest dogs in class, but it was making training stressful every single time. Both of the Newfies are easily stronger than me, so I often feel helpless and totally out of control. The martingale (half regular collar, half choke-chain) collars we'd been using were having little or no effect on correcting the dogs' pulling, so J. and I knew something had to change. We took a chance and decided to try out prong collars for the first time ever. We arrived at class a little early to purchase and get the dogs fitted for the collars. I have always disliked the idea of prong collars, thinking them unnecessary and a little harsh. But after going through 4 weeks of training class and still being jerked around by Thatcher and Boden every time we're in public, I was desperate for a solution. Instead of the crazy-looking, bulky metal collars I've seen in pet stores, these ones were surprisingly petite. They are made of separate links hooked together, and you can take them apart or add/remove links as needed. They sit on the upper neck, right below the dog's ears, and are meant to simulate a scruffing of the neck. 

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We got the dogs properly fitted, and a trainer walked one dog around the room at at time to get them used to the feel of this new corrective measure. Though I was skeptical at first, the difference it made was incredible. I am not even exaggerating at all when I say the pulling issue basically disappeared. I walked Boden around, and whenever he would pull even slightly, I gave the leash a little tug and he would immediately stop. Besides Boden being a little confused and nervous because of this new feeling on his neck, training went great. Instead of having to be tense and fight the dogs' constant straining, we were able to actually focus on the training aspect. We practiced coming, heeling, staying, standing, etc. No leash-burned hands, no sore muscles, no crazy dogs. I felt like a weight lifted. For the first time in quite a while, I felt completely in control as we worked on heeling. The only hiccup I had is the "stand" command again. I cannot figure out how to get this idea to sink into Boden's mind. All in all, J. and I left feeling happy and stress-free. We might end up with a couple of trained Newfies after all. 

This seat is taken



The other day I came into the living room and saw that the Newfies had already claimed the couch. We allow them on our furniture, so I didn't really care. The sad part, however, is that without even giving it a second thought, I grabbed a pillow and sat on the floor.

Training: Week 4

Training class was uneventful this week. Our dogs aren't progressing as much as we'd like, but it's because we haven't prioritized practicing training during the week at home. We realized we need to remedy this, so we've been setting aside time each day to work the dogs during our walks. Heeling is one of our bigger obstacles, but we faced a new challenge this week which may have been the hardest yet. A "stand" command. Thatcher and Boden do not understand the concept of standing still. They are the lazy dogs in our class; they flop down onto the floor every opportunity they get between exercises. Which is why we cannot get "stand" to click in their minds. The trainer instructed everyone to physically hold their dogs in a standing position for a few seconds, until they start to understand what we're asking them to do. Of course, nobody in the class has dogs even close to Thatcher and Bodens' size, so it's a lot easier said then done. When I placed my hands underneath Boden's stomach and chest to keep him from sitting/laying, he turned himself into dead weight and we both crashed onto the ground. The trainer came over to assist, and the whole time Boden just flailed his head around, confused as to why he was stuck. Thatcher wasn't as big of a drama queen with J., but he doesn't really get it either. It's really funny, because they will sit or lay in place all day long. But standing is just way too complicated. 

Many people have asked how I get the Newfies to hold still for photos. I don't. Once they realize I'm holding my camera, they'll pretty much stay in whatever position I put them in. In fact, I'm afraid I may have turned them into narcissists. Not only do Thatcher and Boden pose perfectly when I'm snapping photos, but they get excited when they even see my camera these days - even if I'm just taking it out to clean the lens or change the memory card. What have I created?  It can be hard to get candid photos of them playing, because if they notice the camera, they'll come lay or stand directly in front of me. Case in point the photos below. All I did was sit down at the kitchen table to clean out my camera bag, but since they posed themselves, I couldn't turn the opportunity down. Maybe my camera is the  magic solution - I'll have to start whipping it out to practice "stand". 

Crammed in the car

The Newfies love car rides, but we definitely need to invest in a larger vehicle. Unless they are sitting up and looking out of the window, squeezing into the backseat of our car requires Thatcher and Boden to basically lie on top of each other. Surprisingly, they are great sports about it and generally nap the whole time. On our last trip to visit family, a three hour roadtrip, I glanced into the backseat and had to smile. Boden was sleeping with his arm around Thatcher. We've started researching larger vehicles, because once Boden is full size, fitting all four of us into a car will be near impossible.

Tasmanian Devils

Boden's little digging-through-the-bathroom-garbage incident the other night did not hold a candle to what I came home to yesterday. I can't prove it was Boden, but I'm fairly confident he was the ringleader. The entire house (all three floors) were such a disaster, I didn't even have time to document it all with photographs. The funniest part is that the dogs were home alone for one hour total the entire day. J left for work at 3pm, and I was home by 4pm. It makes me laugh, thinking of how fast the dogs must have worked to cause that much damage in just one hour. It's actually impressive. Here's how my night went.

I arrived home and immediately switched to snow boots to take the dogs for a walk while it was still light out. We tromped, through drizzling rain, to the park up the street and I let the dogs run in the fields for a while. We got back home, and as I began taking off my boots I noticed Thatcher was acting kind of strange. He sat unmoving in the kitchen and seemed frozen in place. I walk into the living room to find torn apart books littering the carpet. I scolded the dogs and told them they were naughty, then cleaned up the mess. But even once the mess was cleaned up, Thatcher still looked worried, which was unusual. I headed upstairs and immediately found out why Thatcher was being so weird. 

The entire hallway, bedroom, guest bedroom and bathroom floors were covered in shredded remnants of tissues, leftover Christmas gift bags, magazines and bathroom trash. I immediately called the dogs upstairs, and at first they wouldn't even come. I could see them waiting at the bottom of the stairway, hiding in the shadows. I called them again, and they slowly tiptoed up the stairs, trying to avoid my angry glare. I had to pull out my camera and snap a few shots before I scolded them. They are pretty easy to punish, and are much harder on themselves than I am on them. All I usually do is say, "Thatcher, what is this? That is so naughty," in a stern voice (trying to keep from smiling), and both of the dogs drop to the ground apologetically, wagging their tails meekly. They acted sad until the mess was completely cleaned up, then it was out of sight, out of mind. They're good at pretending to be sorry at least, what more could I ask of them.

Pre-scolding

During scolding

Pre-scolding

During scolding

During scolding

After scolding. No remorse :)

Teddy

Boden has an affinity for stuffed animals. He likes to cuddle with them, carry them around, shake them vigorously and wave them in Thatcher's face. All night tonight, he has been prancing around the house with his yellow fuzzy bear. He's been bringing it over to Thatcher and swinging it around, tempting Thatcher to try and steal it. Most stuffed animals have a tragic fate once Thatcher takes the bait. The subject of a game of tug-o-war, their limbs are usually torn apart and their bodies de-stuffed. Our living room often looks like a teddy bear graveyard. 

New day, new year

If we didn't know it was New Year's, it'd be easy to mistake today as just another Tuesday. Another day, another week, another year. Since today is a day of resolutions, Thatcher and Boden would like to share theirs.

Thatcher's goal, similar to millions of humans' goals today, is to shed the extra pounds he has put on this year - particularly since Boden joined our family. He has promised to try his hardest to stop gobbling up all of Boden's puppy food, and to be content with his own (now weight management) food. He has also promised to try to remember that he doesn't need to hoard all of the bones and rawhides in the house. Hiding them in plain sight does not keep Boden from finding them anyways.

Boden's goal is to learn to listen better. He has promised that when we call his name, he will try to come right away, instead of looking at or running over to Thatcher. He has also promised to try to control his bladder once and for all. Although he rarely gets scolded anymore for the occasional accidents he still has overnight, mom and dad do not like stepping in puddles in the morning. Since he holds his bladder perfectly when we are gone for work during the day, he thinks it's reasonable that we expect him to do the same overnight. We have high hopes for this goal.

Here's to another great year with our Newfies, who make us smile at least once every day.

Brotherly love

Sometimes when I come across Thatcher and Boden snuggling together, it melts my heart. These times are not common, as Thatcher tends to like his space. I walked downstairs tonight to find Boden sleeping with his head on Thatcher's back. I tiptoed back up the stairs to grab my camera, and managed to sneak in a shot before the click of the shutter woke them. Times like this reassure me that despite all of the potty training woes, rambunctious wrestling in the house, and shoes covered in puppy teeth indents, getting another Newfie was one of the best decisions we've made.

Reindeer visit

Snowstorm



A fairly large snowstorm swept through the city on Sunday. We ended up getting 10+ inches of snow. It started snowing early in the morning and was still coming down, with no interruption, when we fell asleep that night. Our cars and entire backyard were completely buried. Neighbors cars were stuck on the side of the street. I had to put on full snow gear just to go outside. Walking the dogs was a workout in itself, since we were required to tromp through such deep snow and unshoveled sidewalks. It was one of those days where you just want to curl up inside all day where it's dry, warm and cozy.

Needless to say, the Newfies were ecstatic about the dramatic weather. All day, despite the heavy snowfall and cold temperature, they romped around, leaping through the snow and wrestling into snowdrifts. While we shovelled and cleared the driveway with the snow blower, the dogs merrily chased each other through the backyard. Thatcher has always been a snow dog - he really should live in Alaska or something. But Boden seems to have taken to it just as much. It's funny to watch him, because the snow was almost as deep as he is tall. So he literally has to hop like a bunny to get around, but he loves it. They were not at all happy when I finally made them come in for the night.

Playdate

I'm listening to both Thatcher and Boden snore right now. Our nieces spent the day with us yesterday, and watching over two little girls for that long really tuckers a dog out.

We bundled up to play outside as soon as it was light out. The girls ran around and twirled in the snow. Boden frolicked after them, looking for (and causing) mischief. The Newfies always tend to gravitate towards the youngest kids, so Boden was practically the 3-year-old's shadow. Which resulted in him clumsily bumping into her and tipping her over into the snow, then smothering her with kisses while she was down on the ground. Thatcher, on the contrary, spent most of his time following the girls around with a worried look on his face. He really wasn't sure that they should be rolling down the tiny snowy hill by our driveway, so he stood watch vigilantly at the top of the hill, not taking his concerned eyes off of them. 

Later we walked a couple of blocks up to the local neighborhood park. Our 7-year-old niece insisted on walking Thatcher, and though I was a little worried he might accidentally pull her or cause her to slip on the icy sidewalk, he behaved like an angel. He proudly pranced and led her along, holding the leash in his mouth as if he was guiding her. One neighbor we passed by laughed and said, "That's a lot of dog for a little girl!". Once we got to the park, instead of happily playing, Thatcher kept trying to grab onto one end of his leash to pull us away to safety.This is what he does whenever he senses danger or feel uncomfortable. 

By late afternoon, the girls (and the Newfies) were more than ready for a nap. I tucked the girls into one of the beds and turned on a movie for them to relax to. When I came back upstairs a little bit later to check on them, I walked in to see Thatcher and Boden monopolizing the bed, with the girls squeezed in between them. 

Thatcher standing watch

Boden "helping" her down the hill

Boden "helping" her up the hill

Black Friday

Thatcher, Boden and Lea playing with "Grandpa"

Another Thanksgiving flew by. For Thanksgiving, the newfies got a nice little treat: extra family members in the house over the holiday weekend. To them, this means more people to show off for and to beg food from. They really are shameless, and will plant themselves directly in front of the person who they judge to be the easiest target - that is, the person most likely to give them food first. Often, this ends of being the youngest. If there are no children, they usually try their luck with females first, flashing their sad eyes and trying to look innocent. The worst part is that their sad eyes actually work for most people, including us who should by now be immune. We went over to a family member's house yesterday evening and afternoon, so the dogs missed out on actual Thanksgiving dinner scraps. They did, however, repay us for leaving them for the whole evening.

Now, we can't really point fingers as to which dog is truly the guilty party. Not only were Thatcher and Boden both home, a family member's dog has also been staying here the past couple of days. Lea is used to being closed in a room when she's left alone during the day, because she supposedly gets mischievous. Of course, we decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and left her out loose in the house with our dogs when we left. We (wrongly) figured, what kind of damage could she actually do? We don't have any super expensive furniture or really valuable trinkets or anything. So when we got home late in the evening after a wonderful dinner with family, I first notice a book has been snacked on. The dust jacket is in pieces, and the actual book is full of tooth marks. This, I knew, was the work of Boden. He loves chewing paper, and it was my fault I left the book on an end table that he is tall enough to reach. The rest of the house seems intact, but I decide to run and check the upstairs just to be safe. There I see our poor sturdy old laptop, which has weathered six or seven years of rough use, has been torn into. The entire upstairs is littered in toys and bones, yet Lea (we can't completely prove it was her, but Thatch and Boden have never touched the electronics we have all over the house) decided it would be the most fun to chew the keys off of the laptop. Makes sense, no?

Boden - Thanksgiving Day 2012

Thatcher - Thanksgiving Day 2012

Morning at the park

Walked to the park with the dogs this morning. While I froze in the brisk 30 degrees, they frolicked around the baseball and soccer fields without a care in the world. They love running after tennis balls and playing keep-away from each other. When I play fetch with them, I have to make them take turns, otherwise Thatcher dominates that ball and doesn't let it out of his grasp. I first throw the ball as far as I can for Thatcher and let him bring it back. Then I hold his collar and roll the ball about half that distance for Boden to go chase. Boden picked up on fetching really quickly and usually brings the ball back perfectly. Except when he knows Thatcher is waiting for it. In that case, he'll dance around Thatcher, taunting him with the ball. I'm surprised at how well Boden is able to hold onto the ball, before Thatcher flat out tackles him to the ground to take it back.