Spring break visitors

Thatcher and Boden were happy to have visitors at our house for the week. My younger sisters came and stayed with us over their school spring break. The Newfies love pretty much all people, but they especially love girls. I think it's because their true boyish nature kicks in, and they enjoy having someone around to protect and to show off to. So two teenage girls in the house = heaven for the dogs. Since J. and I still had to work, they got to hang out with the girls every day and were lucky enough to get extra walks, romps in the park, and wrestling matches in the backyard. They are still in withdrawals and have been acting a little mopey since the girls left yesterday. 

Snow monsters

Snow day

This morning I woke up to a message from my boss with the most delightful news: snow day. We got something like 5-6 inches of snow overnight, so I was thrilled I did not have to attempt the slow commute to work on the unplowed roads. It's been snowing most of the day, and this kind of weather makes me want to snuggle up, drink tea and read a book. Thatcher and Boden have different ideas in mind, and assume that since I am home with them all day, we should probably spend as much time as possible outside in the snow. You can guess which of us has gotten our way. 

Honestly, this snow is a nice change because it covers up the layers upon layers of ice that have formed along every sidewalk and street from the variations in weather this winter. Yesterday, during our morning walk, I slipped on the ice and fell flat on my bottom. The dogs immediately came to my rescue, jumping all over me and trying to make sure I was alright, but preventing me from being able to get back up. So my bruised tailbone is relieved that the ice is covered up for at least the next couple of days. And until then, Thatcher and Boden are once again the happiest Newfies in the world. 

Selective hearing

Yesterday we made trip to the dog park, and while this time we had no falling-in-the-river mishaps, we did have one brief scare because of Boden. Whenever we first arrive, the dogs are ecstatic. Boden runs around like a mad man, not even flinching when we say his name. He will sprint 100 yards to the first dog or human he spots, leaving us to chase after him. This effect normally wears off after the first few minutes of excitement pass, but keep us on our toes for those minutes. The dog park is huge, several acres at least. We've come across owners frantically searching for their dogs, running up and down the trails yelling for them. Because most of it is woods, it would be an easy place to lose track of your dog. So we've always been super cautious to keep the dogs in sight. And that's how our small moment of panic occurred yesterday. 

We entered the park and Boden took off running across the trails to greet a dog he saw in the distance. We called for him, but with his selective hearing, this was pointless. Thatcher, J. and I jogged ahead to catch up with him. As we got closer, Boden took off for the next dog he saw - which happened to be even further in the woods. We hurried and tried to keep our eyes on Boden, but he disappeared between the trees. This went on for a minute or two, Boden in la-la land following all the dogs he could find, and us struggling to catch a glimpse of him as he zoomed through the woods. He finally circled back to the trail in hot pursuit of another dog, when he finally noticed us calling his name. Thatcher ran ahead and barked at Boden as if to tell him to get his butt over by us, and surprisingly Boden finally listened. After that, his craziness passed and both dogs stuck fairly close to us. Another crisis averted. 

Don't own a dog unless...

The dog park we bring Thatcher and Boden to borders the Mississippi River. It's several fenced-in acres of woods, trails and beach. Being a "balmy" 30-something degree day, we decided to trek over to the dog park and let the boys frolic around with the many friends they come across there. In typical Saturday fashion, the park was full of life. This was a nice change from the last time we took them there. It was a -10 degree morning, and we were literally the only people dumb enough to be there. Anyhow, Thatcher and Boden don't get as much social interaction in the winter, aside from our trips to Petsmart or the neighborhood dogs we cross paths with on walks every now and then. So they were thrilled when we arrived and they realized where we were. 

We usually take the same route through the park. We walk through the woods on a trail that leads to a peninsula on the edge of the water, a 1-2 mile hike. Then we loop down and walk the beach the whole way back. Along the way, Thatch and Boden enthusiactically romp around with the other dogs we encounter. Boden, ever the social butterfly, makes sure to greet every living creature in the park - humans and animals alike. His best friend of choice today was another 7-month-old puppy - a goofy pit bull/lab mix. They chased and jumped on each other much of our walk, until Boden finally got distracted by new friends and ran ahead. Thatcher is much more concerned with investigating all of the scents. He trots around like a hound dog, his nose to the ground, snorting like a pig. Occasionally, he'll become sidetracked by another dog's ball. He'll say hi to the other dogs, being sure to puff up his chest to look big and tough, but then goes back to his investigative work.

So we hiked through the woods and got the peninsula, then started back on our normal route along the beach. The water close to the shore was frozen, but the ice was clearly pretty thin because of the last few warm days. Boden really hasn't had the chance to be around water a whole lot yet since he was born towards the end of summer. He clambered over to the edge of the river and took a few shaky steps onto the frozen part. Knowing the ice wasn't steady, we immediately called him to us, but it was too late. His front paws broke through and he fell head-first into the icy water. He panicked, thrashing around and whimpering for help. We were standing probably 10 yards away when this happened, and J was moving before I could even really react. He sprinted over to the edge to pull Boden to safety in a matter of seconds, soaking his own legs in the process.

It all happened in less than a minute. Being so close to shore, the water couldn't have been much more than waist-deep (on a human), but it was still scary. We thought Boden would be traumatized and shivering, and we still had a very long walk to get back to the car. But our worries were unecessary. He recovered in about half a second and went back to merrily running down the beach. Unless you felt him, you wouldn't even know he was wet, because he did not act cold in the slightest. Now, where was Thatcher during this short ordeal? Was he by our side concerned about Boden? No. After Boden was safely back on solid ground, we quickly looked around trying to make sure Thatcher was still alive and safe too. Where did we find him? About 100 yards away, cheerfully playing with another group of dogs, not even noticing what had just happened. 

So the moral of the story is this: Do not own a dog unless you are willing to jump into the icy Mississippi River to rescue him. I'd like to think our puppy has also learned his lesson and will be more cautious in the future. I fear, though, that the only lesson he learned today is to be even more brave, because mom and dad will save him no matter what situation he gets himself into. Oh well. He's snoring on the (now soaking wet) bed next to me, and I can't help but smile and think about all the crazy things we do for our pets. 

Boden sleeping off "the incident"

Home and happy

This past weekend we travelled out of state to visit my brother and sister-in-law. Because my niece is still pretty little, not yet two years old, we thought we'd leave the Newfies at home so we could spend more time with her and less time worrying about them getting into trouble in their house. It was Boden's first time without one of us, and Thatcher has only been left a handful of times. Right from the start, it was a little bizarre not having the dogs. We set out on the road, and eventually realized we didn't have any reason to stop. Usually on road trips, we take breaks at rest areas to let the dogs out to stretch and run. Instead, we were just forced to stop for snacks every hour or two. Once we were there, we had no dogs waking us up early in the morning, no excuse to sneak outside for fresh air, and nothing to worry about when we were out late. Not to mention we only needed to pack half the amount of stuff we normally pile into the car. It was weird.

When we got home on Sunday, the dogs had different reactions. Thatcher ran over and gave his happy growl, then just expected a walk immediately and kept barking at us to take him. Boden was just ecstatic. He is a lot less independent than Thatcher and literally cries with joy when he greets us after we've been gone for a long stretch of time. It's really kind of pathetic and cute at the same time. Even when I get home from work, he rushes over and buries himself in my arms, whining and wagging his tail at the same time. So for the rest of the day Sunday, the dogs did not let us leave their sight. They are not planning on letting us sneak off on another trip without them again anytime soon.

On a bright note (for Thatch and Boden, at least), we have gotten snow three days in a row now. The dogs have been delighted to tromp around and gobble up the fresh snow. Anyone who knows anything about Newfies can relate here. The more snow they are covered in, the happier they are. I sometimes wonder if they even feel cold.  This morning, when I called them in, they just flopped themselves onto the snow and pretended they didn't understand what I was saying.





Oh, January

Since I was just talking about Boden's favorite game (keepaway) in my last post, I thought I should share the video I managed to catch of it this morning. It was freezing and snowing and dreary outside, so it's not the highest quality video, but Boden has a long stick in his mouth. Hence, the gleeful prancing around the snow. He found this stick and ran around with it our entire time we were at the fields today. Sometimes, he carries the sticks he finds all the way home. And better yet, he occasionally manages to sneak them into the house without us noticing. I won't realize this until later, when I find a trail of shredded wood leading to a certain sleeping, "innocent" puppy. 

Seeing double

As Boden grows, the differences between he and Thatcher shrink. It's getting easier to mistake one for the other at first glance. I mean, when you accidentally stumble over a huge black lump that is monopolizing an entire hallway, doorway or entryway, it's hard to distinguish which Newfie was the culprit. Although their faces are quite different and Boden is still at least 30lbs shy of Thatcher, people are starting to get the boys mixed up fairly often. I guess to most people, a big black dog is a big black dog. When we visited family the other day and walked into the house, I heard someone repeat a few times (upon being greeted by the dogs), "Which one is the little one? Which one is the baby?". 

Obviously, we see them every day and don't struggle quite as much. But I have really been noticing just how alike they are becoming. Not only in appearance, which is inevitable considering they are of the same breed, but in personality. Boden mimics Thatcher. Some of the characteristics they both display are inherent to the Newfie breed, but some quirks are just random. For example, Thatcher has always done this weird thing where he licks the air repeatedly when you pat his butt. When you stop patting, he whines a little and wags his tail slightly, as if to tell you to keep patting. There is no way to teach this, and I have absolutely no idea why Thatcher licks the air. But Boden does now does the exact same thing. It's uncanny.

When we were up north this past weekend, I went for a morning walk with the boys to catch the sunrise. I might add that the temperature was below zero that day; we experienced a high of zero degrees. So I bundled up and ventured out into the bitterly cold but beautifully still morning. I brought my camera along and snapped a few photos before my fingers went numb - which took about 6 minutes. I finally got a chance to browse through the photos tonight and was amazed at how identical the Newfies looked in so many of the shots. I almost thought I was seeing double.

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.

Merry and bright

It's crazy how quickly the holidays come and go. After all of the anticipation leading up to it, our Christmas was fairly anti-climatic. We had family at our house the weekend before Christmas. This made the Newfies extremely happy, as they got spoiled big-time by their "grandma." I swear, my mother has single-handedly contributed to Thatcher's ever-increasing chunkiness. Of course, Thatcher doesn't mind one bit. Both of the dogs like to act like we starve them in front of guests, despite the littering of bones and rawhides around the house. We've learned to tread carefully in the dark, because stubbing your toe on one of their giant bones really hurts. It hurts bad. Anyhow, they had a jolly time showing off for my mom and sisters all weekend. One of my little sisters slept downstairs on the basement futon, and when we went to check on her before bed, we saw that she had in fact found a nice boy to keep her warm for the night. Apparently they were both equally exhausted from the weekend and had passed out together in the nice quiet basement.

After spending Christmas Eve with one family, we drove up late that night to the next family gathering. We swung home to pick up Thatcher and Boden and began our three hour trip, only to end up in what felt like the North Pole. Because of the sub-zero temperatures and the heat from the dogs in the backseat, the windows stayed frosted over the whole drive. We would periodically hear a licking sound and would glance back to see either Thatcher or Boden melting the ice of the window with their tongue. I've always joked that if our dogs were actual children, they would be the kids in their kindergarten class who eat glue. So we finally arrived pretty late that night, and spent most of Christmas day there. Thatcher, as usual, ran around frantically looking for my dad's cat Che, and Boden sneakily tried to eat the ornaments off the Christmas tree. Once again, the dogs were stuffed with treats and plenty of leftover ham from dinner. They slept soundly the entire way home.

As if they just weren't spoiled enough in the past week, Thatcher and Boden were surprised with a visit from Santa. To their delight, they received a plethora of new toys (which are by now mostly shredded) and bones (which are by now mostly eaten). The first thing Thatcher did when he saw all of their goodies was to grab at the largest treat he could find, a rawhide in the shape of a big candy cane, and run upstairs to stash it away in a safe location. As I discovered later, this location turned out to be our bed. And in the process of trying to bury it thoroughly, he managed to claw a hole in the sheets. We also created a new game, in which the we stomp on all the toys with squeakers repeatedly while the dogs try to find out which toys are squeaking. It makes them go nuts and trot around hilariously, inspecting every suspicious toy. It's true, sometimes the humans are as easily-entertained as the dogs.

Chasing snowballs

Winter has settled in. The temperature has stayed mostly in the 20s or below, which has kept the snow crusty and the sidewalks icy. Thatcher and Boden are content. They don't seem to even notice the frigid weather. They don't feel sorry for us when we have to pile on layers just to walk them. They just want their walks. In fact, anytime we start putting on shoes or jackets, even if it's to leave for work or errands, the Newfies assume it means they get to go on a walk. They'll pace around us excitedly and follow us to the door. Needless to say, they are frequently disappointed when we close the doors and leave them behind. We've had to change our routine to shorter, more frequent walks rather than the long meandering walks we used to take. An easy way to let the dogs get some exercise in is to take them to the park up the street, which consists of a small playground and mostly vacant soccer and baseball fields. Here, they are free to run. Playing fetch when there's snow on the ground with dogs who are usually apathetic about retrieving consistently is not an option. We would lose far too many balls. So instead, we tromp around the outskirts of the field, throwing snowballs or sprinting ahead for Thatcher and Boden to chase us. We know it's time to head back home when the dogs won't stop lying down in the snow and biting at their paws - ice gets stuck in the hair around their toes and it drives them crazy.

Ice ornaments

Turns out there is one major drawback to the Newfies' long black hair in the winter, and I've never noticed it until this year. Not only does their fur attract snow, but it causes snow to hang in large clumps all over the warmest parts of their bodies (insides of legs, tummies, etc.). It kind of looks like we decorate them with little white beads or ornaments. This effect is especially dramatic on Boden's cobweb-like fur. He gets chunks of snow larger than golfballs hanging from his bottom. At first I thought they'll melt off pretty quickly once the dogs warm up in the house for a bit. But no. Instead, they turn to ice, causing them to stick to the fur even more. Thatcher doesn't seem to be bothered by this. If he actually happens to notice or feel any clumps on himself, he'll calmly lie down and bite it off, just as he does with burrs. But Boden went crazy trying to shake off those suckers, so I helped finger-comb them out the best I could. Now, ice has always been one of their favorite "treats", so when they discovered what I was pulling off of Boden, big balls of icy snow, they excitedly started gobbling up the chunks I removed. At one point, Thatcher tried eating one directly off of Boden's back leg, which made Boden yelp at him. It was quite a site, which resulted in our kitchen floor turning into a small lake. Ah, the joys of winter. 

Thatcher ignoring the little snowballs

Proof. Golfball size

Boden eating the little snowballs

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