Happy Halloween

It's Halloween, a tough time for any parent. At some point, you have to let go and allow your child to make their own choices. When Starbuck asked me for his costume, my first thought was to say: "No - you are a strong young male dog, the other dogs will laugh at you". But, I had to look beyond my own needs and let him dress as the Golden Fairy Princess he wanted to be.

What can I say? It's true...

He may be a eunuch, but he's still a ladies' dog.

Happy Bow-wow-ween

Happy Halloween!

Halloween is the perfect holiday to collect lasting embarassing photos of your children. If you don't have children, no worries...dogs can also be forced to wear hilarious costumes. Last year, Starbuck dressed up as Eeyore. This year, he's turned three and decided that Eeyore was too "lame" and wanted to wear something that the other pooches would think was cool. Because we often call him the Spawn of Satan, a devil constume seemed like the natural choice.

The best thing about this year's halloween is the Yukon Government's condom campaign. They are encouraging safe sex by handing out condom packages that say: "Planning to go bump in the night?" on the outside and "If you don't dress up, you don't get the goodies" on the inside. You got to love it when your government finds ways to make Halloween dirty.

How Spoiled Am I?

There are times that I look at my precious little spawn of satan Starbuck and wonder how he became the most spoiled creature on the planet. Anthony took Starbuck on a long bike ride on Saturday, so the muttmeister was feeling as lazy as I was on Sunday. We decided to lie down on the futon in the living room and watch some quality televsion (and by quality, I mean Big Brother 7). Here's a picture that Tony took of the two of us. Yes, that is a pillow under his head and yes, he is tucked in underneath the blanket. What can I say, he has me wrapped around his little paw.

I'm hoping I'm not the only one who spoils my dog rotten. So if anyone can appease my guilt with their own spoiled pet pictures it would be much appreciated.

Sir Hyperion the Filthy

Hyper is hanging out with Starbuck and I while Tania and Kirk are out of town. As per usual, I managed to make Hyper a filthy mess, courtesy of a mountain bike ride and a muddy bog. At least he looks happy!

My Name is Jones

Everyone in the Yukon has a dog, at least it seems that way. As dog owners, we all know that dogs don't always do what they are supposed to. In fact, nobody knows that better than me. I often wonder if Starbuck is the spawn of Satan. When 06/06/06 came and went without a hitch, a resigned myself to the fact that my dog wasn't sent to earth to lead the apocalypse, he's just a wee bit precocious.

The thing about dogs is that where there's one, there's many. Usually because, with time, dog owners get tired of walking by themselves and quickly find a support group. There is a universally accepted mathematical relationship between dogs and walking time. As the number of dogs increase, walking time decreases exponentially. I think it would look a little like this W=1/X^n where n=number of dogs, W=walking time and X=the coefficient of walking. Basically the more dogs you have, the more they run around and the less time you actually have to walk and as we all know G=1/W where W=walking time and G=gin drinking time.

Today, Lisa and Tracy brought over Juneau, Annie and Jones for a walk and a backyard visit. All seemed to be going well, no ripped ears or punctured legs,until we got off the deck and discovered the carnage. In the few minutes since returning from our walk, Jones had mercilessly murdered and/or maimed my peas. Thankfully we disovered the massacre before it became a total genocide. The interesting part is that Jones systematically dug out the pea plants, concentrating on individual plants instead of mindlessly destroying the entire garden bed. He also dug out one of each kind of pea that I planted, which had been spaced about 1 foot apart. At first I thought that maybe Jones was just a gardener at heart and was just trying to analyze the root structures of snowpeas, shelling peas and sweet peas. This notion was quickly dismissed when I remembered Jones' habit of peeing on my flower containers. It seems that Jones is out to get my garden. I haven't quite figured out what induced such a dedication to destoying my precious plants, but I think it might have something to do with the fact that Starbuck once made him poop himself in fear (an unfortunate incident with a stolen stick and some unnecessary biting on Starbuck's part).

In the end, the pea incident only confirms my belief in canine karma. In fact, dogs may just be the greatest karmic beings on the planet. In our small group of friends: Kirk (Hyper), Lisa (Juneau and Annie), Tracy (Jones) and myself (Starbuck) we have enough karma to go around:

Jones eats Lisa's door

Juneau eats a black pen on Sierra's white carpet

Starbuck eats Kirk's hammock

Hyper rips Sierra's jacket

Starbuck beats up Jones

Jones digs up Sierra's peas

And it continues...

In keeping with my theory of karma, it's almost lucky that Jones dug in my garden, it gives me a freebie next time Starbuck eats a fence or vomits on a bed. It's good to know that the universe is at peace.