I Made It!

I made it to Fairbanks, Alaska! It took 5 long days of travel through Canada and 11 total days on the road. It's a looong way from Fort Campbell to Fort Wainwright, especially when you stop through Tacoma in the middle!

Thank God the traveling is done. I know Picasso is happy. He's usually an amazing traveler, but the last 3 hours in the car today he reached his breaking point. He had had enough. He was whining and panting and chewing on his kennel. He wanted out of the car. I can't blame the guy. 

I didn't really have any adventures on the road today. I'm just glad to be done. I can say that I think the Yukon Territory might be one of the most beautiful places I have ever been on Earth. Below are some scenery pictures I took in both British Columbia and Yukon.

Random tree wearing a bra at a rest stop.... 

Cuteness Update

Just a little photo update on how adorable my french bulldogs are.

I'm a really proud dog-mom.

Fall Doggie Photo Shoot

I got out the good camera today and tried to take pictures of the frenchies. Picasso is more cooperative all around when it comes to things like this. He doesn't mind wearing ridiculous sweaters, and he has no problem standing somewhere and looking thoughtfully off into the distance. Gertie, on the other hand, was embarrassed to wear her sweater and just wanted to eat grass. 

Out of the 85 pictures I took, here are a few winners:

Maybe we will try again at Christmas....  

Picasso's Birthday!

Today was Picasso's birthday!

He's a grown up 5 years old now! It's hard to believe he's gotten so old! It seems like I just picked him up from Drain, Oregon when he cried the whole ride home. That drive sort of made me reconsider getting a puppy. I'm glad I didn't run away screaming, because he turned out to be my special little guy. Even if he does have a lot of social issues. 

Picasso had wet dog food for his birthday dinner. It was some awful chicken dish that also eerily reminded me of an MRE. (What the hell does the Army feed us!?) We took a long walk, where he peed on everything, as he usually does. There are a couple marigold plants in the neighborhood that I have no doubt belong to him.

Happy birthday, Picasso Destroyer of Worlds! My special, most favorite little boy!

Gertie is Cray-Cray

My dogs absolutely love me (I mean, who doesn't??). But their love and devotion goes a little too far. They end up fighting each other over who gets to love me the most. When I say fighting, I mean, knock down drag out, dirty fighting.

 

These jerks have caused each other many injuries to prove who loves me the most. Literally, Gertie has lost 2 teeth fighting Picasso.

 

How can a dog this sweet looking be so thug acting?

 

Gertie starts it. No doubt about it, she is the instigator. I don't know if it's because she's "new" and she feels like she's been shafted on the love Picasso got the first 4 years he was a single dog. Whatever her reasoning, she's super mean to him.

 

He puts up with a lot from her. Even when they play, she's mean to him. She's always biting his face and hanging off his loose face skin. She bites his legs and sometimes she even bites his little boy parts (because, hey, they're there?). Sometimes he does retaliate and start the fight. But I can't blame him when he does because he puts up with a lot of her shit.

 

But Gertie is just a little gangster. She's out for blood. Her lips are always covered in scabs from boxing with Picasso. She's so jealous of Picasso that he is afraid to sit in my lap because of the repercussions.

She's also bi-polar. After I tear them apart from a fight, she calms down, gets her shit together and then goes over to Picasso and licks his face. She's probably licking the blood off his face. Gertie is seriously crazy.

 

Don't even get me started of the strange things she "has ownership" of over Picasso. The garbage bag on its way out of the house-- that's hers. The open dishwasher-- that's hers. Groceries being put away-- those are hers too. Picasso will get jumped if he goes anywhere near those things.

 

String cheese is ALWAYS Gertie's.

 

She's just a little jelly thug and I am at my wits end trying to protect Picasso from her. She loves me, and its dangerous.

Their Paws

 

Their paws seem to be completely harmless. But James and I have come to realize that they are anything but. French Bulldogs have weaponized paws that will instantly lull you to sleep. A sleepy-time secretion is released through the paws and enters your body through skin on skin contact. You are utterly defenseless against it.

 

I think it even works on each other.

 

Be warned. Naps are inevitable.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Catching Up

I've been redeployed back to Fort Campbell and my home for a little over a month now. Transition back into the normal grind has been a little tough for me, so blogging about being blah seemed blah. I'm feeling less blah now so here goes a little blog post to wrap up the last month.

 

 

 

We are proud to announce a new member of the family. Gertrude the Impaler. We call her Gertie or Gert for short. She's the cutest thing in the world. She's so sweet... when she's not biting. We got her so Picasso would have a companion. After a few rocky days of getting territory (food bowls mostly) settled, the two frenchies are best friends. Currently we are in the middle of potty training her, and she is probably retarded and unable to learn because this is a venture not going well.

 

 

James started terminal leave from the Army. First matter to be taken care of was growing a beard. His beard is still in its infancy, but it's already starting to look good. He's happy to be getting out of the Army and start a new career. I'll hold it down in the Army for the family. 

 

 

For Thanksgiving, James and I took the dogs with us to Aberdeen Proving Grounds, Maryland, to see our friends Ashley and David. It was great to see them. You don't find friends like them often. I wish we were all stationed closer together again (we all met at Fort Lewis, Washington). Maybe someday we will be able to work that out. The dogs were amazingly well behaved on the 11.5 hour drive both ways. They were less well behaved at their house, but Picasso won their daughter Jayla's heart, so I can't complain.

 

I am on my last day of 23 days of block leave. 23 days is too long to be away from work. Even though I've been going to the gym and have been doing hot yoga, I still managed to put on weight while on leave. I swear, if I could be paid for gaining weight quickly, I'd be a rich woman. So I have a little bit of work ahead of me to get into shape for ALC (Advanced Leaders Course) in January.

 

That brings us up to speed I believe.

 

I'm gad to be home.

Snow In The New Year

Happy 2014 y'all!

James and I rang in the new year super lame and stayed home. I had been feeling sick (NOT hung over, thank you very much) and didn't want to be out in public. We stayed in and let off fireworks at midnight.

We are 2 days into the new year and Mother Nature got frigid cold and took a big snow dump on Clarksville, TN. This is our first real snow of the year... (duh)... well, first real snow of the winter season! And Picasso hates it. He's seen snow before. Last Christmas he saw a lot of snow in Iowa. But having experience with it didn't make him appreciate the "winter wonderland" outside our doors when it came time for him to walk through it to go potty.

 

 

 

The potty venture was quick, and he immediately hauled ass back to the door to go back in. Picasso is an indoor kind of guy. He wasn't trying to deal with me calling his name and making enticing clicking noises to get him to look at me, so I couldn't get a picture of his unhappy bulldog face. Not amused at all. We He was very set on being back on the couch.

According to weatherchannel.com, it's not going to get any warmer or less snowy any time too soon. Picasso might have to wear a sweater when we go out from here on out... James will be so embarrassed.... :)

Black Listed

I tried to take Picasso Scissor Hands to the PetSmart groomers today to have his nails trimmed. His nails were clicking over the linoleum like the raptors in Jurassic Park, so it was time.

 

He's been to PetSmart about 100 times, but he is always a nervous wreck when he's there. His whole body shakes and convulses. He lays his ears back whenever someone approaches him. He won't eat a treat that's offered to him. He won't even play with another dog that sniffs him. Basically, he's nothing like himself when he's at PetSmart.

 

Today as I signed him in, he was shaking terribly as always. One of the groomers came out and tried to lasso him with one of their leashes to take him into the back room and Picasso jumped up and snapped at the leash. It scared the girl. Understandable. But Picasso was scared, too. I asked the girl if I could lasso him for her, and she told me, "No, I have to do it." Well, suit yourself. She tried lassoing him again and he snapped again.

 

She told me she absolutely could not trim Picasso's nails because he is a "mean dog". Mind you, Picasso was totally freaking out at this point. He couldn't get away from this woman and her lasso fast enough. I was miffed she referred to Picasso as a "mean dog" so I left without another word.

 

Once Picasso and I got into my car, I could smell it... he had expressed his anal glands during the second attempted lassoing. He had, no doubt, left anal gland juice all over the groomer's floor and I was too mad to notice. Ha, that's what you get, groomer lady: call my dog mean again and see what happens.

 

Does this even slightly resemble a mean dog?!

 

Dirty Thirty

Well, I'm 30 years old today.

 

 

I had to work in the Emergency Room all day. And yesterday I had to complete a 20k road march in under 3 hours to qualify to go to EFMB in November. Needless to say, I felt like I should have been a patient in the ER, not an employee. My body is crippled. So my big awesome birthday plans are to eat a ridiculous amount of Mexican food, watch ghost stories on TV and drink Whipped Vodka and orange soda all night while wearing orange sweatpants on the couch with Picasso and James. I am an exciting lady.

 

Happy 30th Birthday to me.

Little Raspberry

I don't know why I thought this was so cool, but I did. So I'm sharing it. I found a tiny little raspberry growing in my front yard. At least I think it was a raspberry. I didn't eat it to test my theory. And I probably won't eat it because Picasso has probably peed on it. Probably.

 

 

Bad Dog Mom

Picasso had a birthday this month! He's a 3 year old little man now!

 

And I could have sworn on my life his birthday was today, the 26th of August. I hyped up his birthday to him all weekend long. I hid his birthday presents until today.

 

I got an email from AKC yesterday that I opened today that read as follows:

 

 

Hmm. This is dated the 25th of August...

 

This means I've been celebrating his birthday on the wrong day for the past 2 years (since I didn't celebrate his OG birthday-- I didn't know who he was yet). I felt like the biggest douche of a dog mom. You'd think his own MOM would know his birthday and not have to be corrected by the American Kennel Club! I immediately showered him with his withheld birthday gifts. He didn't seem to have the horrified reaction I did. He mostly just ate his treats.

 

So for future notice, to all of you who follow Picasso and his endeavors, his birthday is actually August 25th. FYI. I know I need to adjust my calendar...

Beautiful Day

Usually when I go out onto the deck, Picasso sits at the back door and worries about me. I'd like to think that his worries were eased when I got the new back door installed a few months ago. The window in the new back door is waist high, not shin high, so Picasso can no longer see outside. This did nothing to ease his concern-- in fact, I think it may have increased his concern over my whereabouts.

 

"Where did she go?"

 

"What is she doing?"

 

"Is she safe?"

 

I attempted to show him what I was doing on the back deck-- which was sitting there doing nothing but studying Army board topics. Of course, he is untrustable to be left to his own devises, so I had to put him on a lead. He cared very little about anything that was going on beyond me.

 

For a while, he just stood there.

 

Then I gave him a rawhide, and he had something
to do.

I threw a rawhide chewey out into the grass. He retrieved it, and chewed on in on the deck next to my feet. Apparently being outside means nothing to this dog unless I am his constant companion.

 

Although I, sometimes, inhumanely keep him indoors up to 12 hours a day due to my Army schedule, he seems very adjusted to the indoors. I truely believe this dog prefers the couch and only views the outdoors as a place to go potty.

Begging

This morning I was eating cereal in the living room and watching Mysteries At The Museum. I looked over at Picasso, who was predictably begging. He is a great beggar. I know that sounds ridiculous. But seriously, when this dog is begging for food, he is the most well behaved he is all day. He just sits there and stares longingly, yet silently, at you while you eat.

 

He had his bulldog lips stuck in his bulldog mouth:

 



Poor Picasso

What originally was supposed to be a vet visit to deworm Picasso, turned into surgery. Expensive nail removal surgery (which was classified as a pedicure on the bill and I thought that was pretty funny).

Picasso had an unfortunate playing accident-- similar to a training accident. Somehow he broke one of his nails vertically leaving the nail meat exposed. The nail tried growing back, but he kept ripping it back off, as he is a very active player.

The vet told me I had 2 options: 1. He could cut it off real fast while he was awake and it would hurt him really bad or 2. He could put him under and painlessly remove the nail at the low low price of $100.

As I said before, I chose the expensive pedicure.

 

He's home now, and he's still very high. He looks so pitiful in his cone collar. He's afraid of it. He whimpers until I take it off, then he tries to bite it and runs away. I don't see the wearing of the cone lasting very long.

Best wishes to a speedy recovery, Picasso! And may your worm situation also be resolved soon.

Lost Toy

Picasso's favorite seat in the house is the back of the couch in front of the window. He's pretty much ruined that cushion. It's deflated and kind of stained from constantly having a dog sitting on it.

 

When we got the couch, I had tried to keep him off it, but it was a lost cause. Picasso does what he wants most of the time.

 

Since he's always sitting there, guarding the house, he brings his toys up there. And drops them behind the couch. Every time.

 

Then he cries and carries on until I get so sick of hearing him that I squeeze my arm all the way back there to get the toy out. My arm is about 1 inch too short to reach the carpet, so if the toy lands flat, I can't reach it. That is precisely what happened tonight. Even with a coat hanger, I can't get the toy out.

 

Notice the deflated dog perch cushion.

 

I explained to him he was going to have to forget about the toy, and go to his toy basket and choose a new one. But he refused to understand. Stubborn.

 

He's positive staring down behind the couch and whimpering will bring it back. It's not coming back until James comes home and his longer arms can reach that toy. Sorry, Picasso. You do have other toys, you know.

New Template

I decided to shake things up on my blog and change the template. I had the old one for 3 years. I'm not sure I like this new one, but the old one is lost to cyberspace now. So this is what I've got!

 

I still think a rename of the blog is in order since there isn't really any chance I'll ever be going to Iraq again, thus making it impossible to be dubbed Iraqi Jackie ever again!

 

Maybe being Iraqi Jackie can be retro and I'll just keep it the way it is. (That's lazy speak for, I'm too lazy to change it.)

 

Enjoy this picture of Picasso while you're here:

 

Cheers!

 

Angry Dog Mom

I was so angry this morning that I screamed at Picasso. It was in the heat of the moment. And I'm not proud. But he made me so ANGRY.

 

I'm trying to phase out his favorite crochet toys (stupid Martha Stewart doesn't make them anymore). So I bought him a few cheap plastic squeaky toys. He removes the squeaker with freakish precision and leaves the rest of the toy unharmed. So I thought to myself, "Hey Self, if you can buy this dog $0.94 toys and he loves them, you should get many." So I did.

 

Notice the cheap plastic fire hydrant he is guarding with his life.

 

Of course there is a catch to this seemingly wonderfully cheap replacement for the crochet toys (why did you stop making them, Martha Stewart? I paid $10.00 per toy without batting an eye!). When Picasso plays with them, since they are mostly solid in shape, they get away from his paws somehow. They erratically roll around and he crazily follows them. Somehow they ALWAYS end up under the bookshelf in the living room or the dresser in the bedroom. ALWAYS.

 

He cannot reach them when they end up under there. It's not his fault he can't reach them. His arms are short. And he doesn't have thumbs for grabbing. But it is his fault that he insists on playing with his new toys beside these two pieces of furniture.

 

When they get lodged under there, out of his reach, he does the only thing he can: claw frantically at the wood and whine like no one can hear him. It's the most annoying behavior he's ever exhibited: and he was a terrible puppy.

 

So this morning when he woke me up to go potty, he got so excited at the sight of me getting out of bed that he grabbed one of his toys and immediately got it stuck under the dresser. I walked to the kitchen to get his leash, waited by the front door to take him out... and no Picasso. He was carrying on hysterically in the bedroom over the lost toy.

 

I called for him. Then I yelled for him. Then I got totally fed up and stalked towards the bedroom and screamed at him. He ran under the bed and assumed the "we're playing" pose: front legs out, butt in the air. Alright, I had been awake less than 3 minutes. I wasn't in the mood. I screamed at him some adult words that he is not old enough to hear, threw the leash on the floor and got back in bed. "Screw that guy, he doesn't really need to go out that badly if his toy is more important," I said to myself. 

 

He was silent under the bed for a half an hour. Then I was reawoken to the sound of him vomiting under the bed. Why? Why does this happen frequently? At least he wasn't asking about the toy. So I got up, took him out, and retrieved his toy, which he happily chewed on under the bed until I was finally ready to be awake for the day.

 

The point of the story is: why, Martha Stewart, did you get rid of the crochet toys??

House Rules

I went home to Davenport, Iowa to see my mom and dad for Christmas. It had been almost 6 months since I had seen them, so the trip was way over due. That means it had been 6 months since my parents saw their granddog, Picasso, and well, that is completely unacceptable.

 

Mom has a few known house rules. First and foremost, you always come in the back door if there is any chance you may have anything on your shoes. Tracking in is absolutely unacceptable. That's an easy one to do. Even Picasso followed that rule. I'd let him out to go potty from the front door and he'd walk all the way around the house to the back door to be let back in.

 

Second on her list is no dogs on the furniture. Well, I'm good at that one. But Picasso had a few problems catching on to that:

Sorry, Mom! Picasso can only learn one new rule at a time! Maybe next time!

Picasso Tattoo

Today I had my friend Stump tattoo me. It was a very important tattoo-- meaningful and spiritual, really. It will forever change my life... or at least how awesome my left arm is!

 

 

He even has a wonky eye like the real Picasso! I love this tattoo!

 

It's in the ditch of my arm (the inside of the elbow). This is a notoriously awful place to get tattooed. My right arm is completely sleeved, so I've been tattooed in the ditch once before. I just couldn't remember if it was as awful as people say it is. That's a wonderful thing about the human brain, it forgets the severity of physical pain. Turns out, it wasn't as awful as I had anticipated. Parts did suck, don't get me wrong. But it was worth it to have this great piece of art on my arm!

 

Thanks Stump, you did a great job!!