Spotty Dogs Rule

My dogs aren’t perfect. They aren’t show quality. They’re not obedience superstars. What they are not is irrelevant to me. I love who they are…just dogs. Ordinary? No. But they are first and foremost dogs; bless their big muddy paw, that’s what they are – dogs.

If I wanted perfect dogs I wouldn’t have rescue dogs. If I wanted perfect dogs I’d be sadly disappointed since there are no perfect dogs. A dog may win “best of breed” and be a stunning example of a particular breed, but that dog doesn’t really care. At the heart of any dog is a dog’s heart.

My dogs are not the breed name by which they are classified. Right now, they are all sprawled out on the sectional, legs draped across each other. Hardly the image of a mighty Great Dane to be sure; they look more like of pack of mighty couch potatoes.

My dogs are not hunters, the job that Great Danes of the past fulfilled. They do manage to track down a ball or a bone on occasion, but that’s the extent of their hunting. But, when I leash up my dogs and we explore the great outdoors, I imagine them on the hunt – nose to the ground, tension filling their bodies as they search for their prey. The illusion is fleeting. A car passing by or a squirrel on the loose breaks the magic spell. But in those brief moments, my dogs are regal. They are mighty Great Danes.

My dogs are not humans, even though they sleep in my room and lounge on the couch. They are dogs. They need exercise. They need to know their place in the pack, which includes humans and canines in my home. They live in the moment and remind me to live in the moment with them. They remind me to enjoy a game of tug or a simple meal.

My dogs are necessary. The teach me to relax, to enjoy a belly rub, to growl at things that annoy me, but also to wag my tail everyday at the little things – a ball, a treat, a snuggle.

My dogs are my companions. They are part of my family, muddy paws and all. And though the life span of a Great Dane is all too short, I open my heart to my gentle giants. I give them my heart – they are trustworthy, faithful, and loyal.

My dogs are my dogs; my humans are my humans.  Dogs and humans are meant to do life together. I do all kinds of things with my human companions – play board games, watch movies, kayak in the summer; I do all kinds of things with my dogs – walk, play, lounge in the summer sun.  As a human/canine family, we love our yearly picnic with about 70 other Great Danes and their humans.

At the end of the day, no matter how good or how bad, I come home to wagging tails and happy faces – “our human is home”! My dogs are just dogs – actually, that is perfect.

I was sick. That’s my excuse – I was just too sick to be rational. And now, well, my pack has new expectations about food, my food to be exact. How quickly they learn bad habits. In the span of a few days they learned to sit, to beg, to expect me to share my breakfast. Or snack. Or lunch. Or dinner.  If only obedience training happened as fast.

While I was sick I shared whatever food I could manage to keep down, usually that was buttered toast. I didn’t share my Perrier-cranberry-grape cocktail, although I’m sure they would have been happy to share that, too. But the sickness passed. I was feeling fine. Things should have gone right back to normal. I was mistaken.

In the morning when I opened my cup of yogurt 4 Great Danes came racing into the kitchen, sliding to a halt just short of crashing into me. They sat in a semi-circle around me. They started drooling. I stared back at them in disbelief.

When the toaster popped up with my lightly toasted English muffin, I maneuvered through the pack of salivating Great Danes, through a puddle of drool, and retrieved my food. Forcing my way back through the mob, I made it to the counter and buttered and jellied the lightly toasted English muffin. I made my way through the Great Dane obstacle course to the table. They followed. Somehow I’d achieved super-stardom and now had an adoring fan club following my every move.

I sat down to eat. I felt a paw on my leg. Then, I saw the white paw moving toward the table. Suddenly, I felt moist breath on my neck as a snout rested against my shoulder. Another snout rested on my arm. I was completely surrounded. Four sets of puppy-dog eyes followed my every move. Drool began dripping off their jowls, landing on my leg, my arm, my shoulder. What had come over them?

I feed my pack every morning at 6 a.m. They get treats each afternoon. Dinner is served promptly at 6:30 p.m. Not a single one of them needed to eat – not even the monster pup who is still growing at an astounding rate. I ignored their pleading eyes. Loki monster, the ravenous pup, accepted the challenge and stuck his snout right in my face and gave me his sweetest, most pleading look. Emmett whined. Melody pawed. I refused to give in to their nonsense.

And then, Muse sat. I gave in to her good behavior. The worse the others behave, the better Muse behaves. I love this kind of peer pressure. Then Melody sat…a nibble for Melody, too. Emmett whined louder, but sat, so he got a little piece. Loki was not giving in…after all, he was the mighty Great Dane (pup), king of all dogs. At least that’s his opinion of himself.

He stared at the last bite of my English muffin. Then he looked at me. I ignored him. I reached for the last bite. He watched my every move. Who emerged as the victor in the battle of the wills – me against the mighty Great Dane (pup)?

"I'm starving!" ~Loki

Melody. In her rush to grab the napkin (she does like a nice crumb filled napkin), she grabbed the napkin and the last bite of English muffin, and then headed to her crate. Loki looked at me then followed Melody. I sighed.  Breakfast just didn’t seem as filling as I thought it would be.

I filled my coffee cup and reached for an orange. And suddenly four Great Danes were surrounding me…

Aren’t puppies cute? They’re cute for a reason – it gets them lots of love and forgiveness for all that bad puppy behavior. Puppies eat things, like shoes, couches, tables and power cords. Puppies shred blankets, socks, and clothes. Puppies pee on the floor. Puppies roll in pooh. Puppies jump up and bite. Puppies need obedience training. Puppies need frequent trips to the vet. Puppies are a lot of work. Puppies don’t stay puppies for very long.

In the past three years I’ve adopted three puppies. I’ve been through untold rolls of paper towels. I can’t count how many trips to the vet I’ve made with a pup. My shoe collection is in constant flux – one brief moment of leaving a closet door open and a shoe might go missing. And then there’s the extra laundry, the eaten homework (no joke), extra trips to buy MORE food because my little cutie pie is going through a growth spurt. I didn’t adopt puppies because I wanted a puppy. I adopted puppies because I can’t wait for the middle years.

In the life cycle of a Great Dane years from 3-7 are just the best. Muse, my deaf/blind girl, is almost 3 yrs old, and I enjoy her more each day. My foster boy, Emmett, is 3, and he is just a delight. Something magic happens between years 2 and 3 – the puppy brain matures and starts fitting the extra large body it controls.

Muse is a pleasure. She was an adorable, mischievous pup, but she emerged a gentle, calm lady Great Dane. She walks calmly with me. She’s patient when out in public meeting new people of all ages. She’s graceful and dignified. When she wakes me up in the morning she gently nuzzles me with her great, velvety soft snout. While watching TV, she doesn’t trounce on top of me, or play tug in front of me; no, she curls up next to me, head in my lap and keeps me company. I can trust her to be left loose in the house when I’m gone. She’s rarely in her crate now. She still plays tug. She zooms with the pups, just not as long and she’s not as wild. She learned to sit, down, and knows what is appropriate to chew.  Is she perfect? Mostly. But she does have this annoying habit of barking to get her doggie friends attention. It works. If Muse barks then either Loki or Melody usually go to her. Since Muse is deaf and blind that’s what she uses as a signal to the pack that she’s looking for them.

Emmett (R) - GDRI foster

During the middle years obedience training is more fun. Without the erratic puppy brain in full force, the adult dog can pay attention to the commands being taught. And the dogs in the middle years seem to learn faster in my opinion. I can work with my 8 mos old pup on a command and think he’s got it. But the next day, it seems like he has no idea what I’m telling him to do. Not so with Emmett. In the short time he’s been in the house he’s learned my signal for “no” and learned what is appropriate for playtime and for chewing. Loki’s been here since birth and we’re still working on those simple boundaries!

Our rescue currently has 3 foster dogs that are in their middle years. These delightful canines are hard to place. Most folks want a puppy or an adolescent. People pass over the dogs in their middle years and miss the benefits of an adult. I’ve adopted a Great Dane in her middle years. She was delightful. She fit right in with the pack. I didn’t know a lot about her previous life, other than that she was afraid of men. But she learned to trust men. She was a gentle soul. Her time with us was brief, but the time she spent with us was simply wonderful.

Rumor - GDRI foster

I’m so looking forward to the middle years with my pack. No more bad puppy behavior, but rather, lots of calm with a normal amount  of play, and that wonderful companionship that comes only with age.

Olivia - GDRI foster

Maggie - GDRI foster

We recently got a new foster, Emmett. Emmett didn’t really know what to do with toys and dogs together. So, I put all the dog toys away, getting out one or two at a time for the dogs to play with so I could monitor them and make sure that: a) Melody wasn’t bullying him and b) that Emmett was learning good toy manners. But I should have thought about c) LOKI.  Loki is so big that I sometimes forget that an erratic puppy brain powers his great big Great Dane body.  Normally there are lots of toys on the floor to keep the big guy busy and out of trouble (and sometimes it works). But, until I was confident that Emmett understood the toy rules, it was best to keep them put away. So, what would any normal puppy do?  Find something to do, naturally. But, what would an enormous spotty puppy do? Let’s just say that I had to go shoe shopping to soothe my soul and to return balance to my shoe collection.

Melody woke me up early on this cold Sunday morning. I stumbled down stairs and made it to the back door just before Loki plowed through me. Went to the laundry room to start another load of laundry. Emmett decide he wanted to go outside, too. Muse went to her crate, waiting patiently for breakfast. I started the coffee. Let Melody, Loki, and Emmett inside. Back to the kitchen, this time with the dog bowls. Melody, Loki, and Emmett followed. Muse waited in her crate – smart girl. Melody went back to her crate to wait – she is getting older and smarter, leaving only two spotty dogs to help with breakfast. Kibble scooped, pineapple added, a few cooked carrots and breakfast was made. If only it was that easy for the humans in the family. I sat down at the table with my coffee and a stack of reading, listening to the happy crunching of my pack. The day was off to a good start.

Muse captured the elephant

Five minutes later – “HOOWWWLLLLLL!!!!!” Emmett was finished with breakfast. But I had to get through this pile of reading today. I found four large tug toys, big enough for four Great Danes to each grab part and play tug – one rope bone, one three way tug toy, a giant jolly ball and a stuffed octopus. They played. They ran. They zoomed. They scattered ALL the chairs and the table in the dining room. They trounced. They growled. They howled (Emmett taught my dogs to howl, too). They chewed on each other, carefully avoiding ears (we have a strict no ear chewing policy).  I glanced at the clock. I’d been up for an hour.

My feet were cold, so back upstairs to get my house shoes.  I heard Loki and Emmett crash into the living room wall. I made the bed. I heard the sound of sixteen paws thundering to the back door. Then I heard the sound of sixteen paws thundering to the living room.  “Kerplunk!” That was the jolly ball being flung through the air and landing on the floor. Or maybe bouncing off the wall, it’s hard to tell from upstairs.

Melody and Loki

I heard the sound of teeth scraping against rubber. My heart sank. Loki. What had that dog found now. I was certain that all the shoes were safely put away. Three minutes ago it sounded like a demolition crew was in my living room; now, there was just the sound of teeth scraping against rubber.

Before going downstairs, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to at this point, I checked the closet. The doors were closed, but I looked inside anyway. As smart as Loki is I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he opened the closet door and helped himself to my shoes. The shoes were safe, so I headed downstairs.

“Squeak, squeak, squeak.”  The sound grew louder. The sound grew louder because two dogs were chewing on rubber. Dare I go in? It was tempting to ignore them and just head straight to the den and turn on some music. But, what if they did have a shoe or two?

I trudged into the living room. “What?! Where did you two find those?” Loki looked up at me, as if to say, “what? I’m not doing anything wrong!” Emmett didn’t bother to look at me at all he just kept chewing.  Muse was sleeping in the Dane chair, Melody had the pig (I don’t know how she got it – it was safely on top of the counter), and the spotty boys were lying together on the dog bed chewing contentedly on their Kong toys. I don’t know where they found the Kongs. I had given them up for lost months ago.

I left the dogs in peace. It was time for more coffee. And I had a pile of reading to do. I glanced at the clock. I’ve been up for an hour and a half. My shoes were safe. The dogs were quiet, except for the chewing. My husband and teenagers slept through the mayhem. Someday maybe I’ll learn their secret.

Dedicated to my black and pink converse tennis shoes. They were good shoes, comfortable, classic. Unfortunately, they were no match for the puppy teeth of Loki Monster, Mighty Great Dane (Pup).

This is my last semester in grad school. It’s been an extremely hard two years, but we’re in the home stretch. I keep reminding myself that it’s almost over. My family has been supportive and understanding, even the dogs. Well, up to a point…and we’ve reached that point.

It’s not uncommon for me to be working at my computer and for Muse to bring me not one or two leashes, but the entire leash collection, dropping each one at my feet. I have leashes for all occasions and in several colors, too – short leashes, really short leashes, average size leashes, long leashes, really long leashes, leather leashes, nylon leashes, red, black, blue and pink leashes. Then, she’ll sit and look at me. Even though she can’t see or hear me, she still looks at me. And she gives me “the look.” In case you ever thought that a blind dog can’t lead a normal life, well, you just haven’t met Muse. So she sits and looks at me until I give her attention. She’s losing her patience with our lack of schedule. Daily walks are never at the same time and vary in length. She does not approve, but she does put up with it and loves me all the same.

I'll just sit here and wait for you ~Loki

Loki has had enough of the hectic schedule and he’s put his paw down and let me know exactly what he thinks of grad school – and it’s not good. He likes things to be normal, scheduled, and predictable. I find that somewhat amusing, since he’s the most unpredictable dog I have ever had. I never know what he’s going to do next…and usually it’s not good. I’ve been told it’s because he’s spotty. I do love those spotty dogs, bad habits and all.

This morning Loki made it clear that he is tired of me being either distracted or gone. Usually when the alarm buzzes in the morning Loki responds by draping his body across mine, pinning me to the bed. Then he sighs happily. It’s gotten worse this semester. I used to be able to tell him to move and he would, but lately he ignores me. He’s testing me. This morning I didn’t have to get up at 5:30 a.m., so I thought I’d stay in bed until 6 a.m. and snuggle with the dogs. I did get up and go to the bathroom. When I got back to my bed, there was Loki…in my spot. Nothing new, but I had to drag him off the bed. Once I got comfy, I called him back. At first he ignored me. But, then I felt his snout nudging me. But I didn’t budge. Then I felt two paws on the bed. And then, he plopped right down on top of me. So there I was underneath Loki (did I mention that he weighs 130#), his head resting on mine, his paws resting on my shoulders, his elbows digging into my stomach – I was completely pinned down. He had me and I knew it. And then I felt his tail wag – he won.

In a few short weeks I’ll take a day and take each dog on a very long walk, starting with Muse. In a few short weeks our schedule will change again, but this time it will not be subject to the class offerings at the university. The new schedule will be normal…predictable, unlike my precious spotty dogs. Patience a little while longer, pups, we’re almost done.

It had been snowing for several hours. For most of that time the pack slept peacefully, snuggled up on the sectional – Loki, Melody, and Emmett. Muse was in the “Dane” chair. She does have seniority. I enjoyed drinking some deliciously hot coffee, while watching my beloved beasts. They snored, they sighed, they delighted in their dreams. It was as magical as the snow falling outside.

But, magic is fleeting.

In the blink of an eye the Great Dane pack was awake and racing toward the sliding door, the gateway to their private winter wonderland. Quick as a blink I made it to the door just in time to open it as the Dane train sped outside at top speed. I felt a gust of wind blow by as they passed.  Someday, someday there will be a collision of Dane proportions.

Muse and Melody

They zoomed, they romped, and they zoomed – the blind & deaf, the deaf, the seeing and hearing. Sometimes they followed one another, like a train held together by some unseen link. Sometimes they scattered, each pursuing their own interests – a smell, a snowflake, a found toy. But then, some invisible train conductor called them together, and the Dane train came together again.

Tired Danes at the back door let me know they were cold and ready to come inside the warm house. Snow covered snouts and paws walked through the house and into the living room, each one finding the best spot for a nap. Soon the sleep sounds were filling the house.

And it continued snowing….

Later that day, as the sun was starting his journey to the other side of the world, the pack awoke. I was vaguely aware as I sat at my desk.  Just as I realized what was happening I raced up the steps and tried to get to the back door. As I rounded the corner I heard a thunderous sound as four Great Danes crashed headlong into the glass door.  My eyes darted toward the door, expecting the worst, but no damage done.

Loki

And there was Muse, my deaf/blind darling girl, at the head of the line. She lifted her head to me as if to say, “just where were YOU?!” Clearly, she was fine. Loki and Melody were sitting impatiently at the door, whining a bit. Poor Emmett, he’s only been here a week. He backed up a bit and stood apart from the pack. He just looked up at me then sat down and watched.

"What just happened?" ~Emmett

Melody, Loki and Muse danced impatiently while I patted Emmett on the head. Loki banged on the door with his paw. Then sat – quickly. I gave him a that look. He bowed his head slightly. Melody whined. Muse barked. Emmett stayed in the same spot.

I walked to the door. Tails began wagging.  “Sit.” One, two, three Great Danes sat. I opened the door. Three Great Danes zoomed at top speed out the door. One Dane walked to my side and looked up at me. I motioned to him “outside” and out he went, joining the zooming Dane train.  Magic was in the snow filled air.

Last night the weather got colder. It was misting, then raining, then the rain mixed with snow….and wind – it was very windy. I left my warm house and my cuddly dogs, got into my car and drove. It was getting dark. The traffic wasn’t too bad. I would get to the meeting spot early. I had time to drive through Starbucks – tall Americano with a splash of cream. I needed that caffeine. The night before had been long – not much sleep. And I was getting tired.

I got to the meeting spot – a gas station. I drove slowly through the parking area, looking into cars, searching for my new friend – Emmett; no, not a sparkly vampire, but a tall, gangly Harlequin Great Dane. And there he was.

Even in the dark you just can’t miss the profile of a Great Dane.  When sitting still, the Great Dane looks impressive, dignified, and mighty. And of course, Great Danes are. But, lurking inside every Great Dane is another side- the goofy, clumsy, and drooly side. But Emmett, in that moment of our first meeting, was positively regal.

On the way to his new foster home

I went over the paperwork with the lady surrendering him, answered questions, gathered Emmett’s belongings and put the boy into the backseat of my car. He settled down into the blanket that stays in my car; I never know when a blanket might be necessary, for dog or human. I also have dog treats, a rawhide, a water bottle & a water bowl…I’m set for any emergency. In a pinch, a dog treat (organic, whole grain made with peanut butter – yum) is a treat for any creature.

Off we went, into the cold, rainy night.

And then he howled. I turned and looked at him. Was he a mix? A Dane-coonhound cross? No. He was all Dane. And he was howling.

I pulled over to comfort him. Maybe he needed a potty break. He’s deaf, so even though I was talking away, telling him all about where he was going, he couldn’t hear a word. I talk to all my dogs – the deaf and the hearing. And not once has any of them disagreed or argued with me, which means I’m always right. I like that.

Back in the car, Emmett settled into the blanket. I turned the interior light on, which seemed to calm him. And off we went, into the dark, windy, cold night. Down the interstate we drove.

He howled off and on the entire trip home. And who could blame him? I was the second person in two short weeks that put him in the car only to drive further away from the only home he’d ever known. And such is the fate of many rescue dogs. Sometimes they find peace and security. Sometimes…well, that’s why there are rescues. That’s why I foster.

"This is a nice place to wait for my new home" ~Emmett

For now, Emmett is safe. He’s warm. He’s making new friends. And he howls from time to time. Soon, though, he will go to an adoptive family – a carefully chosen place where he can feel love, security and peace. I do hope his future family likes a special Dane who gives a little howl from time to time.

I am exhausted…bone tired…and it’s cold. It’s a good time to take a nap, surrounded by my pack – three toasty warm Great Danes. Then, I’ll tackle my next project; but first, a nap.

Coaxing the pack upstairs to my room is never a problem. If it even looks like I’m going upstairs, Loki follows. And if Loki is going upstairs, Melody is sure to follow. I’m not sure what Muse’s cue is – she can’t see or hear us, but somehow she gets the memo, and upstairs she goes, too.

I got into bed before the dogs. Good. I got my blanket just right. Good. Loki goes into the bathroom for a drink from the sink. Melody follows him, even though she can’t drink out of it like Loki. Muse heads to the bed.

Muse's favorite blanket

Muse likes her blankets just right, too. Unfortunately her just right is not my just right. And I am cold. And I am stubborn. And I am going to keep my blanket just right.

Muse disagreed. She can’t nap if the blanket isn’t just right. She grabs the blanket. I grab the blanket. She pulls. I hold. She shakes her head. I hold. She backs up, pulling. I hold.

R…I….P….ugh…no more queen sized comforter…

I’m still warm and toasty. Muse is by my side, comfortable and cozy. I have my blanket. Muse has her blanket. Melody and Loki joins us.  We nap. Nice.

Two blankets really are better than one.

It happened yet again – the bed shrank in the middle of the night. When I went to bed there was plenty of room (sort of) for us all – three Great Danes, hubby and me. It’s not as bad as it sounds. Melody, our petite Great Dane, curls up at the foot of the bed, hardly taking any room at all. Well, in comparison to Muse, that is. Muse, who is on the small side of average, prefers curling up more in the middle and over to the left (my side of the bed). She doesn’t take up as much room, comparatively speaking, as Loki does. He’s bigger than the girls – a lot bigger and still growing. Loki is a bed hog. There is no other way to say it. It doesn’t matter how much room Loki has, he insists on taking more.

But last night, I thought we’d come to some sort of understanding. We agreed that everyone – human and dog – would respect personal sleeping space. I was expecting a good nights sleep, in spite of snoring Danes. But that’s another issue.

The only explanation for what happened last night is that the bed must have shrunk. I mean, when I snuggled into the comforter last night I had space, not a lot, but enough to sleep comfortably. When I woke up this morning, I was clinging to the side of the bed with only a corner of the sheet. And I was cold.

Throughout the night I dreamed of playing tug with my pack. We have this really great rope bone that all three dogs can grab hold of and pull. Sometimes I join in the fun, grabbing an end of the rope to pull, too. My dreams were pleasant – I enjoy watching my pack play.

Some of my dreams were troubling. Sometimes it felt as though I must be in an arctic region – it felt very cold. It was strange to be in the arctic playing tug with my pack. But then, who can understand the world of dreams?

I had other strange visions. I dreamt of being in a New York City subway at 5 PM. There were so many people, shoved together in such a small space. Hordes of people were pushing, trying to get on the subway or pushing to get off at their stop. It was cold in the subway, too.

When I woke up this morning, I was cold and sore. It felt like I had bruises on my back. It’s funny how real dreams seem. I didn’t get much sleep. Hubby was already making coffee. Good. Hot coffee would warm me up a bit. It was hard to believe how cold I was. What a strange night of dreams.

Muse, Melody and Loki lounging on the family bed

On my way down to the kitchen I glanced back at my bed. It seemed much smaller this morning. The three sleeping Great Danes hardly fit. No wonder I had bizarre dreams last night. Clearly something strange and unexplainable had happened causing the bed to shrink last night. The dogs seemed oblivious to this fact. There they lay peacefully snoring, unaware of the night’s tribulations. I’m glad someone slept well.

Humans do the craziest things, especially human moms. My littermate Crash, moved to Illinois, and Izzie and Oberon moved to Phoenix (where they don’t have snow – I feel terrible for them), so we don’t see each other, but our moms let us keep in touch through Facebook. We have a motto that we live by – “spotty pups unite!”

All spotty pups have the important job of taking care of their human moms. No matter how sick, how tired, or how stressed out our moms are, we stick right by them. Even when that means our tails or feet get stepped on or our mom’s trip over us. I don’t quite understand why mom’s trip over their spotty pups – as big as we are you’d think our mom’s could see us!

Crash’s mom had been really sick. She said she had “the plague”. It sounded terrible. Crash was really worried.  He’d done his best to take care of her – patiently waiting for lunch while his mom napped, snuggled up close to keep her warm (in spite of that mean stripey sister who didn’t want to get out of the way and nipped his nose!).  Crash’s mom got better, mostly because Crash took such good care of her. Well, Crash’s dad did bring home some medicine, but it was spotted puppy love that made her all better. Besides, the medicine tasted terrible – how could something that tastes so bad be good for anyone?

When Crash’s mom got better, she went back to work. Crash really wanted to do something special for his mom, to show her just how much he loved her. He had it all planned. Well, sort of…his stripey sister gave him some ideas, too, but her ideas weren’t very good at all. Spotty pups always have the best ideas. Stripey dogs can’t be trusted.

Crash knew his mom would be really tired when she got home from work, so first, he picked out a book or two to read to her when she got home (it might have been a few more – he did want to pick just the right book). It was very thoughtful.

Just before his mom was supposed to get home, Crash got her heating pad out to warm it up for her. How thoughtful! Well, that stripey sister told him to warm it up he had to plug it into the wall. She was just standing there, teasing him because he couldn’t get it into the plug. Crash is a mighty Great Dane (pup) – he has a really big mouth and that plug was really small. Then, stripey girl laughed at him. Bad idea! Unfortunately for Crash, stripey sisters are smart –  too smart. After zooming through the house, Crash wound up all tangled up in the cord and he had to chew himself free. Thank goodness he had super puppy teeth. He had to keep an eye on his sister – there was no telling what she might do.

Crash didn’t get distracted; he stuck to his plan. He knew his mom would like to sit and watch TV for a little while when she got home before she made his dinner, so he was going to have her favorite show on when she walked in the door. But, his mom misplaced the TV remotes.  That worried Crash. His mom must still not feel very good if she lost the TV remotes. He knew exactly what he had to do next: get her medicine.

Crash searched until he found the medicine. Luckily, he found it. He thought it would be nice to open the lid, just a little. You see, the medicine bottle had a ‘child-proof’ cap on it, which makes it almost impossible for adult humans to open. Crash tried and tried, but he couldn’t get it open. He was about to give up, when his stripey sister called him. She was lying on her dog bed, feeling just terrible about laughing at him earlier. She wanted to make up for being mean. She said she’d help him open the bottle.  Crash took the medicine over to his sister. She got it open, all right. Great Danes have really big mouths, really big teeth – great for chomping but not so good for opening little bottles of medicine. It was a good thing for Crash’s mom that the medicine spilled all over the dog bed and soaked through to the floor. It smelled terrible!

Crash went to his bed and looked said. He was worried that his plan didn’t work out and his mom wouldn’t feel better when she got home. His stripey sister, who was being mean again, said, “What a nice boy you’ve been, Mom will be SO happy with you when she sees this!” But, when Crash’s mom came in the door, she was so surprised she sat right down and CRIED.

Spotty pups love their moms, no matter what. Spotty pups have a solemn pact: always give mom a ‘helping paw’…spotty pups UNITE!

~Loki,

who helped his mom make her bed just this morning…

who also has no idea how that rip in the sheet happened…must have been his sister