FOR YOUR READING PLEASURE

Courtenay, aka the Littlest Lunatic

4 November 2004: Eeeeuuuwwww!!!!

We had good friends come to visit today. When they left, Linda invited us to come out to their vehicle to inspect her latest knitting project. Out we went, mindlessly leaving cake & cookies, sugar cubes, a pitcher of cream & various other comestibles on the table.

Admired the project, waved goodbye and trotted back into the house. All appeared quiet. The cake, cookies, sugar & cream were untouched. We sighed in relief . . . but where is the Littlest Lunatic?

My husband has rather an acute sense of smell. "What," he asked, "is that peculiar smell?" "Where's Courtenay???" we chorus. "Oh, [expletive deleted]!" roars my husband and vanishes head first into the huge crate in my office. He emerges, hauling the Littlest Lunatic by the collar. She has morphed into a starfish and is fighting him all the way. In her jaws is a small crushed dripping plastic container. He pries open her teeth, not without some personal peril, and removes the shredded item.

"Eeeeuuuwwww!!!!" we gasp.

"What WAS in this container?" asks my husband sternly.

". . . er . . . fish oil . . . !" I mutter, "but only a couple of tablespoonsful."

"Well," he snarls, "it was enough!"

So now his new shirt reeks horribly of fish oil; the bed in the crate is highly aromatic as is the rug where LL rubbed her face clean. Littlest Lunatic herself smells like a seal -- one that expired several weeks ago.

The fish oil, I might add, was prescribed some time ago for Pifflesqueak who will have nothing whatsoever to do with the stuff. The tiny container has been sitting forgotten on the end of the counter for several months. Until an hour ago, no one was the least bit interested in it . . . .

Anyone want to trade a fishy dog for anything at all . . . ? All offers gratefully accepted . . . . Even Angie A & Pifflesqueak don't want to be anywhere near the Littlest Lunatic right now!

Courtenay in her new SWAT
(SouthWest Airedale Terrier Rescue Team) lead . . .

. . . and collar.

16 November 2004: Runs with Scissors

Courtenay on Christmas Day 2004
wearing a special bandana from
Auntie Sue [Forrester] in Australia

The Littlest Lunatic has a new hobby. She runs with scissors. Literally.

So far, she has not only run with the scissors, she has eaten the handles off my second best pair of Henckels sewing shears & a cute little thread-clipper-thingy someone gave me. A pair of utility scissors has also been thoroughly masticated and one of the grandsons found the kitchen shears in the dog crate last week. Admonished, the Littlest Lunatic put on her best, "Who ME???" face.

I suppose it could be worse. The Littlest Lunatic could be running with carving knives!

Maureen & the snippy girls

9 January 2005: Body Slammed!

Angie & Courtenay
" There's a bug!!
We'll get it!!"

Today, my husband decided to brush the dogs' teeth. Generally speaking, dental care is not considered a popular activity in our household. This is why he wears a Kevlar glove while he has his fingers inserted in various little crocodile-like mouths.

Pixie Perfect, the rescue, has just had her teeth cleaned and a tooth extracted. Brushing her teeth is not on the agenda (although she does get a gum rub with aloe vera gel). Thus, she sits alertly and watches Angie Adorable submit reluctantly to the tooth scrub.

Angie is very stoic.

She bares her teeth nicely and the electric toothbrush hums gently as Jim polishes away. Finally, he's done. Angie splutters, glares balefully at him and scampers off.

Angie, relaxing

Courtenay
"The view from up here is great!"

Photo by Jill Mellon

Next in line is the Littlest Lunatic. Now, LL, to put it mildly, is not at all keen on matters involving personal hygiene. Clipping nails usually requires a pound or two of high-quality treats, preferably steak. Brushing her coat is slightly less dangerous but becomes quite challenging if there happens to be an errant knot somewhere in the pelt. Combing out the beard? Cleaning the ears? Yikes. Sounds like we're murdering her so you can imagine how much fun it is to polish her teeth!

With Pixie still watching, Jim grabs the Littlest Lunatic before she can dash off to hide, braces her against his leg, dons his Kevlar glove and fires up the tooth brush. Littlest Lunatic ties her ears in a knot behind her head, clamps her mouth shut, gives a wriggle and a squirm, dodges around his leg and shoots off toward the stairs. Husband pursues, vocalizing creatively.

Pixie [Almost] Perfect

Photo by Inez Smillie

Pixie Perfect spots the Littlest Lunatic in full flight and then perceives that Dad is running feverishly after her. Suddenly she sees something she can do to help Dad, her savior & rescuer. She darts out in front of the much smaller Lunatic and throws a superb body slam into the Lunatic who staggers and falters briefly, just long enough for Dad to rush up and grab her collar. Head down and protesting noisily, she is marched off to the kitchen for her dental cleanup. Pixie is offered a treat . . . but something tells me that Pixie Perfect, while she may have made some big brownie points with Dad, may not be the Littlest Lunatic's first choice of best friends for the rest of the day!

14 January 2005: The Life of the Party

Pixie Perfect has a new name. We have dubbed her "The Life of the Party". After all, what could be more appropriate? There she is, all dressed up in black short-shorts and a tight little T-shirt to protect her surgery sites, looking very much the party girl. Yesterday, we were obliged to add the lamp shade!

She has been a treasure about her stitches -- has left them alone for the most part -- but, the past 24 hours, they seem to have started to really, *really* itch.

Pixie with an itchy ear

The Life of the Party told us this by rubbing her head against our legs fondly. Upon examination, it became clear that she actually was trying to scrub the stitch in her eyelid off. Then we caught her attacking the 10 stitches on her side with her wickedly sharp teeth. Next we noticed she had mutated into a canine pretzel and was busily gnawing a hole in her britches so get at the further 15 stitches inside her leg. We tried rubbing painkilling ointment into the area surrounding the stitches but not on them.

Didn't work at all. We took her to the vet who removed every second stitch. No dice. It's the remaining stitches themselves and the healing incisions that are driving her nuts. Well, we said sadly, we have no choice; out came the e-collar.

We even gave her the nicest e-collar in the house. This was one that Angie A acquired in the States last spring after she got her ear caught in our friend's dog's teeth. (Don't ask!) It's an easy-on easy-off number, totally transparent with a Velcro fastening. Much nicer than the e-collars I can get up here in Canada which are heavy, opaque and tie on.

The Life of the Party was not pleased. Disgruntled would be a kindly way to describe her reaction. She promptly walked into Angie and leveled her. The Poodle ran for cover and hid under the bed. LoP & the Littlest Lunatic tried to pass each other in the hall. LL dodged left & LoP veered the same direction; LL slithered right and so did LoP. They continued this entertaining little dance until LL finally turned tail and fled to the lower floor. She was last seen curled up very small on the mat by the back door with her paws over her head!

"I'm so embarrassed . . . ."

The Life of the Party has bounced off Jim & me at least 100 times in the past 24 hours. The wall in the kitchen into which she keeps rattling will need a new coat of paint and I live in terror that the etched glass doors on the china cabinets will not survive many more impacts. She got stuck on her way upstairs because she jammed the e-collar into the edge of the risers and couldn't figure out why she couldn't move so she stood in place and howled. She encountered an entire large flat of empty pop cans outside set aside for recycling with disastrous results. The Littlest Lunatic is still chasing pop cans around the yard as a consequence.

I can hear the Life of the Party blundering around as I write this -- crunch, splat, bang, scraa-aaaape, thump . . . . And she's mumbling to herself all the while. Occasionally, a yelp will punctuate the mumbles as she connects with something hard or with one of her herd-mates.

The good news is that her stitches will be removed on Tuesday. The bad news is that the Tuesday appointment is approximately 93 hours or 5,580 minutes from now . . . .

Maureen & the battered herd

Pixie & Angie