Barley and the Tramp

For those who have met Barley, the title of this post may seem a bit backwards.  "Shoudn't Barley be the Tramp?" you ask?  In many respects, yes.  In one very important one, no.

As a dog lover, much of Lady and the Tramp has always made me very sad.  She ends up in the pound, cats gang up on her, and, perhaps most distressing, her human family brings home a baby and forgets all about her. 

Oh, sure, her people introduce Lady to the baby and act like nothing has changed, but that's obviously not the case.  Poor Lady just isn't as important to the family as she once was.

Throughout my pregnancy, I worried about Barley becoming another after-the-baby forgotten canine.  Since August was born, I've done by best to continue to give Barley the attention he's used to, but it's been difficult.  It didn't help that when we first brought August home, Barley was deathly afraid of him.  After about a week, Barley was just annoyed.  In recent days, Barley has finally realized that August is actually a person, though he still doesn't seem to care for him very much.

Now we're finally getting used to Barley's "Why do you now hate me?" or "I hate you now" looks and his following us around to pout while we're taking care of August.

Hopefully, my two babies will eventually grow to be friends.  I just fear it won't happen until a high chair and dropped food is involved.

Poor Mr. Conehead

Barley is a bit neutoric...which is a bit of an understatement.  When he gets a small cut, he licks it and licks it until it becomes a big problem.  We've always been able to treat it with some wrapping or, honestly, yelling at him a lot to just knock it off.

That wasn't enough this time, and we had to resort to the dreaded doggie conehead.  I know they claim dogs can't cry, but I swear I see little tears in those eyes:

Thankfully, Barley is also very adaptable, and within minutes, he was back to his old routine (if one can call doing absolutely nothing a routine):

The cone did present a bit of a problem a few days later, however.  Barley often gets himself stuck in our laundry room, since the door easily opens but doesn't stay that way.  When we came home, there was no Barley at the door, but there was a definite whimper in the basement.  Not only had he locked himself in the basement, but he had also gotten himself (and his cone) stuck in the legs of a sawhorse.  He couldn't have been in there all day, though, because his once-full bag of dog food was suspiciously half-empty, and Mr. Conehead's tummy was noticably inflated.

You should see the other guy

Maryland received a fair amount of ice last night, so our entire neighborhood was pretty slick this morning.  I tried to warn Barley of that before he went outside this morning, but chasing squirrels was just way too tempting.  He shot out of the back door like he always does, slipped on the deck, regained his footing, tried to sprint down the stairs, and ended up going arse over teakettle the rest of the way down.  The last thing I saw was a white fuzzy bum spinning into the snow.  He stood up, saw a few stars, then remembered the pesky squirrels and resumed angry barking.

It wasn't until a few hours later that I noticed the gash over his right eye.  It's much smaller now, but it's still a good sized cut.

He let me clean it and stop the bleeding, but the whole experience was still taxing on him.  Trauma is exhausting, even for brave puppy dogs.

Good dog

When he's not terrorizing my stuff, Barley loves to help out around the house.  Just this week, he helped me decorate the house for Christmas.

He tested the outside lights to make sure they were all working:

And he warmed up a nice place in the corner for the Christmas tree:

What a good dog.

Bad dog, IV

Let's put this nicely: Barley has a bit of an attitude.  This has been evidenced here, here and, most recently, here.  And those are just the ones I've taken pictures of...and been comfortable sharing.

What we've noticed with all these "bad dog" moments is that Barley never seems to target Matt's stuff.  He's always gunning for me.  Just this week, we came home one night to find that all the papers for my Master's capstone project had been knocked off the table and spread all over the floor.  It was as if he rifled through them with his paws, just to be sure they were spread out evenly and mixed up thoroughly.

Candy, anyone?

We had no trick-or-treaters last night.  Not one.  Zero.  This left us with just a little bit of leftover candy.

But I swear I heard kids outside.  I thought I even saw a few when I glanced down the street.  So why would no one stop at our house?  Perhaps our welcoming committee had something to do with it.

Fighting Sirens

Whenever a fire engine passes within earshot of our house, Barley's hound dog instincts kick in, and he does his best to warn us.  He's so helpful.

International Homeless Animals' Day

Since 1992, the third Saturday of August has been observed as International Homeless Animals' Day.  As most of my readers know, we adopted Barley from a local animal shelter.  Shelter dogs often come with problems, and Barley was no exception.  He would bite (hard), he guarded his food and growled when he ate, and he refused to settle down.  He was constant work and not at all the rosy picture I had of dog-ownership.

Because Barley was so difficult, we sought the advice of a specialist.  By this time, Barley was full grown--no longer the cute brown furball we brought home six months earlier.  The specialist listened to our story and asked plainly, "Do you know what any shelter would do with this dog?"  We shook our heads.  "For every dog like this one, there are a dozen healthy, well-adjusted dogs waiting for homes.  They would put him down within 24 hours."  So we spent the next several months working with Barley so that he could stay with us. 

While he's still a handful (as evidenced by the crockpot episode, habitual counter surfing and other modes of attention grabbing), he's so much better than he was, and I can't imagine our lives without him.  His cuddles and kisses more than make up for his occasional lapses in judgment.  I think the struggles we had initially brought us all closer together, and if I had the chance, I'd do it all over again.

Sadly, many of those healthy, well-adjusted shelter dogs (and most of those who need extra care) never get a second chance.  Thanks to the International Society for Animal Rights and its annual International Homeless Animals' Day, more exposure is being given to this important issue.  You can read more about the day here and even attend a local event.  You can also honor dogs like Barley who never find homes by watching ISAR's moving tribute, which may just inspire you to adopt a cute furball of your own:

Ready for their close-ups

Barley spent some of his time in Minnesota playing with his cousins and his cousin/uncle (things get confusing in the dog world). We took them all to an amazing dog park in Eden Prairie, a city that is, apparently the best place to live. While the dogs were running around the dog park, Matt was interviewed by CNN Money for the video accompaniment to the story. Based on the Baltimore Orioles t-shirt he was sporting during the interview, it's no wonder his footage landed on the cutting room floor:

Barley, on the other hand, is clearly the star of the video. Pay close attention from the :59 mark to 1:04. I'm biased, yes, but I'm pretty sure he steals the show.

Den of Death

The men in Matt's family pride themselves on being great outdoorsmen. My father doesn't like picnics because there might be ants. It should therefore come as little surprise that I'm not a huge fan of taxidermy, and that my squeamishness makes me stand out in Matt's family.

On our recent trip home, I was happy to learn that Barley has taken after me in this regard. Matt's dad's "Den of Death," as it is affectionately known, made Barley just as nervous as it makes me:

And miles to go before we sleep

Matt and I recently spent a total of nearly 40 hours in the car. We drove home to Minnesota and back to Maryland, a trip that usually takes about 17 or 18 hours each way, but which took us much longer because we had Barley with us.

That much time in a car is bound to make anyone a bit loopy. There are only so many rounds of 20 Questions or I Spy people can play. At one point, somewhere in the middle of Indiana or Ohio, Matt started making up song parodies with Barley's name. My favorite was "Barley Boy," sung to the tune of "Danny Boy":

Oh Barley boy,
Your fur, your fur is fuzzy.
Your eyes are brown,
And your bark is really loud.

After the fourth or fifth encore, however, even "Barley Boy" wore a bit thin.

As crazy as Matt and I may have gone in the car, we were nothing compared to poor Barley. Hours in the car without someone petting him drove him to grab the attention however he could:


And when he wasn't getting attention--or when he just couldn't articulate how uncomfortable he was--Barley let us know just how much he dislikes the car:

Bad dog, III

I have some people coming over for dinner tonight. Ever the planner, I prepared something last night that I put in the Crockpot this morning. When I walked in the house this afternoon, I said out loud, "Hm. I wonder why I don't smell anything."

Then I looked down and saw this guilty face:

The picture is fuzzy not because my hand was shaking, but because Barley was. I walked to the kitchen and saw why:

Either he was shaking because he knew he was in serious trouble, or he was having a very understandable reaction to licking clean a bowl that contained, among several other things, a pound of raw chicken.

Weekend lesson

Weekends are a time to get caught up on everything I let slip during the week and to try to get a jump on the busy week to come.

It's also time to let go of my control-freak tendencies long enough to allow for a little help.

Doggie Dangers

I know at least a few of you loyal readers are dog people like we are. The Humane Society of the United States has recently updated its list of foods that are potential poison to our poochie pals.

• Alcoholic beverages
• Apple seeds
• Apricot pits
• Avocados
• Baby food (a lot of them contain onion powder)
  
• Cherry pits
• Candy (particularly chocolate and any candy containing the sweetener Xylitol)
  
• Coffee (grounds, beans, chocolate covered espresso beans)
  
• Fat trimmings (can cause pancreatitis)
  
• Grapes
• Hops (this one made Matt sad)
  
• Macadamia nuts
• Moldy foods
• Mushrooms (including wild mushroom plants)
  
• Mustard seeds
• Onions and onion powder
• Peach pits
• Pistachios (we learned about this one the hard way)
  
• Potato leaves and stems (green parts)
• Raisins
• Raw eggs
• Raw fish
  
• Rhubarb leaves
• Salt
• Tea (caffeine)
• Tomato leaves and stems (green parts)
• Walnuts
• Yeast dough

Barley the AT-AT

While we love our Barley dearly, we do recognize that he's a bit oddly shaped. His head is a bit small for his body, and his legs are disproportionately long. The vet has told us that she's not sure if Barley needs to lose some weight, or is just "built differently." Such is the joy of a mixed breed, I suppose.

Especially when Barley is stalking something (usually something ridiculous like a plastic bag or pile of snow), Matt has always said that he looks just like a Star Wars AT-AT. Not having committed the movies to memory as he had, I had no idea what he was talking about (forgive me, Anna, Cara, and any other Star Wars junkies).

Then, when we had some down time over this lovely holiday break, I finally had time to do a side-by-side comparison. Per usual, Matt was right:

We still love you, Barley...AT-AT legs and all.

Partners in Crime

Matt was having trouble with a computer recently. Thankfully, Barley was there to lend moral support (not to mention technical assistance).

Merry Christmas

Our Christmas puppy wishes all our friends and family a happy Christmas and a healthy new year!

But he also kindly asks that you keep it down. He's exhausted.

Snowtopia

The Baltimore area was hit with a blizzard this weekend. For those of us from a naturally snowy climate, it was like a small taste of home. In fact, I think there may even be more snow on the ground in Maryland than in Minnesota.

The entire area shut down for the entire weekend, and we were out of school today. Here's just a glimpse of what our neighborhood looks like (we haven't ventured much farther than that):


And, of course, a video of Barley trying to run/hop through the snow:

My morning companion

Matt is taking a little break from work to go to school full-time (i.e., he's the luckiest person alive), so he sleeps later than my usual 5:00 wake-up call. Rather than let me face such an early hour alone, Barley keeps me company. From my shower and getting dressed to my ritualistic cup of coffee with the Washington Post, Barley is right there.

Still, the early morning hour means that Barley doesn't always bring his A-game. Last week, he tripped on a few stairs in the dark. Before that, he tried to walk through a closed door...three times. Just a couple days ago, he tried to join me in the bathroom, but found an adversary in the shower curtain. He tried to free himself, but gave up half-way:

Don't worry, Barley. Winter break and sleeping in are right around the corner.

"Do Not Feed the Animal"

Part of the one-person-coming-home-later-than-the-other routine in our house is to give Barley his last scoop of food. Every once in a while, however, Barley will beg well enough to get his last scoop early. That begins a stream of telephone calls, text messages and oddly-placed Post-It notes to let the other party know that the dog has already been fed. Barley, on the other hand, pulls out his most pathetic looks to convince the late-arriver that the person sleeping upstairs has allowed him to starve.

When I got home late a few nights ago, Matt had gone to bed, and I was left wondering once again if Barley had been fed. Barley (aka, "Buddy Dog") tried to tell me that he was starving, but Matt was one step ahead of him. He left this note right above the spot where Barley waits to be fed:

But that didn't stop the poor, starving Buddy Dog from trying: