Furry Friday-March 26

Max. Well, I have mentioned before that he is not the most energetic of dog. He pretty much exists to eat and sleep. He loves to just be. And we are OK with that. Lord only knows what his life was like before I saw his sweet eyes that fateful day at the vet's office. So we are perfectly happy to let Max just be Max.

This means that he likes to sleep in. Like late. Really late. Seriously, we have to make him get up every day. Just so you get the idea, I take Spencer to school at 8:40. I come in and out and then I get home from picking him up at about noon. Between noon and one, I go upstairs to find my sweet Max still SOUND asleep. I have to wake him slowly because he is usually deeply asleep. I then carry the sweet man down the stairs and outside to the patio to do his business. I mean, he has been asleep since about ten the night before. Yep. He has a bladder of steel if it means he can sleep longer!

So this Friday, I went to wake him up at 12:42 - PM.

I carried him out to a bright sunshiny day.

And he proceeded to do his business

and then. . .

Well, take a long rest in the sun.

I mean he did get up before 1!

What more do you people want from him?

Sleeping and being carried takes a lot out of a boy.

Whew!

He deserves a rest, don't you think?

Furry Friday - March 19

My Dunken.

Dunken has been our baby since we were first married. He was born a week before our marriage. He has been with us everywhere we have been. He has been all over Europe.

I have posted before that he gets up early with me every morning and "helps" me get the kids off to school. And he usually rides with me to take and pick up Spencer at his school.

Lately, though, he has become much more determied to go with me everywhere I go. I can tell you this because he tries to get in the car all the time. Several times a day. He is always trying to sneak into the garage. (And yes, much to David's dismay, the kids' van doors are almost always open.) I will realize I have not seen him in a while, and I will go looking for him. He is ALWAYS in the car. Bless him.

He wants to go with me everywhere. He has to sit in the car while I run errands, but he does not seem to mind. He just wants to go. I think he thinks I need him. I guess I do!

And he is not taking any chances that I might leave without him.

He is my right hand man.

I use a clothes basket to take supplies to Awana each week - he does love laundry baskets. . .

My buddy.

My helper.

He is so precious!

He takes such good care of us!

Furry Friday - March 12

OK, people. I try to never play favorites, you know? Not with the children or the furries. I try hard, really I do. If I see Dunken, staring at me, beckoning me for some attention, I stop and love on him. Then I immediately look to see if Max noticed. Don't want him thinking I love Dunken more. There is nothing worse than Westie sibling rivalry. I know you know what I mean.

My kids are tuned into this as well. If I say that I am proud of what a good eater Jessa is at supper without IMMEDIATELY mentioning Spencer's chewing prowess, his face falls. Same with her. They both just need to HEAR that they rock and never worry that I think the other one rocks more.

BUT I have to focus this Furry Friday on Stewart again. Since I started this whole idea, Stewart has been discussed 3 times. Look, y'all, my furry children cannot read. So they will never know that I have been slightly unfair with face time, unless YOU blab. Please don't tell them, OK? If you run into Dunken or Max or even Abby or Cooper, just act naturally, OK? If you don't tell them, they may never know! And for heaven sakes, don't tell Stewart - we don't want him getting the big head.

Anyway, my Stew is having some trouble.

He spent all day yesterday at a new vet's office. He has been needing to go, so I finally took him. And when they weighed him, he was only 9 lbs. This is great except last year, he weighed 12 lbs, 11 oz. He had lost a little bit then, too, so before I went I called 2 vets to compile some weights for comparison. And that is a ton of weight loss for a kitty. So they ran all sorts of blood tests and kept him there all day trying to get him to tee-tee. (Oh by the way, he never did. He did IMMEDIATELY upon coming home, though, of course.) (AND, by the way even more, we have to try again Monday for a sample.) Today the new Vet called and said that we are 99% sure it is his Thyroid. This is what we were thinking and sort of hoping, as it is treatable. So now he will get to take medicine twice a day until probably forever. I am OK with that, too. I just want him happy and healthy, you know? And back up to his fighting weight, of course.

Bless his heart.

I just hate it when any of my babies are sick! Even the furry ones. I actually think they are harder to handle because they cannot tell you, "hey, lady, I don't feel good." That was the best thing about the kids learning to talk. They could TELL ME. Isn't that always the worst? You are worrying about your baby and trying to figure out what is wrong using a slow, frustrating trial and error method! I could never be like a scientist in a lab or anything. Of course, with our children we will do anything! But that testing things out until you trip over and fall backwards into a solution thing is for the birds. Or the fancy lab scientists or whatever. You get it.

So now, I am about to head up to my new second home, our Vet's office to get some drugs to help him. Whew!

OH. On a somewhat related note, I must tell you that this vet cracked me up. I had to fill out tons of papers on Stewart when I first got there since we were "new." And I kid you not, the first question on one of the forms was "Does you pet have any nicknames? If so, list." I was so tickled! I have never had to answer that before. I think it is so cool that they chose to include that. And I listed a bunch. I did not want the vet to think that we (1) do not really love our cat or (2) are not creative enough to come up with suitable nicknames.

For your entertainment,

enjoy this list of our cat's most commonly used nicknames:

Stew

Stew-a-lew

Disco Stew

Stewie

Stewart Alewart

Stew-cat

Furry Friday (belated) - March 5

Things have been extra crazy around here for the Crazy Keys. We had a wonderful visit from May! She arrived on Friday, so we have been a little wrapped up, you know? And so that should explain my lateness on the Furry Friday Post. Do both of my readers forgive me? Thanks!

So this week there are no pictures to tell the story. My words will have to do.

I have mentioned before that Maxwell and Stewart do not get along. They are the cliché dog and cat. Seriously, cartoons could have been based on these two. I still do not fully get it, though. Max is so "undog" in so many ways. But this is the one thing he got. His instincts are honed. Cat = bad.

There are no pictures of the trauma and drama that surrounded last Monday with these two furry babies. I was shaking too hard to hold the camera.

Stewart has become too brazen for his own good. He does not see Max as a worthy adversary. He can usually outrun him, but most of the time Max is in his own world and does not notice the cat that is strutting through the room. But on Monday, Stewart was reminded of why we have a baby gate at the bottom of the stairs.

I did not see how it started, so I cannot tell you what triggered the madness. All I heard was the tell-tale bark of "Hunter Max" and some angry, guttural meows from Stewart. I went running toward the horrible sound. What I found was a fight underway in the laundry room. But not out in the open where I could see what was happening and try to stop it. Oh, no. Stewart had either started out behind the washer OR had retreated behind it when Max gave chase. Whatever the case, I was unaware that big, old Max could even fit back there. I guess anything is possible when you are properly motivated. So I can hear the scary noises coming out of my precious babies, but I could not see anything. I am standing there, helpless, terrified. I am trying to think. Do I our water on them? I have to get back there. So I pull a huge Lynda Carter-esque Wonder Woman move. I lifted the corner of the washing machine and pulled it away from the wall, thus creating a large enough space for me to see the fur flying. At the same time, Stewart who has some really smart moments, intertwined with his audaciousness, hurdled the white tornado of fur that was after him. He ran safely to his baby gate and escaped to his upstairs haven. Max, ever the pokey puppy had to back up his portly body to escape the tunnel behind the washing machine. I closed him in the laundry room while I searched for Stewart to make sure he was OK. He was. His paws were bloody, but it was not his blood.

I found a shell-shocked Maxie pacing the laundry room with his snout and nose covered in blood. I put him on the kitchen counter so I could rinse the blood out of his formerly white hair and check his eyes for damage. It was all flesh wounds, and he was alright. The kids were so upset and worried about Max. They started to call Stewart mean until I explained that Stew was simply defending himself. I stopped shaking about an hour after it was over. It was all too much. Lucky I do not have a weak heart. . .

So the effects of this tousle between 2 of my furries are far reaching. When I tried to put the washer back, without my adrenaline to aid me, I was unable to move it. That thing is heavy! But I did not think too much about it.

Fast forward to Saturday morning. I am preparing to get caught up on a whole weeks with of laundry. I had something soaking in the washer and before I started the first load, I set the cycle to spin to drain the soaking water. Guess what happened? Well, apparently I am like Bam-Bam Rubble, and I do not know my own strength. When I yanked the machine out to expose the scrappers, I also yanked (pardn the technical term here) the drain hose thingy out of the back of the washer. So, when I told it to drain, it did as it was told. Just all over the floor instead of out the hose thingy. What. A. Mess. Thankfully David was home to help me figure out what to do. We spent the morning cleaning up the mess after he reattached the end of the hose thingy to the back of the washer. Fun times. Oh, but he did move the machine back into place AND it is so close that neither pet can easily get back there now.

I am telling you; these animals sure are lucky I love them so much. . .

Furry Friday - February 26

Cooper Johnson,

this weeks's Furry Friday Feature.

Momma and Daddy have ALWAYS had Scotties. They got their first puppy 2 weeks after they got married. It happened to be a male Scottish Terrier named Nosey. (Ever see that old Disney movie about a skunk named Nosey? Momma always wanted to name a dog that!) He was their first baby. They did not go looking for a Scottie, that is just the ad they saw in the paper. And that was all she wrote - they are Scottie people. And now we are all in LOVE with terriers, but I guess you already knew that. . .

Throughout my life, our family has always had a dog. Momma has always said it is the best way to teach a child about compassion. Our pets have always been hugely important to our lives. After Nosey, we had Oliver. Then we had Bailey (I found him at North Georgia my Freshman year). After Bales, Momma said she did not want another dog. Period. And being the good listeners that we are, one week before Christmas 2003, Daddy got Cooper. David, baby Jessa, and I were at Ft. Stewart. So we all met on the street next to their house and ambushed, I mean delivered Cooper to her. Daddy put a bow on his neck. It was perfect. OK, so we thought it was perfect. Momma, uh, she cried and cussed us a little at first.

But of course, she loves him dearly. He and Jessa were born about a week apart, so we always know how old he is. He is a crazy, quirky dog, for sure, but he is so precious, too. He is awesome for Mom since she is alone a lot. He barks ferociously. If you heard him without seeing him, you would think he weighed 150 lbs! He is tough. And he is very protective of his Momma.

He loves to cuddle and is a big lap dog. BUT he gets really nervous around large groups of people and especially children. Momma and I have discussed why he has become this way AT LENGTH. We have pretty much decided that he is so accustomed to it being just the 2 of them that he does not know how to handle it any other way.

But when J and S were smaller, well, he was all over them!

They were more predictable then - less grabby and chasey.

With Jessa - I love their crazy eyes looking toward each other.

With baby Spencer.

But would you just look at that face?

He is just the sweetest thing:

And I still love that booger to pieces. He and I are tight. When he was a puppy, I was always on the floor with baby Jessa when we were at Momma's. So he assumed I was sitting on the floor to play with him. And whenever I visit even now, he sleeps with me! I love it! (Of course, Dunk wants to sleep with Mom, so it is only fair.)

He is a Momma's boy kind of dog, but in a pinch, he'll take me!

Oh and when he sleeps with me, he likes to spoon. Such a romantic!

And he and Dunken LOVE each other so much. If dogs could man hug, they so would. They get so happy to see each other and SO depressed when they are first separated.

Even though he is the biggest of all of our dogs, he is the most unassuming. If they want to go out, he will step back and wait before he heads out. If they want his food, he always backs off and lets them have it.

He is just precious.

Our Cooper.

Furry Friday - February 19

So I have already covered a first, introductory post for each of the furry babies that live in our house. So now I am going to introduce another furry baby that spends a lot of time at our house.

So, introducing
Abigail

When Bay got this job here at Scott AFB, he moved up here to live in the house that the job provided him. Mom planned to spend lots of time up here, and in the beginning, she did spend a fair amount of time back and forth (until Lucas's Lymphoma, of course). But during the time that she was NOT here, Bay was terribly lonely. He kept saying he wanted a "Scott Scottie." Cooper, was of course hers. And he liked her having a loud, barky dog with her spending time alone. No, he was not going to take her dog, but he wanted a dog of his own. So she started searching Scottie rescues. He did not need a puppy. His schedule can be quite demanding, so he needed a dog.

May had no luck with rescues. So she started searching Humane Society websites. And lo and behold, right there in Clayton County, there was a 14 month old, female Carin Terrier. It was not a Scottie, but it was a Terrier. She needed a home. She was exactly what we were looking for. So right quick like, Momma got that Carin adopted. They called her "Rags" at the shelter. We were not crazy about that - we like real names for our pets. So actually Jessa came up with Abby (she was really into Chicken Little at the time), and they liked it!

Momma drove Abby and Cooper to Murfreesboro, Tennessee (about half way between their houses) for Daddy to pick them up. She was already planning to fly to LA the next week to stay with us, so Daddy took his new dog and Cooper back home with him.

And well, let's just say it was love at first sight.

Daddy is SOMETHING else with this dog. He calls her "darlin" and his "blonde bombshell." He is so nurturing and such a great daddy to her. His secretary even tries to schedule "Abby time" in the middle of the day so he can go and check on her. This is the same secretary that told Momma one time that getting Abby was "the best thing you ever did for that man."

She is the perfect dog for him. Seriously. She is very independent and very protective. He has a doggie door so she can go in and out as she pleases. And she spends most of her time outside. Oh and she barks. A LOT. The cutest part is that her barking is a lot to protect Daddy. At least that is what we think. If he is home, she barks. At airplanes taking off, at thunder, snow plows, squirrels, birds, UPS trucks, mailmen, you name it. BUT if he is on his way home, like in the front when any of these things happen, all you hear is silence. Bless her heart! She feels SO responsible for him.

And she does a great job protecting him and taking care of him. At night, if he falls asleep in his chair, she will wake him up when it is time for their nightly walk before bed. Since he got Abby, he does not accidentally spend the whole night in front of the TV anymore!!

She is fiesty. And she is scrappy - she has tried to attack all of the other terriers, BUT they all just sort of let her be in charge. That keeps the peace. It sort of makes sense. They are all boy dogs. And most men will just let the women think they are in charge to keep the peace, right? And the "fights" are always over food - she must have had to fight for food before we found her.

So that's Abby.

Quirky. Crazy. Precious.

Furry Friday - February 12

Note: I am so ashamed that it has been a whole week since I posted. There was a stomach bug and lots of Valentine's stuff going on. I have missed you, oh blog, and both loyal readers!

To start off my new feature, I am focusing on each pet - one at a time.

So on this third Furry Friday, last but certainly not least, today's feature is:

Maxwell.

Oh, Max! Remember when we found old Max? Bless his heart, he is just the most precious lump of dog you ever will meet! Max came "home" to be a part of our family just before Christmas 2008 when we were still staying at May's. He has come a LONG way since then. Both literally, since he has moved all the way to Illinois AND figuratively, as he has changed quite a lot.

When he joined our family, he weighed about 19 lbs. Now, he weighs 28. (Don't judge me OR him - after the rough time he had, I have decided he can live it up. He deserves it!) But more has changed than his weight. Remember when he was learning to walk?? Bless his heart, we had to help him learn to be a dog!

Max was not terribly housebroken when we brought him home. And he has had some trouble adjusting to different houses and different set-ups. And let's face it, he is not crazy about wetness or cold or wind or putting forth much effort.

Despite his overall aversion to moving very fast, the bottom line is that Max is not big on independent thoughts. If you ask him to go out, he will. Once he is out, though, he sometimes forgets why he went out there. You have to remind him. And he does not see all that well, or really hear all that well. So sometimes, you have to guide him while yelling, "Max, let's go POTTY! MAX! MAX!" He is pretty high maintenance, actually - but worth it!

So now he is basically housebroken, as long as you remind him, or, um, force him to go out every couple of hours. The only problem with this is that Max does not enjoy grass. During summer months, he will tip toe into the yard briefly. And after he does some business, he hurries back to the patio. Actually, this is the only time he does anything even remotely quickly. Or when there is food - he can move FAST for food. But that is easy to guess since he has gained almost 10 lbs in a year with our family.

Anyway, Max tolerated the grass in the warmer weather. He did his dash in to the yard and back out when we absolutely insisted. But now he has taken to using the patio. Yes, the patio. It is pretty gross, but it is at least outside, right? Well, David is not thrilled about this, but I keep reminding him that it is OUTSIDE. And of course, when the weather warms up, we may want to hang out on the patio at some point. This may be, to say the very least, inconvenient. As with many of my posts, I wanted to show you this rather unpleasant habit that old Maxie has, but taking pictures of dog bodily functions is pretty gross. So I scooped off the patio and placed coke cans everywhere he recently had #1. And the orange cones, well think of them as big, fluorescent # 2s, OK?

I hope that this is not too graphic. But really, this is the craziest thing that he is doing right now.

I must say that with any other animal, we may get really upset or frustrated.

But he is just so Max.

A precious, sweet baby animal.

A blessing to our family.