Chipson's New Home

Despite repeated attempts and various methods, we have become convinced that Chipson cannot be house trained without a crate. We have been very diligent and consistent, I feel, but I think the fact that her daycare lets her go wherever she pleases has hindered her progress. She actually does a great job of holding her bladder and bowels in front of us, but if we're gone, she seems to know that we are helpless from stopping her poop-capedes.

We even tried turning the downstairs bathroom into her own special room while we were gone. I thought we did a great job getting her acclimated to it. It even seemed like she learned to like being in there. Well anyway, that didn't turn out too well:

Yeah, that's the molding torn from the wall by our bathroom door.

So, we have finally decided it is time to get her a legitimate doggy crate. After a couple days of searching on Craigslist, we found this bad boy:

She can sit, lie down, roll over, high five, shake, stay, leave it, come, go see mommy, go see daddy, drop it, etc. Slowly, but surely, I'm sure we can teach her to be comfortable in her crate. Any tips? Let us know in the comments!

Le Cordon Bleu

I abhor traffic - and yes I know, who doesn't. But I particularly LOATHE it when I am sitting in the middle of it watching a 13-minute commute translate into an hour commute over what feels to be three-hours' time.

This is my commute any time I leave the office between 5:30 and 6:00, otherwise known as the preferred time of departure of Waggener Edstrom employees. Thus, I find myself loathing traffic quite a lot.

Fortunately for me, Morgan is just too smart to ask the hackneyed question of "what's for dinner?" as I am banging my head against a steering wheel believing a gain of 5 feet to be a colossal win. In fact, he is so smart he usually calls when his tummy starts rumbling to offer up dinner options that HE can cook. The menu often looks like this:

- Frozen ravioli
- Canned ravioli
- Frozen tortellini
- Egg sandwich
- Frozen Asian entree that I keep in the freezer for just this purpose.

AND I LOVE IT. I expect nothing more, and I am grateful for his help. Which is why last night was just so flummoxing.

As I was mourning my fate of eternal limbo approaching the 520 bridge, I received the rumbly tumbly call.

M- "Hey babe, I'm thinking about dinner, and I thought maybe I could make some tortellini?"
J- "HUMBUG YOU SCROOGE OF A DRIVER!!! Some jerk just ruined my life and cut in line."
Silence
J- "Yea, sure, make whatever you want, thank you."
M- "Are you sure that sounds ok? Do you feel like tortellini?"
J- "Oh yea, although, now that you mention it, I really feel like Chicken Cordon Bleu. Hahaha, yea that's what I really want."
I explain to Morgan, who had never heard of this dish, that it is the hardest thing I could think of to make, and of course I was joking and of course tortellini is fine.

12 hours later when I returned home (ok minor exaggeration) I expected to find tortellini growing cold on the stove with canned pasta sauce bubbling in the microwave. Instead, Morgan was pounding his second chicken breast flat, the other neatly rolled up stuffed with ham and blue cheese and entrenched in bread crumbs.

He was making chicken cordon bleu.

Chipson 63, Morgan and Jenny 1

If you remember correctly, we have a running score on Chipson's clever attempts at our lives. Since our last post of 53:0 we attempted to even the score with one of my favorite pastimes...

Chocolate.

Apparently eating half a bag of dark chocolate chips is not so healthy for a dog. For that matter it warranted an emergency room visit and a hospital stay. So yes Chipson, the score is now 53:1

Unfortunately, the score didn't stay like that for long. Today, Morgan and I left the pup at home as we went to play our late-night soccer game. We always bet what sort of smelly surprises she left us, and what thing she might have destroyed, but never could we have guessed that this particular night Chipson was once again plotting to kill... or at least cause a big enough explosion that she would be free and able to come find us!

When we returned home the strong smell of gas greeted us and so did a peculiar sound of rapid ticking. Quick as he is, Morgan darted up the stairs to find the stove had been turned on and the pilot light was snapping away, flame lit, gas filling every crook in the house.

Well Chipson, good try, for that matter, I'll give you ten points, but seriously that could have been bad, real bad.

With the new score of 63:1 I'm not going to lie, I might start leaving out chocolate on purpose... but then again it is kind of fun having your pet be your arch nemesis.

Till next time Chipson Dipo, till next time.

Lessons learned at the paddle

It's a good thing Chipson learned to swim, because summer is FINALLY here and we are definitely a water-loving family.

To embrace one of the first warm days of the year (ok, so this post is about a month old) Morgan and I decided to take the pup out canoeing. We left the camera at home, rented canoes from UW tossed her in the middle and pushed off the explore the arboretum.

Naturally, we were nervous about Chipson being on the boat, and so we left EVERYTHING in the car having accepted the fact that there was a good chance we'd end up in the water. Sure enough, Chipson was going nuts on the boat, hopping from my lap to Morgan's feet and going from side to side trying to bite at each droplet of water. Needless to say our nerves were heightened and our cores feeling the strain of the balancing act.

We paddled into the calm waters of the arboretum, caught a few turtles and basked in the sunshine. After a few hours Chipson's interest in the water had tripled and her frantic jumping encouraged me put her on my lap and hold tight so she wouldn't tip the boat. Her ears went back into submission, her heartbeat subsided, and I thought we were in the clear.

I was wrong.

In the blink of an eye, the weight was gone from my lap and Chipson was engulfed by water. As her head surfaced panic set in as she desperately clawed for the boat and I began pulling my jacket off ready to dive in after her (which looking back, would have been the absolute worst thing I could have done)...

Chipson obviously gave up on me in my stupor and her desperate eyes turned to Morgan who pulled her back on the boat as if he was plucking a leaf from the lake. He really is amazing.

She sat in the canoe shivering uncontrollably as we paddled our way back to land. When we pulled up on the beach Chipson leapt into the sand and as a sailor kisses the ground after returning from months at sea, Chipson peed instantly for a whole minute. We walked five steps and she let loose again. Without exaggeration in less than 7 minutes Chipson peed over 15 times. Morgan and I were doubled over in laughter and if our tummies weren't hurting before they sure were now.

Fortunately the remainder of our paddle was full of ease now that Chipson had learned her lesson. I'd like to think that she does learn lessons, but now that I think about it, outside of what time we give her food, and a couple of circus tricks, I am not sure that she has ever learned anything. On the contrary, she has Morgan and I wrapped around her little paw and we are learning every trick she teaches us.

Lucky dog.