Tag Archives: puppy

What Do You Get For the Australian Labradoodle Who Has Everything?

Dear Uncle Jesse,

I’m not sure you’ll recognize that today is special, when we shower you with gourmet, organic treats, long walks and hour-long massages. Or when we coo over and over again, ‘He’s a good man. That’s a good man. Who’s the best man?’

ToastToTwitterers

Oh. Is this not an appropriate excuse to drink champagne?

But it’s true!

Today’s your 3rd birthday!

Birthday surprises from your BFF, Shunderson!

Birthday surprises from your BFF, Shunderson!

Already you’ve been with us for 2 years, 9 months and 28 days. Now’s not the time to talk of my guilt over your silver-spooned upbringing, but rather to praise your genetic superiority and extremely reputable entry into this world thanks to your mother’s tireless research and your father’s stubborn allergies.

We named you after John Stamos’ character on Full House because we knew you were destined to be the cool one. And have great hair.

Have mercy

Have mercy.

Here are just a few of the things we love about you, Uncle Jesse:

BlogHer12-hotpocket-UncleJYou fetch your Hot Pocket toy when we sing the jingle (“Ho-ot Pocket!”).

You dry your tongue on our pants after you take a drink.

You have access to your kibble all day, every day,UncleJesse_eatslyingdown2 and only eat it when we sit down to dinner; then you nosh lying down.

You help Dad tune the guitar when he gets to the 4th string, every time.

You learned how to do Full House-themed tricks at 9 1/2 weeks old.

 (If people don’t believe the last two, they should play thE video!)

Uncle-Jesse-Tucked-Paws

Please stop touching me.

If you disapprove of someone’s petting methods, you lick them aggressively to correct the faux paw pas. They mistake this for affection. I’m sorry we blew up your spot, but you do it to us, too, you ungrateful bastard well-bred specimen.

Hello, Ceiling Fan.

Hello, Ceiling Fan.

Your legs are super long and your paws are incredibly fancy, especially when you tuck them under, or cross them just so.

You’re convinced the bedroom ceiling fan is possessed and/or omnipotent. If it’s been too quiet for too long, or something is otherwise amiss, we catch you staring at it dubiously.

I hope you enjoy this birthday tribute video I made especially for you:

Love,

Your doting and equally adorable mother

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So what do you get for the Australian Labradoodle who has everything? Well, you can make like a Shel Silverstein tree, and give. Please join me in helping friend and fellow blogger, Valerie from Nikitaland:

2013-pledge-for-pets-button

Note: The ad below the Pledge for Pets button is not part of this post.

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Where I’ll Be While You’re Entering My Vlog Contest (ENDS TODAY!)

Cheeky chipmunks, my video blogging contest ends today (October 22, midnight EST)!! You have about 14 hours to enter your 30-second video. By my calculations, this means you could do 8 billion (maybe slightly less) takes and still have time to qualify for the WORLD’S BEST PRIZE! You don’t want to miss out. Just ask Sprinkles.

In the meantime, I’ll be enjoying a lovely, relaxing Saturday with my two besties (b-day celebration in the hiz-ouse!), Uncle Jesse, Peppermeister annnnnd….a puppy!!!

My chipmunkalicious friend, Jenn, volunteers for 11th Hour Rescue, and is currently providing a foster home for a lil’ pitbull named Kelly.

Here’s Kelly. Get ready for an aww-attack.

Hi! I'm Kelly. You know you love me.

Imma show Uncle Jesse who's boss.

...Unless I get too sleepy.

Forever and Ever

We had our breeder picked out before the puppies were born, and it was a long waiting process until at long last Uncle Jesse, our precious Australian Labradoodle, came to live with us.

When the puppies turned 7 weeks old, we were told which one would be ours, and I thought it only fitting to make a tribute video to occupy me until we could pick him up 1 week later.

(Special thanks to Beth!)

Have Mercy

When I first got my Australian Labradoodle puppy, I tried telling people it was a “labrador-poodle mix.” A mutt, basically. I wanted canine street cred. I was a dog-loving humanitarian, for crying out loud, not some Paris Hilton wannabe with a ball of fluff shoved in a Coach carrying case.

But eventually I surrendered, and I can now admit that I am one of the many Americans who owns a Designer Dog.

And I love him. To death.

His name is Uncle Jesse.

Uncle Jesse is the 11-month-old love child of my allergy-ridden husband and me, and every spare smile and giggle is given to him. He doesn’t shed a single hair, but instead showers us with licks and sassy sidelong glances. It took many months to potty train him and he still responds with snooty indifference when we set down a bowl of organic lamb and rice kibble. He prefers raw beef and expensive, top of the line yogurt. Chunky peanut butter and chicken marinated in fresh ginger seem acceptable, too.

To add to the atrocity of this ultimate guilty pleasure, I’ve found that I like putting him in t-shirts. A lot. And I’ve convinced myself that he likes it, too.

Aside from your pedestrian basics, his first trick was “Watch the hair, huh!” (An homage to his namesake.) He mastered this before he turned 10 weeks old. The downside to an intelligent dog is that you really have to make it worth their while. “This filet is a bit overdone, sir.” Having said this, he’s a complete and total wimp and the only time he’s truly happy is when his family is together. That or he’s got his head stuck out of the car window.

Uncle Jesse is the cat’s meow and if you think you can convince me otherwise, you’re barking up the wrong tree.