…the Sophizilla!!!


Soph loves her Kong. Especially a treat-filled Kong. Don’t ask me how, but she can get the most shoved-in treat out of her Kong in a matter of minutes.
Part of our evening ritual is after she has had her din-dins and we have gone on a walk, she gets her Kong with a treat tucked inside. Presently I am using two (and she counts them) small Milkbones, each one cracked in half.
In the beginning, I’d put half a treat in her Kong, Sophie would work it out and eat it, then come and jump on me (a grave no-no in our house) to get my attention: Mumsy, more treat!!
And of course, after I told her to sit to remind her who’s boss, I’d get up, go get the Kong and fill it — lather, rinse, repeat…
Was I ever trained. A trained boss.
Well, I’d had enough of correcting her jumping on me, so I began telling her to bring her empty Kong to me.
Bring it, Sophie! Bring it! I made sure jumping on me got her nowhere.
She would just look at me. You’re kidding, right Mumsy?
Eventually she caught on — nearly magically, in fact. But she wasn’t done with me yet.
She’d only bring her Kong so far to me, then drop it. And of course I’d go the rest of the way over to pick it up.
Well, phooey on that, I thought. She might as well bring it right to me.
So next she didn’t get any more treat unless she brought the Kong over and dropped it into my hand.
But Sophie put her own spin on this too! I had to show her the treat before she’d make any move to go get her Kong!
Miss Smartie-pants.
She still tried the “let’s see how close I can get this to Mumsy without putting it in her hand,” but when that didn’t work, she made sure she dropped her Kong right into my hand.
Now of course I just “happened” to drop it once in a while.
Oh the looks I got!!!
But Sophie would pick it up again, and try again so I’d get it right and she’d get a treat in her Kong.
(I just love this little doggie!)
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NP: The fan.
Where’s Sophie? Going cracker dog with Daddee.
Will this blog ever be about flowers again? Who knows?

My first doggie:
I was pretty excited to find a reasonably clear photo of ol’ Cookie whilst looking through Mom’s picture boxes last weekend.
Ahh…Cookie. She was a good ol’ girl. Pretty too. Yes she certainly was.
I had to beg rather vigorously for her. I am sure that Dad knew what we were getting into, more than my brother or me or even Mom…but he relented.
My friend, R___ had a whole pack of new puppies, which included Cookie and Monica, the one that went to Unkie’s family. (Monica was all reddish brown.) I think the first time I saw Cookie, she was eating corn on the cob. Really.
One summer day, right before sixth grade, we brought Cookie out from her country home into town with us.
So, what was I? Around eleven years of age, I think, and of course while I knew I would love Cookie forever, I wasn’t very good at training her — not at all like the rigmarole we have gone through with Sophie or even Trixie the WonderHound. I believe she could sit, lay down, and maybe roll over — oh yes, and shake hands. She also was quite the beggar — being fed people food very often.
Dad never showed much affection for Cookie, however he always save her the last bit of his breakfast toast, or let her lick the last bits from his wooden ice cream stick.
Cookie slept with me in my bed (shudders!), endured my attempts to paper train her in my room, and finally showed me that she was smart enough to go to the back door and bark when she wanted out.
I wish I could remember more about her. She was always “there” that much I do know. She stayed with Mom and Dad after I left home and got married — and one day she made her way to the Rainbow Bridge.
I am sure she and Trixie are trading stories about their crazy owner…
Cookie was a good ol’ girl.
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NP: The microwave.
Where’s Sophie? In the kitchen with Daddee.
Mood-o-meter: Been better, been worse.

This must have been a surprise…
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Still on a semi-hiatus.
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NP: Evening weather report. Rain coming.
Where’s Sophie? In her crate, the sleepy head
Mood-o-meter: Tired
New favorite show on the telly: Leverage



Take Your Dog To Work day!!
Sorry Soph. You can’t come. But you are on my wallpaper at work.
Wish you could have a play date with Guiness and Haggis, the IT guy’s cairns. They have a fenced in yard and a mum and dad who think they are the berries.
++++++++++++
Yes, I have since taken the plastic off the window…

Went to R-town and H carted me and my Sears gift card around to the mall in search of
Our ten year old microwave has been acting old lately:
The old phone?
However I went away sad from Sears.
They had my microwave in black, but said they thought they could order it in white. We’ll see.
Their phone selection consisted of two models. Not enough to make a good comparison.
Then I went away mad from the mall.
On our way to Penney’s, I heard a little dog bark, turned my head and we were walking by Furry Babies, which when translated means “puppies in baby beds.”
Puppies. in. baby. beds.
No, this is not cute. It’s DISGUSTING!
I may have said a bad word as we went by. Well, maybe not so much a bad word as an accurate description.
<soapbox mode: on>Folks, these are canines, not humans…if you must buy from one of these outfits, find out where they got their dogs — don’t encourage puppy mills! — and take your little one right to your vet for a good going over. Some of these puppies have been separated from their mothers too soon. Ask the vet for some puppy raising techniques and go take some obedience classes as soon as the vet says the puppy is old enough. <soapbox mode: off>
Next destination was the Goodwill store. Three blouses later I was about ready to leave when I spotted:

It’s a pewter tea set. Not likely to set Antiques Roadshow afire…but I had to have it. H had to rescue two coffee mugs she took a shine to…so guess we are a bit hopeless, huh?
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NP: the floor fan and Soph pushing her food cube around.
What’s for supper? Homemade pizza with pepperoni, green olives and a bit of onion.

…it often seem like I just arrived on this planet…
I’ve recently discovered Cameo apples — and are they ever good.
Just sayin’….
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NP: The news, the fan, the air conditioner.
Mood-o-meter: I hate “power surges”.
How’s about that dog?: Started training Soph to weave between my legs. Since she has a good grasp of “wait” she is no longer bolting after the Cheerio and messing me up.
Hulu tonight: Burn Notice!!!!!