Roxy and Her Annoying Little Brother, Stuey

A famous rescue dog reluctantly shares the spotlight with her little brother.

Best. Day. Ever.

 

 

As you might imagine, I have fabulous days all the time.

Regular dogs, like Stuey and any other non-famous dogs, can have some pretty good days — days that could include bacon, belly rubs, squirrel chasing, or rolling in something smelly.

But me? I tend to have exceptional days. Once or twice a week I get to go to schools where I am the center of attention. A few hundred kids pet me and say how cute I am. And I get to ride in the front seat of the car. Both ways.

Friday, however, was crazy-good. When we arrived at Simpson-Waverly School in Hartford, it seemed like a regular school visit. But then our super-nice friend Bob started handing out copies of my book to these little kids. They all got a copy! They were all smiley and happy and so excited to get their own book, which, as you know, has dozens of pictures of me in it. What could be better?

(I’m still trying to figure humans out. Even though the kids all seemed happy, my mom was crying. Do people cry when they’re happy? People are so weird.)

Anyway, these kids all got to start their weekends by petting me, hearing about my story and the story of other dogs who are rescued and brought to their forever homes, and getting a new book.

Now that’s a fabulous day.

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Again with the Swimming?

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Every time it looks as if I’m about to have a perfect day, my people do something to ruin the moment. Case in point: Today’s Mandell JCC Doggie Duathlon/Dash.

As if basking in the glory of being Connecticut’s most famous dog, greeting kids and looking cute wasn’t awesome enough, our book signing table was right next to the Oma’s Pride table. That’s right — the raw dog food people. I got treats left and right, and the nice man talking to people about this raw diet even gave me a bone. Like, a real bone. A disgusting, juicy, awesome bone. You could not imagine how happy I was.

My favorite type of dog — the Shiny Black Dog — was present in abundance. Although I thought everyone was there just to see me, the day was actually about dogs who swim one lap in a pool (crazy) and then run with their people (sorta cool.) Man, those shiny black dogs are excellent swimmers. I think. I don’t know. I was too busy gnawing on that bone to notice. Plus, I hate swimming, as you may have gathered from previous blog posts.

So the event was coming to a close, my person was packing things up, and then it happened: She put me in the kiddie pool. At first I thought they were saying I was going in the kitty pool, which would have been great, since I am kind of obsessed with chasing cats.

But no. I was subjected to the shame of “swimming” in eight inches of water, after seeing all of those big dogs paddle their way across a real pool.

I really don’t mean to be such a diva, especially since I walked away with a second totally icky and wonderful bone. But the kiddie pool? Come on. Show a girl a little respect.

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Stuey: An Accident Waiting to Happen?

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You know those “accident prone” dogs? The ones who are always at the vet for some sort of injury or accidental ingestion? The ones who single-handedly pay the veterinarian’s cable bill and kids’ college tuition?

I am not that dog, really. Despite the stories you may have heard about me eating a pound of raw ground beef and an entire batch of double chocolate cookies, I really am an easy going dog. The hamburger was shaped into these cute little sliders, and they were left right there on the counter, so how was I supposed to know they weren’t for me? And the chocolate cookies?  Please. Those were just begging to be eaten.

And yes, the unfortunate photograph my person chose to use for this post makes it looks like I’ve gotten into trouble again. But I’m pretty sure it wasn’t my fault. I really can’t tell you what happened because it’s all a bit of a blur now. Let’s just go with it not being my fault.

The nice veterinarian said my dew claw got pulled away from the quick. That’s apparently disgusting, since people make funny faces every time someone says it. I have to wear this bandage for a week, which you’d think would be awful, but is actually a ticket to more treats and hugs.

So don’t feel bad for me, really. I’m fine. And please don’t call me accident prone. Maybe I just like going to the vet, OK?

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