Desparately Searching The Dog Whisperer

My dogs suck.

There, I said it. I love them very much and really wouldn't want to live without any of them, but sometimes I feel like they rule my life. I have 3 dogs too many, and they most certainly subscribe to a "pack" mentality because they gang up on me regularly.

They know that I am a sucker for a cute face and they work that fact to their advantage.

Lets take a look at the three of them individually, and by order of age.

Amos-Amos is the black and white Jack Russell Terrier. Amos was a stray that My Guy got at a local dog shelter seven years ago who was severely abused. We aren't quite sure of the exact age of Amos, but the vet has "guess-timated" his age around 12 or 13 years old. He had been adopted by families twice, both times he was brought back for biting and nasty behaviors. He also had severe hip problems, from being abused, and was on the block to be put to sleep. When My Guy saw Amos, he was told that Amos was un-adoptable and to take him out of consideration. Of course, after playing with him for a bit and then taking him for a walk, he pleaded with the powers that be at the shelter to adopt Amos, exclaiming that this was the only dog for him.

He went through a vigorous adoption process and was cleared to adopt Amos on the condition that he would give Amos the proper surgery for his hips and because My Guy was a single man at the time and could devote his full attention to Amos's needs. Needless to say Amos is a different dog today than he was seven years ago. He came to live with us; myself, my two children and my two dogs, 3 years ago. Amos adjusted to family life and the rest of the dog pack beautifully. So much for the opinion of the "powers that be" at the shelter. He is a very intelligent dog and very intuitive and is the best cuddler in the world.

Amos is the true alpha of the pack. Boss Hog of all the other dogs (and sometimes me) for sure, and a mama's boy. As I type this, he is "allowing" me to share my desk chair with him. He has 80% of the chair, allowing my ass the remaining 20%.

Jingle-Jingle is the fawn pug and the only female dog in the pack. Miss Ming, as she is affectionately known, is 6 years old and is the sweetest, little pain in the ass dog ever. She snorts, farts, snores and sheds. Jingle has to be on top of me if I am sitting on the couch watching TV, god forbid any of the other dogs get closer to me than she does and she is a little spitfire. She takes no crap from any of the other dogs and will let them know if she has reached her limit with them in no uncertain terms. She is an excellent watch dog, but will bark at the slightest thing and loud and often. This, of course, sets off a chain reaction of the other two, which leads to a cacophony of endless dog barking. She is also the trash queen, as she sees any unattended trash barrel as a new world which needs exploring. Of the three, I have to say that Jingle is the most disobedient, yet the lowest maintenance dog.

Buddy-Buddy is a 5 year old boxer and the star of The Daily Dandy Post's entitled, "See Buddy". Buddy is a love, but he is my problem child. Spastic, mischievous and supremely energetic, Buddy gets into trouble, A LOT. But with a face like that he regularly gets away with it and he knows it. Garden hoses, potted plants, basketballs, newspapers; anything out side is free game to Buddy. If for some reason the garage doors were left open, Buddy will drag out hockey bags, golf balls, tools, trash, shovels and anything else that strikes his fancy. He lifts his leg wherever and whenever he sees fit, and this includes inside the house, and he is a slobber-er. Yup, long drool threads that hang from his jowls, threatening any outfit I,or anyone in the house is wearing. Buddy is sweet and plays stupid, but he is much smarter than he thinks we think he is.

My dogs have their own staff. I'm not kidding here, Buddy and Jingle go to Doggy Day care on Mondays and Buddy occasionally works with the trainer there. Amos used to go to work daily with My Guy, but because he's now a family dog, he's "semi-retired" opting to stay home with the pack more often than not. They also have my cleaning girl, who stays with them when we travel and tends to them daily.

None of this seems to be promoting changed behavior. The dogs will listen to My Guy first, he is the true alpha, but when it comes to me, it's like they got my number. They'll behave for a little while and then they'll just do what they want anyway.

Someone please get me The Dog Whisperer stat! As I type this they are barking incessantly at a woman walking a dog down the street-inside the house! AHHHH!

Cesar Millan, TV's self proclaimed dog psychologist says:

"I rehabilitate dogs. I train people." - Cesar Millan

I need a people trainer ASAP.

A Daily Dandy Public Service Announcement

It's spring ahead Daylight Saving Time! That special time of the year when the loss of one hour of precious sleep kicks you right in the a**. I've put together a list of helpful tips and things to watch out for to get you through the next few days.

Drag your butt out of bed.

Yes, it's dark when you wake up now. No, the clock's not wrong. You still need to get up for work. The bright side to all of this is that spring is here!

Eat breakfast.

Even though you feel like you could crawl back into bed and sleep for a few more days, eat a proper breakfast to provide fuel for your busy day.

Drive safe today.
Studies have shown that the Monday following the spring Daylight Savings Time change, has seen a 17 percent increase in motor vehicle accidents. Sleep deprivation is the major contributor resulting in the statistical increase. Do your best to be sharp and focused while driving today.

Avoid Cranky people.
Watch out for serious crank pots today. Everyone's snooze button was working overtime this morning, so expect unusual irritability while people re-adjust their bodies bio-rhythms. Not the best time to ask for that raise or an extra vacation you've been longing for. Wait a week or two.

Stay on schedule.
For the first few days of the time change, I find myself looking at the time and thinking to myself, "but it's really an hour earlier". This causes me much confusion and chaos inevitably ensues. Better to stay the course.

Pick the kids up on time.
Now that the time change is in effect, the kids soccer, lacrosse, baseball and softball practices can take place later and at the outdoor facilities. Don't be that mother sitting at the middle school waiting to pick up your child while your child is waiting to be picked up across town at the field. Make sure you get THAT e-mail today.

Limit your caffeine intake.
Thinking thoughts like, " the sun is still out so I can have that extra cup of joe" may work against you. Consuming caffeine later in the day is sure to wreak havoc on your already readjusting sleeping patterns.

Enjoy the extra hour of sunlight.
Fire up the grill! Nothing says spring and summer like the smell of burgers cooking on the gas grill. The best of spring is yet to come.

Get your sleep.
As I said before, stay on schedule. If bedtime rolls aroud 10 pm or later, don't kid yourself into thinking it's really 9 pm or an hour earlier. Stay the course because either way you pay. And when the clock strikes 6am the clock strikes 6am.

It's a harsh reality.

Happy Daylight Saving Time.

Desperately Dirty Housewives

I have led a sheltered, sheltered life. Now bear with me here for a moment and you will understand what I'm getting at.

I stopped by the local quick-mart yesterday to pick up some milk on my way home. The gas station/mini mart is located on the main thoroughfare, no more than .5 tenths of a mile from my street, smack dab in the middle of two affluent, suburban communities. I stop in there regularly; to get gas and last minute items and the staff and I are on a friendly, first name basis. We always take a few moments to chat about daily events, and often times they will share a story or two about what goes on in the quick-mart. Yesterday the story was focused on the amount of condoms that are sold in this particular store. The owner asserted that of the four mini marts he owns; this particular location, by far, out sells the others in condom purchases. He added that the purchases are made mostly by women-who appear to be just like me, apparently-and by that he meant your ordinary, every day mom.

Another staff member then proceeded to tell me about these same suburban women; the ones buying the condoms, propositioning him for a little discreet, extra-curricular activity,*wink, wink*. Now they had my attention. We then discussed it a little more. They said well dressed men in business suits also make numerous condom purchases and we all marveled over the frequency of this taking place in an affluent community such as ours. Who'd have thought? Interesting. Wealthy, successful business men and their lonely, neglected wives.

On my way home, armed with this new revelation, my mind went directly to a memory of a similar sort. About 5 years ago, I was waiting at home for a service man to come to turn on my irrigation system. This is a twice yearly appointment, and the homeowner must be present in order for the service tech to have access to the pump located in the basement. The company always give you a 3 hour window for the arrival of the tech. My window was from 9am to 12. I jumped into the shower sometime close to 9, and sure enough, I heard the doorbell just as I was getting out of the shower. I quickly threw on my bathrobe and slippers, wrapped a towel around my head, and rushed to the door.

I told the tech he was welcome to come in and go find the pump in the basement on his own, but that I would just need a few moments to get dressed before I could show him. The tech immediately put up his hand, beating a hasty retreat from the door and said, "I'll do what I need to do out here first. When you're dressed you can come and get me and I'll come in." OK, fine. I get dressed and go find the guy and walk him down to the basement to show him where the pump is. He then says to me, "I hope I didn't offend you by being short with you earlier. It's just that I have learned the hard way never to enter into a home when the lady of the house is dressed in a bathrobe."

Really. Forever the journalist, I pressed him for more information.

"You're kidding me, right?" I said.
"I wouldn't kid about that," he replied.
He proceeded to tell me the stories about how more often than not, the robe and the towel quickly drop to floor. He said he could write a book about the propositions he's received over the years and that despite his warnings, some of the younger guys he works with have actually messed up their relationships over their indulgence in this offer of an"afternoon delight". I was speechless.

Let me go on record here as being fully aware that this could take place anywhere in the US of A, and it is certianly not limited to affluent communities. I just need to wrap my brain around the fact that it actually does happen in real life and not just in Hollywood.
I have lived a sheltered life, for sure, because this stuff never ceases to perplex me. The service guy? The UPS man? The plumber? Not to imply that there is anything wrong with any of those professions. I just don't equate an afternoon quickie with my major kitchen appliance being returned to working order.
I just don't get it. And I'm glad I just don't get it.
Herein lies the point-these women "just aren't getting it" so they're getting it when ever and where ever they can, on the sly. The allure of the forbidden fruit.

This is just one woman's opinion is all, and to each his own, whatever floats your boat and every other seemingly appropriate cliche. I just think there needs to be some sort of connection, chemistry or history before engaging in the act. Call me old-fashioned, call me a prude even, all I'm saying is that I just think there are better ways to float that personal boat, if that's what you're looking for.
It certianly gives new meaning to the job title, service man.

Can't We All Just Get Along?

Since the temperatures are still frigid outside, I thought I'd give you something to warm your heart today.

If this doesn't tug at your heartstrings, I don't know what else will.




ps-I'm a boxer mommy too!!! Awwww..good boy.
Editors Note: The words above video to "rate and comment" were not added by Candy's Daily Dandy and are no way intended to beg you to comment here. Just incase you were wondering.

June Cleaver I'm Not

Let's face facts here. June Cleaver, I'm not. That dream died right along with the dawn of the new Millennium.

I realize that I am the mother at this address and that I am currently unemployed, but there has got to be more to my life than providing sustenance for my family on a daily basis. Doesn't there?

What, do you ask, was the catalyst of this epiphany?

It's all THEIR fault.

Those little babies above are causing quite a stir lately at the Daily Dandy headquarters.

Let's start at the beginning, shall we? I get up every weekday morning, bright and early with Frick and Frack, before school. My Guy is the "official riser". He then wakes me from my peaceful slumber and either he or I wake the children for school. I have always got up with my kids, gave them breakfast and sent them off to school. Even when I had a live in nanny. No exceptions. To me, it is right there in the Mom's handbook under job description. As first one up, it was and still is, my job to get breakfast ready for everyone so that we can maximize those precious early morning minutes before the school bus. Some days thing run smoothly and some days; not so much.

Since I am an early riser in general, getting the kids breakfast and off to school is like second nature to me. Usually breakfast amounts to nothing more than a choice of a toasted bagel with cream cheese, cereal, fruit or instant oatmeal. No big deal. Frick and Frack are certainly old enough to get their own breakfast without assistance from me, but I am present nonetheless.

Recently, I got a coupon for the cinnamon buns and bought them so that I could serve them for breakfast. I decided to surprise everyone one day a few weeks ago and got up a half hour early, so that I could bake the buns and have them ready for the morning rush.

Big mistake....Huge. They were a big hit. Great, right! Wrong.

The result has been a unanimous mutiny at the breakfast table, when cinnabons are not present. I have made them once more since that first morning, which is obviously not good enough. They (and this includes all of them) have even thrown in the occasional remark, "sure would have been nice to have fresh, hot cinnamon buns this morning". Like I'm friggin June Cleaver or something.

The tasty little morsels take 18-23 minutes to bake, then must cool for a few minutes before adding the frosting. Completing this process requires that I rise 30 minutes earlier that the rest of the household so that they will be ready and available for breakfast. Now I don't mind the occasional 5:30 wake-up, but on a daily basis? They are out of their freakin minds.

Despite the fact that consuming that amount of sugar and preservatives daily would not be prudent or healthy and that I have pointed this fact out on numerous occasions, the cinnabon controversy continues here. I have created a breakfast monster, with zero support from My Guy, as he is a card carrying member of Team Cinnabon.

Is this not a modern world we live in?

Listen Beaver, June got breast implants and botox and has a part time job at the mall. It's not all about you people any more. You, Ward and Wally are on your own in the morning because June has a life and a book club and a gym membership . Get over it and get your own God damn breakfast!

Todays Special: Chinese Fortunes

This is my new favorite thing.

It's a little gold Chinese fortune cookie that opens up and holds your favorite Chinese fortunes for safe keeping. You know, the really good fortunes that you get at the Chinese restaurant and you keep because you truly believe in it's wisdom or it's prophecy of your impending good fortune.
Usually, I keep the good ones in my wallet, but now I have this shiny little number to house all of my pending good fortune. I bought this at a cute little boutique that was having another one of my new favorite things-a 75% off sale! I ended up getting it for a few dollars.

When I got home, I emptied my wallet and purse of the saved fortunes and found that I had been carrying 10 small pieces of paper around for years.

Some of my favorites:

"There will be many surprises; unexpected gains are likely."

"A dream will always triumph over reality, once it is given a chance."

"Wise men avoid troubles while fools search for them."

"You will enjoy good health, you will be surrounded by luxury."

"The small steps you take will ultimately bring you great fortune."

"Many a false step is made by standing still."


Now go to your wallet and pull out your fortunes and share their wisdom here. Have any of the fortunes come true?

Insert Foot In Mouth Here

It always happens...karma, never one to be fooled, usually steps in and kicks you right in the butt when you least expect it.

Last month My Guy and I were sitting at the dinner table with the kids discussing his recent stint at jury duty. We talked about what it usually entails-wasting an entire day doing a whole lot of nothing-and the duties that befall a juror, if you are chosen to actually serve on a jury. The kids had a ton of questions about the kind of jury trials you could serve on and why. We gave them the whole "it's your civic duty" speech and explained how our legal system works and how in the end, some people's fate lies in the hands of a jury made up of their "peers".

The kids were a most captive audience. They asked questions about how one gets called to jury duty. They wanted to know about murder trials and armed robbery trials and the like, and were facinated by the fact that ordinary people would be responsible for a defendants fate. We talked about the OJ trial, a perfect example of how 12 ordinary people had their lives turned upside down for many months because of their "civic duty".

We told them that while all that trial stuff sounds glamorous and somewhat exciting, usually jury duty amounts to nothing more than a day wasted, spent sitting in the court house in a room with lots of strangers, waiting to be called for a trial. More of a supreme inconvienience than anything else, and that jury duty, for most people, was not looked upon as a favorable task.

Then I did it-I committed the biggest karmic error....I matter-of-factly said, "I used to get called for jury duty a lot when I was younger. I must have completed more than my share because I haven't been called to jury duty in about 10 years."

Of course, it should really be of no suprise to me or anyone who is reading this that this arrived in my mail on Friday afternoon.

I should have kept my big mouth shut.