Three Wet Dogs Inc.
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Rants


Sasha Squeak Through is a purebred Newfie and an owner surrender. She was just too much to care for and so was tied outside neglected and malnourished. When I first picked her up in St Louis she was so weak she had to be lifted into my jeep. Now she had gained a few pounds and has built muscle, she can get in and out with ease (when she feels like it- she once stayed in my jeep for 6 hours because she didn't want the car ride to end). Sasha beleives that she is the mother of the group and thinks it is her responsibility to go over and bark at any pooch getting into trouble.
                                 Rugby Really I'm Through!  is reportedly also a Newfie mix but I have my doubts. Rugby was chained to a tree for 5 years and had the sun bleached fur and worn down teeth to prove it. He has psychological damage and won't let anyone touch his hind quarters and frequently attacks his own leg. At about 100lb and with his lack of trust of humans he is the only pooch I own that I'm a bit leery of.  He has never made any sort of threat to me but I am not yet confident that he wouldn't harm me if he was frightened.  Rugby has had a slow adjustment assimilating into the pack and spent the first 3 months hiding in the kitchen pantry. It is going to take a long time to repair the damage that has been done to this boy.
Latest rant published in the News Gazette april 2011

I was awakened from my nap by the sound of heaving; I shot out of bed in
 hopes to get Cooper onto the tiled bathroom floor. Nope too late, three
 puddles of dog vomit on my bedroom carpet.  Okay really, over half of the
 house has tile flooring! Why is the vomit always on the carpet and why
 don’t dog trainers offer classes teaching your dog to vomit on solid
 surfaces?  I cleaned up the half-digested grass/food combo with my
 favorite pet stain remover.  Who would have ever thought that I, Miss
 Prissy Pants, would ever have a favorite pet stain remover?  I have
 decided that my next house will have concrete floors with a drain in the
 center of each room and yes, I am aware that my fantasy house is sounding
 more and more like the Brooklyn Zoo.
 I cleaned the carpets, let all of the dogs outside and decided to give
 100lb Riggs, whose white winter fur was being shed in handful sized tuffs,
 a good brushing.  It was a wonderfully breezy day and the fur was flying
 madly about the garden in a sort of fur blizzard. In an “I am one with
 nature” moment I thought “that’s nice, the birds will have something soft
 to line their spring nests with”.  The blissful moment came to an abrupt
 halt as I noticed my black dog, Shady, was chasing the flying fur and was
 eating it; he proudly looked over at me with a Santa-like beard hanging
 from his mouth.  As I went towards him, aiming to remove the wad from his
 mouth, he quickly gobbled down the fur.   Great, who knew how much fur he
 had actually eaten?  Oh well, I’m sure that mystery will be solved (what
 an exciting life I lead) tomorrow when he yaks up a giant fur ball
 (somewhere on the carpet I’m sure).   I won’t even bother putting the
 stain remover away; in fact I think that I will decoupage the bottle so it
 coordinates with my house décor.



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