The household gets a new addition

Sherwin the cocker spaniel is our latest foster dog. He has an old-man face and a summer haircut, which I plan to let grow out. Sherwin used to be called Flame, but that name, to me, more aptly describes a flashier breed, or at least one with a red coat.
Sherwin is very friendly, but is an incessant whiner and barker, and I'm not always sure why. He's a bed hog, though, so that means Tugboat probably won't be sleeping with me anytime soon (three dogs and a human are a tight fit on a twin bed).
I plan to work on the whining/barking, but it might stop as Sherwin gets used to his new digs.
Tugboat and Sherwin each is a bit on the alpha side, but Tugboat usually wins. Make that always wins.
More later ...

Tugboat comes home

Tugboat and Digby just came home today from a four-day stay at their "doggy camp," a nearby country kennel. Tugboat was treated to two "extras" — sessions in the Belly Rub Club, of which he should be a charter member.
Digby was less certain of the place when he got there; I had to take off his leash instead of making an employee do it. However, although he was extremely glad to see me today, he eventually warmed up to the staff.
Even though I'm pretty certain Tugboat loves me, he doesn't always want to go home. This leads me to suspect he gets extra special treatment at the kennel. That's OK by me. It's hard to love the 'Boat too much.

A sad day

I volunteer for the Animal Placement Bureau as a foster mommy. It's very rewarding, but the sad part is when a foster to which you've grown attached (and really, is there any other kind?) is to leave your home for its "forever home." Today I will say good-bye to Augie, a mix of Lhasa Apso or Shih Tzu and something else. Augie was a sweetie, a cuddly Ewok-type dog that simply enjoyed being in the same room with me. Not everyone can say that!
Tugboat and Digby seemed to like him except for the occasional skirmish over food and couch rights.
I will miss him but plan to visit.

Tugboat-of-War

Tugboat gets into all sorts of trouble with his propensity to hanging onto things, preferably swings. He flipped out a mother and her dogphobic girl a few years back by jumping onto her swing (the SWING, not her), which resulted in Tugboat having his mug shot taken by the police. (However, the officer took one look at him and laughed.) Anyway, I have to keep him on a short rope in the company of swings.
Last night we visited our neighbor's fenced-in backyard, which has a swingset. When Tugboat's in the vicinity, we keep the swings out of jowls' reach. However, he got a hold of one swing and hung on so much the other neighbor thought he was caught on the swing. Although Tugboat would have loved that, I had to get him back down so he wouldn't tear the swing.
All this, I presume, comes from bulldogs being raised way back when to hang onto bulls' noses during a fight; that's why they were bred with folds--so the bull's blood would stay out of the dog's eyes. Yuck. And why they have flat noses.
This was barbaric, but it resulted in the breed being the mutated blob we all love so much today.

Tugboat begins the month of May

Tugboat is all caught up with his heartworm medication (which I have to hide in his food bowl). His eyesight failing, one of his greatest joys is sitting in the front yard watching what little world he can see pass by. Since I don't have a fenced-in yard, I have to be out there with him.
He's not to be trusted, though, since he has been known to waddle off down the street. However, since the weather's getting nicer (albeit slowly in Michigan), I don't mind being out there with him for the most part (unless there's a Cubs, White Sox, Red Sox or Tigers game on TV inside).