While this blog is dangerously close to becoming just a place to look at pictures of Lloyd, I thought this was fun….
One year, about 600lbs of dogfood later.
Category Archives: Llife with Lloyd
Still chewing on the next blog update….
Be patient. It might take some time to fully digest.
Sniffy Stuffy Stiffy
I recently bought Lloyd and Harvey some new dog toys, along with some new gear getting ready for Lloyd’s obedience class (no doubt the topic of a future blog post all by itself).
Taking Lloyd to PetSmart is an amplified version of what happens everytime I take Lloyd anywhere. The amount of attention this dog gets is insane. He’s a rock star everywhere he goes. The looks, the grins, and the conversations with people are a constant. What is it about St. Bernards that attract attention like no other breed? Harvey is a beautiful dog, but he can’t hold a candle to this kind of attention. The best part of the whole thing is Lloyd is completely indifferent to it. He really doesn’t care about the people. The dogs are another thing entirely.
Lloyd loves other dogs, whether or not they love him. Most return the affection, but some don’t. Lloyd has no sense of personal space if you are a dog butt. Some dogs aren’t all that keen to have a wet nose the size of a baseball attached to 130lbs of unstoppable dog rammed into their butts, no matter how friendly he is. I know I wouldn’t be. When Lloyd sniffs, he really sniffs, in the draftiest, snuffliest sense. There is nothing lost on Lloyd when it comes to smells.
Anyway, I got home from the pet store, Lloyd promptly stole the stuffy I bought from the bag as I was taking my boots off and ran off to show Harvey. In approximately 15 minutes, this was the scene that greeted me when I came downstairs.
They look guilty, and well they should. The stuffy is no more, or just a shell of it’s former self. Oh well, easy come, easy go. If you look carefully you will notice that Lloyd doesn’t quite look as guilty as he should, it’s exceptionally hard to look properly remorseful with a stiffy.
That is a universal lesson that all males should take to heart when trying to get away with something: with a stiffy, your chances are iffy.
Staircase Waterfall
stole it from istockphoto, but you get the idea
This morning Lloyd woke me just before the alarm went off (which in hindsight was a good thing, since it might have saved his life) with a huge head and paw on the bed. I gave him a scratch and a pat, and staggered to the shower. He grudgingly followed me into the bathroom as is his habit. I’m never sure why he does that, voluntarily spending time in a steamy bathroom when he generally shuns heat as much as possible. Anyway, I get ready, say goodbye to Nikki and go downstairs to feed the dogs. Lloyd rumbles along beside me, getting increasingly excited as usual about the prospect of food, or so I thought. As I turn the corner to go down the basement stairs, strangely Lloyd isn’t right beside me. Some kind of sixth sense made me stop and listen at the landing, it took me a minute to figure out what it was I was hearing. I called out uncertainly, “Lloyd?” A very un-Lloyd-like slow few steps down the stairs to where I was waiting around the corner on the landing, and there he stopped, continuing to pee on the carpet. The sound I had heard was the sound of a full on pee hitting the hardwood, then dribbling down the stairs. Lloyd wasn’t about to let the fact he was still peeing get between him and his breakfast, but it was harder to walk and pee at the very same time. Needless to say the next few seconds were very busy and profane, two whacks on the head with the plastic food scoop (all I had handy, but hardly satisfying), curse a couple of times, grab a double-handful of fur and start hauling 110lbs of dog upstairs, etc. but the end result is Lloyd choked it off enough for all of us to get to the front lawn with at least a liter left to go.
It took a monumental act of self control to realize that he had tried to tell me he had to go, but I had ignored his unusually early morning greeting. It seems that the cause of Lloyd’s downfall is the fact that he habitually drinks Harvey’s dish completely dry every chance he gets, so last night that was an extra 2 cups of water, plus the cup and a half I gave him “so he wouldn’t be thirsty at night” before bed. I don’t care how big you are, close to a liter of water will start to become a pressing matter after 7 hours or so. A rule of dog ownership is that when a dog drinks a liter of water, he will manufacture that into 2 liters of pee. Science be damned, it’s just the way things are.
The best part for me was realizing on the bus somewhere around Bayshore that my sock was somehow wet in my shoe…. and now I am wearing dog-piss socks all day.
Environmental Impact of Pet Ownership
Lloyd does his best to keep drafts out of the house
Just happened across an article in the Ottawa Citizen about a report that says the ecological impact of pet ownership – specifically medium sized dogs, strangely – makes them an irresponsible choice for us humans to own. Apparently you are better off buying a Toyota Land Cruiser than owning a dog, according to the author. Which makes perfect sense, because who can resist the adorable face a Land Cruiser makes when you scratch it behind it’s ears? I’m melting right now, just thinking about it. Awww.
Still, knowing Lloyd as I do, it’s not a hard thing to imagine that dogs have an impact on the environment. I’m entirely sure that the impact of Lloyd would be far less than any one human, but then again the report said nothing about owning a dog that is the size of a Toyota Land Cruiser….
I think it’s easy to see Lloyd’s impact on the environment. Or more accurately, to hear Lloyd’s impact. The gas emitted daily by this animal would probably power a small town or hamlet for a week. The authors of this report may have a point, but then again you have to wonder about the author of an article that can seriously recommend owning a fish or hamster as an alternative to cats and dogs. They apparently will go as far as suggesting a chicken or rabbit, so long as you eat them. Um, that’s not a pet, dude. That’s living on a farm. Some real sentimental people there. “Sorry kids, but I’m hungry. Say goodbye to Fluffy now…” I’m all for the saving the world, but I think this goes a teensy bit farther than most folks are comfortable with. Jeez.
So, while Lloyd leaves a wide swath of environmental destruction (including my possessions) behind him, I will not be cooking and eating him anytime soon, even though he would probably feed us for a good long while. He is far too adorable for that, and even the hardest of hearts couldn’t stare too long into his brown eyes and not be moved.
I think I will just continue to bring my own mug to Starbucks, ride the bus and recycle my butt off to try to offset the huge steamers Lloyd produces a distressingly large number of times a day. (Although I am considering getting each one bronzed and then they can be re-used as building materials. Should have a ten foot wall from here to Montreal in no time.)
P.S. In case anyone is worried that I am forgetting Harvey because he is older, more dignified, less messy, quieter, gentler, better behaved, less slobbery, well you get the idea. Never fear, I wouldn’t forget Harv, and the only reason I can give is because Harvey has fine-tuned the doggy guilt trip. One well timed sigh-eyeroll combination is enough to send us all scurrying to shower him with love. He probably gets more attention now than before Lloyd, so never fear.
Fail: Dog toys
In case you can’t read the blurry text, it says “If ball shows signs of wear, discard it.”
Admittedly we didn’t break the bank on these dog toys, but these tennis balls were not your average tennis balls, which have a shockingly short lifespan at my house. These ones were much sturdier, and once gutted, smelled like reclaimed winter tires, dipped in turpentine, with just a hint of skunk. There must be nicer smelling dog toys to be had, ones that last longer than ten minutes?
I tagged this Llife with Lloyd, but actually this particular mess was thanks to Harvey. Don’t get me wrong, I would rather clean up destroyed dog toys than my own destroyed possessions, but my dogs just don’t like toys that they can’t demolish.
Why?