It was unexpected. It happened suddenly. I was talking to the dogs and out of nowhere I looked at Elvis, and said, "I love you Elvi-boy." I was so surprised by my own words that I looked at Steve and said, "I guess I like this guy." Steve's response was "Me, too."
Yesterday was day 2 of NO ACCIDENTS IN THE HOUSE! WOOHOO! He actually peed outside in the yard as soon as he went outside with Steve night before last and then with me yesterday afternoon. Of course, he refused to go last night before bed, so I was afraid he'd pee in his crate, but he didn't. We throw him a party every time he pees outside now. The sky rains chicken when he pees and poos. And he's getting a little more interested in eating it.
Elvis has also learned that when he walks nicely beside us on a loose leash, chicken rains from the sky. Of course, this means that every time he wants chicken he slows up, walks beside us and looks up like, "Hey lady, where's my chicken?" And then as soon as we give it to him he speeds off ahead again. Friggin' monster.
I have also spent 3 hours each day for the past couple of days walking that beast. I've driven him to the canal path for a good trot. Sooo....no time to clean the house or do homework. I sometimes get pissed that he takes up so much time and then sometimes I realize maybe he's teaching me something. Maybe he's teaching me that playing outside and bonding with the pack are more important than a house that smells like cleanser. And you know what? I still have good grades, so all this refusing to let myself relax thing was never really necessary. There's time for work and play.
I've also mostly given up the idea that Elvis is going to eat Molly. He does definitely push her around a bit, and that pisses me off, but it's the dog heirarchy thing, I guess, and she is old and weak, but I don't think he'd eat her. She waltzed into his crate and stole food from his bowl and he just stood and looked at her. She's always trying to steal his food. I'll ask the trainer this weekend. Maybe he's just waiting for the right moment to attack. I don't know. But so far no reason to think badly of him. Every dog's different and it was just one article out of many.
Trying to talk Steve into buying fence material and installing it ourselves. It would mean that we can't buy a new lawn mower. We have mucho grass and tiny push mower that is unreliable. Apparently it doesn't start right away - you have to fiddle and fiddle with it. I told Steve that I would take over mowing if it means fence - hell, what's 3 hrs of walking and two of mowing grass? Who needs to do anything else besides tend to the dog's needs?
And oh, yeah. I still have 4 rats and boy, are they pissed that their blog has been hijacked by the Plott.

Thanks for the words of encouragement, guys. We haven't decided to give up on the little turd yet - and I am justified in calling him a turd because the vet just called to tell me that he does not have an infection, so it is most likely a "behavioral issue." Pfff! I did get a helicopter tail wag and a bum in the air as a welcome home, though, so that's good. Oh, yes, I also got a dog crate full of pee when I got home. But that's exactly why he was in the crate. It's so funny when that little moron goes in the house. He so obviously never lived with a family inside before, because when I find his pee spot and then start to clean it up, he comes over, sniffs it, looks at me like, "hey, whatcha doing there? Cleaning that up? Never woulda thought.." He's obviously never gotten into trouble for doing it before. The problem is that we never actually catch him in the act, so we don't have an opportunity to tell him "no!" We try to praise him and give him treats when he goes outside, but he turns and looks at us like, "Geeze, guys, I'm just taking a leak. For crying out loud, gimme some peace." I simply don't know what we're going to do with him. Well, yes, I do. We're going to take him for walk, after walk, after walk, after walk, after walk....

I'm waiting for the vet to call. We just dropped off Elvis's urine sample which should determine if he is urinating all over our house because of an infection or because he is a big, dominant, territorial pisser. I hope that he has a mild infection that we can clear up very easily with a few meds and that when he's all better he'll be just a joy to have in the house. Wishful thinking.
Steve and I are finding it very difficult to bond with this guy. He has come out of his shell quite a bit, there's no doubt there. He even greeted our friends A and K at the door with an exuberant tail waggle. But he isn't a nuzzler like Molly. He doesn't flop over for a cuddle and a rub as soon as we crouch down to pat him. I don't know. He's distant. Just observes us a lot. He likes to be in the same room, but if we sit next to him, he gets up after a few seconds and walks away to sit somewhere else and just watch what we're up to. Sometimes he sticks his bum up for a big bum scratching, but...I feel like we are definitely putting way more into this relationship than we are getting out. How long do we wait for Elvis to come around, and what do we do if he never does? What if we are only dog-walkers and food dispensers to him for the rest of his life? That's 10 tough years. And what if he is just infection after infection? Each week we find out something else that this guy is infested with. When does it end?
And then...to top it all off, I read today that Plott hounds are extremely agressive when it comes to other dogs and don't ever leave a Plott and another dog alone together because they fight to the death, even over something like a food bowl. WHAT?!? Before adopting the Plott I read that Plotts were bred to get along with other dogs because they hunt in packs (Plotts are bred to hunt wild boar and bear, if I never mentioned it before). Not to mention that there is nothing about this dog that would make me think he'd fight Molly to the death over anything, but now I'm imagining Elvis suddenly going insane and eating her, then turning 'round and eating us. I had read that they are loyal, eager to please, intelligent, family dogs inside and then courageous, fearless hunters outside, like two different dogs. Shit. What if he gets bored one day and starts hunting indoors?
Obviously I have worked myself up into a frenzy, like I am wont to do. Which means that all the extra running I'm doing with the Plott isn't doing me any good because the stress is making me eat more than I can keep up with. Elvis is all work, no pleasure so far. Training sessions start next Sunday. I'm hoping for miracles. I'm just going to come out and tell the trainer that we're having a hard time bonding and see what he says. He'll probably tell us we're a couple of morons and shouldn't have brought Elvis home in the first place. Ugh. We were prepared to take care of two Molly's, not a Molly and an Elvis. He is testing us. We are struggling to pass.
I don't know, K, M, did it seem like we meant more to him than you guys did when we were visiting? Did you see him looking at us like, "I love those humans" or anything?

Here' s a quick run-down before I disappear for the weekend on my homework retreat. Firstly, I promise to self-medicate with chocolate and caffeine, so I shouldn't be too difficult to deal with.

The rats are spending the weekend here, alone. It'll only be for 2 1/2 days so they should be all right. I've bought them a new water bottle to make sure they don't run out, and some lab blocks instead of the fresh food I've been feeding them.

Dogs are getting baths tonight to pretty up for the big trip. Elvis has a lot of meeting and greeting to do - has to be in tip-top form. And hopefully he won't haul off and pee on my parent's living room rug. I'm especially looking forward to letting him run in my brother's fenced in yard. We really ought to fence at least part of our yard for the poor guy. But, in the meantime, there's walks on the canal path and wooded parks...dog parks are still iffy with me.

So....all my in-laws sent us easter cards and we sent out not-a-one. *oops* Note to self: send cards to in-laws - ON EVERY OCCASION! Oh, well....we bough easter cards and will cross out "have" a happy easter and replace with "hope you had" a happy easter. That's just as good, right? Better late than never?? Right??

Looking forward very much to seeing my nephew. He's lost a tooth since I've seen him last. And I can't wait to see him get excited about the easter bunny.

Must go pack now, and vacuum the rat room. Cleaned the cage last night and, well, rat "raisins" scattered all over the floor. How does that happen?

Oh, yes, a wasp was creeping along the side of the rat cage. I swatted it with a notebook, it fell to the floor and I smashed it. So now, I'm paranoid that a wasp will sting one of my girlies and who knows what a sting will do to a little ratty body. And now the girls are still terrified when something touches their cage. The whole incident really rattled them. But I couldn't do nothing. If it had gotten in, those bozos would have tried to chase it to eat it and gotten a nasty surprise.
Happy weekend, ya'll

Homeward Bound

I'm feeling really stressed out. There is some huge-ass design competition thing that all people in 3D have to participate in. Some damn event, food, drinks - but no alcohol- and money prize to the winner...some awards... I don't know. Anyhow, the assignment was to come up with a piece that addressed a fear and that was portable or worn on the body. It's taken me a while to come up with a design. You see, I came up with about 14 but after a little research I found that these damn things already exist and are being sold or are patented. So i keep plugging along, trying to be creative, and FINALLY I hit upon an idea and I have 6 days to make it and do a design brief. I don't even have a model of it yet, so minor details are still up in the air. Oh, who am I kidding. Some not so minor details are still up in the air. It wouldn't be so bad if I hadn't planned on taking a trip to see the fam this weekend. Apparently I am the only jackass who doesn't have a long weekend. Driving there just sucks up so much time. two days of driving, one of visiting, THREE LOST WORK DAYS! I'm going crazy just thinking about it. I am going to have to enlist my family to help me.
Katherine, you will help me to sew. These are orders.
All others (including M) MUST pose in my design brief pictures.
There. You wanna see me? You pay. With hard labor. You think we're going to have fun, socialize? NO! This is WORK WORK WORK.
You think sweatshops are bad? Think again. After a weekend with me you'll be begging for a job in a shirt-button factory with no windows and a broken ventilation system.
I have the concept people, now I need the MATERIALS! I need good ideas, people. THINK!
I need to see CRAFTSMANSHIP, folks! Perfection!
CHOP! CHOP!
bluuuurrrrrgh! Aaaaack! ccckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk! MMmmmmrrrpphhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
And all that jazz.

Spoonin'

Our house has officially "gone to the dogs"

Mom called me a tattle-tale brat and I don't even know why. All I know is that Elvis pee-peed on the living room rug. Twice! And he pooped in the laundry room. I saw it. And it was big and stinky. And it was right near the clean clothes basket and it made Mom nervous and she has to put up all the baskets now so he doesn't pee on them. And Mom says it's because he doesn't know any better and is still learning, but it's been three weeks and when is he gonna learn? And Mom keeps him in a crate sometimes so he doesn't pee everywhere, but that crate is full of boneys and toys and pigs ears and yummy treats and that don't seem like bad enough punishment to me. And Elvis chewed up the handle on one of Mom's baskets, even though his big stuffed fish and red ball were right next to it. But I ain't no tattle-tale. I just tells it as I sees it. And I don't like when we get tied outside together because I have the short leash and can't get to Mom as fast as Elvis and that makes me hoppin mad and jealous. And I bark and bark and lean on Mom real hard and Mom pushes me away 'cause she says I don't own her, an I am not the boss, but I do and I am. And the sooner these people 'cept it, the easier it will be for everybody.

Ain't I beautiful?

-Princess Molly

I love yardwork!

-Elvis

I am contemplating selling my skinny life on e-bay so that I can afford clothes that fit my new, overweight life. Ugh. If anyone needs me, I'll be over here, cuddling with the dogs, eating ice cream to numb the pain of weight gain...

We have three main pieces of furniture in the living room - a loveseat, a sofa and a chaise. Molly is most fond of the loveseat so the other two pieces have remained relatively fur-free. When Elvis came along, the two dogs alternated between loveseat and sofa. This left a fur-free chaise. To encourage this fur-free chaise, I grabbed up all the throw pillows from around the room - 8 in all- and laid them out on the chaise, thinking that this would deter the hound from jumping up on it. *sigh* In reality I made his dreams of a lush bed come true. I came home from school the other day to find that he had pushed all of the pillows toward the top of the chaise and had snuggled up on top of them.
Last night, I watched as Elvis accidentally kicked one of *his* pillows to the floor. He calmly jumped down to the floor, gently took the pillow into his mouth, jumped back up on to *his bed* with it and resumed his snuggle.
Not wanting to encourage pillow mouthing, I ran to get him his baby blanket with the little teddy bear attached (actually a baby toy), his stuffed drill from Auntie K, and his stuffed saw, also from Auntie K. I left them on the floor. I returned about 15 minutes later to find all his toys lined up on *his bed*, the teddy between his paws.
My only regret about Elvis is that I don't know how to make video posts. He can wag his tail both like a helicopter and side-to-side. His routine before walks is a quick helicopter, a "down-dog" position, arse in air, and then a side-to-side, still in down dog. Then a hop to whoever's holding the leash.

Why subscribe to internet porn when you can browse MySpace?

Dear Peeps, Mom says I can use the 'puter because I don't want to eat the rats.

Thank you for my new John Deere tractor blankie, Auntie Katherine. I loves it! And Girl Human says the black fleecie on the back is the same color as my fur, so she won't need to wash it a bazillion times a day!

Thank you, too, for my homemade dog biscuits. Girl Human says I have to share them with Molly. I guess that's not so bad.

I am settling in here and really starting to enjoy my cuddles on the couch with the humans. I think I will probably decide to stay here and let them be my Mom and Dad.

Girl Human says we will visit you soon so that you can see how handsome and good I am. She told me that there are lots of kitties where you are, so I have been very good and ignored the kitties on my walks. I have even ignored the squirrels to show what a good boy I am. And now that you made me this blankie, I will for sure not eat your kitties.

-Elvis

To clear things up, we are keeping the Plott Hound. Molly will not be paying shipping, as there is nothing to ship. These rogue blog entries are more proof that Molly is in dire need of some direction and pack leadership in her life.
Yes, it's true, we went to the lecture to learn how to get the Plott to behave and came home to the realization that we have created a monster out of Molly. A beautiful, cuddley monster, but a monster nonetheless. We do her every bidding. She needs only to look up at us and we fall to her feet and cuddle and pat her and tell her how wonderful she is. She needs only to give a whine and we invite her up on the couch with us for her evening worship session. She needs only to wag her tail at us and we jump up and say, "Well, let me get the door for you , dear." or "Oh, do you want your dinner? Coming right up!"
The result is that we have a very cuddley dog who doesn't listen to a damn thing we say. Which is usually fine as she's old and approaching infirm, but outside on a leash, it's a nightmare. It really is a "'barassment," as Molly said. Barking, pulling, out in the road. *sigh* Where did we go wrong?
So yesterday, in an attempt to rectify all of our "bad parenting," I ignored Molly's demands for attention and she hauled off and peed on her bed. It's called "incongruent urinating." The dog does it when it feels it's the pack leader and you correct them or don't do as they say. Their attitude is something like, "Hey, YOU can't tell ME what to do! You're not supposed to ignore/correct me!" They're confused. Never been told what to do before.
So it's great, we have a dog-pee house. That should relieve me of my responsibility to reciprocate those dinners with friends for a while.
In more positive news, I slapped the prong collar on Elvis this a.m. (I did start with a regular collar, but he's so used to pulling and tugging, corrections do no good with it). He walked way out ahead of me, gave himself a pinch, flattened to the ground like, "What he hell was that!" and walked smartly by my side the rest of the walk with only 1 or 2 exceptions. He still couldn't care less about what I'm doing/saying to him. I swear, I could fall down dead, and he'd just drag me at the end of the leash and not even notice the difference.
The ratties are wonderful. As I expect them to pee all over everything and chew my favorite items, their behavior never disappoints me.