Season 3 Premiere - "Shiba Inu Panting Like Crazy"

So I realize it's been 15 months, and for that I am sorry, but I'm posting again today with the goal to once again continuously update all fifteen of you who once read this with the daily antics of living with Clarkson. Here's what you missed (read this as if it were September and you're picking up your favorite television show after its summer-long hiatus...don't be ashamed to if you're imagining Gossip Girl):

"Clarkson ate what?"

"Well, clean it up."

"Can you watch Clarkson for us?? For 10 days? Send us text updates. Skittles!"

"Joe, can we buy Clarkson this tiny sombrero?"

"No."

"Joe, can we buy Clarkson this rainbow scarf?"

"No."

"Why do you make him suffer?"

"What's your favorite part about Clarkson?"

"The fact that he can't ask me questions like this."

"Joe, while you were gone, I bought Clarkson a bow tie."

"Joe, will you take a picture of me and Clarkson wearing matching bow ties?"

"Joe, please?"

"Joe?"

That's about it really. As you can see, Season 2 suffered from a bit of a sophomore slump. I blame the writers' strike. Anyway, we're back for Season 3 now, and the writing team (and by "writing team," I mean whoever is in charge of Chicago weather this summer) has really shaken things up.

You see, Clarkson has storm anxiety.

Despite the fact that I grew up with four different dogs, I've never experienced storm anxiety. Human anxiety, yes. I mean, I have that in spades. Shit, did my anxiety rub off on Clarkson? Awesome...ANOTHER thing to have anxiety about.

At any rate, I've never seen an anxiety-ridden dog until about a month ago. While Joe was in China, Chicago suffered a bad couple of storms, the first of which went unnoticed by Clarkson. Once the second storm hit, Clarkson became a much different dog, and with this change, we are a much different family.

Clarkson is now a dog that pants "like crazy" before, during, and after a thunderstorm. He is a dog that refuses to eat. He is a dog that walks around our house as if he has never been there before. He is a dog that hides. He is a dog that whines. He is a dog that shakes. Clarkson is, for all intents and purposes, a dog that acts as if he were a closeted homosexual teenager with an eating disorder.

After the 4th of July (a great day for America, the worst day of Clarkson's life), there was a stretch of a few days without any storms. Despite the fact that there were no storms, Clarkson was still having nightly panic attacks. At this point, we decided it was time to seek medical attention.

The vet listened intently as I read aloud verbatim from the note that Joe had written out for me (like he would ever trust me to handle this one on my own), "Clarkson has gone crazy. Panting, shaking, stopped eating, skittish, nervousness. Also, should we get his teeth professionally cleaned? I feel like there is plaque build-up). After I read my lines (with passion I might add), the vet recommended that we see a behaviorist. Immediately, my mind jumped to some witch in a peasant skirt holding her face up to Clarkson and asking him what memory from his childhood brought on this storm anxiety. She would "listen" to Clarkson as he did nothing but essentially stare at a bug on the ground. After 60 seconds of nothing happening (except for Clarkson eating the bug he was staring at), she would launch into some story about Clarkson nursing from his mother's teat when a lightning bolt struck only 40 feet away from him. Naturally, her recommendation would be for us recreate this experience during the next storm, and even more naturally, I would think this is going to work. Cut to me screaming at Joe to hold Clarkson down as I try to shove a baby bottle full of warm milk down his throat during a thunderstorm.

The vet also recommended that we give him daily anxiety medication and xanex when it gets really bad.

So that's what we did.

I can't say I haven't bought baby bottles.

The Curious Case of Sergeant Clarkson

Hello strangers! I realize it has been a while since I have posted anything about the little guy, but things have definitely picked up at work, and I haven't really had much time to write. Also, I fear my posts will be even more limited in the coming weeks as I'll be writing recaps for Season 9 of American Idol for the pool that I run at work (if any of you would like to be a part of the pool, shoot me an email at seanthiggins@gmail.com).

I will say that Clarkson has completely recovered from his surgery. It really only took a day of some rest and he was back to his crazy self. Everyone said we would notice a clear change in his temperament after the surgery. They said Clarkson would calm down...

Unfortunately, nothing could be further from the truth. If anything, Clarkson has more energy than he has ever had before. Every walk that we take him on, every time that we play with him, every moment that he is not napping - he is acting like a dog on speed. His behaviour is sort of a throwback to when we first got him and all he would do was bite and bark at me. Yes, the biting has returned and so has his inability to sleep through the night. I'd say that he wakes up at least two or three times during the middle of the night and just paces around our room. It's a nonchalant pace from one side of our bed to the other, but it wakes me up and drives me freaking insane. He's also waking up super early in the morning and barking/nudging us until we get out of bed.

Basically, Clarkson is regressing Benjamin Button-style into the puppy/terror that we first owned in November/December. Tricks are being unlearned. Commands - forgotten. If the potty training goes, I think we will have a serious problem...

I think it's fairly obvious what is happening here: he's punishing us for taking away his manhood.

I can't say I don't understand.

So long little guys...

Our trip to Europe was amazing! Clarkson did so well with Aunt Angie, Aunt Lindsay, Grampa and Grandma. All of his dogsitters sent us lots of pics and texts that kept us missing him during the whole trip. A favorite picture is attached below. Apparently he was losing teeth like crazy while we were gone! Not kidding, we arrived to a dog with a whole new set of chompers.



Speaking of Clarkson losing body parts, tomorrow he will lose two more appendages that are somewhat important... After tomorrow, Sergeant Clarkson, Department of Homeland Security, will be shooting blanks. Because we got him from a breeder, we are contractually obligated to get him neutered.

Our little guy is going to go through with the surgery tomorrow, and as you can imagine, I'm a nervous wreck. We drop him off at the vet at around 7:30 a.m. tomorrow morning and then we pick up our eunuch sometime in the late afternoon. And then that'll be it. From then on out, he will be frank and no beans. He will be twig without berries. He will be cash but no prizes.

So long to my dreams of grandClarksons to spoil like crazy because that's what grandparents do. I guess I'll have to continue to devote that unused energy to spoiling Clarkson, it won't be easy...

Big thanks to Angie, Lindsay and my parents for watching him while we were gone!!

Bilingual, sneezing muppet baby cat-dog

Sadly, the twitter campaign ended last week. With no acknowledgment from Kelly, it was, for all intents and purposes, a failure. It was fun while it lasted though, and I want to thank everyone who tweeted for me (many of you even joined twitter, which is even more awesome). I decided to end the campaign because the crazy place that I had entered when I started the campaign was rapidly expanding and there was nothing I could do about it. Visions of me and Clarkson hiding in the bushes outside of a mansion in Texas started creeping into my head and I then knew was time to give it a rest. Who knows though, maybe she saw the blog and was unimpressed with Clarkson's cuteness and my ramblings on his life? No, I don't think so either.

Aside from the twitter campaign, life is relatively calm at the Jiggins household. Clarkson still sneezes every day. It's nowhere near as bad as it was back in December, but every morning when he wakes up, he sneezes about 4 or 5 times and then I'd say throughout the day there are about 5 or 6 more intermittent sneezes. It doesn't seem to bother him, so we're not too alarmed. At least it has added another description to his already over descriptive moniker. Sergeant Clarkson: the sneezing muppet baby cat-dog.

We leave for Spain on Friday, so naturally we have taken to practicing our spanish at home. Clarkson now responds to his name in Spanish (pronounced "Claaark-son"), sientate (sit), and da-me cinco (give me five). Another addition to the moniker! The bilingual sneezing muppet baby cat-dog. God, he's so cool...check him out:

Clarkson, meet Clarkson.

I have a twitter account that I rarely use. In early 2009, I joined upon hearing that it was going to be the next big thing in social media. I, like many other people who feared that facebook would just become the next Friendster or MySpace, thought to myself "why not try to be ahead of the curve on this one." Unfortunately, twitter never really took off for me. I think that is mainly due to the fact that I could not understand what I was supposed to use it for? None of my friends were on twitter, so I couldn't use it to communicate with them or keep up with what they were doing. What was the point? Soon my existentialist tweets of "what are we doing on here?" became less frequent, until finally I was once again a strict facebook user.

Everything changed yesterday. Yesterday, I found twitter's purpose. Yesterday, I nearly twit my pants.

I had signed back onto twitter on a whim and began scrolling through various celebrity twitter accounts. It seems that Kelly Clarkson has recently joined twitter. Kelly Clarkson has recently joined twitter and she sometimes, although infrequently, will send tweets back to her fans. Here it was! Twitter's purpose!

Finally, I have an opportunity to (virtually) introduce Sergeant Clarkson to his namesake, Kelly Clarkson. I have an opportunity to introduce the little muppet baby to the pop star that I admire so much that I chose to name my dog after her. Yes, I have an opportunity, but I need your help.

So I have sent a couple of tweets already to Kelly trying to get her to click on the link to this blog, however, she literally receives HUNDREDS of tweets a day, so I don't think that I have had any luck. That's where you come in. I need you to tweet her. I need you to join twitter and tweet her. We're going to start a twitter campaign. We're going to start a twitter campaign that will help me reach the ultimate goal: a virtual Clarkson/Sergeant Clarkson introduction. A tweet from @kelly_clarkson herself that says "that puppy in Chicago that is named after me is totally cute." That's our goal! Can we make it happen? YES. WE. CAN.

http://www.twitter.com/

Join. All you need is an email address. Then search for Kelly Clarkson by clicking on "Find People" and typing in "Kelly Clarkson." Make sure that you get the real Kelly Clarkson, her twitter account can be found at www.twitter.com/kelly_clarkson. Once you get to her page, click on the little button that says "follow."

Ok, you're all set to help make the virtual introduction possible.

Click the "home" button. Now where it says "What's Happening?" I need you to type the following message verbatim:

@kelly_clarkson have you heard about the adorable puppy who is named after you? http://sergeantclarkson.blogspot.com/

Also, send this to anyone you know who would be interested in seeing the Sarge (virtually) meet Kelly Clarkson. Please. Thanks.

Finally, Kelly, if you end up finding this link, here is Sergeant Clarkson, the puppy we named after you. Our intention was originally to get a female dog, but the breeder only had one male left in her litter. We decided to butch him up with "Sergeant." Sergeant Clarkson was born. He's an awesome dog and he's very excited to meet you. And so is his owner.

Thanks,

@seanthiggins

The cat-dog that stares out the window loves me!

I realize I haven't blogged in a while, but quite frankly, there has not been much to report on what's new with the muppet baby. Puppy classes are going swimmingly, not only because Clarkson is learning some basic obedience, but also because he has made it through every single class without peeing all over himself and his classmates. Sadly, I am unable to report the same news with respect to every other puppy in the class. It's like a water park every Sunday at 6:15 p.m.

Joe and I recently took a couple of (separate) weekend trips - Joe went to Mexico first while I stayed home with Clarkson, and then I took a quick trip to Florida to visit Christa and Josh while Joe stayed behind. It was pretty cool to come home to such an excited puppy! I don't know if it's his personality or what, but Clarkson does not care when we get home from work. Not at all. I'm used to dogs that bark and jump and feverishly wag their tails at the sight of their owner returning home, but when we let him out of his crate, Clarkson essentially yawns in our faces. He yawns, stretches, and then promptly finds a toy that is exponentially more interesting than us.

The yawn, stretch, toy routine was not what we got when each of us returned from our respective weekend trips. As you can imagine, I was SUPER excited to see him so when I got out of my cab I looked up at our unit and he was staring out the window and I SWEAR he saw me. I realize he was three stories above me. And he is only 4 months old. And color blind. And not really capable of complex thought. But he totally saw me. Anyway, I came charging up the stairs and when I got in the door, he was finally excited to see me. Like really, really, pee your pants excited to see me! Of course he didn't actually pee his pants as he's the jedi knight of potty training, but it was still great to see him go crazy like that! Joe got the same reaction when he returned from Mexico a week earlier. In a few weeks, we are both going to be leaving him for a whole week when we head to Europe to celebrate Andrew and Iain's birthdays! I can't wait to see what happens when we get back. Many people have warned that he may be pissed off at us and act disinterested. I assure you if that happens, I will most likely just fall to pieces.

"WHEN WILL HE LOVE US AGAIN???"

That'll be a fun 20 minutes for Joe.

Here's a picture of him perched on our couch, staring out the window. This is what I saw from three stories below when I got home from Florida. He's so awesome. He's a cat. A muppet baby cat-dog and I looooove him.

Puppy 101 - Clarkson is Straight?!?

Clarkson started puppy training classes last week. Basically, we shelled out some dough to take the nugget to a class once a week where we learn some basic commands and obedience skills. Last Sunday was the first class, and I think it's safe to say the class will provide plenty material for the blog.

To start with, when we showed up on the first day, we were greeted with a room full with five other puppies, all of which were roughly twice Clarkson's size and all of which were female. Clarkson = fresh meat.

Each class, the puppies and their respective yuppy owners assemble in a circle around the room where we all listen to the instructor lecture on how we get our puppy to listen to us. The whole situation is comical because we owners listen intently, trying desperately to gain insight into what the F is going on in the brain of the puppies, and all the while the puppies do not even pretend to listen at all. Nope. They spend the class barking at each other, peeing (literally) with excitement. So far there have been four accidents (none from Clarkson, two from a particularly restless dog named Girdie). All the puppies want to do is PLAAAAY, and every ten minutes or so, the puppies are allowed to do so. We take them off leash and let them run wild.

Enter Sophie.

Sophie is a long-haired German Shepherd who has the hots for Clarkson. Well, she either has the hots for Clarkson or she wants to beat the sh*t out of him, I can't really tell, but I prefer to think it's the former. Everytime the dogs are let loose, Sophie is after Clarkson like white on rice. Sophie is the main aggressor, but really all the female dogs are after him. During the last class, Clarkson ended up on his back and pinned to the ground four times! Four times! Two times by Sophie, one time by Ellie, and one time by a tag-team Sophie/Girdie combination.

Needless to say, this is all very foreign to me. I came out of the closet when I was nineteen and never had girls chasing me. Shocking, I know. Even though I may not understand it, I kinda think he's asking for it. In fact, I think he may even like it...

More updates on Clarkson's progress with "sit," "down," and "Clarkson get Sophie OFF of you" later, but for now I will leave you with these immortal words of Ms. Britney Spears:

"Womanizer, woman-womanizer, you're a womanizer, oh womanizer, oh you're a womanizer, baby, you you you are, you you you are, womanizer, womanizer, womanizer (womanizer)"