Boozy Cuddles

So Joe does not allow Clarkson on our bed, mainly because "one day Clarkson is going to be old, fat, and smelly and I'm not sleeping with that..."

I hope I age gracefully.

At any rate, even though Clarkson is not allowed on our bed, he is allowed on the bed in the guest bedroom, which is starting to pose a bit of a problem. Nearly every weekend night over the course of the last month, Joe, Clarkson and I all end up (drunk) in the guest bedroom. Basically, it's two in the morning, we get home drunk, take one look at the muppet baby and then instantly decide we want to cuddle with him. Upon reflection, this is not very healthy for the dog. Here's how it goes down...

We stumble in around 2/2:30 and immediately rip Clarkson from his bed. Joe usually picks him up, at which point we poke and prod him, all the while thinking we are gently petting him. We're not. Next, we stumble, stumble, stumble our way to guest bedroom; Clarkson is tired, scared, and most likely confused as all hell, but nonetheless, we all pile in. It's essentially a large game of King of the Bed, a game which Clarkson will likely never win.

The poor dog is then subjected to hours and hours of boozy cuddles that reek of beer, nicotine, and poor decisions. Saturday morning I woke up to Clarkson puking over the side of the bed and I'm not even kidding. Clarkson had been immersed in our drunkeness to the point of nausea.

It's time to leave the dog in the crate, but honestly, how do you not want to cuddle with this???

First Snow and First Sting of a Racist Society

A week of firsts...

So it snowed on Thursday and Joe happened to be working from home that day. Here is a youtube clip of Clarkson at his first sight of the snow, for the most part, he pretty much ignored it, but he does try to bite it (surprise, surprise, the dog would try to bite a great white shark):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8xvDDHsz2R4

Today, I took Clarkson to the vet, and there he experienced his first cruel sting of a middle-aged racist woman ;)

Patty (I don't know her name, but I'm sure it was Patty, you just know a Patty when you see a Patty) asked what kind of dog Clarkson was. I replied with my stock "Shiba Inu, he's Japanese, kinda like a smaller Akita." Patty sang his praises and gave him some attention and then she came out with it...

"Am I crazy or is he slant-eyed like a Jap?"

Um, yes. Yes, you are crazy. Now just go away. I giggled awkwardly and hoped she wouldn't asked again. "He's totally slant-eyed, how did that happen?" God make it stop, make it stop, make it stop.

I muttered "haha, I don't know...ha ha."

Clarkson and I had a little talk afterwards about race, society, and generally just life. It was a good talk. His feelings were hurt, but he knows we love him. Ya know, it's tough raising a dog of a different race. Not only do we have to deal with the usual stuff (potty training, chewing, behaviour, etc.), but we must also be decidedly mindful of racial sensitivities. We're white. He's Asian. Someday other dogs are going to notice...

Ah well, we'll cross that bridge when come to it. Until then, we'll continue to shower our Oriental baby with love. Oh shit, Oriental is derogatory...um, until then, we'll continue to shower our Asian-American baby with love.

Finally, click here for the trailer to a movie that I will NEVER be able to see:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FaS37E3gKOU

Happy Thanksgiving From the Sarge

Happy Thanksgiving everyone! It is Sergeant Clarkson Jiggins's first turkey day and we have made a new video blog to honor the occasion. And when I say "we," I mean I got out the camera and Joe said he wanted no part of it before I could even say the word "youtube." As it turns out, I need to stick to old fashioned blogging as I have NO idea who sucked the life out of me during this little clip. Why am I even there?

As you can see from the vlog, we have put up our Christmas tree! And when I say "we," I mean Joe put up the Christmas tree as I ran to get us Subway and an extra few sets of lights. We really work better together when I am not in the way. The tree is up and we (again, Joe) strung the lights. The rest of the decorations will come over the weekend. You will also see from the vlog that Clarkson got a new collar. He outgrew his old one and he's getting bigger every day. I hate it. I want him to stay a muppet baby forever! He's still the cutest puppy in the world however, and he's becoming even more famous in Lakeview. Many people have seen him on walks and recognized him from past encounters!

Here's how that usually plays out...

Scenario A
Stranger: "Is this Sergeant Clarkson?"

Sean: "Yes, isn't he the cutest thing you have ever seen? Do you want to pet him? He's a little bitey because he still has puppy teeth, but he's pretty good once he calms down."

Stranger: "What kind of dog is he again? A shina ibu?

Sean: "Shiba Inu, he's kind of like an Akita."

Stranger: "So will he get big?"

Sean: "No, only 30 pounds, which I think is a pretty good size for a city dog. We just love him. Anyway, we should be on our way, have a great day!"

Stranger: "Have a great day!"

Scenario B
Stranger: "Is this Sergeant Clarkson?"
Joe: "Yes."

Joe keeps on walking.

Clarkson was also recognized by a total stranger and blog reader. Apparently a friend's friend was reading this blog when her roommate messaged her about a fluffy white puppy that was sooo cute. The friend's friend promptly asked "was his name Clarkson?" and it was! Our little guy is a celebrity.

Anyway, must go now. Sorry about the depressing video blog, that's never going to happen again. Oh and if you're reading, would it kill you to comment? We would really appreciate it. And when I say we, I mean I would really appreciate it.

Clarkson speaks

So Joe and I hired a dog walker to take the muppet baby out on walks when we are both away at work. It gives us piece of mind that he is getting some additional regular exercise, which will hopefully translate into a calmer dog who does not eat the paneling on our kitchen wall (more on that later). When the dog walker initially started, she would leave tiny notes that would basically say: we went for a walk and he "eliminated" twice.

Yesterday, however, we came home to a note from Clarkson. Clarkson wrote us a note! He scares easily at dumpsters. He barks at his own reflection. He chases his own tail. And now, he writes notes!

Today we came home to this:

"I wouldn't stop making noise when [dog walker's name] came home. I was so happy to see her that I gave her plenty of kisses! I didn't pee when we went to the roof, but I pooped and peed twice outside. We walked down to the end of the of the street, back up the other side, and then back home. I got to play with a cocker spaniel and sniff everything I wanted! We played fetch with some of my toys when we got home."

Oh Clarkson, where is your sentence structure? "I did this." "I did that." Come on, buddy! Where are your transitions? Do I see you ending sentences with prepositions? Quite honestly Clarkson, what was the point of your little story? No dramatic build, no climax. And why are you SO excited about this dog walker? Are you trying to make us jealous?

It's working.

I am taking off tomorrow...we're going for a walk...and we're going to a writing class.

In an unrelated note - I would like to recommend Kong chew toys to ANYONE who has a puppy. You tuck a treat in the middle of the toy and Clarkson is transported to a different universe. A universe that is on the brink of implosion and which can only be saved if he gets...that...treat! I swear God, it can keep him occupied for HOURS!

Alpha, Beta............Gamma.

"Alpha." Joe points to himself.



"Beta." Joe points at Clarkson.



"Gamma." Joe points at me. Clarkson bites my leg, barks in my face, and sprints down the hallway.



It's true. Roles have been established at the Jiggins Household. Joe = Alpha Male, with Clarkson listening and obeying to *most* of his every word (he's still a puppy, and let's face it, not entirely capable of complex thought). Clarkson = Second-in-command, such a cute dog that I cannot seem to discipline. Sean = Bottom of the totem pole, a living chew toy that feeds Clarkson and takes him to to the bathroom. A living chew toy that picks up his poop.


FYI, I would expect it to be a very long time before I get through an entire blog without talking about the dog's bathroom habits...yesterday he "eliminated" eleven times...ELEVEN. "Eliminate" is the word most dog training websites use, which I find to be completely ridiculous.


"Take your your puppy to the area of your yard where you would like him/her to eliminate, look your puppy directly in the eyes, and give him/her the command to eliminate. Try using the word 'eliminate'"


"Clarkson...ELIMINATE."


Clarkson barked at me and I'm pretty sure he said "Eliminate this, dumbass."


Anyway, the difference in Clarkson's temperament around Joe and me is pretty unbelievable. The other day I came home from work and the dog would just not stop: barking, running around like a maniac, not letting me eat dinner, jumping on the couch, etc. Joe gets home from work and Clarkson all but went outside to fetch him the Sunday paper. The dog was pleasant, peaceful, and loving. Later that night after I got home from Flipper's house, and Joe told me that they even got to have some cuddles. CUDDLES! Naturally, he chose to tell me this as Clarkson was crawling on top of me, looking for some fresh ear to nibble.


If I tried to cuddle with the dog, I'm pretty sure he would bite my leg, bark in my face, and sprint down the hallway. Rinse, lather, repeat.


He's just so effing cute though. I can't get mad at this face!!


In fact, I miss that face. I'm outta here. I'm going to go play with my dog....


Days since Clarkson: 12

Days since roles were established: 11.5

Insomnia and the Pup-a-razzi

So we have had our muppet baby for over a week now. He's still pretty awesome. He's biting the crap out of me, but for some reason he's pretty deferential of Joe. I think he may be able to tell that I'm a pushover. He's also an earlier riser than I could have ever imagined - the latest he has slept in has been 6:30, and today it was 4:45. NIGHTMARE. It's weird too because he is SOO full of energy when he wakes up: running in circles around our furniture, trying to bite my legs, barking like a banshee. I, on the other hand, am essentially a zombie. A zombie with enormous hair and bad breath.

Here is our morning routine:

4:45: Clarkson starts pawing at the door of his crate, I whisper a silent prayer that if I ignore him, he will just go back to bed, Joe sleeps.
5:00: Clarkson starts yapping to be let out of the crate, I get out of bed and try to find clothes to put on, Joe sleeps.
5:01: Clarkson starts yapping like CRAZY because he realizes that I'm getting dressed, I try (unsuccessfully) to quiet him down before letting him out of the crate, Joe sleeps.
5:01:30: Clarkson gets out of his crate and runs in circles, manages somehow to find a sock that I have left somewhere, I chase him down and pull the sock out of his mouth, Joe sleeps.
5:02: Clarkson and I go out for a quick pee break, Joe sleeps.
5:05: Clarkson eats, I sleep, Joe sleeps.
6:00: Clarkson, who up until this point has been in the kitchen set off by a large doggy-door, starts barking again to go outside/play, I wake up, Joe sleeps.
6:05: Clarkson rocks a deuce and also pees, I pick it up and throw it away, Joe sleeps.
6:06: Clarkson and I go on a walk, Joe sleeps.
6:30: Clarkson and I play in the family room (read: Clarkson bites me for roughly 80 consecutive minutes as I try to discipline him, he mistakes this for a game. A game that I have lost for the past 6 days). Joe wakes up and slams the bedroom door closed in a huff. Joe sleeps.

Then we play/sleep/play/shower until I leave for work at 8:30. Amazingly he may have to pee again one of those times, which is just mind-boggling to me. But enough about his bathroom habits. That's our morning. And FYI - the deal always was that if we were going to get a dog, I'd have to take it out. I only mention that Joe gets to sleep not out of anger, but rather, out of pure, unadulterated jealousy.

The weather in Chicago was amazing this weekend, so we had plenty of opportunities to take Clarkson on long walks and show him off. Brigitte and I took the Sarge for a walk to the Gap on Saturday, which was a success in some senses and a disaster in others.

Success: Clarkson handled the attention very well. Disaster: a walk that should have taken roughly 10 minutes ended up taking 45. Success: Clarkson is the envy of lakeview. Disaster: Clarkson is the envy of lakeview (one woman threatened to steal him, a threat that for some reason was not taken lightly). Success: Clarkson was good with other dogs. Disaster: a man with leather pants that zippered from the behind walked past us.

I guess that last one is a disaster that is wholly unrelated to Clarkson, but for the love of god, these pants were RIDICULOUS.

Anyway, the weekend was finished with a visit from my nieces Caitlin and Lauren. Clarkson was awesome with the girls and they were equally as great with him. The whole afternoon can best be described as an explosion of cuteness. An explosion of cuteness with dynamite made of puppies and toddlers.

Here are a couple of youtube videos:




http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IqVpUqjui4Y

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JYGBqJX35cY

Bathroom is outside, not on my hands.

Clarkson is everything I dreamed he would be and more. He is, as far as I can tell, a muppet baby. A snow white, muppet baby that is hilarious, curious, adorable, and incapable of going to the bathroom outside. He's been with us for a little over 48 hours so far...we've had three poops and numerous pees, all within the confines of our tiny carpeted stairwell leading up to the Two Tommies roofdeck. Not one time has he gone outside. Not one time has he gone on this weird dog toilet contraption that we bought for him and put on the roof. All inside. All while we were not looking at him (for those 3.5 seconds each hour). All on the stairwell. At least, he is smart enough to not go in front of us, and he also doesn't go on any of our furniture/rugs. Only on the stairwell.

Today, after catching him right in the middle of trying to go number 2, I panicked, picked him up and immediately ran up the stairs and out the door. Clarkson, like most of us, was unable to...um...cork it. So basically I was running and screaming with a pooing dog on my hands. Yep. He was pooing, I was screaming. It was chaos.

An important part of this story: Joe can't handle the poo. Like, at all. Joe frantically followed up the stairs, the whole time shouting "I'm going to be sick, I'm going to be sick!" I turned around (with the pooing dog in my hands) to tell him he wasn't helping, and well, Clarkson was done. I tried, unsuccessfully to catch my 2-month-old puppy's falling poop.

He's still pretty awesome though, observe:

- At night, he goes to sleep immediately with little to no whining, which is awesome.
- He follows us everywhere we go; we can never leave a room without him trotting right behind us.
- He chased his tail for about 20 minutes tonight.
- He was good around Amanda's two-year-old today.
- He was excited when I got home from work today, and he's known me for like 20 minutes.
- He's super effing cute.

See? Totally awesome.




Days with Clarkson: 2
Days woken up at 5:30 a.m because Clarkson wanted to play: 2