OK, let’s see if I really do have any readers here. I need some advice.
It’s about our dog Tippie. She’s half Husky, half German Shepherd, and she’s 11 or 12 years old now. Under normal circumstances–when we’re home with her–Tippie is a great dog: loving, gentle with the kids. She’s in excellent physical health for her age.
But she has always been high strung: very energetic and prone to occasional bouts of anxiety. In particular, she is afraid of loud, unfamiliar noises. That makes fireworks and thunderstorms a problem. If something scares her, she tends to dig and chew at doors and windows. We’ve replaced many a door casing and window screen over the years.
Her anxiety level has increased over the years. Many years ago, thunderstorms didn’t really bother her. Now, she paces around the house and digs at corners until we tranqualize her.
Due to the damage that Tippie occasionally inflicts on the house, about a year ago or so, we started crating her when we’re not home. She goes willingly to the crate, but she cries and digs at it.
A few months ago, she started peeing in her crate occasionally. Now, she pees every time we put her in it. She holds her bladder all night in the house, and we had her checked out by the vet, so we don’t think it’s anything physiological. The vet thinks it’s mental. So, we put her on Prozac a couple of months ago: 20 mg every other day. That seems to make her slightly mellower, but it hasn’t had any visible effect on her worst symptoms: the peeing and anxiety attacks.
The vet is currently investigating other pysch meds for her. I thought I’d see what advice my readers (assuming I have any) can offer. Please leave a comment on this post or send me an email.

We spent Memorial Day weekend on my sister Andrea’s new ranch south of San Antonio, doing all kinds of things we don’t get to do much: riding horses and ATVs, shooting guns, cooking over a camp fire. I’ve posted a bunch of photos from our weekend on my web site. Mosey on over and check them out.

Steve over at theSneeze.com has a new rant about The Wiggles. Steve is funny, as usual, but while I was reading his post, it hit me that I wasn’t familiar with the details he was ranting about. Praise the Lord! It’s been at least a year since The Wiggles has played in our house. Not to mention such other grating early-childhood TV shows, such as the Teletubbies and Elmo.
No, our kids have finally moved on. Granted, they’ve moved on to some Disney Channel fare of equally questionable quality, but nothing is as painful as repeated preschool shows such as The Wiggles.

Katie and I are spending a few days in Galveston (by ourselves!). See you next week.

We have a dewberry patch not far from the house (sorry, I can’t reveal its exact location), and today we had our first picking of the season. We had a very wet winter, but we haven’t had hardly any rain the last month or so (until today), so the berries are quite small compared to last year.
Hannah, Samuel and I picked for maybe 20 minutes and got 3-4 cups, which we ate tonight with some fresh strawberries and a little sugar (and a little Bailey’s for Katie and me). It was a nice dessert for our mother’s day dinner.
Last year, I must have made six or seven big cobblers, but not so this year, unless today’s rain showers make the next round of ripening berries much larger than the ones we picked today–which I doubt.

Make Easter bunny ears from items found around the house–in this case, from items found in the bathroom cabinet (from the photo archives, Easter, 2003):

I’m putting this photo in the file with the naked bathtub photos, to show to the boyfriend when she’s a teenager!

I would like to offer a sincere, heart-felt apology to all those people who have recently offered me an innocuous ‘Hi. How you doing?’, expecting an equally innocuous ‘Fine, and you?’, but who, instead, received a 10 minute exhortation on my recent weight loss and exercise successes (currently 30 pounds, and running 6-10 miles 3 times per week, respectively). I’m afraid I’ve become an even more insufferable boor than previously.
I’m understandably excited about my diet and exercise, but I realize that you may not share my enthusiasm–or no longer share it, having heard about it day after day. Again, I apologize; I’ll try to do better.

I ran across a link today to one of my favorite essays of all time Malcolm Gladwell’s Big and Bad: How the S.U.V. ran over automotive safety. I hadn’t read it in a while, and took the time today to re-read it.
We know someone who typifies the mindset that Gladwell profiles. She drives a bright red Chevrolet Tahoe, and she says she would not be caught dead driving a minivan. I sent her a link to this essay and others, and have repeatedly tried to point out the fallacious nature of her reasons for driving a large SUV–all to no avail. It’s crazy. For her, the feelings associated with driving an SUV–perceived dominance on the roads, perceived safety–trump all reason.

On Friday, the mother of one of Hannah’s school friends called to ask whether we were coming to the party at her house on Saturday.
After the call, Katie told me that she vaguely remembered an email invitation earlier in the week, but had forgotten about it. We were planning to have several good friends over a little earlier on Saturday.
Katie said that she had agreed to go because she thought that these parents were making an effort to get to know us better, since our daughters are friends and we just live a few blocks apart. Katie had told the mother that we would come over as soon as our friends left.
So, as soon as our last friends got in their car on Saturday evening, the four us of ran over to these people’s house. A woman whom we didn’t know answered the door; she was wearing a name tag and holding a role of raffle/game type tickets. I immediately knew what was going on. We walked in, and my suspicions were confirmed: a group of women was sitting around a table with a bunch of candles on it. The mother of Hannah’s friend said that her husband and kids were not at home, and tried to hint that the invitation was only for Katie.
Turns out, it was a Party Lite, which is apparently the current trend in home sales parties.
The kids and I high-tailed it back home, leaving Katie stranded. I felt really bad for her. When she got home a little later, I asked her the damage: the said she had bought the cheapest item, $15, and had refused to get on the mailing list or host her own party. Actually, I was proud of her. I know it’s tough for her to say no under such circumstances.
If Katie had realized the nature of the party earlier in the week, I’m sure she would have not gone.

Our dog Tippie just got her summer shave. We did it ourselves, so it doesn’t look great, but it does help to keep her cooler. Tippie is half German Shepherd, half Husky (a ‘Shepsky’ to us), and she has incredibly long, thick fur–which makes her very hot in the Texas summers. Her undercoat is very light, so when we shave her, she is a completely different color. We call her ‘beige dog.’
Before and after pictures:

P.S. In case you’re wondering, the red collar with the black box is her shock collar for the invisible fence. We have a wooden picket fence around the back yard, but Tippie tends to dig under it and/or chew her way through it, so we keep her from the wood fence with an invisible fence. She’s a special needs dog.