splitbeak: (Default)
Getting up at 7 every morning is weird. It's like being back in school without the weekends. I'm trying to talk Bailey into some kind of arrangement where I take him out at 7 to take care of business, then he lets me go back to sleep. That seems fair to me. I'll even give him half an hour to run around like crazy first.

But no... this does not seem to work for his royal highness.

Well, to be fair, maybe we are coming to some kind of accord. I have to put him back in the crate if I go back to bed, because someone has proven time and again he will randomly go on the carpet if I take my eyes off him for a second. The first time I demonstrated operation please-dear-god-I'm-a-night-owl-lemme-alone!, Bailey wailed his head off the second I put him back in the crate and did not let up even after the two hours it took to break me.

This morning when I tried it, he gave me a couple minutes before getting into it and actually gave me a reprieve after about 20 minutes. I can work with that. Of course, an hour later his benevolence ran out and the howling returned. And like the idiot I am, I gave in to his terrorist demands and let him out. To prevent the return of sleep (oh sleep, where art thou sleep?), I curled up on my couch instead. Bailey was content to just sit next to the couch while I didn't sleep.

The birds came to visit me on the couch too. This was actually the best part. Rockne and I had a long talk for about an hour (I swear, we really can have entire conversations with body language and kisses. I'm not crazy!). By the end of it, Rockne apologized for his aggression earlier this week - first towards Bailey, then me - and promised his temper tantrum was over. I in turn, promised I did not love him any less because of the pooch.

My apartment has become a soap opera, no lie. And not even a good one.

On a positive note, this morning Bailey displayed the first hint that this housebreaking thing may actually happen!!! :) :) :) He actually did a little dance and hovered in front of the door. Let me out, fool! I did, he ran up the stairs, I opened the door, and off he went to fill the cesspool. Queue Handel's Hallelujah Chorus and a happy Snoopy Dance.

Of course, said pooch then had to ruin it an hour later with an unauthorized leakage. Like, srsly? No meal/significant water drinkage in between toilet runs, just, "Oh, I think I'll go now." Dude! Grrrr. One step forward, three steps back...

I swear, this dog is a ninja. Go on, you try catching him in the act. He can be anywhere, at anytime, but you'll never know, for he moves on tiny (actually, rather large) cat feet (don't tell him that) and makes no sound as he passes. I swear, half the time I turn around to look at him, only to discover he's laying on my feet and I didn't even notice, he'd settled so quietly and lightly. And I'm usually one of those hyperaware people that's hard to sneak up on/hide from.

I suppose the potty training might be working if now when I manage to catch him in the act, scream, "no!" he stops right away and heads straight for the door. I'll take that to mean he knows what he should be doing if the carpet's not an option. Now I just need him to know the carpet is never an option.

I can't wait until he's housebroken. I don't mind cleaning up the mess, but the lingering smell is killing me.

Aggravating training aside, he's such a sweet boy. I do like him very much and he's a lot of fun to play with. Look, I'm actually tempted to talk to people about him - 3 blog posts in 1 week - I never talk this much! Sorry to all those I'm spamming with these.

splitbeak: (Default)
So the pooch now has a name: Bailey (yeah, I'm real original, I know).

He's such a sweetie.

It's great - I tell him something, he listens and remembers. The birds? I tell them something, they laugh and then do the opposite. Every time. Why does everyone say a dog is so much more responsibility? Once this housebreaking thing is over (and please god, let that be soon), he's a piece of cake. A very yummy cake.

Obligatory cuteness:
splitbeak: (Default)
I bought a dog today!



This is so exciting! Every time I see him I double look and like, really? I really have a dog? He's really mine?! :P Now I just need to figure out what to call him.

TBD is an Australian Shepherd Mini. I got him from the puppy store - I tried finding a dog at the local shelters, but I couldn't find one that met my needs. I know this makes me an awful, no good person, but who can resist that face?

He's been so good with my birds, which is a big relief. Now I have to decide whether to crate train him or not. He came home and immediately settled into a perfect spot and seemed so happy there - why crate train if we agree on what space is his? And he picked one of my few non-carpeted spots to call his own - I can actually clean up accidents quite easily there!

He's so sweet; it's ridiculous!!!
splitbeak: (SG-1 - Who's Line?)
The apartment's been working out really great. I'm loving the freedom and finally having my own space. I still go to my parents' once or twice a week, but just because I'm all growd up doesn't mean I should cut them out of my life. Plus they have the treadmill.

I'm thinking about getting a pooch to join me in my minuscule kingdom. I did up a whole list of pros and cons, but I think I've talked myself into it. Didn't even need to go around to every single person I know and ask them to make the decision for me. :P "What should I do?" *whine* "But what do you think I should do?" *whine*

Only problem is I really like big dogs - something I could take for a jog. I'm pretty sure my apartment is sized for little dinky toy dogs. I don't think they run very well.

Oh, such problems I have these days... :D :D :D

splitbeak: (Quakers Laugh)
I changed the layout of my journal again - just a little *cough, cough*. But I think I've finally found a look I really like, so yay!

The California trip was a blast. Is it pathetic if I say that the hotel room was my favorite part? I normally hate luxury places; things that make most people say, "ooooh, aaaah" make me say ick. But this room was my kind of luxury: down comforter, down pillow, really big bed all to myself, and shockingly enough for a hotel room, plenty of space. I still can't believe the library paid for this.

Disneyland was a bit of a let down. :( Disneyworld is just so much... more. My biggest disappointment was the complete lack of classic Disney. No more Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck or Aladdin. Now it's all Up, Toy Story, Lilo & Stitch, etc. I felt so old.

Universal Studios was a lot of fun though. Although again, the Florida location has a lot more to offer.

Got back home about a week ago and have been trying to catch up since. I can't seem to shake the exhaustion. School actually started while I was in California; I had to keep up with that online and actually attend class the day after I got back. Write a ten page paper in two weeks, no problem.

On a fun note, I started working on building an outside aviary for Rockne and Adri. It's coming along swimmingly. I've got the frame built, just need to add another support beam. I ordered the netting and it's on its way. Heading out to a nursery Sunday-ish to get some climbable foliage to put inside. I'd love to get a japanese maple, but I hear they're very expensive. I still can't believe Mom is letting me put this thing in her backyard. At this rate I'm never moving out. Either way, this project is a major accomplishment for me; I've always been a just-buy-it kind of person and always ashamed of it. Now I'm learning to fix that. Yay personal progress! (You may all laugh at how pathetically easy it is to make me proud of myself now.)

Good times.


splitbeak: (Splitbeak)
The Mom cracked. She fell. The reign of the unmovable "No" monster has ended. Rocky now has a girlfriend. Meet...

ADRIAN!!!!!



Adri was born in April and is DNA sexed (about time I got one). So far the two have gotten along swimmingly. :)

Rockne and Adri, Cute & Armed )
splitbeak: (Default)
and his name is . . .
ROCKNE ! ! !


Say hello to my little friend. Rockne is a four-month-old white bellied caique (kai-EEK). So far, so cute.


splitbeak: (Splitbeak)
I figured I haven't posted any pictures of his royal cuteness lately. These were taken right before Christmas (so weird for me to actually have current pictures of anything... or pictures at all). He's 8 months old now, and nibbling everything. I swear, it's like he's teething (all he needs are teeth).


Why am I on this chair and not your shoulder, dammit!



Oh... the bliss! Yes, yes, scratch just a little more to the side, would you?



Yes, yes, I'm cute, I know. Now would you just play with me already!!!


splitbeak: (Splitbeak)
Welcoming to the family Oatmeal II, aka...

JUNIOR!






This is a picture of him after he's taken his first shower. He's the only quaker I know who refuses to take a bath. He's only 10 weeks old and he's already almost the size of Oatmeal (who was 15 years old and therefore full grown)! I still miss Oatmeal terribly, and I'm sad the Pionus didn't work out, but Junior is definately cute.
splitbeak: (Splitbeak)
Ever since Oatmeal died, I've had birds on the brain. Then I find this...



Now I'm concerned about why my bird was always playing with the mirror.

splitbeak: (Splitbeak)
Okay, just got back from the vet and Oatmeal has been admitted to the hospital. They said it was pretty bad, and they joked that my bird was a geriatric. omg omg omgomgomgomg. I swear I am going to fall to pieces if she dies. I know, boo hoo, it's a bird. Bullshit. She really is my best friend and oh fuck.

Pet Panics!

May. 1st, 2007 04:07 pm
splitbeak: (Moonlight2)
Gah! Okay, now I'm panicking. My bird is sick and the time is ticking very slowly until her appointment with the vet. When I say my bird, I don't mean some cute little finch in a cage I can do nothing more than look at for three years until it dies. I mean my 14 (15?) year old parrot who sits on my shoulders for hours every day and has been my constant companion for most of my life. In 14 (15?) years she's never once been sick! She's just sitting in her cage looking miserable. She was sitting on my shoulder for a few hours before, but I finally had to put her down after she threw up. Did you know birds could throw up? I didn't! God, it reeked! What was coming out her other end was even worse. TMI, I'm sure, but feel free to stop reading. If she's not okay, I'm going to have a very big problem. Eee!




splitbeak: (haiku)
How many dogs does it take to change a light bulb? Well, depends on the breed. For example:

Golden Retriever: The sun is shining, the day is young, we've got our whole lives ahead of us, and you're inside worrying about a stupid burned out bulb?

German Shepherd: I'll change it as soon as I've led these people from the dark, check to make sure I haven't missed any, and make just one more perimeter patrol to see that no one had tried to take advantage of the situation.

Or, you could just enjoy the many cute animal pictures...



No, seriously, how many dogs does it take? )
splitbeak: (haiku)
Just for a laugh, I think everyone need to know how cats came to be as they are today. Presenting Genesis, as told by the cat.

Meow )
splitbeak: (Default)
Squeeze me, I squeek!


Holy sh***********t!


Can Johnny come out to play?


Has anyone seen Muffy?
splitbeak: (Default)
Radioactive cats have 18 half-lives.




An Irish Blessing

May the road rise to meet you.

May the wind be always at your back.

May the sun shine warm upon your face and the rain fall soft upon your fields.

And until we meet again, may God hold you in the hollow of his hand.

August 2011

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