Archive for the ‘briscoe’ Category

snow pup

Briscoe sure does love snow.

And that’s a good thing because we might get 6 inches of the white stuff.

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making sweater dog toys

Inspired by a recent Craftstylish post on dog toys made out of sweaters, Lynn and I decided to get crafty on Sunday. She brought over her sewing machine; I borrowed one from another friend. We hit up Goodwill for some sweaters and Mangelson’s for some fill. When we went to PetSmart for the squeakies, we were disappointed to learn that they were all sold out!  The salesgirl said they very rarely sell but that a women had just been in and bought them all. (She must be a Craftstylish reader, too!)


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(via smosch.com)

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the emperor’s new clothes

PetSmart was having a 50% off sale on dog apparel, so I picked up a sweater and a jacket for the little man the other day. Don’t want him to be cold now that he’s without half of his fur coat!

Surprisingly, he was not too happy to model these fashionable new garments. It took forever to get him to stand still to take these shots.

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briscoe’s day of beauty 2

Briscoe had his second grooming appointment yesterday, this time with Lori at Pet Grooming by Audrey in Omaha. I was so pleased with the results! See for yourself:

Of course I immediately sent photos of Briscoe’s new ‘do to J, and he surprised me by expressing a bit of disappointment. “He looks like a Bichon Frise and not a Maltese,” he complained about Briscoe’s face. Truthfully, I hadn’t noticed, but next time we’ll talk to Lori about how to make the cut more Maltese-looking and less Bichon if it makes J feel better. I think he’s worried that Briscoe looks like a prissy dog instead of a manly one–but he’s only a puppy!

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bladder control

I woke up this morning with Britney Spears’ “Womanizer” in my head and a puddle of pee on my BlissLiving duvet cover.  The pee did not come from me, obviously.  I let the puppy sleep on my bed last night because he was barking from the floor when I was trying to fall asleep, and I thought he’d calm down if he was in my comfy king-sized cocoon.  He (and his bladder) must have have gotten too comfortable at some point in the night.

In a panic I called my mother and asked her what I was supposed to do with a urine stain (it leaked through to my down comforter). She reminded me that pee is mostly water, and that everyone has accidents — animals AND humans. (Note to self: No babies anytime soon.) I rubbed stain remover into the duvet and the comforter and stuck them (separately) in the washing machine. Fingers crossed the stains come out.

Lesson learned: No animals on the bed at night. Even adorable little puppies named Briscoe.

(image source)

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dog nicknames

A week or so ago, my dad sent me a link to a USA Today article about giving dogs nicknames. The author of the article believes that a dog can learn to understand his name and the various nicknames given to him by his owner.

Each of my pets, I confess with … well, maybe some mortification, has an assortment of nicknames. Jasper the mutt who looks to be mostly Australian shepherd (but he is not, and in fact is so many generations removed from pure blood even geneticists can find only hints of whence he came) has five nicknames.

The little neighbor kids couldn’t say “Jasper” when they met him years ago, so their version, “Dass-Paw,” spawned three variations that stuck: Dasspoo, Dasspy and Dass. Then, at some point, I also began calling him “Buddy” sometimes, and Buddy became, in ways I can’t recall and probably shouldn’t, “ButterButt.” He responds cheerfully and unfailingly to each and every one of them. Really.

My other dog, a wise old 80-pound malamute/German shepherd mix named Rufus, has the predictable “Rufe” nickname. Rufe morphed into “Boof” which, over time, enlarged to “Diggity-Boof,” which got abbreviated to “D-B.” Yeah. Well. These things happen. They make sense to Rufie-Doof, and he responds to all of them.

Briscoe has a couple of nicknames of his own. His full name is Briscoe Hopper (because when he runs fast he looks like a rabbit), so we sometimes just call him “Hopper.” He’s also “Briscoe Bear,” “Mr. Bear” and “Briscoe Boy.” And once I thought I heard J call him “Brisket,” but he swears he didn’t.

Does your dog have a nickname? If so, does he or she respond when called by it?

(image source)

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dog friends

Perhaps I shouldn’t go so far as to call Briscoe and Yent’l friends, but after a day or so of being penned in the kitchen together, they seemed to learn how to co-exist. At times they even appeared to enjoy each other’s company. Much to our surprise, Briscoe was content to share his crate with Yent’l, and Yent’l allowed Briscoe to sniff her rear and bite her hind legs over and over again.

More photos of the Briscoe and Yent’l together after the jump.


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beware of briscoe

J’s father and step-mother drove 16 hours from Atlanta to Omaha and arrived last night for a visit. They brought with them their 3-year-old Chinese Crested Powderpuff, Yentl, who, upon meeting her “nephew,”  was not at all amused by Briscoe’s puppy antics. Briscoe’s an instigator who love to run and play, but his barking and jumping and racing around the kitchen did exactly not scream, “Welcome to my house!” to Yentl. Instead, she cowered in the corner and ran into her mother’s arms for safety.

The in-laws and Yentl are staying with us until Tuesday. If every day is going to involve Briscoe chasing Yentl to play and Yentl running away in fear, I’m not sure how long my sanity will last.

Right now I really wish I had some Aromadog “Chill-Out” spray for Briscoe. However, Yentl is on his turf… Maybe she needs some “C’mon, Get Excited!” spray.

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briscoe’s first thanksgiving

I swear, there has never been a dog kissed and cuddled and as much as Briscoe was on Thanksgiving. What a spoiled little puppy!

My family took approximately 786 photos of Briscoe yesterday. Here are three that I took with my camera of Briscoe playing with a new toy from his Auntie Robin.

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