I realize Hurley isn't a terribly common dog name, but Hurley isn't a terribly common dog either.

To be honest, I came up with the name years ago, when talking to my then girlfriend about whatever dog I might own in the future. She wanted to know what I would name the future dog and I had a few names in mind, none of which she approved. (Funny that all stories involving exes are about the shallow, hard-to-please ones.) Anyway, I racked my brain for a name that I liked for its meaning, origin, and originality while still meeting her shallow, radcliffy standards. That's when I came up with Hurley.

I started to think of clothing lines, because that's what type of woman she was. Naming a dog Blitz was inexcusable in her mind but naming it Gucci would score high marks. So I remembered the Hurley clothing line inspired by surf fashion and figured it might have nautical inspiration, which it did.

Hurley is Gaelic for "the sea tide" according to multiple name origin sites. So there, that's cleared up. Hurley isn't named for the character on TV's Lost, which I've never watched, nor is he named for that sultry babe Elizabeth Hurley. He's more named for the clothing line found in Pacific Sunwear mall shops across the States.

Sadly, I'm actually wearing a shirt by that company. God, I am a tool.

How do you feel about dog naming or even pet names in general? Are you the type to name your furry ones after verbs or objects? Are you more apt to don your animals with a human name? A mix of the two?

I'm sure we've all heard the age old addage that dogs (and other pets) do not make good gifts. Mostly, they just make poopie. (Ba-dum-tsch!) But seriously, it's hard to get away with buying somebody an animal unless they're your kids, in which case it's your animal to raise despite all that "teaches them rasponsibility" nonsense.

So I set about this prank forgetting all of that.

I picked up a "bumble ball" for $15 and had every intention of dropping said ball, bumbling about, into a large box. Then closing the box. Then wrapping the box. Then cutting air holes into the box. Then setting the final product in front of Kat at her big party tomorrow.

Fun, right? Then it hit me today that, as with any good prank, there was a fair chance of her bursting into tears over the whole ordeal. I admit it, I wussed out. The thought of her crying at her huge birthday bonanza made me feel bad enough to opt into returning the ball and just going with a nice, traditional (read: welcome) gift.

Naturally, I called her to fill her in on my aborted prank. She would have never bought into the premise, she said. The idea that I would be so irresponsible when it comes to bringing a pet into the home is absurd and foreign to her so she never would have believed there to be a puppy in that box. Not unless its wet nose came bursting out.

Still, I think she's pretty pleased with what I actually did get her.



Feel free to head over to fortuna_juvat's territory to wish her well-to-dos on her quarter century milestone. :)

I've been playing a bit of Pokémon Pearl lately and I'm getting to the half-way point of the game, which is where you want to put some consideration into what you want your "final party" to look like. You see, RPGs often allow you to use multiple characters to form a group or party. Because RPGs employ a levelling system to strengthen your characters, taking on a party member as soon as it's available means you'll spend more time levelling a character up that you actually want to use rather than wasting your time levelling characters you'll eventually leave behind when better ones become available.

You have six available slots and you want to be careful in what you fill them with. Pokémon is like rock/paper/scissors in that every character has strengths and weaknesses. You want to be able to play to the weakness of your enemies and so you want to have all strengths covered. For instance, if I had 6 fire-types and fought someone who had a few water-types, I'd be ... well ... hosed.

So far, I have two of my six slots taken up by pokémon I'd wish to level for my final party, which allows for six pokémon total. I have an Infernape (one of the starter pokémon) and a Haunter (which evolves into Gengar when you trade it). These are considerably strong selections, but they aren't "legendary" in the sense that certain pokémon are just plain tough. These legendary creatures generally aren't available for capture until the end of the game. I've selected two of those already that I will likely want to catch and use.

This leaves two slots open to fill with whatever I wish. I have fire and ghost/poison covered and my other two selections involve dragon types, which are tough sons of bitches. I'm thinking about grabbing a shark-looking pokémon because of my flippant love for the movie Jaws. So... one last choice to make.



Would it be terrible to take on a relatively weak character just because it looks like Hurley in a bone helmet?

There's this old pseudo-fact that a dog is a cat's worst enemy. Thing is, it's absolutely true. (It remains true if you replace the term "cat" with "pair of panties" or "vanilla ice cream cone.")

Zot, Kat's cat (redundant much?) has never been in on the whole buddy system thing. For every ounce of love and kinship Hurley feels for the silver tabby, a pound of spite and malice is returned. It's okay by Hurley, as he's a thick dog. Take the adjective "thick" in that last sentence and apply it to both of the nouns "skinned" and "headed" and you'd know what I'm getting at.

Many a time, Hurley has found himself hot on the tail (literally) of Zot only to run head first into one of Zot's trademark 180 degree spin / front paws of fury combos. It's amazing to see, really. Picture every time you've booted up Street Fighter II and selected Zangief (I know, nobody selects Zangief unless they're angrily mashing the select button to get through the selection process) only to lose to Chun-li in the first round. That's the Hurley v. Zot set-up.

Now, given that Hurley and Zot have been housemates since May of 2007, you can see the complication of this delicate ballet. Initially, Zot remained out of sight/out of mind to Hurley. Eventually that progressed to out of reach/out of mouth. However, it would appear Zot has grown tired of spending his days looking out at us from counters, tables, shelves, and entertainment centers. This is, after all, his house as much as it is Hurley's which is to say he pays the same annual $nothing as the dog.

So he's been venturing down to Hurley level. There was a time when this meant an ensuing scramble of paws on the kitchen tile as Zot rushed to a designated Hurley-free space. That, or the dog was dead to the world and stretched out on the floor of the living room. No longer (I hope!).

Tonight, after taking Hurley to Kat's parents' place for Father's Day munching, a tired Hurley walked over the threshold and into the house. I switched on the lights in the living room and witness a miracle to be rivaled only by the miracle of sleep-aides.

Zot actually left a Hurley-free zone and marched right up to Hurley to greet him.

I know, I know. Fingers firmly crossed.

Hurley is a fiend for vanilla ice cream.

I don't know what it is about that creamy goodness but everytime we have him in tow when we hit an ice cream shop, we get him the smallest cone possible of "the V."

Now, his initial reaction to V is a happy recognition. He knows what this is and knows he wants more. So he licks at it and doesn't stop. His eyes glaze over, his ears go back and when he does come up for air (only when he's finished) his nose is white. It's pathetic and yet oh so entertaining.

This photo is actually from last summer, although he looks similar to his current appearance in it. Figured you all might like to see the adult, but sometimes immature, Hurley. Expect more photo posts in the future!

Recently, I've seen some wank in a question community I'm part of and I just wanted to share my thoughts on the subject.

The question featured multiple scenarios where you must make a choice between saving two entities. For example, which would you save from a fire: your brother or 10 strangers? Would you save your computer or your car?

Would you save your dog or a complete stranger?

Now, I think it's fair to assume that if you're the type to read a web log about dog ownership, you're probably going to let the stranger burn. However, for those who would choose the stranger, I have no ill feelings for you either. However, a few people found it offensive that a good deal would save their canine before another human being. After all, shouldn't we value the lives of our fellow man over that of our pets? Isn't a human worth more than a dog?

The thing is, that's not how I broke down the decision. For me, it's about three factors: faith, duty, and love.

Faith
This factor is simple enough. I realize dogs can be brilliant (not mine) but at the same time, were a life or death situation to arise for a canine and a human, I would put more faith into the human figuring out how to get out of it on his or her own. I feel a dog would be less likely to know how to get out of a deadly situation than a human. While every living thing may fight for life when it comes down to it, I would assume a human would have more resources available to his or herself to win that fight. A dog, being less likely to make it out on its own, requires help more than the human may.

Duty
Duty is something we, as pet owners, sign on for when we bring an animal into our homes. I would feel that, were Hurley in danger, it would be a breach of our arrangement to not do everything within my power to save him. We are, after all, each others' protectors are we not? While he may take it upon himself to rid the yard of pests and secure the borders of my home, I take it upon myself to feed, nurture, and otherwise keep him out of harms way. Should harm find him, is it not my duty then to pull him from it?

Love
For those who don't really enjoy keeping animals, it may be a foreign idea but the truth is yes, I do love and value my dog above many human beings. It's this sentiment that boggles some, but it's the truth. I know my dog, have raised him, and have loved him more with each day. A stranger on the street may one day become a friend but Hurley already is my friend. While he's not in the same category as my friends in my social life, he is superior to them in as many ways as he is inferior.

I won't even get started on those who said they would rescue Adolf Hitler over a dog. That's just asinine.

Let's give this another go, shall we?

I work at a boarding facility for pets and I pretty much play with dogs all day. No really, I'm a professional fetch player and hump stopper. It's not glamorous work but it pays the bills and is flexible with my needs as a college student. For example, I could take the entire week of March 9 - 17 off because of spring break. Sorry, had to brag a bit.

On to my story. There are play rooms for the dogs to go into and run off their energy, and I'm in the same room supervising the entire time. These rooms are seperated from the sales floor (they also sell supplies and food etc.) by some sturdy plexiglass so people can look in and see how much fun the dogs have and want to bring their dog. It also gives the dogs something else to look at and it's pretty entertaining to watch a dog that's been calm and laid back all day get riled up when it spots its owners. Unfortunately, every now and then this glass is used for evil.

Sometimes one of the dogs in the room isn't pleased with what's outside and begins to bark and go at the glass. When one starts, the rest pretty much follow and it gets loud and hard for me to control. Usually it's either another dog or a kid they just don't like the look of. That said, most people take the offending dog or child away from the glass, but not everyone.

The other day a girl kept walking her dog by the window in order to make all the dogs bark. She would have her dog stop and sit on the other side of the glass and then give it a treat for not lunging at the dogs. Now, I understand obedience training but why must she make my life hell so that her dog won't fight back?

Yesterday was even worse. A woman came by the window three times with her little kid and every time the dogs went into murderdeathkill mode. The third time, the woman sat her kid down right in front of all the dogs and untied and then tied her kid's shoes. Why would anyone do this?! The dogs wants to crunch your kids bones and you want to dangle it in front of them like a carrot on a stick? I just don't understand some people.

He's really growing up.

I can't recall having had a dream including Hurley as a cast member yet. However, he did play a roll in last night's mind adventure...

I was in Europe. Beautiful, sunny, and coastal. The architecture was classic and I think I was either in Spain, Italy, or the Greek Isles. Anyway, lots of people were there too. Andy, Jackie, Laura, my freshmen year roommates, and several others made appearances.

So I get arrested for driving my car into the exit for a parking lot in order to skimp out on the parking fee. Sucks, but not so bad right? Nope, punishment was a summary execution. Apparently Laura had also done something bad because she was on the balcony where we were to be executed as well. It turns out, they'd planned to kill us by forcing us to walk off a balcony about seven floors off the street. But wait! They were foolish in their choice of balconies to force us off. This particular one overlooked a narrow street and beyond that, a deep canal. The clear escape was to launch ourselves off the balcony and over the street into the safety of the water.

Laura goes first and she barely hops off the ledge. I cringe because I'm sure she won't make it over the street. She's gotta be pavement grease. Splash, and she's fine. So it's my turn and something goes wrong. I get to the edge of the balcony and for some reason don't jump. Instead, a stand on the edge and slowly fall forward, ensuring my demise as I have no momentum. By some miracle I make it to the water, but barely. I can hear the crowd who'd gathered to watch cheer just before I hit the water. That's when I woke up.

And that's when I realized why I'd fell forward instead of jumping. I was laying on my back with my knees folded up and my feet flat on the bed. Hurley was laying across my feet, pinning them down onto the bed.

Silly boy.

There are moments when this whole puppyhood thing reveals itself as fleeting.

There was a time when, to escape the jagged teeth of Hurley in one of his chewing modes, one could simply sit on the couch and be saved. He's since progressed to couch jumping as a leisurely activity. I just walked out to the living room and for the first time found Hurley to be crashed on the furniture, rather than laying horizontally across the hallway or in some other prone position on the floor.

He's officially made my furniture into our furniture.

It's been a long time since he last whimpered at the foot of the bed to be let down. These days the floor is just a crouch, a leap, and an awkward landing away. I don't know what I'm going to do when he first makes the jump from floor to bed. I wonder if I'm just being silly or if this milestone is something other dog owners would notice as well.

I finally got around to putting a picture inside a "dog treat jar" ornament I received from my dad for Christmas. One of the bones in the jar is marked 2006. Naturally, I had to put a picture of him from 2006 in the display and he just looks so... small. And cute. And like a puppy.

He's still a puppy. But he's clearly working toward that awkward canine adolescense and I feel like my time with him as a puppy is dwindling down. Still, I like to think I've made the most of it. Kat remarks from time to time how closely we've bonded and how great a match we are in personality. It's just a little sad to see this time passing by so quickly.

They really do grow up fast.

The other day, during one of Hurley's routine baths, I saw a flea or two treading water as well. Not a pleasing sight, especially for a new dog owner with very little experience with the defleaification process. I don't care if that's not a word, it fits what I'm trying to convey. I know enough to say that if you see one or two, there's definitely more. So, after Hurley ran off his post-bath zoomies, Kat and I took a trip to the flea aisle at PetSmart.

Aside from brands, there's quite an array of options. Kat jokingly held out a bottle of Hartz, knowing my disgust with the brand. We investigated the powders but ultimately decided that powdering Hurley down with a pesticide would only result in his ingesting said poison by licking his fur. We opted on the traditional flea shampoo, going with the Sentry brand because they had an oatmeal one that would likely be easier on Hurley's sensitive skin.

We stopped by the market to pick up a few live lobsters and after a grand time of boiling, cracking, and munching away on them, we gave Hurley his flea bath. It seemed to me he was a bit confused at first, as if to say "Why you do this? I was already sudsy today!" but allowed us to wash him down again anyway. I must admit, I am blessed with an amazingly tolerant dog. He gave Kat a few whimpers of distaste while he had to sit for the required five minutes to allow the shampoo to work its mojo. He really knows how to work her over, because I had to be doubly strong while she was melted to mush by his sweet siren song.

And the payoff? Round two of post-bath zoomies. Whatta dog. Too soon yet to know if it did the trick, but Rufus is up next for the flea bath and then I clean and vaccuum the entire house down. Any other suggestions would be appreciated.

. . .

Sunday morning and I'm off to puppy classes for Hurley, as is our eight-week-long ritual. I was happy with Hurley because after much trouble last session, he's managed to pick up the "paw" command quite well. This week we worked mostly on going into a down position from a stand, taking commands from others (the group switched dogs for this one), and the leave it/take it command. Hurley grasped "leave it" remarkably well but he's struggling with "take it." He will even allow a treat to be rested on each paw without snatching it up, but it would seem once he knows he's to leave it alone, it takes some prodding to convince him to take it when the command is issued. It was sweet because when we traded dogs, the woman who got Hurley was excited.

"I'm glad to have Hurley," she explained, "because I noticed last week how good he is about gently taking treats. I don't have to worry about him biting me like Ohana (her lab) does."

Some day I'm going to have to face the fact that Hurley is the celebrity and I am merely his agent.

. . .

I then spent a bit of today online looking up all sorts of information for my eventual move to Charleston, S.C. Kat and I will be heading down there soon to check out apartments and do the tourist thing just to get a better feel for the city. I looked up a couple dog-friendly apartments and even a beach that allows dogs. The beach would likely become my favorite hang out once I'm down there. Naturally, there's a lot that needs to go right for a cross-country move to occur but I think I can do it because I want it so badly. At this point, I'm practically just going there first to make sure I love the city as much as I love it in concept. If not, it might be Savannah or hopefully some other southern coastal city with a lot of charm.

Of course, there will be negatives to this move. Kat's going to be finishing out med school here and working hard at it. I know I'll miss the hell out of her, as I'm sure she'll miss me in kind but it's a little heartbreaking to know how she's going to miss Hurley. Sadder still, looking down at him curled up in the fetal position in the corner of my bedroom, I just know how much he's going to miss her too. She's been really great to both of us, and I know I'm incredibly thankful to have someone so exciting and supportive with me at this transitional period of my life. And I know Hurley doesn't look at her as just another pair of hands with a treat to give or just another pair of legs with ankles to be bitten. It may sound strange but I know I can deal with missing her... It'll just be a lot harder dealing with the two of them missing one another.

We, as pet owners, must face facts and accept reality: we are all a little bit annoying. Not to worry, as APOs (Annoying Pet Owners) have equally repugnant neighbors which include Annoying Parents of Kids, Annoying Bass Fishermen, and ever-nauseating Annoying Couple People. Alright, so I threw one of those in just to make the list an even number, so sue my annoying OCD.

We, as Annoying Dog Owners, make up a significant portion of the APO population. Although there are many who keep cats, birds, lizards and even tarantulas, the baby-talking population of all these assorted owners combined is almost certainly lower than those who coo and "uffy-wuffy" to their smelly, drooling canine. I mean, wouldn't it sound a bit off to hear someone say "How's my wittle Haplopelma lividum waplopelma wividum?"

And so this is my confession, my admission. I am an annoying dog owner. I realized this the other day after signing Hurley's name to a birthday card for my mother. That's right, I'm one of those people who signs the dog's name. I didn't draw a paw print... but I seriously considered it.

Although I refrain from the practice, I'm likely no better than those who use pronouns like "daddy" and "mommy" when describing their relationship to the four-legged child. However, I refuse to accept that I be cast down into the babytalkers, who will likely one day find themselves in the fourth circle of hell. To avoid the entire thing Kat and I have made up a sub-language to use in times of affection with Hurley closer to internet jargon than it is to snugglebunnies and sillybillies. The user icon I've selected for this entry is a great example of the language. It's the same nonsense you'd find on those trendy internet cat photos, and admittedly still annoying.

Hurley has a middle name too. It's Quinn. Sure, I just chose that name because the nickname Hurley Q. Butt has been around and I wanted a middle name to explain the Q, but that doesn't save it. It's repulsive. What does Hurley need with a middle name anyway?

I'm sure it won't take a lot of self searching to realize you're just like me. If you're not, perhaps you will be once you have children. You'll probably be as comfortable talking about the consistency of their excrement as I am talking about the consistency of Hurley's.

Saturday was a busy day. We all trucked it over to the vet with limited visibility out of my front window thanks to the frosty/snowy weather. We found out Hurley is 26 pounds, free of problems, recovering nicely in the "hairea" and well behaved. He's also finished with vaccinations for distemper, parvovirus, parainfluenza, rabies, and bordetella. Go team Hurley Healthwatchtm. He was given a few more syringes of the ivermectin for this week and next to be sure his itchies go away. Given that the medicine works out, he's good now until six months, when he'll go back for the big operation and microchip. Bionic dog anyone?

Afterward we headed to Kat's friends' place for brunch. Hurley met Maggie, their year-old bull mastiff and after a bit of introductory sniffing started the play bow business. It was pretty funny, watching him try to trounce a 103 pound monster, but Maggie took it well.

When we were all settled inside, Craig had to hold Maggie by the collar because one of the girls brought her newborn and Hurley took it as an opportunity to embarrass Maggie. First he did the war dance in front of her and bopped her on the nose just because he could. Then, as I predicted he would, he dragged all of her favorite toys and bones out of the living room and near her so he could chew and squeak on them just out of her reach. It's entertaining, but he's kind of a jerk like that.

Today rolled around to his first obedience class at 10:30 a.m. We met his classmates: a 10-week-old chocolate lab, a hyper rottie mix, a VERY hyper but also cute beagle/sheltie mix, and a timid rottie mix. The beagle was hilarious. It looked just like a purebred beagle pup but in that blue merle coloration. Quite interesting.

He did well enough. I don't know that I care for clicker training, but it's just the way they do it there. Maybe I'll rebel against all that and just say "Good" instead. Not to talk down on clickers but I know I'll never use it again after the class because that sound is incredibly annoying to me. They seem to work for training, but I'd rather not have to hear the sound let alone be the source of it.

The main command we have to work on is "watch" which consists of my holding a treat in between out faces and demanding he focus on the treat (and my face) and be still and not distracted. Hurley would much rather either jump up and down to try and get the treat or check out what everyone else is doing.

On the way out I bought a new leash (I lost the last one), a box of treats to give him a better variety and a few nylabones, as he seemed to enjoy Maggie's so much. ;-)

It's shaping up to be a very doggy weekend, and last weekend was quite Hurley-filled too!

Hurley and I took a trip to Port Huron, Mich. to visit Kat and family. The three of us pretty much lazed around in front of the fire the first day, breaking for an excursion into the woods that begin where Kat's backyard ends. Hurley had a bit of fun playing Godzilla with the seedling evergreens. We opted to let him go leashless once we'd gotten far enough from the pond and he just had a blast. It seemed everything he found resulted in a "Hey you two, look what I discovered!" look.

The next day we set out for the beach Kat used to lifeguard at, although the name escapes me. Again, a leashless Hurley squeezed every ounce of fun out of the stop as possible. He ran to the shore of Lake Huron not realizing what he was headed for and stopped abruptly with a look of awe once he realized it was all water.



Something tells me he's going to love the ocean. A family was on the beach too, and Hurley had a game of doggie dash with their labrador. We all walked up and down the beach snapping pictures, and Hurley refused to wander too far from us. I am thankful he knows there are boundaries even when we're not enforcing them through barrier or restraint. I think he rewarded himself by once again playing Godzilla, this time with the beach grass.



We eventually got too cold and snapped all the pictures we'd wanted, so we headed to the boardwalk to chase ducks and gulls before finally packing it in. The results? Pooped pup in front of the fire the rest of the day.

Now that the weekend is back upon us, I've got all sorts of plans for Hurley. For one, he's got another set of DPP vaccines tomorrow at 9 a.m. and perhaps the dog park after. Then on Sunday his puppy training begins. I have a feeling he'll be far advanced from everyone else, but that's okay. Maybe he'll play teacher's aide.

Hurley v. Stitch.




The similarities are endless. Photo post from the weekend forthcoming.

I know it's not a huge deal, but a photo I took of Aidan, my ex's chihuahua, some time ago was recently published on dogbreedinfo.com. Perhaps I should submit some shots of Hurley to bulk up their Kai picture gallery. You can always check out the photo by clicking here, Aidan is the white one at the bottom.

Aside from that, I will go ahead out on that limb and say that Hurley is officially trained to only go outside. Accidents inside are an extreme rarity now and there's never a need to let him know he did wrong when they occur, because he already knows. The only time he goes inside is every now and again while I'm not home and my roommate's don't realize to let him out often enough.

His fur seems to be getting better, likely thanks to the cocktail the vet started him on last visit. He's got one more dose before I need to schedule a follow-up and then I'll he and I will likely be vet-free until he hits six months, at which point he'll have a little operation er... down stairs.

School work is keeping me busy, but I'll get back on top of this journal now that I'm more settled into the schedule.

My dad's response to the subject line was "...Was?"

Hurley downed his first bathroom trash can tonight, along with about 0.5 rolls of toilet paper while Kat, Dad, Jean, and I all were out eating expensive food and drinking a $30 Riesling.

I appologize for my lax updating. Shouldn't happen again. I'll describe Hurley's medical outcome and vet visit more in my next entry. For now, let's keep it light with a question for all you folks playing at home.

What is your dream dog? Breed? Color combination? Don't worry about it fitting into your apartment now or whatever, just dream away. Feel free to include pictures for bonus points! Oh, and NO saying your own dog. You already have that one, so get dreaming.



I am near positive that I will one day own a white akita.

This is Kat, Second in Command of Puppy Petting reporting in. As Nick has been called in to work early, I'm flying solo on this latest vet appointment. While Hurley has been a wonderful dog thus far, and knows me pretty well, it's obvious that Nick is the Voice of Authority, and I'm always wary of taking him out on my own. Happily, some of my anxiety is allayed by the fact that this should be a good visit. Hurley has nearly mastered all the commands Dr. Smith taught us last time, including "roll-over" which everyone is rather proud of.

However, it is 7:24 AM and I have already played a round of an exciting new game called "Where's the poop?" Following a black dog around a cold pre-dawn backyard in order to find a fresh sample for the vet is a treacherous task indeed.

Ironically, I will be starting the clinical rotation part of medical school soon and this seems like good practice for surgical rounds, in which we wake groggy patients at 5 AM to ask them if they've pooped in the last 24 hours. Who knew that taking care of a dog would prepare me for a medical future?