Life got a little more busy for my husband and me a few days ago. We took in an unannounced deaf foster puppy whose jowls beg to be squeezed. The pipsqueak is young, with the fine needle teeth of a three and a half month old puppy. He stays attached to Edison's hip, my white shadow's white shadow, . . .
This originally appeared as a guest blog post on Deaf Dogs Rock. Edison responding to watch me and then the sign for sit. I've learned many virtues from our dogs, but the most important ones from our deaf dog, Edison. Greed, gluttony, envy...oh, snap, I've confused vices and virtues again. Let's . . .
Oliver is the first deaf dog I worked with after adopting Edison and he occupies a very special place in my heart. He came into the shelter as a stray and I chose the name Oliver for two reasons: that was our second choice when naming Edison, and he just looked like an Oliver. At the time, Edison . . .
All of the animals in our house have proper names as well as nicknames. This phenomenon is an anomaly in our house in that, unlike almost everything else here, it did not start with Darwin; it began with the cats. When I met my husband, I was in school studying to become a veterinary technician. . . .
All of the dogs here on East Dixie Highway are terriers and, accordingly, love dirt. This is to be expected and for me, if not my husband, is part of their charm. Remember, I'm a frat boy at heart and my tolerance for filth is much higher than it is for normal people. And drool! I love a slobbery, . . .