Tag: Bernese Mountain Dog

It Was Me. I Let the Dog In!

~ JodiLea

Oh Dear.
I thought the rusty colored soil and pine tree sap were bad enough. Then, puppy began shedding.  My mostly BLACK puppy. Every tail wag or movement leaves clumps of fur. When she scratches herself, tufts of fine hair float away from her. I now get what they mean by the term “the fur’s flying”.

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It is not the fur itself that bothers me. Y’all know I’m a dog-lover, right? I’ve had a BMD before, so I know about fur. However, we had wooden floors with some rugs when we had BMD #1.  With BMD #2 we have light beige carpeting.

As you can see, the non-vacuumed carpet is covered with tufts of fur. The fact that I brush her everyday, getting fist sized fur-balls off of her, matters not.  Two days after vacuuming, the lower half of the photo matches the top part. TWO DAYS!  Add the fur-bunnies that move around in the kitchen when you walk and you have the “Worst Housekeeper Award” all sewed up. I don’t believe our town gives out that award because I would already have one if they did.

Hubby reminds me that she is my puppy and I promised to clean up after her. I understand completely and I comply.  The only problem is the issue about the vacuum cleaner itself.  If you are a fairly new reader, you may not know about “Big Yellow“. I urge you to follow the link and find out about this aggravation I did not need, and is still a source of bitterness that Ben could be proud of, 3-years later!

TTFN,
Jodi Lea

Bittersweet Agony

~ JodiLea

Two female Bernese Mountain Dogs were bred in Grass Valley at bernersSwiss Star Farms. I know this because I call the breeder, Bobbie Hefner, at least once a month:

“Hello?” Bobbie answers.

“Is anybody pregnant yet?”  I am so desperate now, that I have dropped all small talk. I know it’s rude, but I just can’t stand this unknowingness! **

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If She Knows, She Isn’t Saying

“Both girls have been bred, but it’s too soon to know if they are pregnant, or not.” she tells me.

NOT!? That possibility hadn’t occurred to me. I shoved it out of my mind to consider (and worry about) later.

“Oh…” I no longer mask my disappointment.

“I’ll let you know as soon as I know anything,” she tries to console me, but it doesn’t help. My mental state is swiftly devolving around this issue, and I feel 3-years old.  I have to consciously force myself to not stomp my foot and scream, “Where is my puppy!?”

When I get off the phone, I pout. I waited over 2-years for a puppy because we were packing, selling our old house & moving into our new house. Then I had to wait until we went on an Alaskan Cruise. Hubby has no more excuses now, and it has been over 4-years since I have had a dog. FOUR YEARS!  Patience is no longer a virtue – it’s GONE.

Then, I remember that I am home alone. Hubby is out doing his thing.  By the time he gets home, I am still dog-less, and my foot hurts.

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** unknowingness [un . NO . ing . ness], adverb. “The agonizing period while you are waiting to know something, and you have no control over finding the answer.
– From the Dictionary of Words That Should Exist