Vinny the Snaggletooth

Hello, my friends.  Sorry I’ve been away for so long.  Though I haven’t been tending to my site as much as I would like, that doesn’t mean I haven’t been on plenty of adventures resulting in lots of material just waiting to be memorialized on my blog.  My ghost-writer/typist has been a bit busy recently, so I am storing all of my thoughts in this ridiculously big noggin of mine until she has time to transcribe them.

We’ll get back to my outings soon enough, because I’ve been out there doing Dallas, but I thought I would first tell you about my recent dental woes.  If you learn nothing else from this blog, at least take away this solid piece of advice: DO NOT CHEW ON ROCKS OR BRICKS. Turns out, rocks and bricks do not encourage strong, healthy teeth. Trust me, you’ll thank me for this someday as you’re about to chomp down on a brick that’s filling a hole you dug in your backyard.  Hopefully you’ll pause momentarily and think, “I remember that time Vinny the Paw ate a brick/rock/stone and it didn’t end well for him.  I better not do this.”

Several weeks ago, my he-human was playing with me and he noticed something wrong with one of my canine teeth (a/k/a my fang).  It would seem that somehow some way I had broken my tooth from bottom to top.  Half of my fang was literally missing in action. 

Out of obvious concern for my health he took me to the vet to see what we should do about it.  The vet confirmed that my tooth was split all the way to the dentin, which made it ripe for infection and nerve exposure.  The vet then proceeded to review the options with my he-human.

Admittedly, I was just sitting on the floor watching my he-human’s own jaw drop as he heard the plans for what we could do about my snaggletooth.  It was somewhat reminiscent of the day my she-human took my kitty-sister to the feline ophthalmologist (yes, such a doctor exists) and she evaluated various expensive options for fixing her genetically-defective eyelid.

For me the options were:

Plan A: remove the tooth, give me some antibiotics and be done with it.  Apparently, since I don’t live in the wild using my canine teeth to rip raw flesh from the body of my kill, I don’t need it.  It’s merely a decorative tooth, although personally I think it makes me look fierce.

Plan B: remove the tooth, insert an experimental filler, and come back for a root canal.

Plan C: Brace yourself…get a $10,000 dental implant.  You read that correctly -- 10,000 US Dollars for a fake tooth to make my smile complete.

I am sure it goes without saying that we went with Plan C.  I mean, duh, I can’t have a three quarters of a smile.   Without my canine, my Westminster Kennel Club dreams would be crushed.  Without my fang, the dogs at the park would make fun of me.  We obviously can’t have that.  I will not be mocked!

Okay, seriously, my humans aren’t that crazy.  They do spoil me rotten, but they didn’t drop $10K to get me a shiny new tooth so that I could just break it on another rock.  Instead I got my tooth removed and had to eat mushy food for two weeks.  Hooray, me.

And, worst of all, the tooth fairy didn’t even come to visit.    

Happy tails, my friends.  Until next time.

Bonehead of the Month Award

And the “Bonehead of the Month” Award goes to….drumroll, please…Me!  Yes, that’s right, I earned it fair and square.  No one else was even close.  

What did I do to win this coveted award, you ask?  Well, allow me tell the tale.

It was a normal Monday.  Nothing out of the ordinary.  My she-human picked me up from doggie daycare on this fine day, after I spent a full day running off excess energy that I did not get to use over the weekend, due to torrential rains and gusty winds.  I seemed tired when she put me in the car and headed home, but I was just fooling her.  As she relaxed and settled in for the drive, she rolled down the window a bit to let me hang my head out for some fresh air.  Little did she know what I had in store for her.

Savor this first and only picture of me hanging my head out the window

 

As she turned into our neighborhood, I spied a little white teacup something or other dog strolling along with her she-human.  Have I mentioned my affection for little dogs?  I love ‘em; can’t get enough of ‘em.  I was smitten.  Before my she-human could register what was happening, I sprung from the confines of the vehicle.  Love cannot be denied.  You read that right; I jumped right out the window of a moving car.  After rolling several times in the street, I sprung to my able paws and casually ambled over to that adorable white miniature animal to greet her.  

For some odd reason, both my she-human and hers were agog as if something was amiss.  In fact, both of them were examining me for injuries, but I could focus on nothing other than the little fairy creature before me.  I felt no pain – only excitement and amour for this white whisp of a canine.  Oh, sweet Cupid, was this the woman for me?

Our introduction was but a stitch in time.  I didn’t even catch her name before I was lead back to the car by my now shaking she-human.  Why was she trembling?  Was she just as excited as I was to meet my new love?  No, that couldn’t be it.  She barely even looked at my white maiden while she was checking me over and, for some unknown reason, apologizing profusely to my new girl’s owner.  In fact, now that I think about it, why was she apologizing to the other woman?  She should be apologizing to me for steering me away from romance.  Love has been denied and it’s all her fault.

Alas, I shall eat my dinner and take a big nap while dreaming of my sweet white princess and savoring my prestigious award.  What is a “Bonehead” anyway?

Until next time, my friends, happy tails.

Cat Scratch Fever

There’s an odd little creature living in my house and I’ve gathered that it’s called a cat.  At first glance, it appears to be a mini-dog, but, upon closer inspection, it is definitely not canine.  Definitely not.

      Let me count the reasons I know this being is not a dog:

1. It thinks it is the queen, but there’s not a monarchy in the US.
2. It uses a box in the house as its toilet while I, the dog, am forced to go outside no matter what the weather.
3. It makes this funny little noise – a mew mew mew sound – that is in no way, shape, or form a bark.
4. It bites things and gets away with it.  Right now she’s biting the edge of the laptop and no one is batting an eye.  If I did that, trust me, there would be repercussions.
5. Occasionally this nutso animal scratches things and gets away with it.
6. This crazy little creature gets to climb on things and I have to lie on the floor.  For example, she likes to sit on the back of the sofa and punch me in the nose.  When I jump up on the sofa to give her a taste of her own medicine, I’m told in no uncertain terms to get off of the couch.  What a double-standard!
7. This thing can hiss and spit.  It’s unreal, very uncanine-like, and sometimes a little frightening.
8. She uses my human as a pillow at night and I have to sleep in a crate.
9. Her toys contain some strange grassy-looking substance that makes her act VERY WEIRD after she’s been playing for awhile.  I mean, VERY WEIRD.
10. But the number one reason I know she’s not a dog is because she has to stay home when my humans take me on adventures.  Ha!  Ha!  Ha!  It’s awesome being a dog.  Take that, cat!

Happy Tails, my friends.

Keep on Truckin'

Last Sunday was one of the first beautiful spring-like days we had experienced in a long time, so my humans and I set out on adventure.  Our first stop was at Twisted Root Burger Co. near SMU for a delicious bacon and blue cheese burger for him and a black bean “burger” for her.  As for me, think water and liver treats or, as I like to call it, the usual.  The patio area at Twisted Root is dog-friendly and the bartender even served me up a few Milkbones while I relaxed in the sunshine.

Once sated, we went to check out one of the hottest new places in town called the Truck Yard.  The Truck Yard is owned by the people who started Twisted Root and it’s a 15,000 square foot indoor/outdoor venue complete with food trucks and a treehouse bar.  Supposedly this place is “trailer park chic”, but this is Dallas, so, of course, there was valet parking.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen a truckstop or a trailer park with valet parking.  Well, to be honest, I’ve never seen a truckstop or a trailer park, but my research indicates they are not usually very posh with Lamborghinis waiting in line for a parking spot.

The Truck Yard is definitely pet-friendly because everyone and their dog in Dallas was there.  Lots of canines were lounging about and the beer was flowing.  To say it was packed is an understatement.  After searching and searching for an inch of space to sit, the three of us gave up and decided to give it another try on a day when we can get there early enough to beat the crowd.  We will most certainly be going back, because it looked like a lot of fun.  A great mix of people, dogs, live music, food trucks, and a bar in an Airstream trailer.  Looks promising! https://www.facebook.com/texastruckyard.

 Back to the car and onwards we went.  Next stop: The Old Monk on Henderson.  Unfortunately our stay at the Old Monk was brief, because they openly discriminate against canines and I was politely asked to leave.  Yes, that’s right, I’m 7 months old and I’ve been kicked out of a pub.  Not my proudest moment.  But don’t you worry, I held my head high.  There was no tucking my tail and ducking out.  Actually, I think our waitress felt bad about it, but that didn’t make it sting less to be asked to vacate the premises. It's a crying shame they kicked me out, because I had already settled on what I'm sure would've been my favorite ale: St. Bernardus

After wiping off the humiliation of being ejected from the Old Monk, I trotted right across the street to Vickery Park where DOGS ARE WELCOME!  The patio was hopping and all varieties of me were lounging while their humans enjoyed beverages and some vittles.  We shared a table with a lovely couple named Lisa and Max and Lisa took it upon herself to introduce me to every person who passed by.  If someone came up to ask permission to pet me, Lisa said, “That’s Vinny.  He has a blog.”  It was really sweet and I enjoyed all the pats I got.  Plus their water was fresh and ice cold. My favorite! 

As the sun began to set, we decided it was time to pack up and head home.  I hope to see you soon at Twisted Root, the Truck Yard, or Vickery Park.  They all get two paws up from me!

Happy Tails, my friends.  Until next time.

Haute Dog!

Whether you’re a well-heeled purebred, an orphan rescued from a shelter, or a middle class mutt, you’re welcome at both Neiman Marcus and Nordstrom.  That’s right, these two department stores are dog-friendly and not just to our little friends who fit into people’s purses!  They even let big ole clumsy me in!

I’ve visited two of the Neiman Marcus locations so far --  their downtown flagship store and the one at the Shops at Willowbend in Plano – and I’ve been to Nordstrom at the Galleria.  All three trips were very good experiences and the staff and other shoppers didn’t seem to mind that I was enjoying a little retail therapy with them.  I got quite a few pats along the way from admirers and grabbed a little shuteye in the men’s shoe department while my he-human looked for a new pair of wingtips.  The only downside is that most of the malls attached to these stores are not pet-friendly, so you can’t plan to spend an entire day there and it’s definitely not safe to leave us in the car while you shop. 

My she-human did a little research and learned that the Shops at Willowbend in Plano is sort of pet-friendly, but only if you’re little enough to be toted around in a carrier or your human’s arms.  Even then you’re not welcome in their food court. 

Now it’s important that you’re on your best behavior when visiting these stores for many reasons, some of which are: 1) if you behave yourself, there’s probably a treat waiting for you (maybe a new Burberry collar or, in my case, a lovely little liver treat), 2) if you chew on a Jimmy Choo, it could cost your human a lot of bones to pay for the damage, and, most importantly, 3) you don’t want to be “that dog” who peed on the floor near the cosmetics counter and ruined it for everybody.  
So far I’ve been a very good boy on my shopping trips.  Admittedly, I did lose a little control and licked a boot on the sale rack, but I reigned myself in before I snatched a loafer from the display.  Thank goodness we didn’t go to the sock department or I don’t think I would’ve been able to contain myself.

My fashion tips for Spring 2014, you ask?  Well, I think Hushpuppies are going to make a serious comeback and houndstooth prints will be all the rage.


Well, I hope to see you out and about soon.  Just remember, be a good dog citizen so that more stores will start welcoming us in their doors.

As always, my review comes with the caveat that it's a good idea to check with the store first as individual stores may have their own pet policies.


Happy Tails, my friends.  Let's shop until we drop!