How weird is she, let me count the ways.

It’s Friday. It’s been a long week. And I’ve been thinking about how strange my dog seems to me and thought I’d blog about it. Because why not?

Anyway, my dog is weird. Here’s just a few examples.


When we got Xena last year, one of the things that I was super excited about was having a dog that we could take everywhere with us. Growing up, all my dogs were police dogs, so they didn’t go to parks and things like that. They were working dogs. They worked. But this dog was going to be my dog. And I could take her everywhere with me and it would be great.

As we were driving up to get Xena from her foster home in New Jersey, Frankie was talking to me about all of her previous dogs and how she had never had one that traveled well. I told her not to worry, that my pet karma would override hers and everything would be fine.

I snagged this photo of the first time Frankie ever picked her up.
I snagged this photo of the first time Frankie ever picked her up.

I remember driving up to the house where she had been fostered and being so excited I barely waited for the car to be fully parked before jumping out. When we got into the house, the three remaining puppies were downstairs and Xena walked up to us.

It was love at first sight, you guys know the deal. The next thing I knew, Frankie had scooped her up and her foster mom was saying a tearful goodbye.

We got her out in the car and went on our way. I sat in the back seat with her because I was concerned that she would be freaked out with the move and everything.

We stopped in the middle of the two hour drive, not wanting her to be stressed out by all the changes.

After we got back in the car, she was safely snuggled in the back seat with the Darren, the stuffed dragon we had bought her, and me.

I was snuggling and soothing and taking selfies with her and just generally having a grand ol’ time.

Then it happened.

With no warning.

A hurking kind of noise. And then yellow vomit down my leg, onto my shoe, pooling in the crevices between the shoelaces.

I still maintain that Frankie jinxed us. I have never had a carsick dog in my life.


Also, she lives in this box.

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Watching her try to chew bones while in the box is serious entertainment.

In other oddities, we discovered another lovely habit of my beloved fuzz nugget when we brought her home and took her to the dog park for the first time. She was so covered in dust and dirt when we left that we decided to give her a bath.

We got her into the tub without much complaining. Frankie got in the tub with her.

Then we turned the water on.

The sounds that came from my beautiful puppy were unlike any that I had ever heard before. She screamed like we were skinning her alive. I worried that neighbors would think we were torturing puppies in our apartment.

To this day, she screams like a lunatic whenever water touches her skin from a faucet. And before you ask, yes, we do warn the neighbors when bath time rolls around.


Speaking of wetness, let’s talk about the weather.

Rain? She’s not thrilled, but she’ll walk in it, no problem. She won’t walk through puddles, though. She quits when she reaches them and desperately times to run around them.

Snow? She’s obsessed. When she sees snow she wants to run back and forth in it and burrow through it like an eager baby polar bear.

Grass? Again, obsessed. Even more so if it’s grass in a cemetery, because she’s a fuckin creep and obsessed with the smell of dead people, I guess?


Also, she runs away from her poop and won’t step in her pee when she walks past it on her way back from going outside.


Long story short, she’s the best dog in the world, and she loves us more than anything, and I love finding out new bizarre things about her every day.

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This is the first photo we ever saw of her beautiful face.
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