Mom On The Rocks

Well, some of you who know me may wonder where this post has been. Yes, it should have been the first post. If there's ever been more stories about their dog's antics than their kids', it's our dog, Farley. He's a wonder on so many levels:
Level One: He's a 115lb black lab who stands almost four feet tall. On his hind legs, he's looking me in the eye at about 6'. As a family, we couldn't all look more model-esque. We really look like a normal family when it's just us, even the dog. The kids are huge, we are huge, and the dog is huge....together, all normal. Posing with "average sized" people and dogs...not so normal.

Level Two: The menu. It's more like a resume for Farley, the black book list for dogs that he can boast about to his dog buddies. But the dog has eaten a bit in his day, and survived it all. My personal favorite was the tamales. He left the aluminum foil on the ground. And a day later, we came home for lunch, and the hulls from the tamales were piled neatly in the middle of the hard-wood floored living room. (Thank God it wasn't on carpet). We have no clue which crevice the hulls came from, and frankly, we aren't going to ask him. Other menu items include: A whole-roasted chicken and when I say "whole" I mean the carcass included, chocolate chip cookies, a pot roast, tootsie rolls, peanut butter, all things bread-apparently the dog is a carb freak, 3 lbs of shredded cheese, and 5 lbs of raw meat. The latter of the list (the cheese and hamburger meat) were accosted when Farley stayed with friends while we lived in an apartment for a brief stint. We tried to explain that the dog could open a refrigerator, but they just didn't take our word for it. Farley explained it for them. Which brings me to...

Level Three: The dog can open a refrigerator. And I'm not talking about a dish towel on the handle, and he pulls it open by biting on the dish towel. No no. There's no challenge in that. We had a child proof lock on the fridge before we had children. We had what I think is called a Top Freezer refrigerator...which means freezer on top, fridge main area. For some of you that still don't get it, it's the opposite of a side-by-side. One door. Got it? Okay, so he figured out that with his brute force, he can take his mammoth paw and paw it open. That's how he got the food, because all pantry items were above 7'. We lived, we learned to keep food from farley.
Level Four: The Chocolate. Clearly this is highlighted and starred in his black book of seized moments in his life. Adventure for him, I'm sure. Consider your best hangover story and how it was so worth it....the wonderdog ate 2 lbs of Bakers Chocolate. In vet terms, that's about 1lb over the lethal limit for a dog his size, and about $400 to make Farley's belly better, oh and so he could LIVE too. Whew, that was a rough night. You may be thinking well, level four is clearly a sublevel two, the menu. No sir/ma'am. It was such a doozie, I just officially decided that it necessitates volume 2, parts 2,3,4 at a later date.
Level Five: The namesake. Farley is named after Mr. Chris Farley, God rest his weary soul. Never in all of history has a person/dog lived up to his namesake. I was pretty sure with the chocolate incident that Farley would have the same demise, sans the freaky ball thing (i'm sure it has a name, but I'm too prude to know) in his mouth. But no, the dog is part horse, part dog, part human, and apparently part Kryptonite. Or something. But the dog was named Farley because my roommate who bought the dog and somehow I ended up with him (another volume or part later). I went with her to get him, and she couldn't decide what to name him. I came up with some BRILLIANT suggestions, I'm sure. All nayed. Then after the puppy puked on my shoe, I said, "Dude, did you hear about Chris Farley, isn't that awful?" And the puppy perked up and took interest. I'm pretty sure at this point that Chris Farley lives with me...his soul is in my dog. Farley is huge, everyone who meets him loves him (I think so), he overindulges on pills (my PILLS....volume 7) and food, and if I remember correctly, has even been subjected to some alcohol. Hey, I didn't do it. He has no inclination as to what limits are, let alone his limits.
Level Six: The dog drives me batty and I love him. Most of the time when referring to Farley, you'll see me rolling my eyes. You might even see me do it right now. Or now. Maybe even now. I've joked about how I'm going to rearrange my pantry to it's full potential use when the dog dies. He makes having twins feel like having triplets most days...exhausting. But I love that dog. Just like Chris Farley. You couldn't help but love the guy. Same with dog version. When my granddad died, my mom called me late at night. I grabbed the phone and went to the living room and sat on the couch. My mom told me the news, and I said, "Oh Mom, are you okay?" The dog woke up, came running, and jumped on the couch he'd eaten a bit of, laid next to me, and comforted me. I'll never forget that. He's VERY communicative and expressive and sweet.
Level Seven: Bed of three? Yeah, Farley sleeps with us. He's in love with hubby. (Yet, another volume) So, there's 3 six-footers in the bed. Most friends of ours try to get a visual, but really, we don't know exactly how we do it either. It usually involves a bit of maneuvering, but it's okay. He loves us. And that's the seventh wonder of Farley, is that he sleeps with us.
Level Eight: The eighth and final wonder of the wonderdog: He's still alive. Farley is 8 now. There's days I can't believe he's survived most of his antics. He's old for his size and breed. We've found a few bumps on his body and he's moaning a lot. We've noted that he's aging. But when family came to stay with us and noticed it and commented, "It sounds like he's in some pain, guys." It really hit home. There's days I can't believe that there will be days without Farley...sooner than I care to admit.

Oh, he's fine, I think. But he's aging quickly. I'm taking him to the doc for a check up tomorrow. That ought to be interesting. I've become quite the preventative medicine freak since we've been to about 9 funerals in the last year and a half. I wonder if the vet will understand my paranoia...I'll just send him the blog, I guess.

I took Farley the Wonderdog to the drive-through pharmacy tonight. The pharmacist thought he was so beautiful and big, she went and got the pharm tech and some other guy, "Check out this dog." So, Farley did his tricks. Anyone else's dog can pout on command? I didn't think so. Did you know that they have doggie treats at the walgreens pharmacy drive through? Farley got 7 of them.....I can't imagine why he's so big!

This is getting way too long. More on Farley later. That's how I roll.