May 9, 2008

• My First Baby is 4 ...

  *** Edit: See below***

  Today is Atari's birthday! Can I get a, "Happy Birthday, Atari!"?

  I can't believe Atari is four years old. It really feels like no time has passed since an 11-pound, 12-week-old Shiba puppy came to live with us in our tiny Manhattan apartment.

  The day we went to pick out Atari ... he was only four weeks old (he didn't come home to us for eight more weeks)

  

  Atari and I on his first day home

  

  A more recent pic of Atari

  

  The first year of Atari's life flew by in a flurry of training, making new friends at the dog park and a move to Astoria. The second year passed like a blur, with Johnny applying to business school, both of us working hard (and playing hard), a cross-country drive to California and setting up home in Los Angeles. Through all of this, we found time to bake Atari homemade treats and take him on weekly trips to the dog park. The third year, we assured Atari all through my pregnancy that he was still very important to us. The fourth year, Jack arrived, and for a while, Atari was lucky just to get kibble in his bowl twice a day, and a few times he had to look at us imploringly before we realized his water bowl had been empty for God knows how long! Now, things are looking up for good old Atari -- he's getting treats (albeit not homemade much these days) again, his water bowl is regularly filled, Jack is playing with him, he has a new sleeping spot (he now prefers to sleep under Jack's crib rather than under our bed), Mommy pets him again, and he even gets to the dog park once in a while.

  Even while we were preoccupied with Jack, though, Atari was still very important to us. He's the best dog ever ... he is fun-loving, low-maintenance, well-behaved, dignified and yet knows exactly when to rest his chin on your leg and look at you with his puppy-dog eyes. He is still the little puppy I love. When we took Atari to puppy school, the trainer (Andrea Arden herself!) said to the class, "It may not matter to you now that your puppy chews and pees everywhere. But someday, the lovefest will be over, and if you haven't properly trained your dog, you will be sorry." Well, she's absolutely right about the need to train dogs, but she was wrong about one thing -- the lovefest between us and Atari is definitely not over!

  I will post pictures tonight* or later this weekend -- we got Atari a new toy and some frosted dog cookies. For now, Happy 4th Birthday, Atari!

  * And as promised, here are those pictures, along with a story of how Atari's birthday celebration went.

  We gave Atari a new chew toy that also bounces and floats (he hates water, so I don't think the floating feature will come in handy). There were spaces in the toy where you could stuff treats. We wedged in a little bit of peanut butter, which Atari used to love. He hadn't had it in a while, so he really relished it.

  Waiting for his birthday treat while we sing Happy Birthday to him (Atari's shedding his winter coat right now, so he looks really skinny)

  

  Enjoying the PB wedged into his new toy

  

  After Atari had a chance to play with his toy, Johnny took him on his evening walk. Then, as usual, Atari got his dinner. Johnny then left to go to a screening of Zach's movie. While I was playing with Jack, I heard the unmistakable noise of Atari vomiting -- from our bedroom. I looked inside our bedroom and saw two giant heaps of tan-colored vomit, with chunks. They really looked like piles, not liquidy like usual dog vomit. Upon closer inspection, I saw that it was half-digested kibble: softened from being inside Atari's digestive tract, but still intact. I have a really strong stomach, but let me tell you, even I was disgusted by this sight. So here I was, with a playful baby and two piles of dog vomit.

  I set Jack down in his crib while I tried to clean up the mess. I was hoping he'd entertain himself, since he usually falls asleep by himself in his crib. Unfortunately, since it wasn't yet his bedtime, and I disappeared from view, Jack protested. I tried to clean as fast as I could, but Jack's protests became louder. Finally I just scooped up the chunks, threw them out and decided I'd deal with the rest of the mess after Jack went to bed in half an hour. Of course, Jack quickly became obsessed with trying to crawl into our room. We have an over-the-door shoe hanger behind our bedroom door, so there's no way to shut the door completely (it's just us in the apartment, so not having the bedroom door close all the way isn't usually a big deal). I spent the half hour trying to distract Jack from going into the bedroom. Finally, bedtime came. I set Jack in his crib and he promptly fell asleep. Body clocks are amazing, aren't they? Half an hour earlier, he wouldn't dream of going to sleep. Anyway, I mixed up some cleaning solution and proceeded to clean up the vomit. By the time Johnny got home an hour later, everything was shipshape again ... no stain.

  So, happy birthday, Atari: You get an empty stomach.  I guess we won't be giving him any more peanut butter. He used to LOVE the stuff as a puppy -- we would stuff his Kong toys with it, and he never had a problem. It's been so long since he's had it, though, so who knows? We'll be sticking with his organic kibble from now on!

  • 6:49 pm
  • 6 Comments