Posts about Ingrid the Labradoodle and Gunter the Chiweenie.
Last week we sponsored a German shepherd named Apollo — he’s available through White Rock Dog Rescue.
The backstory: Apollo was taken in by a woman who found him running loose in her neighborhood. The woman couldn’t find the owner and couldn’t keep him because she travels for a living. So she paid to have him vaccinated/chipped and referred him to the dog rescue.
I have a pretty nice apartment, but I rarely have guests over.
There are a few reasons for that:
But the main reason why we rarely have guests is Ingrid, our labradoodle.
I say almost because the primary activity is really sprinting after foul balls before the labradoodle gets to them.
Ingrid the labradoodle hoarding a tennis ball.
Gunter at the Craddock Park tennis courts in the Perry Heights neighborhood of Oak Lawn.
White Rock Lake is a massive reservoir about 5 miles outside of downtown Dallas. It is the perfect place for an ambitious morning dog walk. Or so we thought.
The lake was beautiful, but the path was very long.
Fishermen at White Rock Lake (and some lady taking pregnancy photos.)
Turtles chilling on a hot summer weekend
It is around 8 a.m. and I am walking the dogs near the Highland Park Whole Foods.
I come across an older woman in a track suit.
Blanche Devereaux: “Are those your dogs?”
Me (Taking off my headphones): “Pardon me?”
Blanche : “The dogs. Are they yours?”
Me: “Um, yes…”
Blanche: “Well they are just lovely! Have a good morning walk.”
Blanche then gets into a waiting town car.
Later that day, I tell one of my neighbors about the encounter, and she is horrified.
Jill: “That’s terrible!”
Me: “Why? She was perfectly nice, I just thought it was an odd question…”
Jill: “You know that’s a microaggression, right? She thought you were a dog walker!”
Me: “That’s hilarious, and strangely appropriate for the neighborhood.”
On a typical Friday, my apartment looks like something between a police raid and episode of Hoarders.
But not today! Today my apartment is fabulously clean.
Why? Because my labradoodle puppy is sick. It started with horrifying scene in the kennel this morning and continued throughout the morning and afternoon.
So today has been a series of emergency dog walks, laundry cycles, and floor/kennel scrubbings.
Ingrid even had to get a bath or two. Good thing our building has a full “dog spa” with professional wash tubs and dryers.
One morning I noticed a woman exit Starbucks and give her yippy dog a small cup of whip cream.
Apparently this is a “secret menu item” called a “Puppucino.” Some Starbucks locations insist that you use that cheesy name when ordering, but most baristas just look at me crazy when I ask for one.
So it’s a thing, sort of.
Gunter and Ingrid at Turtle Creek Park with Puppuccinos.
My mom came to town this weekend for a business meeting, so we showed her how Dallas does Easter.
We had Easter brunch at Quesa MX, which is a Mexican restaurant on Cedar Springs.
I recently became re-interested in Quesa after they hosted a happy hour at iLume – the new manager said that he overhauled the menu and promised that the food was better.
The way we could tell is because there was a guy on the patio laying in his own vomit.
His friend looked so upset…
Quesa was considerably calmer on Sunday, and the food was surprisingly good. I think Quesa will be a nice alternative to Mattito’s and Cedar Springs Tap House, which both get incredibly packed.
After brunch, we grabbed the dogs and went to the Easter dog parade near Turtle Creek.
It was quite the production.
The crowd at Easter in Lee Park / Dallas Pooch Parade.
Guys with matching outfits and bunny ears at Easter in Lee Park
A guy with a matching dog at the 2016 Easter Pooch Parade in Dallas.
A pink poodle at the Dallas Easter Pooch Parade.
Spectators taking a selfie during the Easter Parade – is that Dustin in the background?!
Picnics at Lee Park near Arlington Hall
Gunter is almost three years old now, so I thought that I could trust him outside of the kennel.
He no longer cries when I leave the house, which is half the struggle of puppydom. Gunter also hasn’t had an accident inside since last winter, when the weather was so cold in Minnesota that he went on strike – refusing to poop outside.
It was very distressing for both of us.
I celebrated last New Year’s Eve in Minnesota and now I am ending the year as an official Texan.
2015 was wonderful, but exhausting.
James Sanna and Aaron Kraemer getting married in Boston.
A bloody Mary and the New Yorker Magazine at the Washington DC airport.
Alyssa Edwards at the Dallas Gay Pride iLume block party.
Dancers at the iLume block party.
A dramatically lit mansion in Highland Park.
I’ve alternatively described my apartment building as a dog-friendly residential hotel, Melrose Place, and an adult dorm.
In true dorm fashion, my neighbors occasionally trigger the fire alarm in the middle of the night. This happened today at 3 a.m.
There are leaves on the ground, but the temperature still hits the low 70s almost every day.
Although it is not quite tropical Christmas experience that I had in Miami, it is still way more pleasant than Minnesota. At least I can still trot around in shorts!
Life has been very full lately with work, sprawling dog walks, dates, holiday parties, and marathons of The Good Wife.
My cup runneth over again.
Elaborate Christmas decorations in Highland Park, Dallas.
Gunter’s leather doggy jacket.
She’s a Labradoodle (Labrador + Poodle mix) and about four months old.
I’ve contemplated getting a second dog ever since moving to Texas because I left Hugo back in Minnesota.
There a ton of dogs in my building, but Günter was still getting increasingly withdrawn at home.
The Katy Trail is a long biking and walking path that cuts through Uptown Dallas. You can take the trail toward downtown Dallas or Highland Park.
We typically go for 5.5 miles in the morning and 3 or 4 miles in the evening.
My Fitbit friends must hate me.
A good week on Fitbit, mostly due to our rambling Katy Trail walks.
It’s ass-hot in Dallas during the summer, so we typically have to start our morning jaunts around 5 a.m.
February is a hard month. Like a Siberian prisoner, I accept my frozen circumstances and stop hoping for spring.
So the snow completely melted, revealing five months of filth, trash, small dead animals, and dog crap. Yes, dog crap – there’s a subset of dog owners who don’t pick up dog shit when there’s snow on the ground. I don’t get it.
It’s around 7:30 a.m. when I walk into the Dunn Brothers Coffee shop near the Excel Center. There are three baristas behind the counter, and two cops inside.
Me: “Hi. I’m going to come back for coffee in a second, but first can I have three large cups of water? There’s a fire at McGovern’s.”
The baristas look at me like I’m crazy. (The cops too.) So I try again.
Me: “You know McGovern’s? The bar across the street? Well I was walking past it with my dogs and I noticed the planter smoking. I think someone tried to put a cigarette out in the dirt last night. I don’t want to come back around later and see the building gone…”
One of the baristas carries the water out with me. The planter is full of charred, smoking dirt, which we douse.
It’s exhausting. He wouldn’t be so reluctant to go outside if I still put him in a kennel – then shitting in the closet wouldn’t be an option.
Gunter is a Chihuahua Dachshund mix that is extremely lazy.
Gunter is a Chihuahua Dachshund mix that is extremely lazy.
Gunter is a Chihuahua Dachshund mix that is extremely lazy.
Gunter is a Chihuahua Dachshund mix that is extremely lazy.
I used to think “those dog owners” were obnoxious, but clothing is actually a necessity for some dogs.
Günter starts shivering anytime it gets under 65 degrees, so the sweaters help.
Gunter is a two year old Chiweenie (half chihuahua, half dachshund).
This particular sweater is from Walmart.
I got it for $4 on sale.
Gunter is a two year old Chiweenie (half chihuahua, half dachshund).
While certain boutiques in St. Paul charge exorbitant prices, most major retailers like Target and Walmart have decent dog clothes for under $15.
I’m also not one of “those dog owners” who splurges on dog clothing. Who does that?
Gunter is a two year old Chiweenie (half chihuahua, half dachshund).
Hugo went from an awkward puppy that excitedly pees on our neighbors’ legs to an awkward young dog that eats our socks. This is progress.
Hugo, a Labrador and Greyhound (?) mix.
This is particularly challenging because many people go out of their way to greet Hugo, and almost all of them think the jumping thing is adorable.
Hugo, a Labrador and Greyhound (?) mix.
To complicate matters, I typically juggle my dog leashes with a coffee cup or cellphone in one hand, which isn’t ideal for control. What usually happens is that end up spilling coffee all over myself while attempting to keep Hugo off of an overexcited Lowertown tourist.
Hugo, a Labrador and Greyhound (?) mix.
The adoption papers from the Animal Humane Society listed Hugo as a Labrador mix, but didn’t really specify what the mix was.
Initially, everyone assumed that the brindle color must be a pitbull indication, but we suspect that Hugo is actually a Lab and Greyhound mix.
He’s developing an increasingly narrow frame and looks very similar to the brindle greyhounds living on our floor. So that could be it, right?
Hugo, a Labrador and Greyhound (?) mix.
We’ll likely have a better idea of what Hugo is after he’s fully grown. For now, we’ll leave the paternity speculation to Maury.
The majority of these people seem to wander over from the homeless shelter across town or from the bus stops on Minnesota Street.
That’s why call them tourists.
We have just arrived in at the park when one of our neighbors approaches us. She’s a short blond woman who owns a dachshund.
Like most of our neighbors, we recognize her dog, but have no clue what her name is.
Neighbor: “Sorry if this is weird, but can I borrow one of your phones to call the police? I forgot mine.”
Me: “Uh…sure…what…what’s going on?”
Neighbor: “There’s this guy over there passed out in the middle of the sidewalk. I talked to him and he’s completely out of it. He’s drunk.”
I walk to the center of the park and see a middle aged white guy sleeping on a backpack near the Galtier Tower.
His drunk mumbling instantly brought me back to my RA days, herding passed out freshmen.
Our passed out friend hears the sirens and springs to life. He’s already propped up on the railing of the fountain when the fire truck swings around the corner.
About six paramedics jump out of the firetruck. We point them toward the drunkard.
The paramedics briefly talk to the drunk guy and then stroll back to the truck while rolling their eyes. This guy is obviously not worth their time.
A St. Paul Police squad car pulls onto the sidewalk as the paramedics leave. A police officer briefly chats up the drunk guy and eventually tells him to move along.
By this time about a dozen of our neighbors are huddled around us with their dogs, intently watching the cop car.
I was surprised that the cop initially let this guy go in the first place, given how drunk he was. Two weeks ago we saw 6 or 7 cops swarm a black guy who was drinking beer in the park.
The now-awake guy walks toward the Bulldog Restaurant on the other side of the park. He reaches the corner of the park just as the fire truck rounds the corner.
The drunk guy starts screaming at the fire truck. We all watch as the cop jumps in his car, speeds 50 feet across the park, hops out, and slaps handcuffs on the drunk guy who he should have arrested in the first place.
We begin telling the drunkard arrest story to one of our neighbors when we notice a cop car on 5th Street.
The squad car screeches to a halt near the bus stop across from the park.
Two cops get of the squad car and a black guy immediately starts running down the street. The cops chase after the guy as he screams “PLEASE! PLEASE! DON’T SHOOT ME!”
The cops get the guy on the ground but he keeps screaming. Backup squad cars materialize and soon we have about six cops on the street.
Predictably, the lights and commotion attracts a bunch of our dog walking neighbors.
They gather around us just in time to watch the cops pull a gun off the guy and place it in an evidence bag before throwing him in the back of a squad car.
St. Paul police officers arresting someone in Mears Park.
Shortly after the last squad car left, another Mears Park regular walks up to us. He lives by the nearby Wacouta Commons Park and owns a bug-eyed Chihuahua.
Me: “You missed the show.”
Wacouta Guy: “Oh?”
Me: “Yep. Someone was just arrested at the bus stop. He had a gun.”
Wacouta Guy: “Ugh. I came to this park to get away from that kind of show. I just called the cops before the dog walk — a guy was getting beat up by a group in front of my condo.”
Great.
Stay classy, St. Paul.