Visitors!

Max has been having a few visitors since he moved in with us. People have a hard time resisting to his charm and who could blame them?

I have to say I'm quite proud of my little guy, he's been doing quite well with taking *most* of his business outside, he comes when we call him, he sits and since yesterday, he lays down too!

This past Sunday, he got to meet Niclas' brother's dog Ludde (does it make them some sort of weird cousins?). We'll be dogsitting Ludde next week, so we thought it would be a good thing to slowly introduce them to each other and see how they react. It went rather well, even if Ludde might not realise how strong he is, but it didn't deter Max who kept going for the ears. Tsk tsk.

Ludde thought it would be funny to blow a strawberry on Max' belly.

Max seemed to disagree and showed his discontent by nibbling on Ludde's snout.

Yesterday, Max had another playmate visiting who took it upon itself to play hide and seek in our yard.

I bet he cannot see me here!

And... random adorable picture of the day!

Oh no! He's coming to steal my cookies!!

Joyeuse St-Jean Baptiste!

Passez une superbe St-Jean Baptiste!

Même Max se joint aux célébrations!

(St-Jean Baptiste, celebrated on June 24th, is Québec's National Day. The blue and white flag with the white heraldic lilies is Québec's flag).

Welcome Home, Max!

After about 2 months of waiting and 2 hours of car, Max is finally home!
He was very quiet and well behaved in the car (for the most part).

Have you noticed his eyes? They went from blue to green! They will change one last time and turn brown within a few weeks (or a few days?). II find it quite fascinating (and very pretty, although I wish they could stay blue or green, but he will be as gorgeous with brown eyes, of course).

Aside from marking Niclas' mother's rug as his own, he has been very good so far with doing his business outside. Then again, I've spent quite some time with him in the grass. I think he was having quite a blast! He has fallen asleep just outside the door when Niclas tried to take him for a walk, so I moved him inside his crate.

He looks so tiny in his big crate. Soon enough, he's going to fill it up pretty well.

Little Max also received a parting gift from his mother Saga. A green toy to chew to his heart's content and a few cookies for when he has been a good boy.

 Canagold's Nassak (Max' official name). Good luck in your new home! Hugs from mamma Saga

In less than 24 hours...

... this collar will be around a little puppy's neck! Can you guess who that neck belongs to?

What's in a Name?

I’m sure you’ve been torturing yourself with “but how did they come up with this name?!”. Well, my friend, ponder no more as the answer will come shortly.

I suspect that most families welcoming a new member will spend a good amount of time about figuring out who they will call them. Personally, I thought I had it all figured out ever since Beetho passed away.

Chopin: A few months after we all survived the terrible disaster of the 2000 bug, I moved to the big city and, given that we were forbidden to have a dog in the apartment, we settled for a little kitty. Beethoven was alive and well at the time. He had been given that name by the owner of his parents and while it was probably inspired by a movie with a giant St. Bernard, we took it as the composer. Thus, kitty was known as Mozart. I thought it would be pretty cool to continue this musical tradition and, after some thinking (and the fact that Bach and Tchaikovsky are just awful dog names), picked Chopin. From that day on, I looked forward to meeting Chopin. When I moved to Sweden, I was doing all I could to get Chopin, but things got in the way: at first we didn’t have our own place, then we moved to the third floor of an apartment buildings, etc. In consolation, I’d give any virtual dogs in games the name of Chopin. Then after many years of sighing and longing, we finally moved to a house. It was time to get Chopin!

Then I realised that… We always shorten names, no matter what, so it would be natural for Chopin to be abbreviated sometimes. Chopin was a very nice and fine name when pronounced in French. “Viens ici mon Chocho!” doesn’t sound too bad, right? Let’s try in English “Come here, Chop Chop”. In Swedish? “Kom här Shop Shop”. Ugh. ACK! My name was ruined! Enfer et damnation!

With my head low, I started thinking of a new name.

Doctor: I love Doctor Who and a dog named Doctor sounded pretty cool. It would also go well with my parent’s dog Mister B. Instead of “Play dead!” I could command him to “Regenerate!”. There was also the old Bugs Bunny quote of “What’s up, Doc?” upon which my dog would give me his paw. Niclas was not too fond of it and I fear that most of the fun jokes would have been lost upon most people.

Maple: Given that the Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retriever has roots in the province of Nova Scotia in Canada, I thought Maple would be an awesome name. Maple trees can be red (the dog is red!) and it is an obvious symbol of Canada (just look at the flag if you are in doubts). Sadly, everyone I spoke to said it was a bitch name, so I had to give up my little Maple. Actually, I might just store it away because I still think it’s a great name.

Spirou: The red haired groom/journalist came up at some point as I love comic books. We seemed to be both quite taken by the name. However, it lasted only for 24 hours and we were back to wondering what to call the dog.

Bobby: Bobby would have been in honour of Greyfriars Bobby. I found that story so touching when we visited Scotland that I told myself I would name a dog Bobby one day. The problem is that I’m not too fond of the name and that Bobby is also a common nickname of Niclas’ middle name. It might have made things a little weird! You can read about Bobby’s devotion here: The tale of Greyfriars Bobby

Maximilien Le Woof: We were eating dinner and talking about names. Out of the blue, I said Max. Niclas looked at me and cheerfully said that it was a very good name. I was a bit unsure, but it did sound good. However, I couldn’t have a dog whose name is only Max. So I elaborated it. Max is short for Maximus, Maximilien… Wait a sec, that one sounds pretty good! It actually sounds a bit noble too. Then it needs a proper last name! Woof is doggish enough. De Woof? Von Woof? Le Woof? It was a bit of a tie between De and Le, but you know the result.

Max' Predecessors

I've had a couple of dogs in my life, which is both good and bad. It's good because I have nice memories with lots of little friends. It's bad because it means that they left us a bit too quickly in most cases.

Now, the timeline is a bit vague in my head, but I'll do my best to not be too confusing.

Cheeko

He was my very first dog, a lovely black Labrador puppy that we got when I was perhaps 9 or 10 years old. He spent what I hope were 3 happy months with us, but he passed away after a very sudden illness. My parents even paid for a surgery to try and save him, but he didn't make it. I don't remember him much, except for the walk we took with him on the day of his operation. It was my mother, my sister and I in the parking lot behind the clinic. We took pictures, but the films were bad and they never produced anything.

Belle

Belle was an older schnauzer that needed a home. My mother heard about her workplace and she took her home one day. When I saw her for the first time, I thought she was the ugliest dog alive. Black, grey and white with a weird little beard/moustache... The funny thing is that it has become my favourite breed and my heart melts each time I see one of these little guys.

She was perhaps 7-9 years old when we got her and she stayed with us, sleeping on her blue cushion in the kitchen, for what I think were a few years. She was smart and a sneaky little devil. Our backyard was fenced and we would let her out, thinking that she was safe and happy to do her own things. We found out some time later that she had dug a hole and would escape for an hour or so to go explore the neighbourhood. How did we find it out? A neighbour told us that he had seen her walking around on her own a few times, and that this car had almost hit her. Silly doggy...

But she grew old, as all dogs do, and her health declined. Something a child might not always take notice of.

I would sometimes go visit some cousins for a few days in the summer... we'd do an exchange of some sort and that time, my cousin Hugo was swapped in my place. When I came back, I was told that they had given her away to a nice lady living on a farm, so Belle would be able to run freely despite losing her sight and that she would be much happier there to live her old days. I was heartbroken that I couldn't even tell her goodbye... and it wasn't until many years later that I learned that my parents had to actually put her away because of her health. I think that was in 1993.

There's a box at home in Canada with a bunch of old pictures and a few things that belonged to her. I think I'll have to remember to pack it the next time I visit.

Buddy

My father had decided against the three of us (who were rooting for a Schnauzer) and he bought a Boxer around the beginning of 1994 from some biker guy in Montréal (I think?).

Buddy was quite a lot of fun and he was hilarious when he was happy for visitors. Each time we had visitor, you could see this huge dog twisting himself in two with his tiny bit of tail wagging like mad. He was very friendly and used to sleep in the hallway between our rooms. The problem was that he snored. Loudly. And he farted too. Stinklingly and loudly as well.

I remember walking him one day and a little kid came along (he was perhaps 5 or 6 years old and I was about 14). The kid looked happy and came to greet Buddy. Well, that big thing was ecstatic at the prospect of a new friend, so before I could do anything, he got up on his back legs and put his front legs on the shoulders of the tiny kid who had no choice but to fall backward in the grass and... thankfully laughing his head off as Buddy's tongue tickled his cheeks.

We had Buddy for about a year. My dad developed allergies due to his very short hair (he travelled a lot back then, so it took about a year for my parents to make the connection between the symptoms and the cause). My mother managed to find him a great new home, so I'm hopefully that he spent many happy years after his stay with us.

Beethoven, aka Beetho

I'm not too sure when we got Beetho, but I guess around 1997. He was a schnauzer like Belle (we won over dad this time, mostly as we knew his allergies wouldn't be a problem with that breed). He was very sweet and a big idiot. I loved him with all my heart. I think this is the dog that I felt the most about, probably because I was also older (16-17 when we got him).

That's the dog who managed to get sprayed by a skunk on one tiny area of his body - exactly where he had his stitched... silly Beetho.

He would have lived with me in Montréal when I moved out, had the landlord not forbidden dogs in the apartment building. I missed him dearly for the whole year and would take him for walks each time I visited home... until my mother told me she had to put him down a week or so after my birthday (2001). I was devastated, but I know she was heartbroken as well. She's loved each of these dogs as much as I have and it is never an easy choice to make. She had to think of his well-being first and poor Beetho had been sick a lot during his short life. He had allergies which made him bite his paws until they bled. He was treated almost daily with some cortisone cream or pill I think. Then he had frequent ears infections and he even had two operations to try and solve that, to no avail. In the end, we also found out that he had an enlarged heart, which explained why he ran out of breath so often on his walks and would just plump himself down on the grass. It was when he started having bumps and the vet said it might be cancer, that my mother decided that the poor thing had already suffered enough in his life.

Thinking about him always brings tears to my eyes because I still miss him and I wish he had had the chance to get the long happy life that he truly deserved.

His red scarf is in that box. Dang, I really need to get it back.

Mr B

This isn't actually my dog and I've only had the immense pleasure of meeting him for a mere 3 weeks last summer (2010), but he's such an amazing dog! He's my mother's Schnauzer and he should be about 2 years old as she bought him a month or two after one of my visits (spring 2009). I was a bit miffed, because I would have loved to spend time with a schnauzer puppy, but I can't really blame her as it wasn't really planned.

She fell in love with his cute little snout at a pet shop and the rest is history.

Well, this turned out into quite a wall of text. I hope no one is snoring like Buddy by now!

Next up: the origins of Max' name.

Meet Max - Part 2

The ride takes about 1.40 hour each way, but it has been worth it both times. On saturday, I was in puppy heaven with seven absolutely adorable toller puppies, one of which will soon be wrecking havoc in our house in a few weeks.

The puppies loved my sandales.

Ah yes, which one is Max? We finally found out so now we can scroll through all their pictures and sigh happily each time his little snout pops up.

So, Max was born on my birthday and... wears my favourite colour as his collar (look at the banner if you need a clue).

Don't you just want to cuddle him?

He's the calmer of the two little guys, which is why the nice lady chose him for us - Niclas' brother and his girlfriend have bought a toller as well and she thought it would be easier for us if we got the milder puppy. Mind you, he still has energy, but he seems to be nicer with his siblings. Mister grey has quite the itchy teeth! Given that Ludde (their dog) is very much enclined to bite, I think we're both happy that Max will (hopefully) not be as bad *knocks on wood*.

A few more pictures of sir Le Woof. The next ones should come around midsummer (St-Jean Baptiste pour mes chers Québécois).

Max at around 5.5 weeks old (June 22nd, 2011)

First look at Maximilien Le Woof

Well, this is it. We are getting a puppy!
Please, meet Maximilien Le Woof, a little Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retriever who was actually born on my birthday (talk about fate!).

Isn't he just adorable?

What do you mean which one? That one there, the one fighting with his little brother!
Still not obvious enough? Well... that's the best I can do at the moment as we haven't been told which one of these little trouble-making males we are getting. We were lucky enough to get one to begin with, so we aren't picky. See, both males have white fur on back of their necks, which automatically disqualifies them from exhibitions, so some people decided to wait instead. Ha! Their loss, because these little guys are going to be pure awesomeness on top on being gorgeous.

That picture, a still from a video hence the poor quality, was taken back on May 22nd when they were about 3.5 weeks old. We are about to head out again to see them and hopefully find out if it's the one to the left or to the right that will earn the noble name of Max. I mean, Maximilien Le Woof, of course.