Puppies and Christmas trees

I dreaded introducing Max to a Christmas tree. The years of collecting ornaments old and new being destroyed by my boisterous spazoid. I never had a puppy around Christmas. I got one for Christmas when I got married, but that's when my ornaments were hand me down left over crap or yardsale finds.
Nothing so far. The tree is up, lights and most of the ornaments.
For anyone out there that is having the same anxiety as me, let me share my trick to you.
I put the tree where it needs to be. I let Max check it out and after a few weird sounds to scare him away from drinking the tree water, he was good.
Now the lights. Ugh. Not like I already dread this process. I have OCD with my tree and lights are my enemy.  Max on the other hand is in love with them. I plugged them in before putting them up abd he was enamored.  He watched intensely as I wrapped the tree. Then came the set of lights that I couldn't decide to put up with him. The singing bells.
They flashed to the music abd it was loud. I closed my eyes as I turned the lights on. His face wrinkled,  ears pointing straight up and head bobbing side to side. That was it. No tree diving. No barking. No"  I must kill this beast and protect mommy."
Just absolute confusion.
We are currently on day 4 and and the most he has done was gnaw on a branch and sleep endlessly under the tree.
I may even put a hat on him and take a picture.
I will keep you posted on the dog and his tree.

What fresh hell is this?

Ok. So maybe I'm in denial that Max is a pitador or labrabull.  However you want to spin it. Let's just call him what he really is. A super genius asshole. I know puppies have a tendency to have spurt of spazztastic hyperness. Cool. What I never heard of until recently is a pit-fit. This is not a normal energy burst. Max tore through the house for 3straight glorious hours of smiles and high speed chases all by himself. No one was chasing him. He wasn't chasing anything. He was acting as if someone was trying to light his ads on fire as he dropped his back end and hauled ass past everyone leaping over us like a gazelle. While we humans looked on in awe and delight, poor Sadie was trying really hard to not have a heart attack. Her chocolate saucer sized eyeballs watched on in horror.
At one point, Max plowed his little body into my arm and knocked me over as I was sitting on the floor. I dropped in pain because the impact restored the pain from a previous injury. I laid on the floor moaning and whining in pain. Max stopped instantly knowing mommy was crying and ran to me to try and fix it. I continued, and he did everything from digging at my skull, to drilling his nose into my ear. When all this failed. He did the one thing he knew would get my attention.... planting his balls. On my head.
He is so lucky I love him to the ends of the world.

New Adventures

What was I thinking?
Was this my mid life crisis?
With my youngest in full teenage mode, I was feeling a bit out of sorts and neglected. No longer was I needed for simple things. No hanging out. This left a void. I tried to deal with this void, but like a nagging in law, it was always around.
After our needy asshole cat MoJo suddenly passed away in September, I was left with the realization that this void I'm feeling is not going away. Sadie is awesome. Our beloved 9year old lab is way too independent and too much of a daddy's girl.
I'm alone. Enter the Max.
Now his breed is and probably will be an argument for eternity, I wad told he is a chowsky/shepherd, pitbull. He's not a husky. Nor is he a shepherd or chow. I have had owned or experienced these. Pitbull.... gasp! I know NOTHING about this dog other than they get a bad rep.

See. Maximus Glutimus (big ass) or  "Max", was meant for me. Not our family, me. It sounds selfish, but for once I was given the task in life to feel needed and appreciation followed that need.
Max was 12 weeks old when I rescued him.the person I got him from gave me an elaborate story about his abused beginnings from the hand of someone else. I have discovered over this past month, it was probably from the family themselves. Max is high maintenance. If you don't do your research on breeds, buy a fish. I knew nothing of pitbull or boxers as I am a gentle giant dog lover. Not a hard working dog lover. (I have done my homework and seek advice since day 1).
The night I brought my boy home my first thought was conFessor. How was she going to take to another dog. She has always been the only one in her life. Their first encountered memorable.  Her ears perked up and her tail tagged. She was apprehensive yet excited over this mini me version of her. I knew instantly he was going to take A LOT of work and love to make him the dog he truly is. A lover and cuddler.  In month time, I have worked feverishly to house break him. Teach basic commands like sit and stay. Let him know the difference between good touch and bad touch. When he first came here, all touch was bad and he either recoiled in fear or snarled like he was going to attack.

One month. My baby Max loves his humans and his big sister Sadie. In one month, he and Sadie are inseparable.  They rough house. They argue. They cuddle. They share their food. God forbid I discipline Max in front if Sadie. She is right there to stare me down. And yet, never having the chance to raise a litter of her own, Sadie is an excellent mother to him by not letting Max get away with crap.
So now, I have a reason to blog good things again. The void in me is now filled with the tiring, yet amazing adventure of these two books I call my fur babies. My goals for this blog are
1. To share my experience on rehabilitating an abused dog, and getting insight and advice from others.
2. To share this awesome hilarious choice in my life that these two cornballs  have brought into our lives.