Tag Archives: Puppy

How Much is that Doggie in the Window?

As the More is More Mom®, I’m all about…….more celebrating Wrigley’s birthday! This week commemorates his 8th birthday. Milk Bones and rawhide for everyone!


Wrigley as a pup

How much is that doggie in the window?

Well, actually, we didn’t find him in a shop window. Perhaps you can tell by just looking at his perfectly square, regal head and his beautiful, angelic face that Wrigley is, of course, a pure bred Chocolate Labrador Retriever. In other words, he hails from…….Wisconsin. I mean really, for a dog this special (read: NAUGHTY, but lovable) one must pay top dollar and travel five hours round trip by automobile. One of our most favorite things about him, other than his charming, winning, dear, sweet and funny personality, is his enormous block head. It is so big that people frequently mistake him for a Rottweiler. While he is my baby, I am thrilled to pieces that I didn’t actually give birth to him the old fashioned way, because that head would certainly have been a real deal breaker as it made its way through the birth canal. I have nightmares just thinking about it!

At the tender age of 8 (56 in dog years…he’s older than both of his parents!) he is just as naughty now as he ever was when he was just a pup…..which is plenty naughty. When he was a little guy, I would always tell him that if he didn’t shape up I would take him to Chinatown where they would make Moo Shu Wrigley out of him; at nearly 100lbs that would have been some pretty good eating.

One of Wrigley’s favorite past times is to swipe things that don’t belong to him. He’s surprisingly quiet and cat like for such a moose of an animal. He loooooves it, almost as much as a good belly rub (and who doesn’t love a good belly rub?), when you chase him around in circles after he steals something. Oh, he lets me know when it’s go time. The chase is on, when out of the blue, I hear an enormous thud upstairs, and then I hear him tear down the hallway. He’s got something that doesn’t belong to him, and he can’t wait for me to find out what it is! Sometimes he does these things for the sport of it and other times he just can’t help himself. Once, when Amanda was little, we were having lunch while we watched one of Nick’s baseball games. She was eating a lovely sandwich, made from very thinly sliced left over filets, while sitting in a folding chair. Before we knew it, Wrigley had quietly snuck his enormous head between the chair and the armrest and was nibbling at her sandwich from the underside. She never saw him coming.

Like any good Lab, Wrigley’s been up to plenty of mischief during his first eight years. He once ate the arm rest off of the door of our car, down to the metal stud. Twice he has eaten a tray of brownies, which the vet’s office informed me was not a lethal dosage for an animal of his size. When I inquired what would be a lethal amount, they did not respond, and I think they may have reported me to DPFS (Department of Puppy and Family Services). Seriously, when I brought him in for his 11 week check up, the doctor was running behind schedule due to an unexpected bunny rabbit emergency. When I told them I couldn’t wait any longer because I had to pick up my human children from school, they said I could leave Wrigley with them for his check up, but that he was so darn cute he might not be there when I returned. I told them, “Don’t make any promises you’re not willing to keep.” Those animal lovers are crazy! I once had to bring them a stool sample and they thought nothing of the fact that I had dog poop in my Kate Spade purse. I am quite sure Ms. Kate Spade had never intended her beautifully crafted handbags to be used to carry doggie stool samples. Wrigley was such a holy terror when he was a little pup that I cried nearly every day for the first six months. Chuck would tell me, “If you want to, we can give him away.” Between sobs I would tell him, “Of –course- I- want-to-give-him-a-way-but-he-lives-here-now.” 

He has gnawed through the telephone cord, while I was talking on the phone. He ate a Burning Bush, one branch at a time. When he didn’t die right away, I prayed that it was a slow releasing poisonous bush, which it was not. He ate all of the bark, strip by strip, off of our beautiful Crimson King Maple tree. It went in to shock and died. He ripped entire sheets of lattice off of our deck. When he would dig holes in the back yard, and all you could see were his hind quarters, I would tell him, “Go ahead and keep digging. It’s just about deep enough to be your grave.” One time he was angry with me because I put up the gate to keep him near me in the kitchen, and just to spite me he went and took a bite out of my favorite Puma gym shoes, and brought the piece over to me and dropped it at my feet. But I think my favorite naughty Wrigley story would be when he spent the night at my parent’s house and while George slept on the couch (because Wrigley was peacefully sleeping next to my mom on George’s side of the bed, and George did not want to disturb him) Wrigley stole his teeth! My mom heard a strange clank, clank, crunch sound and made the unpleasant discovery that George’s denture plate was gone! She pried open Wrigley’s mouth, and stuck her hand inside to find that he had already dropped it on the floor. Thankfully there wasn’t any damage; they were just covered in gooey, slimy, dog slobber. Apparently Wrigley hasn’t read any of Emily Post’s etiquette advice on how to be a good houseguest.


Hobbs 6 months, Wrigley 1 year

But more than anything……Wrigley is a lover. He has a girlfriend, Genevieve. When she’s not outside, he’ll meander to her house and tap at her front door until her mom, my friend Missy, either lets Gen out, or allows Wrigley in. His best friend in the entire world, however, is Hobbs who lives next door. They have been pals since they were puppies. Hobbs is a Golden Retriever by birth (meaning normal), but is an honorary Lab through friendship. He certainly holds his own when Wrigley, The Bull, comes charging at him at top speed. Hobbs is a true friend.


Nana and Wrigley

He loves his Nana, my mom, in a completely bizarre and unnatural way (though she totally encourages his obsession). At the mere mention of her name the drooling, the whimpering and the pacing begins. He reverberates with excitement! Nothing trumps his Nana.


I’ve never had a dog before and had absolutely no idea the kind of love you can feel for an animal. To me Wrigley is not just a dog, he is my baby. When people ask how many children I have I say three; my son Nicholas, my daughter Amanda and my furry son Wrigley……….I am now one of those crazy dog people.

Wrigley represents the very best parts of our family; love, affection, a sense of adventure, loyalty, devotion, adoration and satisfaction. He plays hard and he loves hard. He enjoys everything with such complete freedom and abandon; swimming at the quarry, sticking he head out the window when we go bye-bye in the car (someone always gives him a window seat), the vigor with which he takes off for our runs in a dead sprint (nearly taking my arm out of its socket every single time), the way he flies down the stairs when he hears the garage door open, and he hesitates for just a moment at the window in our Living Room to make sure it’s us, before he meets us at the door, and the way he enjoys and appreciates a fine meal.


Amanda, Wrigley and Nick; February, 2003


Christmas, 2009

When we first got Wrigley he was seven weeks old, Amanda was seven years old and Nick was ten. Soon Nick will be heading off to college and Amanda will be driving. Where did the years go?


Wrigley's most distinguised portrait, December, 2006

This is Wrigley, our beloved dog who has never missed a meal, a chance to go bye-bye in the car, never turned down an invitation to go for a run, never met a stranger, never missed an opportunity to nudge a guest in the crotch or ask for a belly rub. This is Wrigley….this is love…….Happy Birthday!!

More loyalty, more love, more devotion, more family……..



Filed under Family Life, More is More Mom, my furry son, Wrigley

Wrigley Loved his “Pup-accino” from Starbucks…

Wrigley……he’s my wingman.

One of his very favorite things to do is to go bye-bye in the car. Back in the good old days, when he was just a pup, he went everywhere with us. Wrigley would accompany us to the ice rink for all of Nicky’s hockey games and practices (before a mean poodle nibbled at a kid and management was forced to ban all dogs from the rink. Darn poodle! Ruining it for the rest of us.). When he was just two months old he would fall asleep in my arms like a baby, and the parents and kids would just pass him around. When the boys would take the ice he would bark, and Nick would beam with pride. Everyone thought we were crazy dog people (NO…just crazy Wrigley people.).

Nicky played baseball forever, so Wrigley became accustomed to attending 60 games a season. One of his coaches was great fun, and when none of the dads were available, he would allow me to sit in the dugout with Wrigley and score the game. It was awesome! Wrigley would roll around in the clay, getting completely filthy and dusty. He loved it (Okay, I loved it even more. I am smitten with this animal.)! I would always insist on bringing Wrigley with us no matter the weather. I maintained that we got him to be a part of our family, not to sit home alone in a crate. Being the huge baseball fan that he was, Wrigley would attend all of the games, even those in the blistering summer heat. The poor thing would crawl under my legs, trying to find a sliver of shade, and hide from the little kids that always wanted to pet him. Ah…..what fun!

But these days, life is pretty boring for Wrigley here in the cul-de-sac. Nick hasn’t played baseball for three years, and his kind is no longer permitted at the rink. So what is a dog to do? The best he could possibly hope for is a ride in the car……..

Well, yesterday my Wingman took a ride with me to drop Chuck off at the train, and Amanda at school. On our way home, we ran through the Starbucks drive thru to get my morning time beverage of choice; a hot chocolate (evenings are reserved for wine, and I think it’s a miracle I can wait that long). I really wish I were more like a grown up and enjoyed a cup of coffee, but I don’t. So, like a five year old I order hot chocolate, even in the summer. The Barista always looks at me like I’m a simpleton, not comprehending for a moment that an adult would be drinking a hot chocolate, especially in the summer heat…..

We pulled up to the window, Wrigley with his gi-normous head resting on the door, enjoying the warmth of the sun. All of the sudden he perked up, thinking that we were at the bank (a very nice place that dispenses treats to good little doggies. Actually, our bank permits dogs inside the building, so we frequently take a run to downtown Winsome to execute our banking transactions. You can only imagine the startled and surprised looks we get from both patrons and bank employees!). Wrigley was very hopeful that he might get a treat at the Starbucks window. I inquired as to whether or not Starbucks passed out dog treats, and the very nice gal replied that they no longer did, by order of the Health Department (don’t those people know that the mouths of dogs are cleaner than the mouths of humans? Or is that just a myth?). However, she asked if my dog might enjoy a cup of whipped cream? This guy has eaten bark off a tree, lattice off of our deck, a piece out of my shoe, Barbie’s hand, the arm rest off the door of my car…..yeah, I think he’d like a cup of whipped cream. As she handed it to me she declared, “Here’s your Pup-accino.”

He was so excited that he started to drool (I completely understand. I feel that way when I hit the jack pot at TJ Maxx and More, or any place else I find a steal for that matter.).Wrestling a 92 lb Labrador all the way home while you are driving an enormous SUV is no simple feet. I gave him the coveted cup of whipped cream in our driveway and let him have at it. Ah bliss………..

In a matter of seconds it was all over. Wrigley thoroughly enjoyed his Pup-accino from Starbucks, and is anxiously anticipating, More…….


Filed under More is More Mom