To market Scotties will go...

[caption id="attachment_2979" align="alignnone" width="500"]Bath-1 Now this is my idea of a relaxing day at the spa...[/caption]

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="500"]Bath-5 Don't mind me, Scottie Mom. I'm staying clear of the water![/caption]

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="500"]Bath-3 Whoever said rubber duckies were oh-so-fun wasn't telling the truth.[/caption]

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="500"]Bath-4 Rubber duckies are never very much fun...[/caption]

[caption id="attachment_2980" align="alignnone" width="500"]Bath-2 Phew! Glad that's over with. Now, where's my treat?[/caption]

Last week, we decided to stop by the city of Brookhaven to visit City Dog Market, home of the best do-it-yourself dog washing station I have found yet. It had been months since we had gone to market (see photos here of Heather and Mr. K's last visit!). I'll admit, this Scottie Mom has gotten incredibly lazy about bathing the Scotties lately, opting to take them for full grooms and paying for the higher price tag these past few months instead of putting in a little elbow grease. With home improvement projects about the new Scottie House galore, it just seemed like a fair trade off for the work I was doing around the house. But who am I kidding? I've never been a fan of having to bathe the dogs myself so the choice to get full grooms was certainly an easy one!

As the years go on, however, and these two get even more expressive about how much they enjoy (or don't) their baths, how can I not cherish these bonding moments that also happen to give me some pretty cute photos to share (and save me on average about $60 per visit)? The do-it-yourself dog washing station at City Dog Market is set up so that Heather and Mr. K can easily trot their way up the stairs (then try to zoomie back down once they realize there is a tub at the top of the stairs). The waist-level tub height makes it so much easier on my back since I no longer have to crouch by the tub at home. Plus, I'm pretty sure Mr. K and Heather prefer this set up, too. What Scottie wouldn't like to peruse the aisles of the market and select their treat(s) of choice after the torment of a dreaded bath?

Scottie House Project: Half Bath

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="500"]Half-Bath-3 Scottie Mom, look there - you missed a spot![/caption]

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="500"]Half-Bath-4 Scottie Mom says I was her inspiration for the design.[/caption]

[caption id="attachment_2991" align="alignnone" width="500"]Half-Bath-1 Forget bird bath. This is a Scottie bath![/caption]

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="500"]Half Bath A snapshot of when Mr. K and I began the project, and another one when we finished.[/caption]

When life gets a little tough, it's nice to have Scottie House projects to keep you busy. Over the past few weeks, the fur kids and I have been moving from room to room working on various home improvement projects and surprisingly, they each have been rather therapeutic. Mr. K was project manager of our very first paint job in the Scottie House: the half bath on the main floor. He selected the color because it was a close match to the color of his very first collar purchased shortly after he was rescued from Pets, Inc. Mr. K kept a close eye on things, letting me know when certain spots needed a little extra work and when it was time to pack up for the day. After all, a Scottie Mom can't spend all day on house projects...when's a Scottie supposed to eat and play? A job well done, Mr. K - you did good work!

Project: International Scottie Love

When I started, my purpose was to share my pups' health scares in order to continue my quest for some answers with the help of fellow Scottie Moms. What has become of the site is something much bigger than that simple task. has since evolved into an international community of Scottie lovers, eager to read the adventures of the Scottie Mom crew and happy to share stories of their own. And this Scottie Mom is loving every minute of it!

So, here's what I propose: let's meet the pups behind every Scottie Mom and Dad from around the world and see how many countries we find Scotties living in. Submit your photo, the name of your Scottish Terrier and the country you live by posting to the Scottie Mom Facebook page or emailing us. If you're located in the United States, let us know in which state you reside. To date, we've collected over 200 photos of Scotties around the world and across the U.S. 

Wonder what the most popular place for Scotties to live is (outside the United States)? Based on the number of Scotties we've had introduce themselves from around the world, that place is Peru! No less than 35 Scotties from Peru have come forward to showcase their International Scottie Love. Not far behind them is South Africa, with 23 Scotties showing off their cute selves! Tied for third place is Scotland and Canada, each having five Scottie representatives at this time from their country in our International Scottie Love competition. Think your country's got Peru beat? Send us photos!

Our stateside friends have introduced us to hundreds of Scotties so far. More than 30 U.S. states and terrier-tories are represented. California leads the way with 12 Scottish Terrier representatives and Virginia is just three Scotties away from taking the lead as the most popular state. Florida is in third place with 10 Scottie representatives and behind them are Texas and Washington tied at six Scottie representatives. Let's see if we can find Scottish Terriers living in every state!

A Trip to Burger Park

What is this place, Scottie Mom?
It's a glorious place for back scratchin's, that's for sure!
Mr. K doing a few laps around the park with Scottie Dad.
What's this? Mr. K was allowed to be off-leash for good behavior?!
He even made a new friend...
...but, like any good brother, he didn't forget about me.
And together, we finished the play date by sharing a nice, cool drink!

Sounds of Silence

When I was a little girl, many years before I became a Scottie Mom, there weren't many sounds of silence whenever my grandfather was around. That man loved to talk and I loved to listen. And when he wasn't talking, he was shuffling about his house, taking care of some chore or another while humming, whistling or singing a tune (usually, "Oh My Darling, Clementine"). When he caught me looking at him and listening in, he would break out a smile I'm sure no one could refuse to return. Over the years, I spent countless hours listening to that man talk...about the weather, about what he was going to have for dinner, about grandma and about life in general.

Each time I found myself on his front door, I was greeted with a heartfelt, "Hi, sweetheart! How are ya?" For the first 14 years of my life, the greeting was accompanied with a great, big hug. When we moved hours away, I lost the hug but I got the sound of surprise in his voice every time I called - even if I called every week - when he heard me say, "Hi, Papa!" I didn't have to say who I was. He knew my voice and I knew his. I made an effort to visit Rhode Island, my childhood home state, once a year after the move and every time I did, I always found myself winding up at the one place I could go where nothing would have changed: Papa's house. There was something very comforting about sitting in his kitchen, listening to him ramble on about nothing in particular.

Three days ago, Papa and I talked for the very last time. There was no mention of the weather, of what he'd have for dinner or any of the usual topics of conversation. This time, I called knowing it was my time to talk and his time to listen. The cancer had taken too much for him to be able to say much of anything and I was warned I may not even get a response but to rest assured that he could hear me. I held the phone close and I said, "Hi, Papa." Then, came the sound of silence...Just when I started to continue talking, I heard him breathe, "Hi, Mandy." The words didn't come out clear and they were hardly audible but they were enough to make me smile. I told him I loved him about three or four times - the only thing I could think to say - and much to my surprise, he said it back. Again, very faintly and barely understandable but he had said it and that's all I needed.

And with that, our conversation was over. Undoubtedly, it was the shortest conversation we ever had. And though it was mostly filled with silence, it was by far one of the most meaningful. I will never let go of the memory of that last call when words couldn't fill the silence and we were forced to say everything we wanted to without the formalities of casual conversation and small talk. Papa passed on less than 24 hours after that last call. He left to be reunited with my grandmother - his wife of 56 years - who just left us nine months ago. And though I suspect it will take me a long while to get used to the sounds of silence that will come with his passing, I bet the two of them have a lot of catching up to do and I take comfort knowing that he'll have someone to talk to about the weather, about what's for dinner and even about the life he built and the family that still longs for him here on Earth. Rest in peace, Papa. With love, your Sweetheart.

Mastering the Stairs

[caption id="attachment_2757" align="alignnone" width="500"]You all right down there, Scottie Mom? You all right down there, Scottie Mom?[/caption]

Heather, here. One thing you need to know about The Scottie House is that it is filled with many, winding stairs. Beautiful to the eye, but dangerous to the paw. That's why Scottie Mom put up gates where appropriate to protect Mr. K and me from slipping and falling. I must admit, I got the hang of them pretty quickly. I can only recall a few times when we first moved where I was hesitant and slipped up a bit. Mr. K, on the other hand, is so busy zoomie-ing and chasing after Scottie Mom all the time that he forgets to jump high enough half the time and ends up belly flopping on the stairs. Silly!

Aside from that, neither myself or Mr. K have taken a fall down the stairs. We Scotties are pretty good at mastering the stairs. Scottie Mom has told us countless times how proud she is of us! This morning, I had a very telling "watch and learn" moment. You see, for as many times as Scottie Mom has warned Mr. K and me to "Be Careful!" when we take the stairs, I saw first-hand that it isn't always the Scottie that slips up on the stairs. In fact, sometimes it is the oh-so-careful Scottie Mom herself! Yup...there we were, walking down the stairs ready for our morning walk. I was in front of Scottie Mom and Mr. K was lagging behind. That's when we heard, "BOOM!" and Mr. K ran off in the opposite direction.

I turned around and saw Scottie Mom had sat down to hang out with me. I thought, that's nice of you, Scottie Mom, but I really have to pee. Can we play later? She had a funny looking grin on her face that didn't quite look like a smile. You know the kind. She called Mr. K back over to us, while sitting on the floor, and told him everything was okay. She hooked us up to the leash and together, Mr. K and I pulled her back to her feet. It was wonderful being able to help Scottie Mom like that. I tried my best not to drag her down the stairs outside but it was imperative I pee. Mr. K had to go, too. Hey - a Scottie's gotta do what a Scottie's gotta do.

The good news is: Scottie Mom didn't injure her back again like when she did at the BlogPaws conference in D.C. (which would be really bad because Scottie Dad isn't home to help out with the walks!). The bad news is: Scottie Mom's ankle is really fat and makes her walk ten times slower on our walkies. This is especially no good when Mr. K and I find things we need to hunt! When that happens, she lets out her own sort of ArRRrOo. Well friends, speaking of which, it is time for Mr. K and I to round up Scottie Mom and go out for one of those walkies. If you're going out, too, be sure to tell your Scottie Moms to be careful and master the stairs (like us Scotties!). Love, Heather.

Sleepless without Scotties

[caption id="attachment_2940" align="alignnone" width="500"]Honestly, Scottie Mom...did you think you could sleep well without us? Honestly, Scottie Mom...did you think you could sleep well without us?[/caption]
Why is it that during the week I can't seem to get enough sleep to keep me going but when the weekend comes around, the last thing I'm able to do is sleep (which is ironic, since I actually have the time)? On Friday, I went to bed around midnight, shortly after taking Heather and Mr. K on their last walk of the day. Two or three hours and lots of tossing and turning in bed later, I still couldn't sleep so I left Scottie Dad - who had long been fast asleep - in the master suite and walked across the hall to the guest bedroom, also known as the Scottie Suite.
I called upon Heather and Mr. K to join me in the Scottie Suite so the three of us could watch television in the wee hours of the morning together. Heather settled on my feet and Mr. K propped his front paws on my stomach. There we were, watching recaps of baseball games until 3:45 a.m. when, mercy found me and granted me some sleep no less than 10 or 15 minutes after Heather and Mr. K closed their eyes for the night. By the time I finally started dreaming sweet dreams of my own, I bet I was so delirious I dreamed Scottie Dad would let me rescue more Scotties!
When I woke to the sound of Mr. K's morning yawn, it occurred to me there may be a reason for my insomnia: could it be that I'm so used to snuggling up with Scotties that I don't know how to sleep without them? Scottie Dad travels during the week and, when he is gone, the fur kids and I curl up in bed in the Scottie Suite. So, for five nights a week, I split a bed with two Scotties. And for two or three nights a week, I retreat to the master suite. However, as was evidenced by Friday night's bout of insomnia, I'm not sure it truly can be called a retreat if I'm not able to fall asleep...

American Ninja Scottie


It's late at night. Just shortly after 11 p.m. There's a clippity-clap of paws and claws hitting the pavement. The sound echoes a bit. No other noise permeates the air. Two tails are sticking straight up toward the sky, wagging slightly as we go. We are guided only by a few, soft street lights as we march, march, march around the block. There's not a soul in sight. We are the last to conduct our nightly round of neighborhood watch. Mr. K looks to the left, Heather to the right. Satisfied with what they see, we move on until the next scene of investigation.

We're close now, almost back to The Scottie House. We pick up the pace. Heather knows there's a treat waiting to greet her at the door. Mr. K hurries along, too. Then, fast as a flash, he somersaults forward and lands on his paws. He doesn't stop. He keeps going and never misses a step. There's a certain air of pride about him now, as if he's just accomplished a major feat. Confused, Heather and I look at each other and wonder what that ninja move was all about. We hang back and watch him for a second but he's marching along just as fast as could be. He must be eager for his treat.

At the foot of the steps, Mr. K props one paw up and begins trotting his way up the stairs. Heather goes straight to the top. Mr. K stops at the landing. He looks left. Then, he looks right. Finally, he looks up at me and then down to the ground. His mouth opens. Out drops his prized possession - the very reason for his ninja moves: a cockroach. It doesn't move. Mr. K nods, visibly proud that he had saved the world from one squirmy nuisance. Tongue hanging out, Mr. K sits down and looks up and smiles, as if he is waiting to be praised.

Fast forward three hours and it is now the middle of the night. All are asleep in The Scottie House. Mr. K on my lap, Heather on my feet. Suddenly, without warning, Mr. K's head snaps up and he flies off the bed - waking me as he goes. No big deal, I say to myself, and I roll over to again rest my eyes. POW! My eyes shoot open. POW! POW! I turn around. What is Mr. K doing and why so much noise at this hour? I look on the side of the bed. Again, his tail is sticking straight up in the air. This time, however, it is wagging feverishly. He slaps his paw down again on the floor. POW!

Two seconds later, he shuffles to the right and does it again. Oh no, I think, he's hunting something. Do I dare climb off the bed and see what it is? Scottie Dad is not around to pick up whatever is under attack right now. What if I accidentally step on it? Gross! I peer down at Mr. K, who is still POW-ing and wagging his tail excitedly. Surely, this ninja Scottie is winning his war. I scramble to switch the light switch on. Light fills the room. What did I see? Yet another cockroach who would give anything to flee from the ninja Scottie!

The Tale of Two Einsteins


Some people are destined for greatness. Likewise, some Scotties are born to chase their wildest dreams - even if that means catching that elusive squirrel.

Some people are so smart, they're considered geniuses. And some Scotties, well, let's just say they figure out where all the "hiding" spots so cleverly selected 30 seconds flat.

Some people develop complicated formulas and theories, giving others a whole new perspective on everything they thought they knew. Some Scottie masterminds devise seemingly impossible and inherently unpredictable schemes that leave their Scottie Moms wondering whether she really knew anything about rearing Scotties in the first place.

Furthermore, some people excel in mathematics and I've never known a Scottie who couldn't add more treats to (and simultaneously, subtract treats from) his or her plate.

Some people - namely, Albert Einstein - sported crazy hairstyles in his day. And for anyone who has ever woken up to see Mr. K's "bed beard," you know this a trend for a true genius.

For Scottie Dad's birthday, we brought home a gigantic painting of this crazy-haired genius so Scottie Dad could feel like he had his say in the design of the new house. This gesture got Mr. K thinking: what does a Scottie have to do to get a giant portrait of his genius self painted for Scottie Dad to idolize? And so, there he sat in front of the painting - pondering this dilemma and gazing up at the strangely painted man with eyebrows eerily similar to his own. What did this man do that captured the lifelong admiration and respect of Scottie Dad? Then, the Aha! ArRRrOo moment happened. The answer was: E=mc2. The secret to Mr. K earning Scottie Dad's unwavering admiration and respect was coming up with a formula of his own that explained some super genius theory. Mr. K got to work. He came up with a few like p.u.=doo2 and zoomE > c2 that were close, but didn't quite make the cut. Finally, he came up with the ultimate formula for world peace, another of Einstein's goals: ScoT = <3.