Is It Legal to Split Treats in Half? Dogs Want to Know!

We love our pets! They add fun and love to our lives. Creatively, someone came up with what dogs would search for on the internet if they could get their paws to hit the keyboard.

This search history has been making the rounds on the internet and each time I see it, I laugh. My husband printed it out and I have it by my computer. My favorite one is Is It Legal To Split Treats in Half? and perhaps, I like this one because as a two-boxer owner, I do split dog treats in half.

So here's to our dogs and their inquisitive minds!

The Boxers Who Made Me a Dog Lover

Just wanted to share some photos of these three boxers--Levi, Bella, and Harley. They have won my heart! Sadly, Levi (posing near the sidewalk and dancing outside with Bella when she was younger) is no longer with us; he died December 2020, but he is forever loved.

Superpower Levi

He wasn't just any dog; he had a superpower. I was not an animal lover (my husband is) and I thought I could live the rest of my days without a dog. No dog fur to vacuum, no vet bills, and grocery store trips without having to purchase dog chow suited me. Then along came Levi, a mahogany boxer puppy with white paws who had a penchant for ice cubes. He "sang"—soulful songs—whenever my husband played the harmonica (badly). If anyone peeled an orange, he appeared, begging for a slice. He nuzzled close beside me when I cried over the loss of my brother's dog. He had the ability to look at me with his dark brown eyes as though he could see into my soul.

He discovered what worked and that was to put his head on my lap when the clock chimed 6 PM---—his way of reminding me that it was dinner time. I’d stop what I was doing and fill his bowl as he’d twirl in circles--—his happy dance.

The seizures were the start of his decline; I sat with him on the sofa and doubted I could live without him. He died on a December morning even though I begged him not to leave us.

Levi transformed me into an animal lover; that was his superpower. When I met our new puppy for the first time I was able to embrace her without a moment's hesitation. I scooped her into my arms and held her against my heart.

Levi trained me well.

Spring From the Eyes and Nose of a Puppy

I turned 60 this January and aside from the few minutes it takes to get out of bed to feel fully functional each morning, I consider myself healthy. However, with the shutdown/lockdown that we continue to face, I find myself feeling a bit less healthy. I want to rip off my mask; I want to jump on the direct flight from Raleigh-Durham to Vegas like Carl and I used to (without masks); I want to go back to church and stand with the congregation and sing----even if my voice is off-key. I want to have friends in my home and make dinners with pasta and lots of cheese.

I stop from my whining because someone is at my knee. It's my seven-month-old puppy, Bella, who has brought a squirrel toy to me and wants me to play. I take the toy and toss it across the hardwood. She chases after it, stops, grabs it with her mouth, and races back to me. We go outside into the sunshine where I toss a tennis ball and she follows its path along the driveway, picks it up, and returns to me. She drops the ball and jumps into a pile of raked leaves we keep for her to play in (yes, it's spring and yes, we still have fallen leaves from the 40+ trees on our property). She looks at me with her beautiful expressive face and then makes a bed inside the pile.

When the first iris bloomed---the first iris Bella had even seen----she introduced herself to it. She was curious and cautious. Her approach to the iris made me think about trying new things, about wonder, about curiosity. I felt that perhaps in a season of dismal (not only the continuing pandemic but the excessive government spending, our southern border crisis, etc. and etc.) it was time to take a break from the daily news and see the world through the eyes of a puppy.

I walk around the yard and take photos of the flowers, and then take a few of one of our neighbor's trees with the large pink blooms. I breathe in the fresh warm air and note the blue in the sky. Bella skips over to me and I watch her nose sniff scents that I cannot smell. "It’s been estimated that dogs can smell anywhere from 1,000 to 10,000 times better than people," writes Lynn Buzhardt, DVM. "Dogs also have a great homing instinct that depends on their ability to smell. Since dogs move their nostrils independently, they can determine the direction of an odor and use their sense of smell like a compass."

I sit on the back stoop with Bella, together--she with her compass-nose twitching in the air, and me with my camera----focused on the magnitude of creation supplied by our Creator. All of this new life for us to take in. Every year I have enjoyed the season through color, touch, smell, and that sense that causes me to say: With so much beauty, how can life not be good?

As Bella snifs my hand and rests against me, my prayer is: Don't let me be so bogged down by the way things are (things that I cannot control) that I miss the wonder and beauty of my 60th spring.

For the love of dogs

In the mornings I wake to low whimperings and deep breathes. Bella, our 5-month old boxer, is on the other side of the closed bedroom door. Carl usually gets up before me and takes Bella from her crate to the backyard to "be quick". After she's inside the living room and he's at the computer, she runs upstairs to find me. I get dressed to the sounds of her sniffing and whimpering at the cracks in the door. When I open it, there she is----almost-40 pounds of her leaping toward me. Before I take a step from the bedroom into the hallway, she is a ball of wiggling energy. She has learned not to jump on my legs. I make a fuss over her, reaching down to cradle her head. "Good morning, sweet girl." On a whim, Carl and I drove over 1,000 miles to Tennessee and back for this brown and white furry creation. From the moment I saw her photo on the computer screen in the ad on Craigslist, I knew that she and I were going to be friends.

The reason I knew I could bond with this puppy was not because of my inherent love for dogs or because I have always been a dog owner. The ability to get close to this puppy and let her lick my ears and climb into my lap was because of a different dog. The kids named another boxer, our mahogany and white Levi.

Levi entered our lives as a puppy over ten years ago. Carl is a lover of boxer dogs and wanted one. I had barely agreed. We already had a dog----the kids' beagle named Dixie. Why did we need another? I had plans that when Dixie went over the Rainbow Bridge, that would end my dog responsibilities. No more puppy chow to purchase, no more dog hair to sweep, no more vet bills. But something unexpected occurred. Levi did something to my heart. He wormed his way in with his expressions, his love of ice cubes, his soulful "singing" when Carl played the harmonica and the way he'd rest his head against my thigh when we'd watch TV. He gave me confidence in how to train a dog and how to enjoy dog antics. He was stubborn, he was handsome, he barked too loudly at any UPS truck, he smudged windows with his nose, he pressed against my side when I cried over things that hurt my spirit. The dance he performed whenever he saw kibbles being poured into his bowl was enough to show me that while he made us happy, we could make him happy, too. The simple things in life are worth rejoicing over. Every night he twirled around until his bowl was filled and dinner was served.

And when he was gray and suffering from seizures brought on by a brain tumor (the tumor was an educated guess by our vet; we did not get an MRI done), I told him to rest and if his resting took him to the Rainbow Bridge to cross it, by all means, cross it. When he died an hour after I'd whispered those words into his ear, I sobbed.

Bella and I walk down the carpeted stairs to the landing where the staircase turns. There's enough room for both of us to sit. Bella sits beside me and when I put my face by hers, she licks my neck. I feel a connection to Levi at this spot. I tell Bella that this landing is where Levi liked to lay and watch the world through the smudged-by-his-nose window below. In the late mornings the sun makes its way through the window and warms the carpet. I suppose the older boxer liked the way it warmed his fur.

Bella and I sit together for a few minutes even though the sun has yet to reach us. We see a young woman in a florescent hat jogging on the street. Next, we watch a boy on a bike. The bike's front wheel hits something in the road and the bike halts. The boy calls for his mama. A woman rushes toward the boy. We can't hear what she says, but the boy nods and starts pedaling again. Bella moves closer to me. I don't know how much longer she will put up with my ritual of sitting, but I'm grateful for her company. She waits until I stand and then together we continue down the last steps---me, slowly, she, scampering----into the hallway and living room.

We are ready to face the world and all the challenges it offers.

How One Woman Went From Not Caring for Dogs to Loving One

“You’re an animal hater.”

Although the word hate was a bit strong, I didn’t deny those words. I was not interested in having a pet, especially a dog. Other people’s dogs were fine, but I wouldn’t be fussing over some four-legged creature.

As I looked back to childhood, my baby brother was the one who brought stray dogs home. I’m not sure if they followed him or he coaxed them into our back yard. We got to keep one for a bit—outside under the wisteria trellis. Dad built a dog house from wood. Not long after that, this dog had puppies and we named one Buffy. Buffy, like her mother, was an outside doggie, but one day she got into the house. Like a crazed beast, she ran all over the bedrooms. She stopped long enough to chew my doll furniture. Pink cushions from my Barbie house were bitten and left strewn around my bedroom floor. I was infuriated and glad when Mom shoved Buffy out the door to go back to her dog house.

My brother was the only one in our family who really liked dogs. Strays continued to follow him home, but soon, although I’m not sure when it happened, we had no more dogs.

He made up for it though. He’s fifty now and has had dogs in his house as pets for years.

I, on the other hand, was not an animal lover. Yet, when my children were in elementary school, they begged for a dog. So after careful research, my husband and I bought a beagle for the kids and gave it to them for Christmas. My husband and kids agreed on her name—Dixie. We bought a book on how to care for beagles and gave it to my kids as well.

Dixie was a pretty and sweet doggie, although her nose got her into trouble. Like a typical hound, she followed her nose, and it led her to run away on a number of occasions. I ended up taking her on walks and even though she was a Christmas gift for my kids, I’m sure I did more for her than I’d bargained for.

Ten years later, when my second husband said he wanted a boxer, I cringed. Carl had grown up with dogs and as an adult had had boxers— his favorite breed—as pets. Dixie was still with us, yet, she had slowed down quite a bit. One dog is enough, I thought. But in a moment of weakness, I told my husband that he could have a dog and within a day of my saying that, he brought home a six-week-old boxer puppy. Carl, my kids and I felt that the name Levi suited this new addition.
Another dog. And a puppy to house train. What had I gotten myself into again? I was not one of those who cared deeply for dogs. I could take them or leave them, preferably, leave them. I would never call a dog “baby” or let him sleep in the same bedroom with me.

I’m not sure if I have mellowed with age or that boxers are my dog or perhaps it is just this one, but Levi has captured my heart. In the mornings, he slithers out from his quilt, I open the door and together we leave the bedroom. “Go outside, baby,” I say to him as my husband makes the coffee. Out through the doggie dog Levi heads and then comes back in to be made over by my husband, his stubby tail wiggling like Jell-O.

Levi has chewed my favorite sandals and used to love to steal my pink cap and take it outside. He once was caught on the counter eating a pumpkin pie I had just baked. But he has made up for his sophomoric behavior by cuddling on the sofa with me and looking empathetic when I’ve cried. He’s even learned how to sing (howl) when my husband plays the harmonica. He has such a cute face with such expressive eyes as he belts out a soulful howl. He likes ice cubes and expects them as treats. And he is so good looking; I call him the George Clooney of dogs!

He’s also been the dog we photograph for our business, Carved By Heart. Among many products we offer, we carve from photos of pets. Customers send us photos of their pets’ faces and we create from the picture into wood. Levi’s puppy face has received much attention. But when I try to pose him with our plaques, he usually doesn’t sit still long. I understand; I don’t like posing for the camera either.

As I write this at the computer, Levi curls around my feet, softly breathing in his sleep. I think he needs a treat and when I stand, walk into the kitchen and open the freezer, he jumps up to join me. I motion for him to sit; he knows the routine. Patiently he waits until I get a small cube for him, place it near his mouth and then he takes it and chews. I get an ice cube for myself and let it melt in my mouth.

I’d chew if I could, but I have to be careful not to crack any more of my molars. I smile at Levi as we head back to my computer. It’s amazing how the two of us grow more alike every day.

**
Alice J. Wisler is an author of five novels, three cookbooks and a devotional, writing instructor, and the co-owner of Carved By Heart (visit their shop on Etsy at https://www.etsy.com/shop/CarvedByHeart ). She and her family live in Durham, NC.

Does your pet let you pose him for the camera?

One thing that pet owners can agree on---we love our pets.

"There is nothing like a kiss from a dog."

"There is nothing like the happiness that shows she is glad to see me."

"My dog loves me unconditionally."

Dogs tolerate us in all our strangeness.

Some even go along with costumes at Halloween.

I am often trying to get some photo ops with our boxer, Levi. I think he and my books go so well together and try to place one of my novels against him for the camera. It's always a battle; he apparently doesn't like books pushed against him and me trying to get him to pose like he's enjoying it.

Now that we are making more and more pet plaques, I feel the urge to photograph Levi with one of the plaques. After all, this one has his name on it. And a carving from a photo taken of him when he was just a wee puppy. He should be happy, proud even. Well . . . Right!

Here's how it went today . . .

What's this? What is this piece of wood she's put against me?





I guess I can cuddle up to it if it will make her happy.

Okay, enough!

She put me through all that posing, I think I'll take her favorite pink cap.

And this is how the world goes round.

We love our pets, in all their silliness, and they love us.

Maybe you need a plaque with your dog's or cat's name and face. All you need to do is send a photo of your pet's face and we'll create a carved portrait.

See what else we offer at our Etsy Shop---Carved By Heart