I love my tennis balls!!

Did I mention that I got seven tennis balls for Christmas? It was my very first Christmas and I was so excited to get a bunch of presents and they were almost all tennis balls! I wonder if there is a category in the Guinness Book of World Records for the dog with the most tennis balls. I bet I could win that. My birthday is in March and I bet I'm gonna get more tennis balls (hint, hint!) at my birthday party.

When mom and dad don't have time to play ball with me, I usually play ball by myself until I fall asleep, like in the picture above. I like to smush up a blanket or two...or three, and snuggle down in them with my favorite ball. My favorite ball is whichever one Brother hasn't chewed up. He really makes me mad sometimes. He sneaks my ball away from me when mom and dad aren't around to stop him and even though I bark and bark at Brother and even give him kisses and ask nicely, he won't give my ball back. How mean is that? Not only does he refuse to give it back, he tears them up. It's a good thing mom has some extras hidden away to replace the balls Brother destroys or That Baby would be Sad Baby!

A visit from a relative

Dad's son came to visit today. I don't do well in strange situations and I don't do well with strangers, so I got a little upset when Dad's son got here. His name is Odie and he's a big guy, so I barked at him a lot to warn him away.

Mom and dad said Odie was okay and they hugged me a lot. Mom hugged Odie to show me he was harmless, but I wasn't convinced. Odie sat down in a chair and didn't try to bother me or take my ball, so I stopped barking and just kept an eye on him. I stayed close to mom for awhile and everything turned out all right. Boy, being on the alert for danger is tiring! As soon as Odie left the room, I went to sleep. He came back a little while later. I didn't bark as much and I didn't shake at all like the first time I saw him, but by the time he went home I was worn out and went to sleep again. Mom says maybe I will remember Odie when he comes to visit again and it won't be so scary having him around. He lives a long way off, though, so he won't visit too often. I'll try to remember not to be afraid of him.

Today was full of so much upset that I think I'll just go on to bed, now. Mom said she and dad have to protect me when they can because so much of life is harder for me than other dogs. She promised to be there when I'm scared. Whew.

I'm famous! Well, sort of....

Mom posted my picture - the same one on my profile - on the Million Dog Mosaic site sponsored by Pedigree brand dog food! I'm right on the big dog picture's chin. You can see me at:

http://www.milliondogmosaic.com/pedigree/mosaic.php?action=search&dog=That1&x=0&y=0

She put Zipper and Bingo on there, too. Just put Zipper1 or Bingo1 into the search box.

What a great idea Pedigree has and what a wonderful thing they are donating money to help homeless pets. I could have been homeless - or even dead - if not for people like my mom who rescue pets in need.

Mom says when you adopt a pet from a rescue group, you are helping to save two lives - the life of the pet you take home and the life of the pet that you made room for in rescue.

Attacking the marrowbone

Well, you can't see much in this video, but you can sure hear me. I was about 12 weeks old when mom took this video of me viciously attacking a marrow bone.

Making progress

When I was a little, bitty baby, my mama would rock me...oh, sorry! I was just thinking about what it was like when I was very small and that reminded me of the song mom used to sing to me.

As I mentioned, I weighed just over 1 pound at around five weeks of age, when my mom first took me to the vet. My siblings all weighed between 4-6 pounds, so you can tell I was the runt. Since I was blind and so wobbly I fell over every couple of steps, I couldn't shove my brothers and sisters aside so I could nurse, and I missed a lot of mothering and I also missed the nutrients I needed to develop and grow properly. That's why I couldn't see or walk, according to the doctor. That's why I still have trouble dealing with the big, wide world, too. Dr. Amy says I can't filter out the stuff I can safely ignore, like some noises and smells and sights, and so all of it hits me at once. That's pretty darned scary, let me tell you!

Once dad put me on a bottle (yep, it was dad's idea) with canned mother's milk, I started to get better fast. Because I was so old, even though I was way underdeveloped, mom knew I needed stimulation and play. The problem was, she had trouble finding toys for tiny guys like me. She wound up buying me some kitty cat sized tennis balls. They were perfect! I loved them! I still love tennis balls!

Mom and dad sometimes moved the little food bowl (yes, it was a kitty cat bowl) away so I had to walk a couple of steps farther to get to it. I liked eating, oh, yes, I did so very much like to eat! So I would follow the bowl, smelling for it until I found it. Pretty soon, my vision started to develop and I could see the bowl and follow it around when mom moved it, and so I learned how to walk better and better.

In the beginning, I almost always fell over into my bowl after only a couple of bites, but gradually that problem resolved, too. Mom and dad were so proud of me the first time I cleaned my bowl without falling into my food!

Mom says she wishes she'd taken some video of me back then. She says I was so funny when I found my food. She says my ears would wiggle just like Dumbo's, whoever that is. I don't get it, but she says it was hilarious to see. She says she kept expecting me to fly. Silly mom. Dogs can't fly!

My ears still wiggle a little when I get excited, but mostly it's a whole head kinda thing. Mom thinks it's cute, except when my head shakes because I'm upset or scared. Luckily for me she can tell the difference and she knows when it's okay to smile at me and when I really need to be held and comforted instead. I depend on my mom a lot, but dad's real good at helping me calm down when I get overwrought, too.

For a long time, I was afraid to try to jump. Whenever mom set me on the sofa or in a chair, I just stayed there, even when I could see. She says she sometimes misses being able to park me like a car. She's just joking. I think.

Now that I'm almost a year old, I hardly ever fall down anymore, and mom thinks I can see pretty much normally, though she says she suspects I have a little trouble with depth perception. I don't know what that is, but sometimes I feel like I have to jump real far just to get down from the couch. Getting up on the sofa is a little hard, too, but not just because I'm still awkward. That cranky little dachshund, Doll Baby, likes to get under cover because she's always cold, and I have to be real careful not to accidentally step on her. Dolly gets very, very angry when you step on her! I love Doll Baby. I like to give her lots of kisses even though she never kisses me back or plays with me. That's okay. She's an older lady, about three, and I don't expect her to play puppy with me. I have other friends for that, like Jasper. Mom calls him her "leetle mophead." Jasper stands on his head and is terribly silly, but I like playing with him.

When I was little, mom slept with me close by and she always kept a close eye on me so nobody would accidentally step on me or get mad if I fell down too close to them. All the dogs are patient with me, but when I got steadier and bigger, they were afraid to play with me! Bailey - who nobody else will play with - started playing with me first. Finally, the others played with me, too. Well, not Zipper. Zipper is the boss after Bingo. Neither of them play. I guess you have to be serious when you're the boss dog.

Speaking of playing, I'm off to play with Brother. More later!

More about my doggy life

When I was almost three months old, mom and dad helped find my brothers and sisters new homes. It was great to see them again! Here I am with one of my brothers. As you can see, I was already starting to catch up.

Mom and dad talked to some of the people who adopted my brothers and sisters and they all weigh more than 40 pounds now. Wow, that's BIG. I am not real tall, and I have skinny legs, but I weighed 32 pounds at the vet this month. Mom was impressed.

Don't worry about that silly look on my face. I have an extra long tongue that mom and dad think is funny. I don't mind, I like making them laugh. Plus, I have a little underbite and my lower jaw is what dad calls caterwampus, whatever that means. I don't hold my head all the way up most of the time, and sometimes I look sideways at mom or dad. I'm just a barrel of laughs for them.

When I was old enough to play but too small and unsteady, mom got me some kitty sized miniature tennis balls to play with and some small toys to play tug-of-war. She said playing tug-of-war would help strengthen my neck, as long as we were real, real careful not to play too rough. She was right. My neck is a lot stronger, now. Don't believe me? Try taking me for a walk!

She threw the ball a couple of inches at first, so I could still see it and try to chase it. Gradually, my sight and my reflexes improved and she threw it farther and farther. Those little balls became my favorite toys. I learned very quickly how to play by myself by tossing the balls up in the air. Sure, I fell over every time I tried that at first, but I got better and better. Now, I can throw that ball halfway across the room and run over and catch it before it stops rolling. Mom says I am smart because I am good at problem solving.

Dad just says it's impossible not to like me. I agree.

Next, you can see a short video of me and dad playing.

Dad plays with a ferocious beast

Life as I see it

I don't know how interesting it is, but this is life as I see it. Granted, my vision isn't perfect, but I see plenty.
My name is That Baby, and as you can see from my picture, I like candy corn. I'm a handsome young man, now. But really, I'm lucky to be alive at all.

The first time my Service Human (her name is Lynnette, but I know her as "mom") took me to the vet, a very nice man, I weighed 1.4 pounds, I was blind and I could only wobbly-walk a couple of steps before falling down.

Mom was worried, because at 5 weeks, my brothers and sisters already weighed 5-6 pounds and they could all walk and see just fine. My dog mother wasn't feeding me at all, even when I could find her, which wasn't often.

I was a happy baby, though, always wagging my tail, and whenever I heard a voice, I tried real hard to walk to it. I could get there, but I was so wobbly that I fell down - a lot. It took me a long time to get anywhere!

Well, mom and dad and a friend of theirs bottle-fed me canned mother's milk and mashed up puppy food mixed with mother's milk, and I began to get better. That was good, because I heard mom and dad say they didn't expect me to live.

Although I liked the food they gave me, I kept falling into the saucer and then I had to have a bath. Ugh. But I kept trying to walk and I kept wagging my tail. Mom said she admired my cheerful spirit and that's why she named me Tiny Tim.

I kept going to the vet, too, and started seeing Dr. Amy. She and the great people at the vet's office were real nice to me, holding me and loving me. Although I love mom and she's the one who named me Tiny Tim, I never liked that name. I knew I wouldn't be tiny forever.

This is me when I was still tiny. Mom had a hard time finding toys small enough for me! I was almost two months old. Mom carried me around in her purse. The blanket made it comfy, but sometimes I got scared.

That's the problem with pups like me. Dr. Amy says I will probably always have some neurological deficits. Mom says that means I'll be somewhat unsteady on my paws and always be afraid of the big, wide world. Dr. Amy says since my dog mom didn't take care of me properly, I don't know how to filter things and so I take in all the sights and sounds and smells simultaneously, and that overwhelms and frightens me. Boy, Dr. Amy is SMART!

Well, all that started a long time ago. I visited the doctor every 2-3 weeks until I was six months old. I gained weight, learned how to walk without falling (most of the time) and I can see, too. Not perfectly, but pretty good for a formerly blind baby! Dr. Amy checked me out real good and the ladies checked to see how much bigger I was since the last time I came in. I got lots of attention.

How I got my name

Once I could walk a little better and see, I wanted to play. I liked being on dad's chest so I could bite his mustache and chin. That made him laugh a lot, which made me happy. I found out that I could make mom look for me if I hid under the sofa, so I would get under there and peek out at her while she looked for me. "Where's that baby? I can't find that baby anywhere!" she would say, looking in the silliest places you can imagine - in the dresser drawer, in a soda can, even under the rug! I'd wait until she had her back to me and I'd pop out and make a little huffing noise. Boy, would she be surprised to see me!

She and dad always made sure I was taken care of. "Don't forget to feed that baby," they'd tell each other. "Did you give that baby his medicine?" "I'm taking that baby to the vet today."

I figured that was my name, and I didn't know this Tiny Tim fella I was named for, anyway, so mom and dad finally gave up and changed my records at the vet. When I got microchipped, I was registered as That Baby, and I have my own little tag that says my name, too. Once, my dad went to pick me up at the vet (I was supposed to be getting used to being there, but I wasn't) and told the new lady at the desk, "I'm here to pick up That Baby."
"Which baby?" she asked.
"That Baby," he said, and another lady laughed and told the new lady that was my name.

Well, it's late and I need to go to bed. I'm still a growing boy, you know. As you can tell, I haven't quite figured out how to make this blogging thing work right, but I'll learn.

More about my life later!