Girl, Rottweiler, Q and A 2

Now Moses and I have decided to start answering questions about Rottweilers, Espresso, and other things that are commonly asked of bloggers  (neither of us knows what this means so we are working on it). Moses will answer to the best of his little puppy ability, and I will answer as a Rottweiler geek. All questions are considered (within reasonable boundaries) and if I can't answer them I will come up with a clever answer that can be debated by scientists for years on what it's purpose is. All answers are my own personal opinions, or Moses' and are from our experiences  They are in no way affiliated with the coffee shop, the Humane Society of the United States, or any other organization or peoples who know more then we do. Just type a question into the comment boxes, and I will try to respond within the two week time period that Moses is superimposing on me.
Second Question: I heard Rottweilers are hard to train, are they?

Kbgroot: Well no, but yes? Moses was very easy to train. So yes he was easy to train. Will he obey his training? Depends on how he feels at the time. Moses can sit, lie down, roll over, stay, and come. He does these things most successfully with treats. If you dont have a treat the likelihood that he will do these things is next to none. He is stubborn and thinks his own way is the best way (think a teenager) we are hoping that when he hits two he will be a obedient adult. Cheers to dreaming!

Moses: *Blank look* I follow food, not directions.

Girl, Rottweiler, Q and A 1

Now Moses and I have decided to start answering questions about Rottweilers, Espresso, and other things that are commonly asked of bloggers  (neither of us knows what this means so we are working on it). Moses will answer to the best of his little puppy ability, and I will answer as a Rottweiler geek. All questions are considered (within reasonable boundaries) and if I can't answer them I will come up with a clever answer that can be debated by scientists for years on what it's purpose is. All answers are my own personal opinions, or Moses' and are from our experiences  They are in no way affiliated with the coffee shop, the humane society of the united states, or any other organization or peoples who know more then we do. Just type a question into the comment boxes, and I will try to respond within the two week time period that Moses is superimposing on me.

First Question Ever!   - Why is Moses always asleep in pictures?

Kbgroot Answer: He's vicious aggressive Rottweiler puppy with killer instincts, and razor sharp teeth made for destroying plush toys, beanie babies, and blankets. You try taking a picture of him awake. I have realized Moses is like an Xbox, he's either on playing for hours and hours, or he is asleep. 

Moses Answer: *SNORE*

For those of you who wanted more Moses stories, we will be back next week!

Girl, Rottweiler, and Birthdays

 I got up this morning in a strange fashion, the bringer of mornings kicking me in the side during what most people call a puppy dream. I turned and blinked at him, how did he get on my bed? Why was he in my bed? When did he get in my bed? Although, he looked pretty comfortable, sprawled out in prime kicking position. I glare at the dog and realize I am a queen of unsuccessful glares at this point, as I role out of bed. How many days has it been since I washed my hair? Did I do it yesterday or the day before? Do I smell alright? I feel confused. Moses let's loose winds of death, I decide shortly that I better take a shower anyway.
Walking to the shower in a haze, I remember briefly its my birthday. I take my shower (singing "its my party and I'll cry if I want to) and change into black pants, and a batman t-shirt (maybe this year Bruce Wayne will finally come for me). I get back to my room to see Moses alert, staring at my phone. I send a questioning glance his way and I begin to put on shoes ignoring the frozen pup. Then he begins to growl. I turn towards him, "what's wrong?"
He gives me a look that says, you don't know?
I shake my head, thinking of course this is crazy puppy behavior. Then the growling starts again and my phone starts to vibrate.
I bust out laughing. How scary the phone must be, a demonic creature, with a great bluish green tint and razor sharp sound effects.
Moses is growling, teeth showing, hair bristled, he hasn't bothered to get up but his whole body is alert. It's a serious yet funny sight.
"Mo, it's just my phone." I giggle at him then pick it up, to see what's going on. Facebook has exploded with birthday wishes from friends, family, and acquaintances that I can't quiet place. Apparently, my phone had been going off every minute or so with the well wishing of people both in the United States and outside of it.  No wonder my Rottweiler was screaming at it.
"Geeze." I had been thinking my theme song for this years birthday would be "it's my party and I'll cry if I want to", I wasn't expecting to actually cry this morning. That just sent Moses out the window. He jumped up, started wagging his tail, and licked my hand.
It's ok, it's ok. The demon phone isn't that scary.
I laughed, because honestly, dogs. He stopped the moment I laughed, realizing I was ok, he curled back up.
"Do you want to go to work?" I asked grinning, Moses' ears perked up and he wagged his tail.
"Work?" I asked again, smile getting bigger.
He stood up, wagging his tail.
"Go?" I could help but giggle.
He stretched, jumped down, and began to whine.
My phone went off, the whine changed to a growl.
I laughed, "let's go, before you decide to attack my phone."
Puppy whining all the way to the door, I couldn't help but laugh. So thank you everybody who sent me a text or Facebook message. You made my morning hilarious.

You left me to face demons alone!

Girl, Rottweiler, and Bedtime

Moses goes to bed at nine o'clock every night. He walks into my mother's bedroom, curls up on his bed and proceeds to sigh and sleep. His schedual doesn't really ever change, curling up wherever his people are, if they are up past nine.
When he was very small we tried putting him a crate at night, my mother went through four nights of puppy crying, howling, barking, and whining before she decided enough. Reading a book called "The Art of Training a Puppy" we learned that, do to pack behavior, crating a puppy up at night isolates him, thus he would be nervous. The monks who wrote the book suggest buying a dog bed and tethering the puppy to your own bed at night, he can't move around much but still feels like part of the pack. The night we tried, he didn't cry at all. Problem one solved.
Moses now isn't tied up at night but a few nights ago something peculiar happened when my mother opened the door to let him get a drink.
A little past 1:00 am. Tuesday. March 5, 2013
Location: My room.
I am a pretty good sleeper, very little wakes me up, tornados pass and I sleep through them. There is one sound however that snaps me out of sleep faster than a racecar on adderal, the sound of my door opening.
At one o'clock in the morning, its even more pronounced because everything else is quiet. I freeze mid dream, and open my eyes a crack. Nobody is in my room besides me, I'm safe, back to the dream I was having about batman proposing to me (I am a geek so sue me).
Being back in slumber, it takes me a minute to register the strange noise coming from the side of the bed. It sounds like a low quality vacuum cleaner sucking in air. I crack my eye open again, but see nothing. I have a basement bedroom so there is very little light at one thirty in the morning, making it impossible to see. I assume it's my imagination (though why my marriage to Bruce Wayne would have a low quality vacuum sound, I couldn't tell you) and turn onto my back.
A short whine sounds throughout the room, I want to be there! Please!
I turn back towards the edge of the bed and peer over without peeling my head off the pillow. There sits a darker spot, wagging his tail, I hear little paws click on my wood floor. Sadly, Batman is now the furthest thing from my mind.
"Moses." I don't even bother questioning his presence. I also don't bother to think about how he opened my door.
Mo let's out another short whine, pick me up, I want up!
Being half asleep, I cringe as I get out of bed and pick him up. Apparently, at one forty five in the morning, a person forgets that the almost six month old puppy is sixty three pounds and has been athletic enough to jump onto the bed since he was three months old. After a few seconds of realizing that I really couldn't lift said puppy this early in the morning. I climbed back into bed and patted next to me, "get up here."
Mo launched himself over me and stood on the bed, waiting for me to make room. Rottweilers have a distinct want when they are with their people, they want to be as close as they possible can be. They are leaners, cuddlers, and want to be touching whoever they love. Mo is no exception to this rule. Moses, who is at the foot of the bed, begins beside my feet and works his way slowly up. When he is at my torso, he starts to inch closed until he feels my body, then he plops with a content sigh.
"Bed hog." I snarl as he pushes himself further under the blanket.
I have to be up at five thirty it's now two, so I roll over, he scoots into my back. I smile as I fall back asleep, this dog is a great cuddler.
When I get up the stairs the next morning at six, my mother stares at the puppy who follows, "Traitor."
I can't help but grin.
"What time did he come downstairs and crawl in bed with you?" My mother asks as she drinks her staple drink, diet coke.
"One, I think, what happened?"
Mom shakes her head at the dog, " I let him out into the kitchen to get a drink, normally he comes back. I realized about twenty minutes later he apparently wasn't coming back."
I laughed.
"Your bed is probably more comfortable anyway," Mom shrugs as I grab the leash and my car key, "have fun at work, both of you."
I clip the leash to Mo's red collar, "we always do, let's go Mo."
When you say the word "go" Mo whines with excitement, because he really does want to go. I grin, we head to my lime green volkswagen bug.
Six thirty am, I turn the key to the coffee shop. Moses rushes inside, over to the box with treats, grabs one, proceeds to red couch and curls up. We begin another day of work.

Coffee Shop, Rottweiler, and Greetings

We are waiting.

I am sitting down by the cash register when a brunette walks in, she is one of the regular customers at the coffee shop and loves the Rottweiler pups. I watch Mo lethargically get off the couch, stretch, and waddle over to the door to greet her. His tail wags and he leans against her, looking up as if he has found true love. She obligingly scratches his head and back.

"So it's Moses today?" She smiles at me and continues to scratch.

I am genuinely surprised. Even many of our regulars still can't tell the two puppies apart and when they're together I have to stop the wrestling to see which pup is mine. "How did you tell?"

She laughs, "Well they greet me differently."

I watch Moses tail wag more, see I'm special.

I can't help but grin, he's a great doorman and public relations specialist. "How so?"

Stopping the petting, she walks over to the counter, "Well Moses isn't truly happy I am here until he's right up next to me. He just sort of stumble over lazily then leans against me or sits on my foot."

I nod these are common Moses greetings.

"Vahan on the other hand," she has great laugh lines when she smiles, " he is over by the door before I can count to three and bouncing to get my attention and if he's not bouncing to me, he's up on the back of his couch watching me enter and wagging his tail like mad. It makes me feel like he cares before he gets to me."

"That sounds like both of them." I smile, "what can I get you?"

" A sixteen ounce mocha, and a muffin." She looks down, and her hand reaches to scratch Mo who has sat on her foot yet again.

"Alright," I turn to start making the mocha and shortly realize that I forgot something. Spinning back around I ask, "what kind of muffin?"

"Um... what kinds do you have?" She is obviously distracted by the puppy.

I actually don't know as no one else had ordered a muffin that day. I looked them over briefly and listed, " Well it looks like we have Parmesan cheese bread, double chocolate chip muffins, apple bran muffins, and banana bread (we always have this I should probably stop listing it)."

"Definitely chocolate."

I grab a plastic box and put the chocolate muffin in it, make her mocha, run her credit card and wave goodbye as she leaves.

"So you greet people differently, do you?"

I looked at Moses who retires to his chair, crosses his paws and lays his head on the arm.

I'm prince, course I greet.

"You need to work on being a little more enthused your majesty."

Whatever.

I turn and start to wipe up the counters.

Not princess pose. Warrior Pose.

Coffee Shop, Rottweiler, and Pen

Crunch, crunch, crunch, crack, crunch, crunch. I look up from making a woman a 16 oz double shot vanilla latte to see the puppy chewing on a piece of rawhide. I smile, thankful he's not causing the other customers trouble and turn back to steaming milk.
The woman grins at me, "How old is he?"
I'm beginning to think I never get asked interesting questions in this coffee shop. "Five months and a couple weeks."
I'm also beginning to think there are no original things to say back. She grins, "He's so good for a baby."
My mind flashes back to the entropy forty minutes before. The sounds of wood shrieking across concrete and fur flying each way. Of a garbage can being tipped over by the two most "innocent" creatures on the planet.
"Yes," I nod, "Most of the time."
I finish the latte, "Sixteen ounce vanilla latte, four sixteen (made up number since I don't know how to calculate tax without a cash register)."
"Thank you," She snaps the white lid onto the cup with the logo of our coffee shop (a rottweiler) and sits down at one of the square black tables.
 Moses, noticing the customer isn't at the counter, walks over, and sits down. His tail pulses back and forth with vigor.
"No."  I turn to the sink to rinse the pitcher and glass. The woman turns to look at him, he looks forlornly back, and wags his tail once.
"What's he want?" She asked watching him curiously.
"A treat." As I say it Moses' ears perk up, he looks up at me, his eye brighten, and his tail springs back into the action. The woman gurggles as she tries not to laugh.
"He's got it down to a science doesn't he?" The woman asks after she's finished swallowing the large gulp of coffee.
Moses' ears go back as he realizes I am still not reaching for the treat jar.
I shake my head in agreement as I wipe the counter, "It is hard not to give in."
Then the pouting begins, imagine the cutest two year old in the word. Yes the one with the perfect cherubic face, dimples, and ringlet, and he/she (because really sometimes you cant tell with toddlers) is pouting at you. Begging for a cookie. Now imagine it ten thousand times worse.

I want the treat! Give them to me!

A large exasperated sigh escapes Moses' lungs and he slowly lays down with extended movements. His little eyes stare up at me sadly with the look of the Pound Puppy toys. His head resting on his paws.
I ignore him.
After a few minutes he realizes  this is not enough of an act to bother me. He then mopes all the way to the couch and steps up onto it instead of jumping, plopping himself down and gives me a withering stare.
The woman continues to smile as she finishes her coffee. She tosses the cup into the trash, pets Mo, then turns to leave.
Moses continues to let me have the stare. I continue to wipe up the counter.
I soon hear the crunching again and feel thankful Moses is done sending me down the guilt trip of doom. I stop cleaning to turn around and thank him. I stop and I am slowly filled with disbelief. Somehow the puppy had gotten hold of one of the pens.
An evil glint bounces off his eyes, pay back.
I hear the crunch just before I yell, "NO!"
Luckily it was a dried up pen, I didn't know that but luckily it was. I took the pen from his mouth happy it hadn't exploded. I throw it into one of our cream colored trash cans, and turn to glare at the dog.
He wags his tail.
I remember glares don't work on puppies.

Pouting? I'm not pouting.

Girl, Rottweiler x 2

Treat? Treat?

As I am well aware, but the reader may not be, there is nothing as lovable, cuddly, patient, and sweet as a Rottweiler puppy. No other breed is as well behaved, quiet, and easy going as a singular Rottweiler. Due to this jaded opinion, I have also developed an overprotective mommy streak. A mommy streak which breaks through the coffee shop window and prances around outside just to say, “Look how amazing my dog is!” Now I am under the firm impression that Moses, while being capable of much curiosity is never outright evil unless certain criteria are met. The criterion for being hell spawn includes only one variable; is his brother at the coffee shop?

Vahan 

My day at the coffee shop starts out at 6:30 am, where I open doors, clean tables, brew the house and French roasts, boil water, and do simple math equations. On a normal day, Moses looks at me with sleepy eyes, hops up on the red chair and sleeps. Or he runs over to where the treats are kept, steals one, looks up at me with sleepy eyes, races to the chair, begins to munch, then sleeps. These are regular occurrences.

Though on very special days at the coffee shop, there are two Rottweiler puppies, the hounds of hell have been unleashed. Vahan, is Moses’ litter mate and is the bigger, slinkier, thinner dog owned by the coffee shop’s owner (peer pressure is another story).  Working with them in the coffee house becomes a battle to stay aloft as puppy bodies slam into legs, chairs, couches, and whatever else they can bounce off.

This day was no exception.

It started out normal – ish, well not many customers were in that day, and it was nice not to feel hurried. Moses and I were doing what we do best; chill, while waiting for a customer. It was almost the end of my shift and I was ready to go home (my. The next shift was the owner’s and I figured, the puppies would get to play for ten minutes and I could go home and do the homework that I may have been procrastinating on.

I didn’t know a puppy marathon was about to occur.

Vahan turned the corner and Moses ran to the door, tail wagging, he looked at me, Do you see whose here? It’s bro! Can we play? Can we play?

The owner opened the door and the MMA puppy tournament had commenced. Now, when both of them weighed twenty pounds and looked like balls of fur it was fun to watch because not much damage had occurred. Seeing a puppy everyday while it grows makes one forget that they are no longer twenty pounds. Two forty to fifty pound pups slammed into each other, pushing the couch a good six to seven inches. The scrape of wood on concrete echoed painfully.

The owner grinned, “He needed this.”
 I agree that they both needed the play time together, but every time they do I get demoted from barista to puppy wrangler.

I've got your foot! 

I stood in the gap that would allow them behind the counter. When one of them was there it was ok because both of them were easy going, kind of lazy, dogs who liked to chew on toys and sleep on chairs. Now, with them both there, they had become furies.  Biting, bowing, barking, bashing, snarling, snapping, sneaking, you name it they were doing it. Rolling, racing, pause … drinking… drinking …. Drinking …. Un-pause… howling, yipping, kicking, etc. It was impressive how bossy Moses could be, while Vahan just took the complaints in stride. I could hear Moses snarl, get off! Get off! Get off! Get off! Ill bite! Get off!

And Vahan’s silent answer back was to grab Moses’ leg with his teeth.
The owner looked at them, “They’re getting too big.”

“Yep.”

I watched the spectacle. Believing that both we owners were glad there was no customers there. When they crashed into something, the owner looked at me, “I think it’s time they were done.”

“Yeah.” I nodded grabbing the leash, “Moses c’mere!”

Moses tried, I could see the visible effort, then a puppy mouth closed on his leg and the wrestling started again.

“Mo!” I called and walked out the door. Moses came, so did Vahan. Dodging one puppy while getting the other puppy out the door is a challenge. Opening the door I pushed Moses outside while using my body as a barrier to keep Vahan inside. I squished myself out the door, closing it as I did. Vahan sat on one side of the door, Moses on the other. Vahan scratched at the door, begging to go with his brother.

“No, you stay here.” I heard the owner say. Vahan went over to him tail wagging.

Moses pranced right out to the car. Wagging his tail, acting as if he hadn’t been a child of Satan a few minutes before.  I opened the door and he jumped in and scooted over to what was now his seat (it had been my ex’s). He curled up and rested his head on the divider between the two front seats and let out a sigh.

That was fun! Why’d stop? Wanna play more!

I got in turned the car key and drove.

I realized when I got home, I had forgotten my tip. 

Coffee, Rottweiler, and Pepper

Patter, patter, patter, patter, CRASH. I turned around to see him sprawled across the concrete floor, a silver   piece of whatever in his mouth. Little eyes gleaming, knowing that now I would have to pay attention. I sighed.

"A sixteen ounce house coffee, two dollars and fifty cents." I passed the vanilla drink over to the older woman while smiling. She was cleaner than most the people I had seen that morning, her gray hair full of tidy curls. Her wallet organized to perfection. Her hands shook as she passed me four in crisp dollars. 

"Keep the change."

I thanked her for the tip and dreaded her reaction to the event.  

"What a smart dog," She grinned, and took a sip.  I couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed as I put the cash into the drawer and the tip into my can.  There my forty pound, five month old rottweiler sat wagging his tail happily, while crunching on the pepper packages. He sneezed.

"He is quite adorable." The woman patted him while reaching for the sugar. 

Not to contradict the customer, I smiled, "He's a good dog."

"How old is he?"

"Five months," I felt my cheeks begin to hurt, "he's still a baby."

"What is his name?"

I grimaced, blaming my mother, "Moses."

"What a great name!" The woman bent down and brushed her hand awkwardly across his gigantic head (well for his body size). "Good boy Moses."

She left grinning, the door's chime belled behind her exit. 

"You -" 

Moses skittered away, up onto the red leather chair that was his favorite perch. Laid down and wagged his tail. The look on his face conveyed, I didn't do anything! She liked me! She said I was a good boy! 

I growled, and went over to where the pepper was flung across the floor. The packages were under the counter, across the back floor, trailing to the couch. I looked up at the brown eyes, "This is your fault, you little poop."

Moses wagged his tail. Knowing as all dogs owned by good owners know, I was full of it. I didn't think he was a little shit in honesty. I was just saying it because I was angry. He wagged his tail again. A sign that he had all but forgotten the fact he had caused trouble. 

I stood up after finding the rest of the pepper packages, "We need to have a serious discussion about rules."

Moses cocked his head to the side, not knowing a word I said. Turning around once in the chair, he laid down and closed his eyes. 

"Cant you do that when I am serving customers?"

He opened one eye, the look he gave me was the one that said, no, I can do whatever I want. The lady liked me. Deal.

I shook my head. "Grow up and get a real job."
 Moses wagged his tail once, sneezed once, and fell fast asleep.