Canine Athletes and Couch Pet-atos

A preliminary retrospective survey of injuries occurring in dogs participating in canine agility. . Muscle disorders and rehabilitation in canine athletes. Reinstein L, Alevizatos AC, Twardzik FG, et al. . Fun Center · Team Meeting in a Box · Front Desk Disasters · Back Office Blunders · Coffee on the Couch.
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Just look at the eyes they possess! Paloma and Wade are also with us since the summer. They were born on July 14 th and are no less spectacular siblings. These sweethearts can be found in Bogrov shelter. I present to you, a very charming and memorable family — the sisters — Heart, Spade and Club. Born on 28 th of ostober You already know that the stories of most bulgarian dogs are identical. Here is another proof for this. This is how our heroes were born. Apparently, the mother was a Husky, and the father — a friendly stray dog. Well, if you had neutered your dog on time, this situation would not be possible, right!?

And this is how the fight for survival for these unlucky pups starts.

She feeds them with a nursing bottle a couple of times a day, consults with friends, looks for a home for when they grow up, keeps them warm and dry. She rescues them from their ridiculous destiny and she commits them in our hands. Anyone, who has interest in them, can come on the spot in Bogrov shelter and meet personally these wonderful puppies, who drew our the lucky card in life. We remind you, that neutereing is free in Bogrov shelter for your pets at home, and for stray dogs and cats. Although sad their story is very well-known and we see how it repeats over and over again in different parts of the country.

They met in a hot and beautiful summer day and here we go. Two months later those beautiful babies were born in the street. They were well cared and protected by their mother until one day everything changed. Cruel people throw poison in the neighborhood that took away their mother. They were too tired to cry or hope for rescue. But she decided to give them a second chance for life.

She took them in her home and gave her best to save them. And she did it! She cared for them until they grow up a little and some space was freed in the shelter so we were able to take them. Now, a few months later, those cute and wonderful puppies are ready for new and happy life. And they know that they will get it. Because they were rescued for a reason, right?

The Smuggler | The Common

After we introduced to you some of our beautiful ladies and heart-breaking Don Juans, it is time for you to meet part of the merriest inhabitants of Bogrov shelter. They are 17, all of age around 1 year. The Happy band Distinguishing marks: Smart, Imaginative, Loyal, Playful, Enchanting. Captivating hearts In search of: The Ringleaders — Atos and Aramis — Neutered and vaccinated. The fearless brothers Atos and Aramis are the band leaders. They are known for their quick mind, lolling tongues and infinite ideas for new adventures. Always ready for an escapade they will charm you with their vitality and love to life and people.

Arizona — 1 years old. Arizona is so noiseless that she can sneak everywhere. But yet if you notice her she turns into one little shy girl that captures your attention securing her band friends the perfect cover. Jecky — 1 years old. Jecky is part of the calm half of our band. There have to be some mild —tempered and more obedient dogs. Not all of them can be wild and playful. As you can see Jecky also like cuddling. So what more do you need to instantly fall in love with him. Jeff — 1 year old.

Jeff is such a cuttie. He can definitely be described as a heartbreaker. He is a really loving and kind dog, very active and more than fascinating. Lem — 10 months old. Lem is a beautiful young guy. He is very curious, always trying to sniff and explore everywhere. May be he thinks that he can make a huge discovery with which he can become famous. Javier — 9 months old. Javier is still a little suspicious to humans but step by step he is going to become more that perfect with people.

Javier finds everything outside for beautiful and interesting. Dudana like a typical young lady lives for human touch and caress. A day in life: Verona Posted on 13 June Verona has the following schedule: Two elderly ladies approached me from the opposite flank and insisted on giving me some gauze rags. Words stuck in my throat. I exerted myself to recall my recent thoughts about religion. I felt I had to find the right tone: They are full of fervor. But I feel empty inside.

There is no flame.

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I have even read some of the works of Father Paul Florensky. Do you know his On the Threshold of Thought? Rising, the priest blessed me quickly with the sign of the cross and extended his plump hand toward me. I shook it with relief, and the crumpled note about which I had forgotten fell to the floor. The priest and I stared at it simultaneously. It was a five ruble bill.

Sasha was expected back by lunch. He was a friend of the Kolosovs whom I had learned to know from the rest because he had been a refusenik for three years now. His petitions to emigrate were being denied. He wore red socks and was interested in poetry. The priest is just an intermediary. What do you care about his human qualities? When writing poems, you take on a whole different aspect? We sat around and drank tea from a tea set.

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I heard him talking to the music teacher about contemporary music. It will dawn on them some day that they had overlooked a genius in their midst. Sasha reclined on the sofa. It was slightly too short for him, and his red-socked feet dangled from the plush bolster. Sasha rested his nape on his hands and stared at the ceiling. Does this ever happen to you?

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At home, I recalled this conversation with sudden joy. My life was so interesting, my circle comprised such fascinating types. Smuggler, poet, Christian … I was surviving extreme conditions, so to speak, and risking my freedom. A howling ambulance dashed by behind my window along Soviet Army Boulevard, the dog next door howled in response, and all was silent again.

I took a sheet of paper and began to write. All night we stood and gaped like exit wounds in palisade askanceness of the fence to the black backyard, to the white front porch, whereat the stars glimmered their green reproach to the effect that there was, no, no chance… I submitted my petition to emigrate. Wow, what amazing people, I thought on my way home.

I should get to know them better, they emit a good energy. Still, why am I so incapable of rising above particulars to the level of metaphysical abstraction? Does theirs tell them something else? Should I be reading up on this? On the nightstand by the sofa lay the unfinished Florensky volume: Come out into a garden on a moonless night. The aforementioned merry Gagauzian, the first to sell me sheepskins, invited me to his house. His name was Pavel, and he was about fifty. The fence demarcated a neat garden where fruit trees leaned on wood crosses and wore white stockings of lime against caterpillars.

There were many rooms, about five or six, but they were appended to each in preposterous succession, like cars in a train. In the dining car—the long kitchen—three men were lunching at a table covered with white. Pavel poured wine from a jug into mugs and looked at me. He opened a drawer and took out an iron cross. Next to it in the drawer were a prayer book and a paper icon. We had no children for a long time. We even went to the hospital. We went, first by bus up to Tiraspol, then by train to Kiev, and we started looking for this monastery.


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We lit some candles and bought this icon. Just four rubles for such a powerful thing! What do you think? The lookers showed no reaction to the compliment; they must have heard this story many times. Each was graced with heavy eyebrows joined at the top of the nose and a pair of large bovine eyes.

He wiped his lips with a homespun towel and, heavy with food, pushed himself away from the table. We walked forward through the house and into a dim room hung with Turkish rugs.


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Sheepskins were piled up in a corner. In a couple of minutes I heard his monotonous, businesslike snoring. I went on turning over the sheepskins. Pavel lay asleep across the ottoman. His eyeglasses had slid down the bridge of his nose and settled on its tip. I stuffed my sheepskins into bags and, leaving the money next to him on the pillow, exited into the lane through the backyard. The very fact that my life path has led from my childhood all the way to the Kolosovs proves that I must believe in something.

In fate, for example. I asked a question then, but I have to date received no answer. The simile was flawed, but it worked for me. The bus vibrated as it entered the city. Peasants sat dormant around me. The hull of a highrise under construction flashed by in the window. There were exactly nine floors. The top floors still wore scaffolding, but a political placard was already affixed to the roof. To be sure, it showed the Leader of the Revolution, and the slogan above his outstretched arm read in large crimson lettering: I continued uphill at a sprightly and independent pace.

Lenin Street was five or six short blocks away. It was flooded with streetlights, glowing in the distance. I turned and saw its owner, a tall bozo in baggy sweatpants and a quilted jacket. A revolver, I thought. Sizing up the uphill lane, I ran. I was afraid and seemed slow to myself. For the first time in my life I was being pursued, an unpleasant sensation. A major portion of my strength went into balancing the sheepskin load.

Should I drop the bags? I had had a training partner in my athletic childhood: She almost always won, although I was every bit as good as her as a runner. When I stopped the lane was again dark and empty, like a spyglass aimed at a distant stretch of asphalt. A mangy cat stood by the familiarly locked supermarket door. I sat down on the doorstep and motioned for the cat to come closer.

Eat popcorn on the couch and watch Netflix. Eat dinner on the couch and watch Netflix. Maybe take a shower. By staying focused and positive. I realize what an incredible life I am currently living and I am determined to make the most out of every day. Bandy [a hockey-like sport]. We play bandy during the summer as cross training and it is hands down my favorite workout.

I do love a good, hard bike ride. How many different types of training we do for speed skating - cycling, running, inlining, weightlifting, slideboard, hockey, swimming, aqua jogging, dryland. Also, people are always surprised to hear that I. Have you ever been seriously injured? What did it take for you to come back from that injury? I had my right knee scoped in June It was from overuse. Turns out my body didn't totally love being in a speed skating position for eighteen years. It took a lot of patience to get through the season. I am still working on rehabbing it, but I can skate on it.

And like coach always says When I crave dessert and am feeling creative, I find a recipe and make it. When I crave dessert and am feeling lazy, I go to the store and get mint chocolate chip or salted caramel ice cream. I honestly don't remember first trying speed skating, but I remember wanting to be the fastest speed skater in the world.

This is a memory I have because my mom has told it to me over and over. What's something cool, weird intense about your sport that people don't normally see? Who is your coach? Matt Kooreman has been my coach since We have a great relationship.

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He is quiet most the time, but don't let that fool you. Under all that shaggy hair and beard is the strongest will to win and a knack for comedic timing. I am fortunate to have an amazing team that is like a family. When we travel for World Cups, I also get a chance to hang out with my skating friends from other countries.

It's the only time I get to see a lot of them. It seems easy now, but I think it was hard all those years to stick with this sport, believing in myself but not knowing if that was enough to accomplish my dreams.

One more step

When I was little and didn't want to wake up early on Saturdays for time trials, I would fantasize that a meteor would crash into the building and races would definitely be cancelled. When I was little, I idolized Bonnie Blair—for obvious reasons oh hi five gold medals and a bonus bronze. She is a boss. And now I have her phone number and we're friends and she texts me. Dreams do come true. Focus on your technique.

I developed bad habits that I am to this day trying to overcome. It doesn't matter how strong you are. If you can't put your power into the ice, you can't skate fast. I'm glad speed skating made us friends. We are so different and our paths would not have crossed in life otherwise. I don't know what specifically makes her interesting. Meet her and find out for yourself. One of my closest friends is a speed skater from Canada, Kaylin Irvine. We both started skating at a young age and have probably been racing each other since we were But we didn't become good friends until after we had a heart-to-heart sitting outside a closed gas station in Inzell, Germany after a World Cup.

Being able to interact with not only athletes from all over the world, but other American athletes. It is so rare for our paths to ever cross, it takes going all the way to the Olympics to meet other members of Team USA. How were you able to overcome that? Peace sign on inner wrist was my first tattoo. Me and Savannah Camplin both got them when we were We're really into peace, obviously.

Small house above the crook of my elbow. It is a stick and poke that my friend gave me. Our roommate, Colin, gave them to us. Small triangle on inside of left foot. I've moved a lot in my life, averaging maybe two years per home. I've always embraced that and now home is wherever I go. The Olympic rings on the outside of my right foot. Had it done while I was in Greece because that seemed perfect.