The Courage of Small Dogs

My Motherrr has Pugs. Not my cup of tea, but they are kinda cute. They make her happy. She loves to write about their ‘adventures’ as I love to write about the DappleDuo.

She wrote this in a Pug forum …

“Tonight I started and finished a death to mice project in the kitchen. Mice are disgusting and destructive and the only none use for a snake. But lacking a snake, I pulled the storage unit, let Mallory the Steam Cat in for a quick look and started a disgusting job. Finished with varnishing the storage space and caulking any runways. Then off to throw everything in the washer. I looked down the hall. Princess was helplessly intangled in a WM grocery sack. Yes, she had been dumpster diving for left over food, but she was tangled up and couldn’t get free. And she was coming to me for help. No yelps, no complaints, blind and partially deaf. She was tracking me in the sure belief that I would help. I have often said that Princess is a better pug than I am a human. No one talks much about courage in these small animals, but they have courage in spades.

A word about Atoka, who was born without useful eyes, used as a breeding dog, taken by a small vibrant rescue, sent to a larger rescue and washed ashore here. He has no way to see me and has the good heart not to judge me. He spends his day helping around the house and resting his head on my feet. They are a unique breed, no wonder they saved a king.”

I mentioned that little dogs are brave beyond the reach of their little legs.  Dogs tend to reflect on us as a mirror. They show us our hearts in their eyes … even if they don’t physically have them.

Her reply was …

“When you took the DD to see the B17, I commented on how cute they were surging forward like inchworms straining against their leash. Standing under an alert rescue helo, they didn’t break a sweat. Having dragged them away as they terrorized the luckless white boxer bitch visiting the aircraft, we took them to grass to refresh themselves, and they limped to the car with terrible thorns. Like any good person, I picked goat head thorns from them under their protest, and without as much as tah-tah to me, they lept into the back seat of the car to wave to their passing fans. Family dogs reflect the courage I rarely see in humans unless I am watching Beau Geste. One of your dogs came from a cash smart byb, the other was thrown over a vet’s office wall by children and was never reclaimed. Fortunately for both of the DD, they claimed your heart and stayed the course. I guess tonight, and every night, I am glad to know them all. Even Mandy, who frightens me.”

I kinda sorta hope that I am as brave as the Dapple Duo … who did stand and watch a helicopter prepare for flight and swoop around them within 500 feet. Never batted an eye. Like the old saying goes … I also hope that I am the person my dog thinks I am :-)

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Never a Dull Moment

I had the gall the last two days to go do stuff.
Yesterday I took Motherrr to see the bomber, then we went to lunch, then we took the DappleDuo to PetCo.
Today, I went to the fair with my brother. This meant the kids have had no entertainment, and the dogs were outside.
I get home, unload all the loot (made a Petsmart run) and put my feet up – and the recliner puts me to sleep. Wake up, putter around, eat my Jack in the Box tacos, feed the dogs their cheesyburgers … Dalai comes to sniff and flick her tail … but the house is strangely calm. Quiet. Where is Captain??
Hunt, call, open doors … No Captain
Panic starts to set in
Hunt, call, rummage around rooms … No Captain
Sit … breathe … think … panic
Search garage , call, shake food can … No Captain
Poke my head out the front door, call …….. Demmit!!!!! DiNo dashes out the front door, into the dark. Without thinking, I dash after him. Barefoot. In my underwear. Yep – I had taken my jeans off, but not put my Jammies on. So there i am … chasing this lithe, energetic wriggly eel puppy down the street. He is deliriously happy chasing smells. We were sooo fortunate that a nice man was talking to someone in his yard and DiNo was more than happy to say hello. Boy, i hope he did not notice my state of undress!
Back to the hunt for Captain … once I catch my breath. Hunt another hour.
KC, DiNo, & Remy decide they now want out back. In about 5 mins – KC starts to Yip. Totally different sound for him. Shoes, Shorts, Flashlight … head out, call … and there is an answer!! Run to the far side of the yard, and there is KC and his kitten, and I am beyond elated.
Scoop Captain up … his little tail was POOFed … and hug him. For once in his Evil Spotty Boy life, he hugged me back. KC also gets a ride in. He found his kitty and called for rescue.
Everyone is back indoors, I am wrung out … and researching feline & canine ankle bracelets. Not a few hours I ever want to repeat!! Ever!

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We Do Not Dress The Dachshund

I enjoy looking at pics of the things people dress their dogs in. Just as I enjoy the extreme grooming that people do. The dogs typically seem to be enjoying the attention and being pretty. But it is not something I would ever do. From the day KC came home I swore I would not dress the Dachshund.

Now, KC is supposed to be a long-haired Doxie. He has lovely silky ears … and the rest of his coat … well … it sorta sucks. Thin, coarse, medium length at best. Nutrition has improved his size and the seen of his coat, but I think we are stuck with crappy otherwise. DiNo’s coat is softer and longer, but still not what the AKC describes.

Oklahoma Winters are bone-chilling cold. Now, I enjoy the cold. KC and DiNo … not so much. The weather started to turn this week. KC did alright for two days, then told me repeatedly he wanted his t-shirt. Yes … we do not dress the dachshund, but he has a wide selection of t-shirts:

… and a jacket

but this is all protective gear. They keep him warm and snuggly. Yup, that is my story and I am sticking to it! When nights are in the 60′s, he wants his t-shirt. Take it off? He wilts for hours after. gives pathetic looks until a new t-shirt is found.

So … no, we do not dress up the Dachshunds, we are responsible pet parents and make sure they have sufficient protection.

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KC’s Guide to Advanced Staff Training

KC the ID here!
I have often read of the Staff’s Maternal Ancestor’s CurlTail’s exploits with peeing in the house. Amateur. So very amateur. Just not up to Professional Dachshund Standards.
Last night, my sleep was disturbed by a rather large cattle dog attempting to place her rather large self on top of my cozy burrow I had created under the blankies. I was very grumpy when I woke up. The Staff did not help. I sat in my usual place on the edge of the bed to be carried outside. This is my right as Senior Doxie!! She. Walked. By. Me. The nerve! She remembered herself when I ARP!!ed at her.
Baxter and Mandy took longer to get out of bed, so they were let out in a second wave. I took advantage of this and came back in to be Only Dog. Imagine my indignation when I was plopped on my back, unceremoniously, and given pills. Then I was placed on the floor, my rear paws hoisted up … and I was SPRAYED!! Staff has spray that smells really good and helps my allergies. She also soaked my back and my paws and my EARS!! My floppy, silky, lovely ears. The slice of american cheese was hardly appropriate compensation!
After giving my ultimate Stink Eye, I set to wandering about the house to see how Staff could be punished. Finally, I settled on Peeing in front of the coffee pot, and after carefully dipping selected toes in – I decorated the floor with lovely little paw prints.
Well, the Staff actually turned on lights so she did not step in the puddle as intended. She scolded, I applied Dewy Eyes with head between Pudgy Paws. She cleaned, I got a chew. :::See how this works??::: Since Staff had not cooperated in her punishment, I chose to also poop in front of the kitty gate hoping that if I barked and trilled, she would let me out … and step in the deposit. While that did not quite work out – the Staff had to clean … again. I got a bite of her breakfast. Or three.
All is right in my world.

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DiNozzo’s Guide to Ultimate Human … Training

DiNo of the Dapple Duo here. In my brief life, I have determined the ultimate and effective way to train your Human.
Waving of The Pudgy Paw. Supplemented with the Dewy Eye and Floppy, Silky Ears – Well there is nothing a puppy cannot get away with.
The most efficient and expedient use of the dreaded Pudgy Paw is to wriggle your whole body as hard as you can, mesmerizing the human with the Dewy Eye and FS Ear. Then, flop over in place, revealing The Pudgy Paws. Hold them knee to chin, so they fold most adorably. Fix the human with the DE, and wriggle 2-3 times, then and only then … wave the Pudgy Paws at them. How long and how often will depend on your human and your offense. Great wafts of Happy Doggie Stink will be useful if you can muster it.
Dig in the trash? Wave The Paws
Steal food? Wave The Paws
Chew a shoe? Wave The Paws
Chase the cats, again, even if they started it? Wave The Paws.
Personalize reading material? Wave The Paws
Don’t want to go out in the rain? Steal kitty poop from the kitty boxes? Well … these are the only things that The Paws have not helped with. The Human says pooping in the hall is just unacceptable. Geesh.
Try not to waste prime Paw Waving just to get treats. Usually, Dewey Eyes will suffice … unless it is something The Human is eating and not sharing in a timely manner. Then – wave The Paws, but only briefly!!
I hope this brief lesson has been useful to you … and remember!! The power of the Pudgy Paw is an effective and valuable tool, use it wisely.
All Hail The Pudgy Paw!
Close Up of the weapon of choice
The Dewy Eye and Floppy, Silky Ears
Pudgy Paw waving position
Supervising the Staff as she makes notes for this lesson
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Poor Little Sylvia

The weather is changing here in OK. Well not much, but it is trying. As Summer tries to fade, the critters are staking out prime warmth siphoning positions.

DiNo wedges himself in beside me on the left, KC just below him closer to my knee. Kashmere takes the back of the chair, and Mandy prefers  the foot of the chair. Tonight, I am roasting and begin to fling off my Critter Cover. Come to discover that the heater on my right ankle is Sylvia. Sylvia who dislikes me, but misses her Dad more.

Sylvia is an ancient, teeny thing. Maybe 7 pounds? The most feline of felines. Snooty, not cuddly, demanding, and never, ever, ever coming to her name. Most evenings, Miss Sylvia was to be found draped across K’s ankle, sound asleep. Glaring at the poor man if he wriggled or had to get up. Immediately resuming her position when he was still … with the haughtiest of looks.

Since we lost K, she has really declined. Compulsive grooming, not eating well, looks ratty, cries – that break my heart. The past couple of weeks, she has become my shadow. Wanting to sit at my elbow, having to be put on the stool under the lamp. Close to me but not in the way. Now she has adopted my ankle. Hopefully this will make her feel better!

Hopefully … the Dynamic Dapple Duo will leave her be. they are not much on sharing THEIR chair … or T H E I R Human.

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Papercuts

This past week, I have been steeling myself up to go into Karol’s desk.

Desks are like wallets/purses … they are our private places. Not just places for receipts and records, pens and pencils, envelopes and stamps. They are where we tuck notes and cards and mementos and things important to us – private things that we need to save, but do not wish to share unless the time and situation is right.

Having to go through his desk caused sleepless nights, couldn’t eat, unwilling to talk to friends or family. Today, I put on my Big Girl Boots and selected the two drawers I knew were my best bets. The papers varied from the mundane financial, to seminar notes for work, to card backers for the toys he collected … to every card I ever sent him. There were ribbons from Valentine’s chocolates. Wrappers from Christmas gifts. Honey-Do-Lists. Pens, pencils, pins, matches from trips we took.

Fair warning … Hearts can get papercuts.

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