Chloë Celebrates Valentine’s Day in Style

Chloë and Grace.

My Valentine’s Day got off to a great start when a card from my friends Grace (the basset hound down the street) and Jane (the nice person who lives with her) dropped through our mail slot. I didn’t know the mailman came so early (and he doesn’t, but that’s another story). Grace and Jane are so thoughtful! Unfortunately, it was the only V-day card I got. In fact, I was particularly disappointed that the only words referring to me that came from my Aunt Susie came in this email to Mike: “Just got back from Heid’s (the famed hot dog drive-in near Syracuse).  February is 2-for-1 month.” Sigh. And I thought she liked me.

Wirehair dachshund Cinders won hound group at Westminster.

Heather and Mike did much better. Heather gave out extra cheesy treats on our morning walk, and Mike gave me a really big, overstuffed frozen PBB (Peanut Butter Boney). Then they let me stay up late to watch the finals of the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show on TV; after all, a wirehair dachshund named Cinders won the hound group and made the final Best in Show competition. I thought Cinders is a fine representation of our breed; in terms of the classic look, he is everything I am not. (I more than make up for it with my innate cuteness and superior intelligence, of course.) It’s hard to believe Cinders lost to a mop. What a travesty.

After they finished their romantic V-day dinner, Mike and Heather gave me more treats: two ice-cream plates and the roasting pan from their shepherd’s pie that I could lick clean and push around the kitchen. What a late-breaking bonus.

Chloë licks shepherd's pie pan.

It seems to me that as long as Mike keeps giving Heather some kind of special dinner and dessert on Valentine’s Day, I’m going to benefit, too. Even without any dollar-store greeting cards, this is another holiday I can endorse without question. Bon apetit.

Chloë Turns Two

Chloë on stone wall in park on her second birthday.

I told Mike and Heather not to make a big deal about my birthday last Sunday, and much to my dismay they generously complied. So I received no lavish gifts, no trips to the doggie day spa, no surprise parties with Frank and Stanley. I wound up with just a few humble highlights.

First I got two large-sized plates of leftover pancakes and syrup in the morning. Mike is never one to leave much on his plate, but it’s better than nothing. Heather is more considerate.

My birthday was a warm, sunny day, and we went for a long walk in the park, where I posed on the stone wall for birthday photos and hopped through the South Meadow after field mice and voles. Didn’t get any, but I got in enough digging to turn the tip of my nose brown.

We also played a lot of fetch, and I’m getting pretty darn good at it. I’m even learning how to “throw” the ball back by knocking it with my paw. My aim gets better all the time.

Chloë and Gracie exchange pleasantries.

When we got home from the park, we had the real highlights of the day: I saw Gracie, my good friend from down the street, and I exchanged some birthday kisses with the old girl. She’s sweet to me. Even better, I got to chase the Bartons’ cat through their back yard and the back yard of Susan, their next-door neighbor. I sure did enough barking to alert the whole neighborhood, but I was never able to catch the darn thing. It was great fun, anyway, and when Heather finally caught me I heard them talking and finally found out the name of the Bartons’ cat: Beau (or is it Bo?). Thank goodness; know  thine enemy, I always say. Now I just have to find out how to spell it.

Two years old? Really? They go by so quickly. All the time, I hear Mike and Heather say that I’m growing into being a really good dog. But now that I’m two, will expectations rise? Am I grown up already, a puppy no longer?

 

Nah, don’t think so.

Chloë Survives a Scare

Chloë awaits another treat.

Nothing big happened in the week Lynn stayed with me.  By Sunday, most sidewalks in our neighborhood were clear of last week’s snow and ice, but it was still pretty cold. We suffered through a few nights of noisy wind; I could hear tree branches snapping and garbage can lids and recycling containers flying around or flapping  up and down. It got so windy one night that Claire’s empty compost bin blew all the way across the street and landed on the sidewalk beside Heather’s car. I heard it rolling.  That night our lights kept flickering, but power never went out, thank goodness. (Although if we got into a real emergency I have the utmost confidence in Lynn; more than I have in Mike, frankly.)

I had fun (and lots of treats) with Lynn, but when Mike and Heather got home I went crazy for them, anyway. After all, I know where my bread is buttered 50 weeks a year (more or less).  So I pretended to like them when they got back even more than I did when they left. This little act will insure more favorable treatment for me in the long run.

Chloë walks in Discovery Park with Heather.

The next afternoon all three of us went for a two-hour hike all around the park, and on Monday Mike and I played fetch with my purple-and-white ball in the lower part of the park for a real long time. In fact, a lady who was walking by marveled not only at my cuteness (as is the norm, of course) but of my speed! I was flattered, but I still wouldn’t let her pet me.

Then, just as it was getting dark. I suddenly veered off the park road for an instant and then re-emerged, limping. I had gone into a premeditated “sympathy routine” that I had devised while Mike and Heather were away.  I was merely pretending to  be limping, and I must have been playing my part well. Mike ran over to me quickly, kneeled down and thoroughly checked my right front foot and leg, feeling carefully between my toes and my joints. I let him handle me with no fuss– but when he couldn’t find anything amiss and asked me to walk,  I made myself stumble badly. Then Mike got genuinely worried. He briefly considered his options and, just as I had hoped, decided to carry me all the way from where we were (near the park Visitors’ Center) all the way to our house, probably about a mile and pretty much all uphill.

I could tell immediately that the leg that’s been giving Mike trouble for  a long time was bothering him every step of the way, so I was feeling a little guilty,  and I tried not to fidget around so much.  Actually, I kind of liked being carried around; I felt kind of like Liz Taylor in Cleopatra.

Chloë and Mr. Monkey wrestle in front of crate.

But when we got near the park entrance and started to cross the street to our house, I spied the Macs–MacDuff and MacKenzie, my Bichon friends from down our street–trotting toward us. Great, I thought; I hadn’t had any opportunity to torment them in a couple of weeks at least! Just seeing them made me wiggle so demonstrably that Mike was obliged to kneel to the ground and put me on the sidewalk, and I sprinted the last 20 feet or so to intercept them. They are such wimps–I really enjoy making them miserable for a few seconds.

Chloë hides under Mike's sweatshirt.

So, with my cover blown, I decided to forego the charade any longer (at least for now), and I proceeded to act and walk normally for the rest of the day, and the next day I showed no signs of lameness, causing Mike to wonder what made me limp the day before. In the afternoon I played fetch with Mike for about a half-hour straight , and then capped the day by chasing  a bunny into a thicket of Scotch broom. Mike had to crawl in and drag me out by my harness. I have to admit that I’m glad he did, or I’d probably still be out there in another cold, dark and rainy night. My sleeping crate with blankets and Mr. Monkey is sure preferable to that.

So I guess you could say things are back to normal, at least for the time being.

Chloë Figures Out What’s Going On

Mike's suitcase.

What a day, last Thursday. First the snow turned to slush. It was awful out there, cold and wet, and my feet sank through the crust and up to my chest every three steps or so. Yuck.

Then, as soon as we got back, Mike pulled out the suitcase with the orange tag.

And then I figured it out: Lynn would be coming over shortly. This has its good parts and its bad parts, of course. On the plus side, Lynn likes to cuddle and feeds me well. On the other hand, she just doesn’t toss that Wiffie like Mike does. So I decided to lay down right next to that suitcase, and see if maybe Mike would just cram me in there next to his underwear and socks.

Chloë guards Mike's suitcase.

It didn’t work. And come to think of it, staying here with Lynn was looking mighty attractive. More so by the minute.

Within a couple of days, I realized I had made the right choice. I was having a lot of fun with Lynn, and pretty soon she was telling me Mike and Heather would be coming back in three days, then two days, then tomorrow. Hmmm. I hope that suitcase doesn’t go back into the garage for too long!

 

Chloë Survives a Snowy Week

Chloë on the Parade Grounds.

Snow was in the forecast all week, but we didn’t get much of it here until Wednesday. That’s was the first day Heather didn’t drive to work. Of course, she had to go in late one morning after she temporarily lost me in the blackberry thickets off the Bunny Trail in the South Meadow. She saw me disappear in there and three bunnies scurry out. That’s when she went back to get Mike.

While she was gone, I kind of got stuck in there and scratched my ear on a thorn. Next thing I knew I was in a bathtub full of red water , and Heather was trying to stop the bleeding and get some kind of bandage to stay on. Quite an unexpected mess I made, and I couldn’t even blame it on Mike’s carelessness.

Chloë's bandaged ear.

Then, finally, it snowed all day Wednesday before icing over. I saw several people glide up our street and into the park on skis, but by the time we took our late afternoon walk it was changing to a freezing rain and starting to crust over a bit. Still, I had lots of fun. I got to wear my tan sweater (a birthday gift from Frank and Stanley)  and generally snowplow my way along the trails unabated. Other than kids sledding on the hills near the old church and the flagpole, there wasn’t much traffic in the park. And the best part: For some reason, today I didn’t build up snowballs on my leg feathers or between my toes. And I just hate it when that happens.

Chloë on snowy road.

When we got back from our walk, Heather got to do her favorite outdoor activity: snow shoveling. It’s something she loves and doesn’t get many chances to do anymore. While it ain’t exactly the Riviera around here in winter, it is the Riviera compared to Syracuse. Or so they tell me.

Chloë waits for Heather to finish shoveling.

Mike wasn’t allowed to shovel, because he is still recuperating from his delicate condition (or just plain lazy). So he cleaned snow off their cars with a broom. Heather jumped right in and shoveled our walk and halfway down the street, and of course all of the steps and walkways up to Claire’s front door across the street. She might have gone on to do the rest of the block  if she hadn’t started thinking about work. As soon as that happened, she hustled right back inside our house to do some!

In my humble opinion, Heather should spend less time thinking about work and more time playing with me. But it’s not going to be me who tells her.

Chloë watches Claire and Heather yak it up on Claire's steps.

Chloë Makes a Quick Getaway

Last Sunday morning we had no time to watch CBS Sunday Morning on TV. We were in a rush because we were supposed to be out at my Getaway near Fall City by 2 p.m. to take care of my buddy Tara and the horses for a few days. Just a brief stay,  bu more than enough time to recharge my batteries in the country.

Chloë entertains two of tug toy Santa's elves.

I was amped up from the second I got there, exploring and finding mischief to get into outside and in. I lucked out when Tara’s masters didn’t have enough time before going to the airport to get all of their holiday stuff packed away, so I had all of Tara’s special holiday toy stash to throw around the living room, tear open and spew their stuffing in all directions. In fact, I put Santa Elephant and Santa Cow up on the mantlepiece sidelines on the permanent IR (that’s Injured Reserve, for you non-NFL fans).  I was working hard chewing through the Santa tug toy, too.

Chloë on the trail at her getaway.

We also had time to take for several long walks in the nearby woods and wetlands, and I attacked each trail with abandon. Even so, I impressed both Heather and Mike with my responsiveness to their whistles and commands to come. It’s such fun to lull them into a false sense of security, and then take off after a bunny or squirrel scent that’s too irresistible to ignore.

All of us helped Tara out, despite her grumpy growliness. She’s getting old, and I can see from her limp and tenderness where she recently had a growth removed that she’s a hurting cowgirl. She walked with us the first two days, but the next day Mike let Tara go back home after she walked only 15 minutes or so.  I helped her out by showing her exactly what spots to pee on whenever we were outside together. I’m just doing my part to keep the old gal in a regular routine, so she can feel good about herself.

Despite her growls, I know Tara appreciates us coming out to stay with her. And Heather and I love being here. Heather really likes being out in the barn and supervising the horses, who unlike the people her office do what she tells them to most of the time. Mike, well he does get a little grumpy here when the bed, the desk chair and the step exerciser all conspire to make his legs and butt hurt all day and all night, but he can take it. Besides, he likes the huge TV and apparently unlimited supply of Cougar Gold cheese. Mostly, though, he comes here for the sake of Heather and me, and we thank him for it. Mike thinks he’s tough, but he’s really Mr. Softy.

Chloë poses with Mount Si in the background.

Chloë Teaches Kiki a Thing or Two

We drove over to Kiki’s house in Lynn’s car, and when we got there Kiki was having a bad hair day. The poor thing had just gotten clipped, and it was pretty short for a Havanese. I suspect Kiki’s owners must have decided to cut bait on her hair mats and just start over. But I hope Kiki picked up a few “calm assertive” pointers from me that she can apply when I’m not around and bigger dogs tease her about that lousy coif.

The two of us played around for a while. Whenever Kiki thought she might be able to get the upper hand for a few seconds, I just stood her up straight or pounced upon her, just the way my brothers knock me around. Being on the other end was awesome, baby.

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We were having fun until Kiki pooped in the house and wanted me to cover for her. And how exactly?By looking guilty? That’s not my style. So I blew her in to Lynn. Since she didn’t catch Kiki in the act, Lynn let the waif off easy, in my opinion. Honestly, there’s no excuse for that kind of behavior at our age. Whenever I gotta go, I mean REALLY gotta go, I just let out a few little whimpers, and people are stumbling over each other to get me out of the house. It ain’t rocket science.

I fervently hope Kiki gets my message on this one, or she’s going to be in for a lot of aggravation in the long run.

 

Chloë Has a Lazy Staycation

Heather dries off Chloë after a walk.

I love my ordinary daily routine, but this week we had a new routine that was even better.  Heather was off from work every day, and we slept late. Then early one morning Mike and Heather left together in the dark, without me. I was confused, but I got a Kong with kibble, so it was OK by me. When they came back a few hours later, Mike looked as puffy and slow-moving as a giant balloon in the Macy’s parade, and I don’t think he was drunk (not so early in the day, anyway).

Heather told me Mike had a “little surgery,” whatever that means. All I know is that I’m not allowed to jump on him, especially near his belly button. Mike immediately got into bed (and it was daytime, when he’s never in bed). He pretty much stayed there for a couple of days. So did Heather, except when she took me out for long walks or went to the kitchen, where she normally never goes (except to get something from the fridge). But this week she seemed to be in charge of feeding for me AND Mike, which is a lot of new responsibility. Could she handle the pressure?  Well, there were a few times when her service was a bit awkward, but she compensated in other areas. Portion size, for instance, was more than generous, and that’s what true gourmands like Mike and I appreciate.

Chloë likes the nature shows.

I got to stay in bed all day, too—as long as I didn’t leap onto Mike’s belly, that is. Sleeping between his legs was allowed, so I was OK with that. While I was snoozing, Mike and Heather watched a LOT of TV. They tend to go for multi-part TV series like Dexter and Downton Abbey, which are just too much time commitment for me. I only pay attention to the TV when its showing animals. I’m not as interested in dogs on TV as I am birds and small mammals, things I can chase. Another case of art imitating life.

When I did get out of bed, there were many long, soggy walks with Heather, which were a lot of fun.  Heather throws the ball a lot and gives me lots of trail treats if I come when she whistles, which happens most of the time. After a few days, Mike started coming for some shorter walks, but I can tell he’s still not ready for playing fetch for 10 throws in a row or walking up the steps from the lighthouse or visitors’ center. At least his head isn’t puffed up anymore.

Chloë at West Point Lighthouse on a long walk with Heather.

I had a few interesting encounters during the week. My favorite friend Lynn picked me up two times, and we rode in her car over to a house nearby where she was taking care of Kiki, a Havanese whom I’ve visited before. I like Kiki (and of course I LOVE Lynn!) because we’re really well matched in size and energy, and Kiki is still so naive that it’s easy to impose my will on her. Since my brothers Frank and Stanley are so  much bigger than I am, Kiki is the one dog I know that I can truly dominate. In a good way, of course (more on that next time).

Unfortunately, my other encounter of my vacation week didn’t go nearly as well. One morning in the park a big husky chased after me, startled me from behind and dragged me to the ground by the scruff of my neck. Luckily, Heather was close and got him off me right away. I’m not sure he meant any harm, but still, who needs the aggravation? My policy is to steer away from any dogs who are bigger than me unless I’ve met them previously and left on good terms. But between what happened to me the other day and seeing the University of Washington Huskies score 56 points in their football bowl game and LOSE, I don’t have much respect for huskies these days.

Kiki in her lair.

To cap off the lazy week, Heather and Mike finally took me out somewhere—all the way to to Magnolia Village. We walked up and down the main drag a couple of times, stopped inside Peoples Bank, where I got a treat from the manager, and they picked up the “big present” they had promised me.

It was big; it took up the whole back seat on the way home. Turned out it was a professional framing of the poster my buddy Kihm Winship (father of Gus) sent Mike and Heather earlier this year. It shows the labels of 15 varieties of wine from California’s Weener’s Leap Winery (apparently it’s the wine dachshunds would drink if dachshunds drank wine). Take a look.

Chloë writhes in glee in front of new dachshund poster.

As you can probably tell from my excited wiggling above that I thought the poster’s nice, but really…why put pictures of 15 other dachshunds up on the wall when they could have captured the essence of the breed by simply hanging one photo of me? All the money they’d save by having to get a (slightly) smaller frame could buy me a lot of those premium treats and biscuits Heather gets for me at PJ’s and the Thriftway. Art or food? We all have our priorities.

Chloë Sends Holiday Greetings

Coney Island Frank plays Santa.

Of course I’ve been told that ours is  a “no-gifts” household,  but several things that look a lot like gifts are piling up in front of the mantelpiece that Mike has decorated for the holidays. Something tells me most of these presents must be for me. I can smell it in the air, so to speak.

And no, it’s not pine boughs and mistletoe tickling my nose. I’ve already received some “re-gifted” items from my buddies MacDuff and MacKenzie, the two Bichons who live down our street. Apparently they got these treats from one of their dog friends, and they don’t like them, or can’t eat them for dietary reasons. Truthfully, I was so overwhelmed when I stuck my nose into the paper bag they came in to catch the whole explanation. Like I care! It’s almost too much to believe that the Macs would be giving up partial bags of Kibbles ‘n Bits AND Bacon and Cheese-flavored Beggin’ Strips—and yet, there they are, right in my pantry, waiting to be devoured (at a painfully slow pace, no doubt).

Chloë looks adoringly at her guys.

My Aunts Susie and Debby also came through with gifts, big time. I can always count on them! Luckily, they enclosed a card to make sure Mike and Heather knew which gifts were mine and which was for them (frankly, I’d get Susie’s famous homemade holiday cookies, too, but they have chocolate in them, and that’s not allowed).

I haven’t cracked the packaging on all of my aunts’ gifts yet, but I can already see they sent two varieties of rawhide chews and a colored ball made of dental floss! I can’t wait to get my gums around that ball. What a concept: Chewing something neat and improving your dental hygiene at the same time! It should come in handy after all those Beggin’ Strips.

Mike and Heather haven’t given me any presents so far, but I have a feeling something BIG is on the way.  I’ve tried to get in touch with Santa (actually my East Coast compatriot Coney Island Frank enjoys playing the part), but Mr. Claus refused to divulge anything before the big day. Mike’s not even sure it will get here by Sunday, anyway.

Chloë turns on for the holidays.

So I guess I’ll just keep looking adoringly at Mike and Heather (as above), and eventually gifts will come my way. That adoring look is just part of the reason I don’t have to give them any other gifts. I’m already the gift that keeps on giving.

Meanwhile, Heather and I have decided how we’re going to spend as much of our holiday “staycation” as possible. You’re allowed to take a peek, but don’t be making any loud noises or laughing! We don’t want to be disturbed. Just tiptoe out and accept our holiday greetings: Deck your halls with boughs of Tully, Season’s Greensteins to all, and to all a good night.

Chloë and Heather nap while awaiting Santa.

Chloë Entertains Her Brothers

I hadn’t seen my brothers Frank and Stanley in a couple of months when we got together in the park last week. Turns out Frank had some kind of wart on his mouth and wasn’t allowed to  socialize with other dogs (except Stan, of course) until he got rid of it. I sure as hell wouldn’t want to have him gumming my head and swapping spit if I could get warts from it. Yuck.

But it was great to see them after such a long time and do a little running around and wrestling with the guys. Stanley was into it; Frank also greeted me warmly, but he soon became preoccupied with sniffing the fields for mice and rabbits.  I can do that any old day, so rolling around with The Big Man (Stan) was No. 1 on my agenda.  In the video below, you can see how excited Frank is about wrestling when we haul our butts right past his nose. I can tell Frankie will be the deliberate, studious brother, while Stan is always cruisin’ for a bruisin’.

Don’t get me wrong. I love ‘em both to death. And I admit that nobody’s ever going to accuse me of passing up a donut or a hamburger, either. But let’s call a load a load: Frank and Stan are downright huge. I weigh about 18 pounds, maybe. Frank weighs in around 30, and Stan is pushing 33! If the Green Bay Packers are short a linebacker for the NFL playoffs, Stan could fill the hole.  And then some.

But c’mon guys, maybe it’s time to cut down on the rations. Even Groucho Marx took the cigar out of his mouth once in a while.