Category Archives: Chloë’s Toys

Chloë Vacations in Style

Taking it easy.

One evening before dinner, Mike and Heather packed up all my traveling stuff  and, without any warning, herded me into the car. We drove off with me in the back seat, whining in trepidation. I feared the worst. That is, until the car stopped in front of a house I recognized immediately: I was going to the vet for an operation, I was going on another vacation with my friends Caroline and David . My whimpers instantly modulated from mournful to excited. So was I at all nervous to be abandoned? Hell, no! As soon as Mike and Heather shut the door, I settled in. This was like a spa week for me.

Dozing on the couch.

This time I didn’t get to visit Caroline’s new financial planning office, but she came home to check on me several times a day. One day David stayed home and I got to watch him do some engineering. Since David and Caroline are expecting to get a dachshund puppy of their own later this spring, he seemed to want to be my pal so he could practice. We got along great. One night I even jumped up on the couch and put my head on his lap. He didn’t chase me away, which I took it as a good sign. I’m hoping that if I’m nice to him, maybe after they get their puppy he’ll invite me onto his boat. I’ve never been on a boat, so the puppy and I could get our inaugural sea legs together. Assuming there are no waves involved, of course.

Waiting for a treat.

Even though Heather made me leave my indoor plastic ball Wiffie at home, I got plenty of exercise over there, inside and out. We had so many games of “chase the muddy ball” in the back yard that Caroline’s arm got sore. We sometimes took walks with Marley. a dog who lives across the street. Marley and I got along fine, and he was nice enough, but mostly I treated him like any other dog: I chose to ignore him. Most of the time Caroline and I walked over the to  city park near the end of her street, which has a nice view but doesn’t have real trails like there are in my own park. For a longer trip, we walked along Magnolia Boulevard, next to the Sound. It wasn’t Chloe’s Lane, but it was OK.

Caroline kept telling me how much of an angel I am, which is always nice to hear, so I actually tried to be on my best behavior for her most of the time. She knew that Heather always calls me “Chloë TULLY,” when she’s scolding me, which  seems to me happens way too often. In the week or so I stayed with Caroline, she only had to say it a few times, no doubt when I was being a little too stubborn or spoiled for my own good. Her delivery lacked Heather’s pointed emphasis, I might add.

Pulling a donut out of the mug.

My favorite part of this stay was the quality of Caroline’s dog toys. She let me play with a stuffed alligator and a big, soft coffee mug that had fabric donuts inside that I had to pull out. It was kind of like my toy Chinese food takeout container with dumplings, except much better: bigger, plusher, more colorful and much more fun. And that pretty much summed up my whole time at Caroline’s: Similar to the high-quality treatment I get from Mike and Heather, only better. This was too much fun.

Even so, I got very excited when Mike and Heather returned to pick me up. When they rang the doorbell and entered I ran around in circles and squealed with glee, but Heather still refused to bend down to let me jump into her face. Even though she was happy to see me, she doesn’t want to encourage such excited behavior. Mike, on the other hand, had no compunctions, so when he stooped down to my level I tackled him, licking his face and biting his nose for quite a while before I settled down.

When we finally drove back to our house, before I went inside I inspected the whole block, both sides of the street, to make sure no new cats had moved in while I was away. I was thrilled to report the coast was clear.

With a stuffed gator.

 

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Chloë Squeaks Through the New Year

Chloë with her treasure

I’ve always been pretty good at finding other dogs’ balls out on the trail, but normally the tattered tennis balls I rerieve with don’t in any way measure up to the higher-quality balls I have, let alone all the ones that I’ve lost. That is, the balls that Mike and Heather lost and I was unable to find. But  a few days after Christmas, I hit pay dirt. Coming home from a walk with Heather, I spied a spanking new, blue-and-orange sphere that must have been in the holiday stocking of some other neighborhood hound. In the true spirit of Christmas, I scarfed it up and carried it home.

I was SO proud of my find, in fact, that I ran inside to show it to Mike, who unexpectedly decided it was small enough to play with inside the house. What fun! When I’m not happily gnawing on it, I’m parading it around the house to show it off or, even better, pushing it under some piece of furniture where I can’t retrieve myself it with my paws or snout. That’s when I get Mike. He’s always so pleased to get it for me.

Chuckit Ultra Squeaker, medium and small

My good luck only got better. When we finally got around to emptying our own Christmas stockings hanging by the fireplace, I finally got a good look at the ball that aunts Susie and Debby sent me (along with great edible gifts). It turned out to be a bigger brother of the one I had just found. It’s a Chuckit! Ultra Squeaker medium, while the one I found is a Chuckit! Ultra Squeaker small. I must confess I like them both. I can get a good gnawing grip on either one, and they are both versatile enough to use indoors or out. The best part of having two is they have different squeaks. The small one sounds like a tiny bird, the medium more like a duck. Nobody has sent me a large one to test yet, but I’m thinking crow. In this brilliant “how-to” video, I’m playing with the smaller ball.

 

The Leave-It Place

Whenever I drive Heather and/or Mike nuts with incessant squeaking and/or gnawing (which makes an obnoxious sucking sound), Heather puts the two balls in the drink holders of my personal camp chair. She calls them “the Leave-It Place,” because that’s where the balls sit when I’m supposed to leave them alone. This arrangement was OK for short stretches, as long as I got to keep a close eye on my trophies. Unfortunately, it only took me a few days to break the mesh on one of the drink holders by swatting at it from below, trying to pop the ball out. Sorry, Heather. Mike will fix it.

Chloë guards her balls.

 

 

Chloë Does Her Laundry

Sniffing out Thanksgiving meal.

Thanksgiving is far and away my favorite holiday, the  only day of the year when the whole pack is in the kitchen all day long. From my perch in my camp chair, I can see, hear and smell everything that’s going on when Mike and Heather put dinner together. There are always lots of pots, plates, bowls and spoons to lick, from morning til night. In the late afternoon, before dinner, Charlie usually comes over, and it’s not  even a Sunday. That’s how I know this must be some kind of a big deal, and when I realize I’ll be getting several weeks of chopped turkey gizzards and barbecued skin mixed in with my food. Yum.

This year after Thanksgiving, we had a lazy weekend. Only Scott came over to watch the football game on Saturday, which was fine with me. Since their team was winning for a change, they were too giddy to pay much attention to me. Which was fine, since it gave Heather and me a free morning to ourselves, which we took advantage of by running all my dirty toys through the washer and dryer. They made quite a racket in the dryer, but they all looked quite a bit cleaner when their click-clacking, bouncing ordeal was over. Lamby has never looked so good.

Lamby (top left) and friends return from the wash.

Chloë Gets a Treat on the Road

Lobbying for the front.

Lest any readers think my whole summer vacation was one long bummer, let me confess that I had a great time overall, and that the high points far outweighed the bad. For every gushing wound and terrifying voyage I endured, there were many wonderful wilderness walks and a bevy of ice-cream treats.  I did my share of whining from my perch in the back seat of the car, but I also interacted with strangers, hung out with other dogs and even got to chase a few cats. Although my perpetual quest to regain my rightful place in the front seat was still unsuccessful, I did get to spend all day, every day together with my pack-mates Mike and Heather, which doesn’t particular happen as much when we’re home.

That’s why I like hotels, too. When we stay in a hotel, all three of us are always together in the same room, unless somebody’s taking a shower. I still have to sleep in my create, of course, just like I do at home, but in the morning I can always manage to whine my way onto a mattress (always on a towel, of course). Plus, in a hotel all the people we meet in the lobbies and elevators say how cute and well-behaved I am. Which I am, as long as they don’t try to touch me.

Welcome, Chloë!

The unquestioned highlight of the whole trip was my stay at the Travelodge in Grand Island, Nebraska, on the way home. In the past two summers of driving to the East Coast and back, the nice people at this particular hotel are the only ones who gave me a welcome gift when I checked in. Not free breakfast, strong wi-fi, shampoo and soap, but a welcome gift just for me, the pet to be named later. The best thing we got at any other hotel was a $10 pet fee (only once).

And what a gift the Travelodge provided! Inside a distinctive royal blue bag (that Mike kept as a trash bag for his car) was a smaller plastic bag filled with an array of biscuits (that Mike doled out to me all too slowly). Also in the blue bag was something else that looked like it could be food, but it turned out to be a toy shaped like a Chinese food takeout container. Inside the container were three dumplings, each of them a small, fabric-skinned, squeaky toy. It didn’t take me long to rip open the velcro strip on top of the container, pull out the dumplings and start tossing those them around the hotel room, all while emitting continuous squeals of joy and writhing around on the carpet. I couldn’t have been happier/

Thus my official Trip Advisor review for the Travelodge by Wyndham Grand Island: My best hotel stay ever. Five stars!

Dancing with my dumpling.

Since we returned to Seattle, I have still been carrying my Chinese food container around the house and making Mike throw the little dumplings from the front door all the way into the kitchen, so I can run after them, chase them down and bring them back for more tosses. These once-plush white toys got so dirty that Heather has already washed them once, and then they got dirty all over again. Just the way I like them.

Chloë Hits Her Target

Figure 1: Chloe Weight Chart May 2018

As we all knew would happen, my food honeymoon is over. After nine glorious weeks of uber-rations, I reached my target weight (18.5 pounds) at my most recent vet visit, when I weighed in at 18.69 pounds. That visit was the one after the last one on the accompanying chart (Figure 1). On that very day, twirling his imaginary handlebar mustache like the mean Simon Legree we know him to be, Mike immediately cut me back to his unilaterally imposed and strictly observed meager limits. Oh, the agony of it all! The only saving grace right now is the extra broth Mike is adding to all my meals, since I have to eat softened kibble until Dr. Crocker installs the cap on my recently root-canaled chipped tooth. (Meaning more sedation and great dreams to come, no doubt!)

Double dose of goo.

While I was sad when my bulk-up menu ended, I will always savor the glorious nine weeks that it was! I gained almost two pounds in nothing flat. I can see how some members of the dachshund breed can get precipitously porky. Not me. . .at least not as long as Mike and Heather are paying attention, anyway. I’d settle for some middle ground.

I also had a great visit with my buddy Lynn, who came over for some play and cuddles one evening when Mike and Heather went out to watch the first-place Seattle Mariners. I always go absolutely nuts when Lynn comes over. She really knows how to talk “dog talk” in a higher pitch, if you know what I mean.  When she’s around I always get plenty of attention, plenty of play and plenty of treats. Heather even moved my big, round toy pillow back to the middle of the living room, so Lynn and I could get at them easier while she was here. So we did a lot of playing, upstairs and downstairs, too. But the best parts of Lynn’s visit were cuddling on the couch, jumping up on her lap and biting her nose. Every time I look in her eyes, it’s true love. Thanks for coming over, Lynn!

Big, round toy pillow makes brief reappearance.

The downside of the week was yet another ear infection, this time in my “good ” right ear. Heather and Dr. Kimmel each took a bunch of ugly black goo out of my ear and squirted some soothing white goo in.  I don’t like it one bit; when Heather says the word “ears,” I run. But after this now-daily ordeal is done, Heather gives me cheese. Not the little bits of chopped-up mozzarella sticks Mike gives me, but thick pieces of smoked Gouda. Less goo, more Gouda, dat’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout! For that level of payoff, sign me up for an ear massage every day.

Chloë Unharnessed and Harnessed Again

Chloë models her new harness.

Heather told Mike weeks ago that something was wrong with the harness that goes over my head before we take our long walk of the day, or when I’m outside guarding the sidewalk. She said one of the clips that hold the straps together was slipping. When it broke, cheap skate Mike had to agree. Well, this particular harness lasted through six years of heavy wear and tear, so Heather just ordered another one. The same exact kind. And unlike six years ago, this time she easily figured out how to adjust it correctly  and strap me in. She’s come a long way in six years.

Actually, I don’t mind wearing the harness. It gives me some degree of security when I’m out and about, and more control over Mike and Heather. When they attach a leash to it, the harness is strong enough that I can pull them in any direction I want to go. Most of the time, anyway.

Guarding the relocated Peanut Bed.

Since the new harness was the same as the old one, that wasn’t much of a change, but something else changed while Mike was away visiting his mom, and my pal Charlie was also out of  town for work. That’s when Heather shifted around my beds in the living room. Without consulting any of us, she moved my peanut bed from next to the TV to between their fancy new chairs (on which I am not allowed, by the way!).

Wiffie and toy pillow pushed to  corner.

Meanwhile, the huge, round pillow that stores my toys was exiled to the furthest corner of the room, under the shuttered windows and behind the couch, where only stray Wiffie tosses had ever ventured before. To get to my toys, I have to squeeze down a narrow corridor between the couch and the bookcase, especially irksome when I try to turn around to get myself out.

Needless to say, I wasn’t down with this move at first. But at my age, maybe I needed a little challenge. Within days, I had  navigated an alternate approach to the pillow corner and left toys strewn all over the first floor. I’m never the one who picks them up and puts them back in place on the round pillow, and yet every time I venture over there, they are back. I think I came out ahead.

We do it my way.

 

Chloë Expands Sculpture Collection

Chloë’s outdoor sculpture park

My interest in art has been well documented in many previous  posts, and I have high standards. When I noticed one of the items in my outdoor sculpture park, the wind spinner, was getting faded and tattered, I sent Mike to the Internet to find a suitable replacement. Lo and behold, Mike came through. Even Heather was pleasantly surprised that Mike didn’t select the cheapest one he could find. He got quality, at least at the outset.

Tiptoe through the tulips.

We installed the new dachshund whirlygig without ceremony, bumping its patched-up predecessor to the back yard, where the cats hang out. The new one is much cooler. It’s a lot bigger, and with every shift of wind it spins in two directions–legs  in one direction while the whole body spins in another . From some angles, it actually looks like it has taken full flight over the potted plant.

A mighty leap

What really won my admiration is how the sculptor captured  the way a dachshund’s ears flap up while in full stride. Something like this.

Chloë in full fetch mode.