Chloë Glows for the Holidays

Chloë in a fog.

Winter officially arrived in Seattle the first day Mike donned his galoshes and broke out my glowing orange collar. And a good thing, too. because it was wet, foggy and generally gloomy since Thanksgiving, and at this time of year it’s usually dark by the time we get home from our afternoon walk. Heather doesn’t like walking in the park after dark, and who can blame her? It’s spooky in there, especially when the coyotes are howling.

Anyway, my glowing orange collar  made me a big hit with passersby on our December walks, and it was refreshing to be noticed for something beyond just how cute I am (which I still hear all the time bless their hearts!). The lights on this orange collar can either be stationary or flash on and off at varying speeds. Heather told  Mike to always set it for a steady light, so I don’t look too much like an emergency vehicle. I still get noticed every time I wear it. In fact, last week one stranger bellowed,  “Here comes the glowing dog!” as he passed me. I have become a local celebrity!

“Here comes the glowing dog!”

Too heavy for a stocking.

Other than that, it was a pretty quiet holiday season at our house. But my old pal Penny, who moved to Florida, visited one evening with her little friend Phoebe in tow. Phoebe is about my size and a bit pushy, and she got a tad too buttinski while she was here. I had to retreat to my camp chair to get her nose out of my butt. But Penny’s owners, Mike and Carol, brought me a toy and fancy treats, which is what really counts with me. I’m working my way through that package of treats right now.

As usual, Mike and “No-Presents” Heather got me absolutely nothing for Christmas. Luckily, my stocking was full anyway, but only thanks to Mike and Carol and my Syracuse aunts. Susie and Debby came through big time, sending me high-quality treats in two bags that are absolutely HUUUGE, as the late car dealer Billy Fuccillo would say. My stocking would have hit the ground if they tried to put every gift inside it, so I received only a representative sample. . The rest are on layaway somewhere in the house. Even so, my stocking was much fuller than either Mike’s or Heather’s, as both of theirs had their usual: two bags of Turtles caramels for Heather, a lump of charcoal for Mike.

Cleo guards her toy box.

My Syracuse aunts also sent me a present that supposedly came from their cats, Cleo and Bear, who have apparently been able to come downstairs again after I chased them upstairs last September. Aunt Susie told Mike the cats now guard their toy basket 24/7 since I absconded with four toys (two pink pigs, a squirrel and a fish) that belonged to them. Maybe they offered this gift of two more small, soft, stuffed cat toys (a pineapple and a Saguaro cactus) will satiate my desire for their stuff, and I will leave them alone next summer. Fat chance. Like the Terminator, I’ll be back, and they will be upstairs once again. After all, this sweet holiday note they sent me hardly comes across like a Hallmark Christmas movie.

Cats generally exhibit poor penmanship.

Saguaro and pineapple.

But in the true spirit of the holidays, I was willing to let bygones be bygones, and I immediately started to play with the new toys they gave me. I managed to bust open the cactus in only a day, and out of the hole fell a little plastic bell. Mike threw it away, afraid I would swallow it, and sewed the hole closed  (talented guy, that Mike). Now I’ve got Mr. Cactus again, and we’ll see how long he lasts the second time around. See you next year!

Laying out with her new toys.

 

 

Chloë Pokes the Yule Log

Chloë and her tree.

Happy New Year! First of all, I apologize for not having posted in so long. Everyone gets busy around the holidays, I guess. Even Mike, my ghostwriter, was busy, although after he hung decorations in the living room and a string of lights outside the front door, I’m not sure exactly what he did for the rest of the month. His agenda certainly didn’t include buying gifts for me. Mike has taken Heather’s “no presents” rule far too seriously, in my opinion.

Checking under the Secret Christmas Tree for treats.

Our holiday season began with a few snowy days and an awful ice storm that made our street so treacherous that I was forced to go out the back door and pee in the back yard.  Then things warmed up and by Christmas our normal winter rain patterns returned (not as bad as California, thank goodness!). While we never took a drive to look at holiday light displays, we did trek to find the Secret Christmas Tree in Discovery Park, relocated from its previous location to a slightly more accessible one,with a healthier specimen to decorate.

Christmas Monkeys

As far as my personal gifts, my house cleaning good buddy Jeré brought me another Christmas Monkey, so now JP (last year’s model) has company. The new guy squeaks loudly and has a very grabbable head, and so has become a popular fetch toy for me. He’ll stay in the living room with JP and my other frequent flyers. while Rudolph and the stuffed Christmas moose return to their crate in the garage until next Thanksgiving.

Lamby and Li’l Lamby

My Syracuse aunts Susie and Debby came through for me as usual, with two bags of edible delights and a couple of small tokens of their esteem: Li’l Lamby and Whitey Troll.

The Li’l Lamby got here not a moment too soon, as the open gash on Big Lamby‘s neck is expanding, with her innards are being increasingly exposed. I may need to convince Mike to get me a new Lamby soon, but until he gets off his ass and delivers, Li’l Lamby will alleviate some of the pressure.

The Whitey Troll (pictured below) was presumably intended as a replacement for the Troll that I appropriated from my aunts’ cats last summer. But as soon as Whitey Troll arrived, I realized he would be better as part of a matched set. I immediately began giving him the same haircut I had previously bestowed upon his predecessor, leaving a trail of thin white fibers around the house. Now I keep both trolls around to occasionally pummel and throw around on the floor. They remind me just how much I despise cats. Any and all cats.

Whitey Troll: Arrived with a flowing mane.

The two Trolls after repeated visits to the renowned hairdresser Madame Chloë.

Anyway, it was a pretty quiet holiday for the three of us. We saw no overnight visitors nor dinner guests, just did a lot of TV-watching, turkey-eating and plate-licking, in that order. On Christmas morning, we sat on the living room floor under the TV Yule Log, eating cookies and jerky treats from my aunts. And on New Year’s Eve, we really whooped it up, drinking Prosecco from Costco and making it all the way to midnight in Times Square ( 9 p.m Pacific time) before fading. Gotta rest up for the rest of the year, you know.

Unwrapping gifts under the Yule Log.

 

Dachshund cookie from Aunt Susie, minus tail.

Raucous New Year’s Eve.

 

Chloë Starts a New Holiday Tradition

Sniffing out the Secret Christmas Tree in Discovery Park.

‘Tis the season, all right. In our house, we have been reviving and expanding all of our holiday traditions. The big plastic storage bin that holds all the lights, ornaments and puppets came out of the garage while we were still eating Thanksgiving turkey. Not only are the mantelpiece and shutters aglow, but this year the trellises on either side of the front door have lights. A winter wonderland, indeed.

We were all happy to see Discovery Park’s Secret Christmas Tree return to the South Meadow to further brighten the pandemic pall. The tree, decorated with ornaments and a string of colored lights powered by a solar battery, first appeared two Decembers ago. Last year, some Scrooge must have cancelled it.

Chloë’s tree in its natural habitat..

News media report that sales of live Christmas trees are booming this year, as people seek a little joy, solace and tradition in these gloomy times. And so I decided to dig up my own living tree, choosing a tiny cedar sapling that must have been blown by the wind into a nesting place in our front yard. After diligently tending it through the growing season, I had Mike dig it up, pot it and bring it inside to add to our holiday display.

That smiling elf penguin moved right in with the tree, and  Mike promised to get a string of lights for it once it’s a little bigger. The tree will move in its pot into the portable greenhouse outside the kitchen door for the winter, and Mike will replant it outside in the spring.

First ornament.

Now that Mike has mounted my favorite Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer puppet on top of a cabinet where I cannot hope to reach it, my live Christmas tree will be my new favorite holiday tradition. Well, my favorite right after that special moment of opening all the goodies that fall out of my stocking on Christmas morning, that is. I can smell that there’s already something inside my stocking that’s been hung by the chimney with care, but I have been on my best behavior in order not to spoil any surprises that might be planned. While I’m not expecting anything close to a new car with a big red bow or anything else that I see advertised on TV at this time of year, a couple of biscuits and a tasty rawhide chewy would be nice.

Holiday mantel with Chloë’s tree (on right) and stocking (lower center).

Chloë Spreads Holiday Cheer

Sammy and Chloë

Just a day after Mike and Heather returned from their trip, my aunt Sammy came to visit. She was here to listen to some poet she follows, so we didn’t get to hang out with her as much as I usual. But her visit still paid off, as she and Heather made a macaroni and cheese recipe that provided excellent plate-licking material for a good week after she left. I would have preferred an encore, but she left anyway.

Beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Mike finally got around to hauling up the holiday decorations from the garage, and he was very proud of himself for expanding the number of lights and areas covered. Heather installed permanent hooks for our stockings under the mantel, so they will hold more weight, which is always a good thing as far as I’m concerned. However, seeing my favorite singing Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer hanging high in a corner where I couldn’t get close enough to lust after it did not sit well with me. I gave the decorations a big yawn (see photo).

Stocking up on rawhide

My mood brightened on Christmas Day, especially when my stocking was unloaded (on the couch no less, where I am never allowed except on very special occasions) with assorted treats and toys from my Syracuse aunts Susie and Debby, including rawhide sticks that look and taste like candy canes. I haven’t had much rawhide since my titanium crown was installed, so I particularly treasured these treats. After I unloaded my stocking it was Heather’s turn, and she got several different kinds of chocolate, which of course she won’t be sharing with me because chocolate can be deadly to dogs. Even I know that!

Content of Mike’s stocking

Finally, it was Mike’s turn, and guess what was in his stocking? Nothing but coal! Two lumps! I guess we know who hadn’t been nice enough to the girls around here.

My best gift this Christmas came from my new best dog friend Schatzi, who came over to visit on Christmas Eve and brought me a holiday gingerbread house stuffed with squeaky toys: a gingerbread man, a Christmas tree and a candy cane. It’s lots of fun to pull all the squeaky toys out of the gingerbread house and leave them around the floor so Mike can lean down, grumble, pick them up and stuff them inside the little house again. The house is good for tugging, too, and I’m making sure that Mike knows it.

Chloe Inspects gift from Schatzi.

Anyhow, Schatzi has her own gingerbread house over at her place, so we quickly got bored with my present and started wrestling instead. I’ll get back to the present it when she goes home.

 

 

Chloë Finds Christmas Secrets

Secret tree

The first time I found the Secret Christmas Tree in Discovery Park, just Heather and I were walking. Mike must have been at some appointment or other. It was in a fairly out-of-the-way location in the South Meadow, not far from the wooded area called Spruce Island. We had to traverse some narrow trails to get there. It was still light out, so at first we saw only its colored ornaments. Upon closer inspection, we saw it also had a string of colored lights powered by two solar collection discs wired to the trunk of the 6-foot tree. It’s actually more visible at night, when its sparkling lights can be seen from paved park road above. A sign at the base of the tree begs for benevolence toward the clearly illegal decoration and solicits comments about it. I did my part for Secret Christmas Tree preservation, leaving as quickly as possible after the photo because the recently clipped blackberry branches were doing a number on my feet.

Ouch! Those thorns !

Other than that, we enjoyed a quiet Christmas at home. My pal Charlie came over for dinner, and I hung out with him in the living room watching LeBron James while Mike and Heather were busy getting the various dishes on the table. Outside in the rain, Mike roasted beef, which usually means good things for me later. However, while I got plenty of dishes to lick after they ate dinner, I was distressed to learn that neither of those delicious rib bones from the roast were coming my way. As a recent visit to my dentist-veterinarian for a six-month, post-surgery checkup again illustrated, last spring’s root canal and the titanium crown protecting it preclude real bones from touching my lips forever. The best I can hope for from Christmas dinner will be some quality trimmings and some tasty bone broth. That and dental chews are my new normal.

Personal delivery for Chloë?

My only Christmas presents came from my old reliables. My  Syracuse aunts and my pal Charlie both came through with  treats and a ball, while Mike and Heather gave me a brand-new orange SU collar, just in time for the big bowl game (which we’re watching at Penny’s house). But the highlight of the gift-giving season was not a present, but rather when Donna, my favorite UPS driver, pulled her big brown truck into our next-door neighbor’s driveway. I figured she had done that because Heather’s car was in our driveway, but no, her delivery was really for the kids next door. I had to settle for Donna’s treats, but it was very exciting while it lasted. My frenzied barking to get out of the house got every dog in the neighborhood going. Sorry about that.

Christmas presence

 

Chloë Chills for the Holidays

Stopping by the woods on a snowy evening.

I have been so busy the past few weeks that I simply haven’t had the time to sit down and dictate any notes for Mike to type out for me. So let me recall some highlights and catch up.

Pre-holiday festivities were light this season. Mike and Heather saved money and time by merging their annual holiday office parties (one employee per office), and I was the only outside guest. What a celebration! We enjoyed some extra string cheese as hors d’oeuvres and dined on roast pork with stuffing and, of course, sautéed kale, the hip side dish of the year. Although there was no Secret Santa gift swap, I’m happy to report nobody got too drunk and made a fool of him or her self.

Christmas Eve brought two storms to town, the first of the snow variety (very rare in temperate Seattle) and the second a visit from Heather’s sister Sammy, who is a whirlwind all her own. I mean she’s a perpetually high-energy person, at least compared to the slow and dour pace I normally seen from the people around this house, unless Mike gets excited during a Syracuse basketball game or Heather starts ranting at the PBS Newshour.

Winter wonderland on Christmas morning.

The festive Sammy is often whistling or singing around the house, and this time she apparently infected Mike with the musical bug. On Christmas Day she and Mike belted out a duet of “Winter Wonderland” on the telephone to Mike’s Mom Rosalie and my aunts Susie and Debby in Syracuse. Luckily, the You Tube cameras were not rolling at the time, but I got to see it live and in person. I wasn’t sure whether to cry or laugh, so I did a little of both. There were no encores.

We did get quite a bit of snow on Christmas Eve and Day, and I really enjoyed frolicking on the slippery trails and through the meadows in the park. Snow lasted in our back yard and in the park for a few days, but the sidewalks were pretty clear before Heather was able to shovel the whole neighborhood. I could see she was disappointed about that. Several nights of turkey, potatoes, stuffing and gravy alleviated her anxiety. I got to lick plates!

Santa brought Chloë a new ball.

As far as gifts go, Susie and Debby sent me excellent treats (some that taste like meat loaf, one of my favorites!), and a mouth-sized, gnaw-able ball that I immediately adopted as an alternative to Wiffie for inside-the-house throwing. I like the size and feel of the new ball in my mouth, but pawing it against the floor doesn’t put any backspin on the ball, like I can do with the Wiffie.  Therefore, within a few days of Christmas, Wiffie reclaimed his Interior Top Ball position, and deservedly so.

It’s a good thing Susie and Debby came through with their gifts, because nobody else did. Not my so-called friends (and you know who you are!) and not even Mike and Heather, my alleged caregivers. Apparently they couldn’t even find a special treat or a Mushabelly in the house to put in my stocking. Maybe this retirement thing brings an austerity budget along with it. They better make it up to me for my birthday in February.

Chloë lounges in front of the Yule Log..

Anyway, I survived this holiday disappointment, and on the first weekend after New Year’s we headed out to my foothills getaway for a few days to recharge the batteries. I always have a good time out there, even if I do have to share Heather’s affections with the resident dog Pumpkin. I cut the Pump some slack because she idolizes me so much.  Therefore, I don’t mind that Pumpkin goes on walks with us and naps on Heather’s other flank on the couch. But I’m not as liberal with my feelings for the cat Mr. Fuzz, who wisely stayed upstairs during this entire visit, or the latest arrival in the affection sweepstakes: Pepe, a donkey. Luckily, Pepe stayed in the barn, where I don’t go unless forced, so I missed meeting him this time, but I feared his presence nonetheless after Heather described him to Mike and me as “cute.” Hey, I’m the cute one around here, and I don’t want Heather or anyone else to forget it for an instant. #MeToo!

 

Chloë Sends Holiday Greetings

A wirehair wiener dog plows through with gifts..

 

Dachshund through the snow

Demanding that we play,

O’er the fields we throw

Laughing all the way.

Treats below my tree

Make my spirits bright

What fun to be home in my bed

With a PBB tonight!

Well, that’s about as creative as I get this week. Mike and Heather have settled into a long winter’s nap, and I am left, snug in my crate, to ruminate about everything.

While I’m doing that, I wish happy holidays and a healthy and prosperous new year to all.

Chloë Recaps Her Holidaze

Chloë’s shortcut

Sorry I haven’t written in so long, but the holiday season just got in the way. When I wasn’t taking long walks, napping or playing with new toys, then Heather was hogging the computer keyboard and Mike couldn’t get on it to take my dictation. Picky Mike claimed he cannot type fast enough on his tablet to keep up with me. (He’s not as tech-savvy as I would prefer in an executive assistant, but he is what he is, and I’ve got to live with it.)

Since on Christmas Day I wasn’t quite sure whether I was going to get any gifts from my owners Mike and Heather (just as likely a lump of carrot was headed my way),  I considered myself lucky − and was extremely thankful − to get gifts from my friend Charlie and my aunts Susie and Debby (whose package did NOT arrive via UPS, by the way). Charlie gave me more of the  yummy dried sweet potato treats that I like and a so-called indestructible ball that I destroyed and partially devoured in about 10 minutes. I had a great game of keep-away with its remains, until I finally got a treat for giving it up.

People’s exhibits A and B

My Syracuse aunts sent a smorgasbord of chewy things along with Mike’s tin of Susie’s holiday cookies. Mike (who’s too damn weight-conscious, if you ask me) of course wanted to ration out everything, small bets at a time. But he was foiled by two large rawhide bones that were too hard to break into pieces. He made the mistake of seeing if the rawhide was hard enough to withstand a full-bore dachshund onslaught, hoping that it would take several sittings for me to whittle it down to a nub. The first time, I got through about half of it before Mike was able to wrest it away from me with a Treat Party as bait. The next time, a week or so later, I  grabbed the other half from Mike, ran under the dining-room table and refused to come out or let him touch me until I was done chomping on it. When Mike pleaded with me to drop it, I didn’t growl at him, but I coiled up menacingly, gripped the remaining rawhide between my teeth and glared. Mike gave up, knowing he was no match for my will.

Chloë and Heckel

Hurby

Luckily, that last part happened well after Mike and Heather gave me my Christmas present: Heckel the Hedgehodge, another of the talking Mushabellies toys that my pal Penny turned me onto last year. I still have an attachment for Hurby, my original Mushabellie, even after I destroyed his vocal chords in about two hours, rendering him chewable but permanently mute. Heckel took a full 24 hours to silence, so he’s a tougher dude than Hurby. Even speechless, I still like Heckel, but not as much as I liked Hurby, judging by the relative slobber that I left on them during their respective peaks of popularity.

Heckel

Besides Heckel, I received another good new toy in December: an orange rubber ball that I found outside a neighbor’s house while we were borrowing her yard waste bin. The neighbor told Heather that since I found it, I could keep it, and it’s become a favorite. It’s hard enough that it bounces high, but soft and small enough to chew on. Gnawing on it makes a squishing sound that Mike hates. So what? I like this orange ball because we can use it inside as well as outside, and because it’s something different than Whiffie, quieter and not as fast or easy to spin backwards. I like to push the orange ball under the coffee table in the living room and take the short cut between the shelves to bring it back.

Napping with Heather: the best present.

Between the chewy treats, the new orange ball and Heckel, I certainly got some great new stuff at Christmas. But the greatest gift was having Heather home every day for walking, napping and hanging out. I don’t know about her, but I definitely know when it’s time to retire.

Chloë Dreams of a Brown Christmas

Antlers return.

I could tell we were zeroing in on That Most Wonderful Time of the Year when Santa Monkey, Rudolf and Mr. Moose came out of the storage bin and into the living room. Stockings and lights were hung. And the best part: My favorite big brown truck started coming more often. December must be some kind of mating season for the big brown trucks; I’ve seen them congregate in the parking lot of the former Bill the Butcher store at the bottom of our hill, rear end to rear end, in broad daylight. I’m certain something’s going on.

On the Boulevard

My personal favorite UPS driver has lots of deliveries in our neighborhood. More than once, Mike and I crossed paths with his truck before we even got to our corner. Of course, Mr. UPS throws two biscuits my way every time. So after I scarf them off the pavement (unless Mike grabs one first so I don’t wolf them down), we don’t walk towards the park as usual. Instead, I lead Mike along Magnolia Boulevard and its cross streets, hoping to meet the brown truck again. Even when I can’t hear it, its scent hangs in the moist December air. Or maybe it’s the scent of Milk Bones.

So for the past few weeks, I kept dragging Mike through the neighborhood, noting the tasteful light displays and chortling at the ugly ones. If I sensed we were closing in on the truck, I’d start to walk faster, but I had to be careful, because if Mike saw the truck before I did, he tried to steer me in the wrong direction. If I spied it first and got some forward momentum, however, there was no stopping me.

Dravus tower

One day I caught him twice, and Mr. Brown gave me double Milk Bones both times. I call that my Ghost of Christmas Past moment. At the other extreme, my version of the dreaded Christmas Future: One day a big brown truck roared up the street near the water tower on Dravus, a favorite destination of mine. I waited for it by the curb, expecting two biscuits to fly my way. But the truck went right past me, turned the corner and stopped.

Mating season?

I dragged Mike across the street after it, and sat on the sidewalk between the truck and the house, waiting expectantly. In the truck were a driver and a runner, neither my guy. The runner smiled, told me I was cute, but shook his head sorrowfully. “No treats,”he said, showing me his empty palms. The truck drove down the block and stopped again. I followed,  and sat. The first time must have been some kind of mix up, I figured. Nothing. After I repeated this futile exercise a third time, I finally believed it. I let the truck drive off, but I was hardly done: I ordered Mike to write down the truck number, and I will be reporting this incident to UPS world headquarters in Atlanta. Two biscuits should be a right, not a privilege.

Chloë”s Stocking

I’ve noticed several boxes arrived on our own doorstep of late, some of them even left courtesy of my own Mr. Brown (while I was apparently napping soundly? At least he left biscuits!). Maybe something arrived for me and Mike and Heather are hiding it until the big day. I’m confident, actually. I know I’m going to go to bed on Christmas Eve with visions of new toys and treats dancing in my head, and I fully expect to be rewarded in the morning. I mean, how good does a good dog have to be?

Chloë Gives Thanks for Her Gifts

Chloë’s stocking

My Christmas stocking didn’t stay hung up by the fireplace for long. Mike and Heather planned to dole out my gifts one or two at a time. But as soon as my over-stuffed stocking moved from the mantelpiece to the fireplace utensil stand, putting it within my easy reach, I yanked it to the floor and pulled out all the gifts inside. Patience is not among my highest virtues.

Chloë wrestles Krinkles.

Heather’s “no-presents” rule doesn’t seem to apply to me, which is OK as far as I’m concerned. Heather, in fact, was my major benefactor this holiday, giving me three new toys:  stuffed Santa Monkey, an orange rubber bone that squeals when I bite it, and my new favorite, Krinkles. I’m not sure what to call Krinkles. It’s  a soft, round, flat discus stuffed with something that sounds like cellophane when you crinkle it up in your hand. Krinkles has a red fabric exterior with a snowflake on one side, and it looks like it would be real easy to rip up in about 10 minutes. Au contraire; so far I haven’t been able to separate even one seam– and I’ve tried, as you might deduce from my warrior fangs in the photograph above.

Chilling with Penny during the Pinstripe Bowl.

The orange plastic frisbee that my buddy Penny gave me didn’t have the same staying power, I’m afraid. The moment that Mike wasn’t looking, I grabbed it and chewed through about a third of it before Heather caught me. We didn’t even get a  chance to take it outside and throw it.  Sorry, Penny. Luckily, Penny also gave me a blue tug toy that I named Smiley that I have been very interested in to start. We’ll have to see if Smiley has more staying power than Leppy, the Bear and other squeaky toys that have temporarily won and then lost my favor. It’s tough on the new toys: I get excited when I first see them, but after a few days, when it’s time for a spirited tug of war, you can’t really beat good ol’ Ropey.

I understand;  finding the right gift toy is hard. Frankly, I prefer the holiday gift strategy adopted by my extra special best friend Lynn (who dropped off yummy pumpkin biscuits)  and my  beloved aunts Susie and Debby from Syracuse (who sent long-lasting rawhide chews and tasty jerky treats):  Don’t bother with dog blankets, balls or toys. Just send food.

However,  as Mike and Heather took down the Christmas cards and put away the holiday decorations for another year, I realized that none of the toys or other gifts I received could really overcome my disappointment over the one thing I didn’t get: Those antlers that sat atop the TV cabinet for two weeks as I pined away from afar, ultimately unrequited. It will have to be wait ’til next year, I guess.

Santa Moose, Moosey Jr., Rudolph and a set of antlers on top of the TV cabinet: Out of reach, but not out of mind.