Tag Archives: dachshund

Chloë Mentors Another Pup

Schatzi

The very day after I frolicked with Schatzi, we took off for my Getaway in the Cascade foothills. I normally have a great time out there, roaming free on woodsy walks and playing fetch on the lawn.

Smokey

This time, however, because of recent rabbit and cougar sightings, I was leashed at all times and forbidden from walking into the state forest land beyond the lawn. And that wasn’t even the worst part: Smokey, the Aussie puppy who somehow moved in when I wasn’t looking, had gotten bigger and more invasive than he was the last time we stayed out there.  He wasted no time in sticking his nose in my face (and other body parts). The first thing that came to mind was, “Schatzi, I miss you!” It’s a lot more fun fooling around with a puppy I can dominate.

Awaiting dinner

Still, the good points about the latest stay more than outweighed Smokey’s antics: There was lots of grilling, which meant more meaty plates to lick. I pretty much ate like a pig, several times able to scarf up food from the bowls of Smokey, Pumpkin and the puffy black cat, Mr. Fuzz. And that cute little Pumpkin still does whatever I tell her to. Although I felt sorry for her whenever Smokey tried to harass her, I came to see where that the feisty little dog could take care of herself. She showed she knows the value of a low growl.

Sharing the front seat

 

The best part was taking Smokey and Pumpkin with us on our afternoon walks and having to drive to the Preston-Snoqualmie Trail to do it. Heather decided she didn’t want all three of us dogs in the back seat, so I got to sit in the front seat, restoring the True World Order I had enjoyed originally but have been deprived of in recent years, relegated to the back seat inside a padded sling and attached to clothesline harness, all in the name of safety and proper pet etiquette.  A pox on safety and etiquette, I say!

Chloë’s view

I got to sit in front for the whole week, alternating between dozing in Mike’s lap and sitting up to stare out the front windshield to see what fast-food or ice cream places were passing, although there were not many in this neck of the woods.

Beyond regaining the front seat (I have already been warned that this special privilege will not continue on our impending road trip), the other highlight of the week was luring the increasingly social Mr. Fuzz downstairs and getting a brief chance to sniff his butt. Big surprise: He smelled like a cat.

Mr. Fuzz

I must have  pissed him off, though, because the next day when I was asleep in my camp chair in the kitchen after supper, Mr. Fuzz snuck downstairs, creeped into the kitchen behind the large center island and leaped at me in a full frontal attack. Luckily, his claws only grazed my fabric chair, and when I let out my patented chasing-squirrels bark, he hightailed it back upstairs, where he belongs. I wasn’t about to let him sniff my butt.

Pumpkin rests along the trail.

Along the Preston-Snoqualmie Trail

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Chloë Does a Slow Dance

Schatzi

We met up with Schatzi and Caroline again, this time in Discovery Park, just as I predicted. I showed them some less-traveled trails, and Schatzi looked like she picked up on my cues on correct walking procedures pretty quickly–until distracted, of course, which didn’t take much (and I’m one to talk, right?).

After taking a short rest from trail-walking and having a drink of water on the open field near the Environmental Learning Center, Heather finally pulled my ball out of her pack and gave me a couple of throws. Schatzi, still trying to emulate my every move, followed in swift pursuit, even though she’s still not big enough to get the ball in her mouth. As long as she wasn’t nipping at MY mouth, which did happen several times, I let her have her fun. I had fun, too, as you can see in the slow-motion video below, courtesy of Caroline. Think of it as dachshund ballet. Look at those ears go!

 

I’m hoping to squeeze in one more training session with Schatzi before I take off with Mike and Heather for our summer vacation. When I return in September and find out she’s as big as I am, I want her to remember who the alpha dog is in this relationship. I’m only going to have one more time to throw my weight around.

Resting between innings.

Chloë Romps with Schatzi

Schatzi lies down.

Since Frank and Stanley travel to Arizona for the winter and miss our birthday, it makes getting together with them difficult. Besides, the boys got so huge that chasing and rolling around with them wasn’t as much fun as it used to be. That may be why I was so excited when  we arrived for my second meeting with the puppy Schatzi. Based on our first encounter two weeks ago, I would finally get a chance to dominate. And dominate I  did.

Schatzi  was already bigger and less wrinkly than she was two weeks ago, but she was still perfectly content to follow me around and try to do everything I did.  She had a couple of nice forward rolls. Although she couldn’t get my ball into her mouth yet, I let her lick it and sniff it a few times, so she understood what a treasure it was. I think she got it.

Surprisingly, I didn’t lose interest in playing with Schatzi in the whole hour we were there (including rest periods, during which I let Schatzi drink from my water bowl after I was done). When we got up to go home, I resisted. I would have preferred staying longer.

Schatzi and Chloë rub noses.

So Schatzi and I have met once inside her house and once outside in a secluded park, where we could prance around untethered for a while. I think Caroline, Mike and Heather are building Schatzi and I up to an actual walk, when we are on leashes and expected to do whatever our owners tells us. I believe I’m a little further along on this concept than Schatzi is, although lately Heather might dispute that. She and I seem to be having increasing conflict on behavioral issues. I will  have to address that in my next thrilling installment.

Chloë Gets a New Playmate

Schatzi

Back when I was but a mere puppy, Heather and Mike took me on a couple of “play dates” with Pinot and Ida, two dachshunds who belonged to Caroline, who became my personal financial advisor and sometime hotelier. As I recall, my interaction with her dogs wasn’t exactly the nonstop frolic, tackling and tumbling that ensued when I met up with my brothers Frank and Stanley. Caroline’s dogs were both grown up, indifferent and reserved, and they weren’t all that  interested in me.

Who’s the boss?

Now, nine years later, it’s my turn to be the grownup in the room. After much searching and waiting, Schatzi finally arrived at Caroline’s house, a.k.a. my vacation getaway, and Mike, Heather and I went over there for our maiden visit last week. Schatzi, just 12 weeks old and a wrinkly nine pounds, peed submissively on the kitchen floor as soon as we walked in, which I took as a good sign that she was excited to see me and willing to do my bidding. I decided to be nice to her, within reason, as long as she follows my rules, such as me always getting first dibs on toys and treats. Schatzi indicated that she understood. I even tried to play with her, at least for a few seconds.

Schatzi gets ready for school.

I was glad to learn Caroline and David had enrolled Schatzi in the same puppy kindergarten classes that I attended, so I know she will be getting a first-class education. And since I quickly got Schatzi attuned to the Chloë World Order, I’ll make additional visits to further train her and provide the nuance that will enhance the lessons she learns at school. Certain traits such as stubbornness may be innate to dachshunds, but they must be properly nurtured and molded to be most effective. That’s where I can be especially useful to a young pup such as Schatzi. We’ll see what happens.

First face off.

Chloë Lets Her Birthday Slide

On the Spokane River, May 2017

As the calendar turned to February, things started looking up. Rain lessened, days got a bit longer, we got a new rug in the living room with more pile than the old one, so it’s better for scratching my back.  Heather’s attention to my tummy cleared up my skin rash and my diet reverted to normal, as in never enough.

I had been looking forward to celebrating my birthday (Feb. 5) in style, but it turned out to be no big deal. There were no cards, no presents, no extra treats, no fuss. Although I’m more or less at the halfway point of my canine career (in dog years, at least), I suffered through no midlife crises. At least none that I can remember.

This is the first birthday that I didn’t get together with my brothers Frank and Stanley, who are vacationing in Arizona. They got presents, according to an email Mike received from their dad Andrew. Did I mention that I got no presents, and that I have to go outside every day in Seattle’s horizontal rain and blustery cold with no raincoat or other protective gear?

In tamer times.

Instead, I’ve been cooped up and getting into still more trouble with Heather. She even yelled at me a couple of times. OK, I have to admit that sometimes I deserve it, but more often this happens because Heather continues to deny the notion that everyone was put on the planet to serve me, on my time-table. Heather maintains that I am supposed to serve her, pay attention only to her (Mike, sometimes), and always do exactly what she tells me, when she tells me. Mike, on the other hand, harbors no such delusions. Mike gets it! But Heather, she can be so–dare I say it?–stubborn!

Amidst the tall trees.

Anyway, I turned 8, and I feel and look no different, save for one random gray hair between my shoulders. During my birthday week I went for a long hike in an old-growth rain forest, I dug holes, I ran away a few times, I ignored orders, I chased a ball as long as I wanted to, I ran down our block to chase cats, I barked when the mail came and at people who park their cars in front of our house, I got into Mike and Heather’s bed whenever I could, I whined every time I got impatient, and I taught Mike a new way to play catch on the kitchen floor. So do I feel any older? Hell no. Where’s Wiffie? I’m ready to rock and roll. Check out Heather and I playing fetch in the rain forest.

 

 

 

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 Turns Out the Lights

Chloë waits out the blackout.

Between earlier sundowns and rotten weather, it was hard to get in a good walk the past week or so. With wind and rain lashing with regularity, our usual hour-plus sessions of walking and playing fetch in the park have been severely curtailed. The worst came one afternoon when it was so windy that Heather decided we would walk no further than me finding a convenient place to do my business.  But before we even got out the front door, the lights and computers around the house all flashed a couple of times and died. It was almost dark  outside when it happened, and within 20 minutes we plunged into total darkness. Heather dug out all the candles, and Mike wondered if it would  last as long as the Great Blackout of 1965.

We made do. Mike brought out his Costco emergency flashlights and Heather lit enough candles to read by. She brought camp chairs into the kitchen, and all three of us sat around in a circle.  While Heather read, Mike got out his iPod, put on headphones and listened to Little Feat play “Tripe Face Boogie” and other favorite selections. Mike took some bread out of the freezer so he could make tuna and cheese sandwiches, and then announced he was bored.  After an hour or so, they were longing for TV and wondering how far they’d have to drive to get takeout. There were many, many more episodes of Hawaii Five-O and Charlie Rose to watch on the DVR.

Heather reads by candlelight.

I fell asleep in my chair and stayed there until dinner time. Because the microwave wasn’t working, Mike had to serve my dinner cold, but hell, I survived. After all, in a disaster protocol like this everybody has to sacrifice. Here I was, enjoying a gourmet meal served to me by my personal valet inside a small, romantically-lit room, with my entire pack surrounding me. I might have died  and gone to heaven.

Unfortunately, after four hours or so, the lights came back on. So did the TV, the phone and the internet. No longer was I the sole center of attention. Worst of all, we weren’t all in the same room all the time.

Oh, well. It was fun while it lasted.