Tag Archives: puppy

Chloë Hits Double Figures

It’s hard to believe, I know, but I celebrated my 10th birthday this week. Ten years! It seems like only yesterday that I was rolling around with Frank, Stanley and the rest of my littermates up in Monroe, WA. I wonder what has become of them all. I never hear from anybody anymore; the rest of my Cousins’ Club must have marked me lousy.

Chloë (center) and two of her sisters, 4 weeks old.

So at 10, I’m still feeling—and often behaving—pretty puppy-like. I’m as stubborn as ever, and as apt to take off after a squirrel or scarf up mud from the ground as I’ve ever been. I’m spry enough to jump in and out of my camp chair several times a day and play fetch for 50 or more throws at a time—if I happen to be in the mood and there are no interesting distractions nearby, that is. My weight holds steady at a solid 20 pounds, which means Mike can’t cut my daily rations even though he’ like to. I have a few gray hairs, sure, but none around my muzzle yet. And that spot between my shoulders where I seem to be losing some hair? No problem; if it gets any worse, Mike will give me a combover when he grooms me before dinner.

Chloë at 10.

Although I received no birthday cake and nary a  card in the mail, I did enjoy a little recognition that day. Mike and Heather’s friend Kevin from Syracuse sent Mike an email: “I see on my calendar that Wednesday is Chloë’s birthday. When I mentioned it to my cat Tucker, he yawned, wondering why anyone would celebrate the birth of a dog. But tell her that I wish her a happy birthday.”  What a magnanimous guy! I might have to pay Tucker a visit this summer and give him a growl.

My Aunt Susie in Syracuse sent her regards via telephone, and contributed all the gourmet chewy treats I enjoyed all week. There was also a nice voice mail from Yankee, the doodle dog who belongs to my pal Juneau George. I want to get up to Alaska to visit him before I’m deemed “too old to travel” or some other nonsense.

Unwrapping her present.

Even Mike and “No Presents” Heather came through. They gave me extra treats all day, and after my cheese-laden dinner that evening they delivered the piece de resistance: a double-barrel gift of a Racket Raccoon Mushabelly AND a gourmet dog chew  stick made from 100 percent, open-pasture, grass-fed beefhide. The chewy treat was tempting, but there was no doubt which one I squealed for: There is nothing like a fresh Mushabelly.

Although this Racket Raccoon Mushabelly was hard to get out of his box, Heather finally helped me extricate him, and when we hit the floor together Mike started his stopwatch to see how long it would take me to break Mr. Racket Raccoon.

 

Beefhide tastes so good!

Luckily for you, my faithful readers, I won’t subject you to every second of my tussle with the aptly named Racket. Mike soon realized that Racket shut up whenever I wasn’t applying constant pressure to his belly, so he stuck the chewy stick in my mouth and earned a respite for the six minutes or so it took me to grind up and inhale the gourmet chew. I must admit I enjoyed it, and I would have gladly gobbled down a second and third, but when none was offered I turned my attention back to Racket and proceeded to throttle him but good.  It didn’t take long. By the 27 minute and 43 second mark on Mike’s stopwatch, I had Racket’s innards scattered around the living room rug, his infernal voice box silent by his side.

Throttling Racket Raccoon; Innards to the left of me, voice box on the right, stuck in the middle with Chlo,

Mike dutifully picked up Racket’s innards and stuffed them back inside his torso, and the next morning Heather sewed up him back together and gave him to me, alleviating much of my angst over his disappearance. I chased Racket around the house, just like I do with Lamby and Wiffie, but without his constant cackle his appeal to me will soon wear off, just like it did with all my previous Mushabellies after I silenced them. I never pull any of them out of my toy boxes anymore.

Oh well. I guess I’ll just have to wait until my buddy Penny returns from Florida in March. She always has some fresh Mushabellies at her house.

 

 

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 Meets Merry

Major excitement last week: Our rumored new neighbor of the canine variety finally arrived. Jane from down our block, owner of the late, lamented Grace, brought her new Basset hound puppy, Merry, home from Port Orchard, which is on the other side of the Sound. Merry is supposed to be the smallest of the litter of four girls, but she already looked pretty hefty to me when she and Jane toddled over for a meet-and-greet on a recent Sunday afternoon. Merry will outweigh me in a week or two, and that could cause problems. Grace never gave me any problems, but a puppy might.

Merry, after all, was visiting MY turf. I let her sniff me a little so she didn’t think I was hostile, but I wasn’t about to get friendly with her. Not yet, anyway.

Pretending no other dog is there.

Pretending that  no other dog is there.

I foresee bad things happening. Already, Merry and I had a short standoff over food.

Vying for the treat pouch.

Eyeing the treat pouch.

There are also potential conflicts about Heather’s affection. Mike’s affection she can have any time she wants, as long as I can still bite his nose once in a while.

6-Chloe and Merry 10 Weeks Vying for Attention

Vying for Heather’s attention.

 

At the end of Merry’s first visit, I suppose you could say we reached a standoff.

Detente

Détente

Maybe once I get used to Merry and figure out that she’s always going to be leaving with Jane, I can stop feeling threatened by her and start to give her some positive mentoring about the neighborhood.  You know, cats, raccoons, the UPS guy, good spots in the park; there are many ropes to be shown. If we run out, Heather and Merry have already been thinking of some more.

4-Heather and Merry 10 Weeks the Thinkers

Thinkers