Tag Archives: wiener dog

Chloë Investigates a Pipe

I have detected increased raccoon activity in my park of late. I came across a dead one near Chloë’s Lane close to my primary fetch location. I was very interested in spending some quality time with it, but as soon as Heather saw its bloated body she had other ideas. Subsequent emails and phone calls to park maintenance resulted in Rocky being buried in a shallow grave. While I have already sussed out the exact location, I haven’t had the chance to do any serious digging yet. And that’s not all; I have also noted strong raccoon scent around the Visitor Center and along the driveway behind it. All of a sudden, I had a lot more holes and tunnels to check out, sticking my nose into pipes and thickets I hadn’t been at all interested in before.

Preliminary investigation

Preliminary investigation.

A closer look

Taking a closer look

5-chloe-investigates-pipe-001

Getting very interested.

Uh-oh, I can't turn around in here.

Wait a second, I can’t turn around in here.

I didn’t find anything of interest in there, although a headlamp would have helped.  It was getting pretty dark in there when I decided to back out, figuring out that turning around would have been difficult, if not impossible. As it was, a backup camera like the one in Heather’s car would have made my exit a little easier. Maybe I’ll have Mike order me one on Amazon Prime.

Chloë Takes Summertime Easy

Snoozing in bedroom

Snoozing in bedroom

I’ve been taking the summer off from writing. It’s too much like work.

The warmer weather makes me lazy, anyway. I’ve found this particular corner of Mike’s and Heather’s bed particularly appealing for afternoon napping because of the cool breezes that blow right over me on their way through the house. I’d much rather snooze here than sit across the hallway in Mike’s office in the hot afternoon sun and watch him plunk down my innermost thoughts on his keyboard. That would not be the most effective use of my time.

Besides, Mike and Heather were away for a good portion of the time since my last post, and their absence came at a good time for me. Not only did was I spoiled as usual by Team Chloë (sitter Lynn, walker Jill and best friend Charlie, who walked me both weekends and even dropped my leash and threw the ball for a while, a solo first for him), but it was also nice to get a break from Heather. She had been really tough on me for at least a week before they left, after I barked at neighbor kids again. Heather went ballistic with harsh words and many threats about what awful things would befall me after she retires from her job (not real quickly, I hoped). Heather shortened my leash, literally and figuratively, and gave Mike many orders about how to treat me, all boiling down to “when kids are outside, Chloë goes inside.” Better safe than sorry, I guess. I can blame no one but myself.

2-Snow Goose Sign

The Snowgoose

When Mike and Heather came home from their trip, everything seemed back to normal, except for when I jump up on the living room couch when I think nobody’s looking. I went nuts when I saw them come through the front door, biting Mike’s nose so many times that I even drew a little blood (don’t tell Heather, please, she might euthanize me!). Even Ms. Grim (Heather) seemed glad to see me, even telling me several times how much she missed me. She has summoned me into bed for afternoon napping on several occasions. I realized I was totally back in her good graces when she left me a big wedge of her black licorice ice cream cone at Snowgoose Produce near LaConner last weekend. I didn’t even have to ask for it.

Waffle cone made on premises.

Chloë wolfs down a waffle cone made on premises at Snowgoose.

I’m trying to get more comfortable with kids, I really am. But I don’t get a lot of practice, and when I see one, I tend to get nervous and defensive and bark. It’s hard to change, but we’re working on it. I know I have the energy for it, because I’m well rested.  When your summer activity consists of afternoon naps and ice cream cones, life is good.

Chloë Gets a Squeaky New Toy

It’s high time I got a new toy. I’ve been good, right? Good enough, anyway. And yet,  I’ve gotten no new toy since I  silenced my last Mushabellie on my birthday back in February. That’s an eternity in dog years! So I was due.  And thanks to my pal Charlie, I got one. Charlie got it for me, his favorite Seattle Dog, because this toy is the only one his dog Logan, a Jack Russell terrier, has not been able to destroy.

 

With that recommendation, I was anxious to put the new toy to the test.

Cow

Cow

It is officially a Charming Pet Tennis Head Cow, and on some websites it’s listed as Out of Stock or a Manufacturer’s Discontinued item, which does not bode well for the future of its breed. It figures; the one model from this manufacturer that I heartily endorse is the one about to become extinct, or at the least an eBay-auction rarity. And that’s too bad: While I haven’t been able to destroy it or even silence its squeak so far, eventually I’m going to need another one, and I don’t want to be forced to mortgage my retirement dog house to get it. I guess I can always just switch to another model.

Initially I thought about giving this new toy a bovine name like Bossie or Elsie, but I have elected to just call it Cow. Mike told me he has a friend from college known as Cow, and what a great guy  he is. That sounded good to me…and to my Cow, who is suitably honored.

From the outset, Cow has given Wiffie a good run for my attention. After my initial curiosity wore off, I have thankfully backed away from nonstop squeaking of Cow, but I pay attention to him every day. Right now, breakfast, dinner, snacks, marrow bones, Frozen PBBs , sleeping and walks all rank higher on my food chain than Cow, but I do enjoy chasing and throttling Cow as well. I don’t need to squeeze him in my mouth every second….

 

…only when I feel like it. Thanks, Charlie.

 

Chloë Receives Birthday Gifts

I generally don’t like to make a big deal of birthdays (although if readers dig back to Februaries past, you can see some past violations!), and so I didn’t expect much at all (if anything) this year for birthday #6. But lo and behold!

In the morning, I got an extra-large Frozen PBB from Mike and a birthday greeting from my vet that even has a dachshund in it!

Dear Chloe,
Sniff Sniff…Do I smell birthday cake?
Happy Birthday!
Stay Healthy! Be Happy!
Sincerely,

Your Friends at Elliott Bay Animal Hospital /

And then…

 

Buzzie Bee, still in box

Buzzie Bee, still in box

Wow, I never expected presents like those.

Bliss didn’t last long, however. I knocked the buzzing out of Buzzie Bee in less than 20 minutes. Now I’m left with a trio of mute Mushabellies to take care of. But don’t worry; I’ll survive.

 

Chloë Changes Her Tune

My pal Lynn brought this to my attention while she was here on a recent visit. The Aug. 4, 2015, installment of the comic strip Classic Peanuts shows my fellow hound dog Snoopy lying on top of his dog house in three identical frames. In the fourth frame, he lifts his head and wonders:

Peanuts Comic

Classic Peanuts comic

 

Indeed! But old Snoop left Lynn, Mike and me puzzled. To what song was my hound dog idol referring? We figured the tune must be fairly well-known for Charles M. Schulz to use it as a punch line, but none of us could hum this melody.

An Internet search led first to the pop-rock trio Emblem3, whose 2013 chart single “Chloe (You’re the One That I Want)” is allegedly about reality TV star Kloe Kardashian. We thankfully ruled that song out when Lynn discovered this “classic” Peanuts strip initially ran in newspapers on Aug. 6, 1968, when the members of Emblem3 were not even gleams in their parents’ eyes (they come from nearby Sequim, WA, no less!).

Also too late to inspire a 1968 comic strip would be the 1981 song “Chloe” by Elton John, with lyrics not by longtime partner Bernie Taupin but Gary Osborne, a B-list British songwriter who briefly collaborated with Sir Elton on The Fox, one of his poorest-selling albums, which included this song. Here’s a sample verse:

“How you handle what you live through
I can never hope to learn
Taking all the pain I give you
Loving blindly in return
And I need you more than ever
I will always be your friend
Chloe, Chloe.”

Sounds like romantic drivel to me. Two stars, at best.

Our next candidate was a Louis Armstrong recording from the 1930s, although how “Chloe (Song of the Swamp)” would register with Charles M. Schulz in the late Sixties is anybody’s guess. Here’s the chorus:

“Chloe! Chloe!
Someone’s calling, no reply
Nightshade’s falling , hear him sigh
Chloe! Chloe!
Empty spaces meet his eyes
Empty arms outstretched , he’s crying.”

Dinah Shore

Dinah Shore

The song must have been fairly popular in its day, since it was recorded not only by Armstrong but many other jazz and pop bands and vocalists. Listen to this high-spirited 1941 version from Dinah Shore with NBC’s Chamber Music Society of Lower Basin Street.

 

Other ideas?

Other ideas?

If any of my loyal readers have any other ideas about Snoopy’s reference to a song named after me, Chloë, let me know. Charles M. Schulz won’t be talking.

Chloë Develops a Plan to End Gridlock

My relationship with Mike is clear: I am the alpha dog. When I’m alone with Mike, he does what I tell him, most of the time. If I give him the slip to chase cats or rabbits, as I did to him again just the other day, when I finally come back he’s relieved, and I never get into serious trouble.

Chloë flops on the trail

Chloë does the Dachshund Plant

With Heather, it’s another matter entirely. Heather makes me work. Last week when I ran away from her to chase a rabbit, she got so mad at me that she wouldn’t even look at me for a day and a half. I got worried. She finally relented, and we are on good terms again. A few days ago I took off on her again at the top of the parade ground and headed for Bunny Central, but when Heather let loose a commanding “Treat Party!!” yell, I stopped in my tracks, pirouetted and sped back to her at full throttle. Even passersby were impressed.

Reaching detente

Reaching detente

Heather still  tries to keep me on a short leash, but sometimes I  am obliged to play the stubborn dachshund. I sometimes do what she calls the Dachshund Plant, flopping down right in the middle of a trail, and pausing to survey the landscape for as long as I damn well please. When I feel a tug on my leash, Heather and I stare at each other. I want to go in one direction, she wants me to go in another. We negotiate. Or sometimes when I want 20 throws of my purple-and-white ball, and Heather only wants to do 10. We compromise on doing 15. Or I want two Charlee Bears and a salmon heart cracker every time I come, and no matter how long it takes. Heather wants to cut spending after two whistles. We work it out. Sometimes she wins. Sometimes I win. Sometimes we walk in my direction, sometimes in hers. One day I may get as many treats as I want. Keep hope alive.

End of the line

End of the line

Heather said our relationship should be a model for ending the gridlock in “the other Washington.” (Having never left this state, it’s hard for me to fathom any other Washington than this one.) Cooperate. Compromise. Work together. Take turns.  Get somewhere. Whatever Heather said, I’m on board. I’m just glad she’s not mad at me anymore, so I’ll agree with anything.

Thanks for understanding. In our next episode, Heather and I solve the perpetual puzzle of peace in the Middle East.

Waiting to play catch

On a peacekeeping mission

 

 

Chloë Razes the Roof

Old roof

Before

It was a tough week for me. Mike and Heather had the roof of our house replaced. The brochure says the new roof comes with a 50-year guarantee, so I guess we won’t be going anywhere anytime soon. I know Mike likes to get his money’s worth.

It will take me at least that long to get over the trauma of the re-roofing process. The noise started Monday morning right after breakfast, when four guys climbed ladders and started ripping apart the old roof, removing three layers of shingles and plywood using hammers, chisels, pitchforks and other sharp-edged tools. Not only was it loud, but I couldn’t tell where the noise was coming from, so it was scary, too. The worst came Tuesday morning, when the packs of new shingles arrived and were placed on the new plywood and wrap. It sounded like eight reindeer were running across the roof and dropping boulders here and there. Prance, prance, prance, prance, thud. Repeat. And repeat.

I coped with it as any brave watchdog would, by periodically leaping into Mike’s lap and staying there as long as possible. Little did I care if he were typing in the office or eating his corn flakes. His lap was where I  was going to be. Heather suggested he put my camp chair next to his chair and just keep one hand on me, but that had no chance. Lap only. Just deal with it, Mike.

Quality assurance team.

Quality assurance team.

Of course, I would have preferred to watch the entire roofing  operation from across the street on our neighbor Claire’s stairs, where from afar I could see everything going on atop our house. Unfortunately, Mike could not tie me up to Claire’s railing and leave me there by myself. He presumed, correctly, that once I got bored I would start barking at any passersby, not to mention the guys on our roof.  So I had to go back inside with Mike and suffer in uneasy silence, missing my daily afternoon nap. By the second afternoon, all the worrying and feeling uncomfortable had so worn me out that I actually fell into a fitful sleep for a while.

Chloë approves the job.

Chloë approves the after view

It could have been worse. Mike also had to endure the pounding, too, and thus had motivation to get us out of the house each afternoon to escape the din. One day we took the car to run  errands in Magnolia and Ballard before our walk, and on the other day we took a longer-than-usual walk in the park. It only took two days, and now I won’t have to worry about raindrops falling on my head any longer. In this climate, that’s a good thing.