Tag Archives: wirehaired dachshund

Chloë Marks Her Spot

The Spot Revealed

The spot revealed.

It was about time to address the elephant in the room. Mike first noticed the tiny bump on my head way back in the spring, shortly after my annual physical exam. Since my personal physician (Dr. Aimee Kimmel) has just examined and drained two less visible lumps on my side, Mike decided to just keep an eye on this new one, about the size of a pimple. I Mike didn’t feel around for it, he wouldn’t even have known it was there.

Months passed. The tiny lump on my head got bigger, but not much. Then Mike read a book (try not to laugh) called Lily and the Octopus by Steven Rowley. It’s a novel about a dachshund named Lily. The “octopus” is a tumor that grows on her head. It’s a metaphor, but  Mike took it literally. He checked my lump every day. When he got back from his trip to see his mom, he decided it was big enough to take me to the vet, especially after the lump broke one day during grooming and some gook came out. Nurse Heather made it stop, but off to the vet I went.

In the tub.

In the tub.

Mike looked nervous, so I had to sit on his lap in the waiting room to calm him down. Dr. Kimmel was on maternity leave (what nerve!), so Dr. Crow examined me and set Mike’s mind at rest. It was only another  subcutaneous cyst, like the other ones. The doctor drained it, but warned that it might come back. That means, of course, that my otherwise perfect countenance may forever be marred by a small bald spot on my head. My choices appear to be either a comb-over (too vain) or to just tell anyone who asks (and few would be so forward as to bring it up) that it’s just a visual balance to my naturally bald ears. Perhaps the hair will grow back and cover the spot, but that will probably  be too much to ask for. As long as the lump doesn’t devour me or the spot get much bigger, I can live with it. I’m still cute enough, believe me. I’ve been practicing, just in case.

Unfortunately, Dr. Crow didn’t stop her examination at my head. By the time I got out of there, I got some gook pressed into my ear to stop a yeast infection and a shampoo for my belly to get rid of a rash and dry, flaky skin. Who knew I was such a physical wreck when I went in there? On the other hand, it’s always good to know you don’t have brain cancer. And my weight at 18.6 pounds is still within my normal range, so I won’t have to suffer through another diet. I hate those.

Mr. Monkey

Mr. Monkey awaits his roommate’s arrival.

All the consternation was worth it, however, since I got extra treats from Mike for being good at the vet and lots of cheese from Heather for being a good girl at home in the bathtub to get shampooed. She also laundered all of the sheets and blankets in my crate to remove any pesky germs or foreign bodies that might remain and bring back the rash, which Dr. Crow thought might be related to the yeast infection. Mr. Monkey was happy to have his living space renovated at no cost, and Mike was so happy to have one less thing to worry about. A win-win for all, even if I did have to endure a visit with a new vet. With any luck, Dr. Aimee will return to her post before I do.


Chloë Becomes a Media Celebrity for Real

First I thought that this would be a really big deal for my career development, having my videos on the website for the Visi-Ball. They are the first videos on the site, and thus are certain to set the standard for all others that follow.  In no time at all, I’m sure, my videos will go viral, and I’ll become an Internet sensation.

Chloë relaxes at home.

Then I remembered: I’m already an Internet sensation. And a published author to boot.

Meanwhile, the new Visi-Balls arrived and I started using them. These are the ones the company so graciously promised after the one I had mysteriously popped open. There were two new balls, so Mike finally trashed the broken one. A good thing, too: Although we haven’t been using the broken ball for fetch, I couldn’t help noticing it was sitting on top of the TV cabinet, and I haven’t lost my jones for gnawing on it (particularly that small inner ball).  Now it’s out of sight, out of mind. I’ve moved on.

The Visi-Ball

I’ve decided to retire the two other Visi-Balls that I’ve been using and chase my  new ones exclusively until they are either lost or destroyed, so I can report back to the company about their quality and durability. I have a feeling that if I give these new balls my personal seal of approval, it can only be a matter of time before the debut of the Chloë Autograph Model, to be followed by my first national tour. Hey, when you sleep as much as I do, it’s good to dream big.

Chloë in blue bed with bone

Chloë Speaks Softly and Carries a Big Stick

Chloë eyes the large stick she carried home.

This morning I saw three raccoons run across the street and through our neighbor’s front yard, but Mike saw them first and kept a tight hold on me. Since hunting for prey is being discouraged these days,  I must pursue other diversions on my walks.

Chasing bouncy blue balls is fun, but my skills have progressed to the point that I prefer catching the ball in my mouth and carrying it around for a while rather than waiting for Mike to pick it up and throw it again. I squeeze it tightly between my teeth, and sometimes I’ve got to rest my gums for a while, so I drop it,  usually into a thicket or a patch of stinging nettle, or maybe down an embankment where it can’t be retrieved easily. Then Mike has to get it, he cusses me under his breath, and usually ends the game for that day. I feel his pain. (Yeah, right.)

Treasure-hunting is the next best thing. My nose is always on the trail of something: Normally tennis balls, food wrappers, gum and bunny poop top my list, but sticks are right up there. I like ’em long and chewy, with some tasty innards to gnaw on after I get the bark pulled away. Bark’s too chewy for me, but the inside part is just right. I like to leave whatever I don’t eat  in chunks all over the floor. I like seeing Mike with that whisk broom and dust pan in his hand. He wears them well.

The other day on our way home from a walk I found a great stick over by the park chapel, and I carried it all the way back in my mouth (with a few stops along the way for redistribution of weight). It’s a long sucker, close to three feet. As a reward for my spunk, I got to bring the darn thing inside the house and chew it all over the living room. Mike got out the whisk broom and dust pan and didn’t even complain once, so I must have done a good thing. For today, anyway. Let’s see how long he lets me keep it around.

Good thing I live in the moment.

Chloë Has an Eventful Week

March came in like a lion, but now I can definitely feel the change in season. The mosses and ferns in the park puff up in brilliant greens after every rain. And it must be March Madness when Mike shunts me out to the car for most of the day to watch basketball tournaments; why else would he not want me to bother him?

Ron and Cathy visit from Juneau.

In between the rain and the games, Ron and Cathy visited from Juneau. Nervous Nellie- me barked at them for the first two days they were here. My bad. We were becoming good friends by the time they went home, so I invited them outside for one  of my soon-to-be-famous Visitor Portrait series. (Aunts Susie and Debby were my first visitor portrait, but I didn’t quite have the format down yet; I’d like to have Mike reshoot them on their next visit.)

I also enjoyed several eventful walks during early March’s turbulent weather. I’m used to strangers along the trail telling me how cute I am (goes without saying, actually), but one day an exercise walker going in the opposite direction passed us and told Mike, “She’s an excellent walker.” Indeed.

Chloë’s baseball

A few days later, I was walking along Magnolia Boulevard about dusk when I smelled horsehide. The next minute I was darting under some bushes, stuffing an old, waterlogged baseball into my mouth and hustling down the sidewalk homeward. Damn thing was heavy, so Mike helped me out carrying it home. As soon as he opened the front door, however, I reclaimed it and started gnawing. Took me just a day and a half to tear the cover off the ball, literally. This baseball, it has been very, very good to me.

Chloë rips the cover off the ball.

And so is my favorite UPS guy. Last Monday he delivered a package when Mike and I were out walking, and on top of the box was one of those huge Milk Bones. What a prince the guy is. And yesterday came the piece de resistance:  Mike took me to my first drive-thru, at the Chase Bank in Magnolia. As soon as Mike rolled down the car window and I saw a smiling man behind the glass, I knew something good was going to happen. The man went away briefly, and Mike told me that he would come back and give me a treat, but only if I sat back down in the passenger seat. So I did, and when he came back, Mike gave him the thumbs up and he slid one of those big Milk Bones into the metal tray and pushed it towards us. Mike gave me the whole thing, and I was so happy that I didn’t even try to chew up the money and receipt that he got with the Milk Bone.

Drive-thru! What a concept. What will they think of next?

Chloë Makes Mike Look Silly

In reality, making Mike look silly just ain’t that hard.

Mike wears Chloë’s destuffed buns on his ears.

All I had to do was to start playing around with the buns of the hot dog toy that I destuffed back at Christmas (thanks again, Aunt Susie, for the gift that keeps on giving). As soon as I started paying attention to it, there was Mike, thinking he could turn those buns into earmuffs–for me! Fat chance, Mike. However, just so his vision wouldn’t be totally lost to posterity, Mike put those buns on his own ears, and took a photo to commemorate the auspicious occasion. Good thinking, Mike.

Chloë in her orange blankey.

Anyhow, Mike and Heather are back, and the all-day buffet I was enjoying is over. In addition, Dachshunds Day has been postponed to the last weekend in February because Frank and Stanley’s parents are away somewhere and they can’t come.  I’m beginning to suspect Mike is going to keep putting this off until he thinks I’ve forgotten about it. No chance.

However, Mike returned from Florida with a couple of really tasty lamb shank bones for me, so the homecoming wasn’t all bad. And Lynn, my sitter, gave me a couple of bouncy blue balls for my birthday that are small enough to fit comfortably in my mouth and also knock around the living room. So even if Dachshunds Day turns out to be a bust, I’ve made out pretty well already.

Mike also returned from Florida with an orange knit SU hat, courtesy of his friend Larry, who I met when he visited out here in September for the Syracuse-UW football game. Larry met Mike at the SU basketball game in Tampa last weekend and gave him this souvenir from the almighty Pinstripe Bowl. Now Mike wears this new hat every time he takes me on a walk, hoping someone will engage him in conversation about the Orange.

Mike models his new Orange hat…priceless!

Frankly, I’d rather have nothing to do with Mike’s inane fandom. Yesterday, for instance, he banished me from watching the Georgetown-SU game with him. Why? The last four games he watched with me were SU losses, and then the two games he watched in Florida without me were wins. So while he was in the bedroom, I sat on the living room floor–in the dark!– until Heather came home.

Screw Mike. With about four minutes left in the game, I stuck my head into the bedroom and  whined once. The Orange didn’t score again. Then I scarfed up all the popcorn and chips Mike had strewn across the floor and wagged my tail. Hoya Saxa.