A Dachshund Mends a Broken Heart

     My dog, Willie, was my loving companion for 15 wonderful years. When the time came that I had to make the heart breaking decision of having him put down, I vowed I would never go through that agony again. The solution seemed simple: no more dogs. It was inconceivable to me that I could ever have a place in my heart for any other dog―until a dachshund entered my life.

     There were times that I felt that Willie was sending me a message, telling me it was time for me to let a new dog into my life. However, I stayed firm in my decision for nearly two and a half years, until I met DJ. When DJ entered my life, so did George, her 6 year old miniature dachshund.

     The joy a dog brings into one's life was a feeling that I had purposely buried deep inside me. However, the instant George crawled onto my lap and I looked into his eyes, I was hooked. Out went all my excuses for not wanting to love another dog. His humorous antics quickly began to mend my broken heart.

     George was a tenacious little man, a trait that could be quite comical. I've heard the saying, 'a dachshund is a big dog in a little package'; that described George perfectly. As I observed his behavior, I truly believed he thought he was equal to the largest of dogs.

     However, each winter when the snow fell, it was clear he thought he was smaller than his actual size. With his short little legs I'm sure he thought that the snow would just swallow him up if he dared step in it. George had a rule whenever it snowed, "I won't step out there until you shovel me a path!"

     His 'big size' definitely surfaced whenever he was around a cat. Cats were something George loved to torment. A cat could be twice the height of George, but since he envisioned himself as a 'giant', a cat was mere toy size in his eyes, until...

     One day, while we visited some friends, George immediately spotted a cat sitting by a doorway. Big brave George proceeded to charge toward the cat. The waiting cat showed no fear as George approached. As he stood face to face with the cat, the cat raised its paw and swiftly took a swipe at him. I really don't think the paw even touched him, but he immediately started to scream. His scream was a clear, "Ow, ow, ow."

     With a satisfied smirk on its face, the cat peered at George as he screamed and ran off. I could almost hear the cat say, "Gotcha, little doggie!" From then on 'Big George' was 'Little George' when it came to cats.

     Whether he was the ‘Big Brave George’ or the ‘Little George’, he had clearly found his way into my heart.

     So long, I'll see you soon!

Kill the Squeaker, Kill the Toy

     Christmas is moving ever closer, and although my gifts for the dogs are bought, they have yet to be wrapped. I've delayed that task for fear that the sight of a wrapped package may be too much of a temptation to the four-leggers. I do know that an accidental sound from the squeaker in an unattended package would set the dogs in a curious frenzy. It is a priority that each toy I purchase has a squeaker inside and be in working order―even knowing that the toy will be quickly dismantled by the eager four-leggers.

     Whitney and Stanley have a tag team routine they do with each new toy. At the sound of a squeaker both dogs quickly race to the sound. Whitney dominates and takes control of the new toy. A few squeaks and she wildly shakes and slaps it back and forth on the floor, snarling with each shake. Stanley, keeping a safe distance away during her frenzy, patiently awaits his turn with the new menace.

     If Whitney should tire and temporarily walk away from the toy before she has killed the squeaker, Stanley will step in to help with the ‘kill’. However, he quickly realizes that this was a wrong move on his part.

     In Whitney’s mind that toy is hers and hers alone, until that squeaker is dead. By just the look in her eyes, Stanley understands they have to play by her rules. He steps aside while she moves in and reclaims the toy. To bide his time, he patiently will move on to something else, knowing that in the end he will get this toy back.

     Killing the squeaker may happen quickly or it may take a few days―that is part of the enjoyment of the game for these two. When Whitney is sure the squeaker is dead, she walks away and waits for Stanley to move in for the final kill.

     At the start of the final kill, he first bites off any eyes on the toy that might be watching him. Next, in search of the dead squeaker, he will tear a hole in the toy. Once the squeaker is removed, he proceeds to destroy the once menacing object. The final step in the kill is quite comical to watch as the stuffing from the toy flies through the air.

     When the tag team ‘kill’ is over, the two now have a new floppy rag toy. They’re both proud of their accomplishment, and together they will share this new found toy for many months to come.

     So if that new Christmas toy is torn open during your pet’s search for the squeaker, don’t be angry. Just sit back and enjoy the entertainment your four-legger is providing.

     So long, I’ll see you soon!

The Gift Beneath the Christmas Tree

      Christmas is fast approaching, and it’s time to buy that special present for our four-legger companions. Most dogs enjoy the unwrapping of these gifts with the same excitement as a child. At times it doesn’t seem to matter what’s in the package, the joy of tearing apart the paper is excitement enough for the four-legger. Of course, each dog has its own style of dealing with the gift under the tree.

     To a dog new to the experience of the Christmas ‘unwrapping’, it may take some coaxing for them to understand that it’s okay to tear the paper apart. Whatever treasure is under the paper may determine how eagerly they attack the wrapping. Usually a toy with a squeaker or something with an especially yummy smell is sure to pique the interest of the dog.  

     Each dog has their own preference to the type of toy they enjoy. Whether it be a soft stuffed toy or a rubber toy, when they hear the package squeak the paper will be flying in all directions very quickly.

     My former dog, Willie, always preferred the rubber toys with a squeaker inside. He learned as a puppy the joy of opening his presents. Each Christmas season he sensed which presents under the tree were his, long before the opening time, but not once did he disturb his presents before Christmas morning. On that morning, as the presents were handed out, he would crawl under the tree, pull out his presents, and eagerly tear open the wrapping. Later, when the discarded paper was placed into a bag he would crawl inside the bag in search of just one more gift.

     Neighbor dog Tucker is by far the most enthusiastic gift opener I have known. He eagerly tears open his presents, sets them aside, and quickly moves along to assist everyone with their unwrapping. Not until all gifts have been opened to his satisfaction, will he return to his own gifts. Like so many four-leggers, his toy of choice is the soft stuffed variety.

     When Whitney joined our family it was obvious she had very little practice in the art of gift opening. Even with our guidance she is hesitant to aggressively tear at the wrapping. In Tucker’s enthusiasm he will offer her his assistance―a gesture she declines by protectively standing over her package. Her excitement does pique when she hears the squeak of the stuffed toy inside the paper, and with our help she begins to tear at the wrapping. Once the toy is out, it’s anybody’s guess as to how long before she kills the squeaker.

     Whichever is your dog’s toy of choice, put a little surprise under the tree for them―the joy of Christmas is in their eyes, too.

     So long, I’ll see you soon!

The Chipmunks Are Over There

      In my posting of Nov. 25 the chase was on for the elusive squirrel. It seems appropriate to follow that up with the chase for the speedy chipmunk. The chipmunk may torment our four-leggers even more than the squirrel. Their smaller size makes it easier for them to scurry into the smallest of hiding places. 

     To our Whitney and neighbor dog Stanley, it seems the smaller the animal the more determined they are to catch it. Sensing no danger in the chase, both of these four-leggers will follow a chipmunk wherever it leads them. Being that they are constant companions, the duo has developed their own strategy of double teaming while on the chase. At times their strategy has taken them on a dangerous route.

     Stanley’s Grandpa Ron lives across a busy highway from where we live, and his yard is host to many chipmunks. Unbeknownst to any of us, if Stanley was loose and bored he would dart across the highway on a chipmunk hunt. It’s not that his mission was dangerous, but the journey to his hunting spot was where the danger lay.

     Most dogs enjoy the thrill of a ride in their owner’s vehicle. In their innocent minds they sense no danger from a moving vehicle, because to them, cars are fun. How do we get them to understand that these fast moving machines of the road can cause grave harm if they innocently cross paths with one?

     With a considerable amount of training, we all assumed Stanley was finally cured of his ‘across the highway adventures’―that is until one day last spring. On that day, Stanley and Whitney escaped from our yard. After a considerable amount of time calling and whistling for the two, Whitney reappeared―without her cohort. Later that evening we were told that the duo was seen chasing Grandpa Ron’s chipmunks.

     After my anger passed, I envisioned the conversation that transpired between the duo as they set out on their mission:

     Stanley: “My Grandpa lives across that road and he has a lot of chipmunks.”

     Whitney: “But we aren’t supposed to go that way.”

     Stanley: “We run fast and no one will know. Just follow me, Whitney.”

     Whitney: “Okay, pal, I’m right behind you.”

     A couple of weeks went by before the duo escaped on another mission to Grandpa’s. It took some time, but we finally were able to catch the pair and bring them safely home. It was obvious more training was in store for the pair.

     After a mission free week passed by, Whitney suddenly disappeared from the yard. A few shouts and whistles she was spotted running from Grandpa Ron’s. This mission she had done alone, without the urging from Stanley.

     The latch was fixed on the gate and the pair no longer has a means of escape from the yard. Under careful watch, the pair is given time each day to have their ‘freedom run’. During this time they are now content to stay on our side of the highway and hunt for gophers and mice.

     Listen up, you two, if you get the urge to cross that highway, remember that the road is a dangerous place―no matter how fast you run.

     So long, I’ll see you soon!