A Tribute to Tucker

    It has been over a year since I last posted to my blog, and I hope that my previous followers see this new posting. It is with great sadness that I tell you that my dear dog friend Tucker, has passed from this life.
     Tucker was an incredibly special dog. I am honored that he let me into his life. Followers of my blog got a glimpse of his uniqueness in several of my previous blogs. The 'Tucker' in my book 'A New Life for Runt' is entirely based on the real life Tucker.
     My first encounter with Tucker was when we were first moving to our new home near Pine River. He was out for his daily morning walk with his owners, Steve and Diane. Seeing us by our garage, Tucker took a detour up our driveway to meet the new neighbors. Not knowing if we wanted to be bothered by this big dog, his owners called for him to come back. Ignoring the call of his owners, he happily greeted us.
      Prancing around his new found friends, Tucker glanced over his shoulder at his owners as if he was saying, "Come here and meet my new friends." Introductions were made, and thanks to Tucker, it was the beginning of our beautiful friendship with Diane and Steve.
      Fortunately, the seven years we lived up there we were able to spend a lot of time with Tucker. Unfortunately, since we moved back to Minneapolis in May of last year I have only seen him once.
      Tucker was a large Golden Retriever and I often referred to him as a 'gentle giant'. He turned 14 this past January. The health problems that come with old age finally took its toll on my friend this week.
      There are so many fun stories I could share about Tucker, but for now I just want to say I loved him as if he were my own dog. You will always have a special place in my heart, Tucker.
      Swim on, my friend.

     So long, I'll see you soon!

      

The Art of Digging

      It’s probably safe to say that at one time or another each of us has been the proud owner of a four-legged dirt digger. Even the daintiest of dogs, at times, can’t resist that urge to dig their paws into the ground. So what is it about digging that fascinates them so? What are their reasons for tossing some dirt in the air?

     I’m sure each four-legger has a distinct purpose for every hole they dig. That purpose may be a hunt, their own buried treasure, a need to get to the other side of a fence, or just plain boredom. Whatever their reason, when a digger is on a mission there is no stopping them. If you are able to distract the digger, it will prove to be a very brief halt. The first chance they get they’ll be right back at it

     I have known some diggers throughout my lifetime, and each did have their reasons for the dirt they threw.

     When we adopted our dog Missy, she had a tendency to roam. While my dad worked on fencing in our back yard, we would tie her to a post. It was at this time that her talent for digging surfaced. Her first hole was deep enough for her to lie in and rest her head on the rim.

     Her dirt digging days did not end with the completion of the fence. Apparently she yearned for more space to roam than her huge yard offered. When her urge to roam kicked in, the dirt would fly and under the fence she would go. I believe the reason for her digging was freedom.

     My pal, Chewy, would dig her holes along her fenced in yard. Never were her holes deep enough to escape through. When she seemed satisfied with one hole, she would move along and start another. I sensed her reason was the pure enjoyment of the task.

     Our current dog, Whitney, does her digging only when she is on the scent of some underground rodent. When she is in this mind set it is impossible to make her stop. If she happens to pop her head out from the hole, I look into her eyes and hear, “You’re crazy if you think I’m stopping now.” Her reason to dig is simply the hunt.

     Neighbor dog, Stanley, had multiple digging issues. I say ‘had’ because as he has aged his digging has toned down. In the prime of his digging days he would start a hole and from there he would dig at least one off-shoot tunnel. Other times he seemed to dig only to watch the dirt fly, or in winter to watch the snow fly. Currently he digs only when he is on a gopher or mouse hunt. His multiple issues cover boredom, enjoyment, and the thrill of the hunt.

     There is one thing that all diggers have in common; when the digging is done they are always dirty. Just relax, two-leggers, the dirt will wash off.

     So long, I’ll see you soon!

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!

Squirrel or Chipmunk, The Chase Is On

     A squirrel or a chipmunk crosses your path, what do you do? Probably, with a smile, you stop and watch it scamper away. However, to a four-legger the instant they get a glimpse of one, the race is on to nab the teasing intruder. It doesn’t matter the breed of dog, all dogs want to catch that elusive little creature.

     Whether the animal is an annoyance to our dogs or the chase is simply a fun game, a squirrel or chipmunk can keep our four-leggers busy for hours. A day outdoors ‘on the chase’, can be an enjoyable, but exhausting task for the four-leggers. When they settle in for a long night of rest and their legs begin to move as they dream, my guess is that they are still on the hunt.

     I have yet to meet a dog that doesn’t enjoy the chase. My former dog Willie was no exception―squirrel chasing was his favorite pastime. If I said the word squirrel while we were in the house, he would instantly charge at the patio door―excited for the game to begin. In fact, his favorite spot to nap during the day was by this same door; not just to absorb some sun rays, but also to make sure none of these pests ventured into his space.

     While Willie snoozed inside the house, an unattended yard was an irresistible invitation to the squirrels. Inevitably at least one would climb onto the deck, peer through the door, and chatter at Willie in a taunting tone. By the time I opened the door, the squirrels had scattered, and Willie flew out the door in pursuit. Game on!

     As the game began, the squirrels would dash around the yard, with Willie in hot pursuit. Each squirrel always seemed to have an escape route planned out―except for one. The one that dared to stay in the yard would scurry up a tree and chatter down at Willie. Once the squirrel was treed, there was no distraction that could pull Willie away from his duties of guarding that tree. Eventually, unobserved by Willie, the squirrel would find his escape by jumping from tree to tree to the neighbor’s yard.

      Only one time in this daily game was Willie able to catch one of his tormentors. When I saw he did have one in his mouth, I mistakenly yelled his name. In the split second that he glanced at me, the squirrel dropped from his mouth.

     It wasn’t until Willie came whimpering into the house that I realized his tormentor had bit through his lip. While I tended to his wound, I looked into his eyes and said, “Let that be a lesson for you to leave the squirrels alone.”

     Perhaps that lesson lasted as long as two days, after that it was game on again.

     So long, I’ll see you soon!