Big Bark-Little Dog

One day last week, Shelley and I were at the Mandolin Cafe, the coffee shop we go to sometimes after she gets off work. I was a bit squirmy in Shelley’s lap, wanting to greet the people there who could pet me.

I obviously wasn’t interested in being a lapdog. What’s the point of that, just sitting there when there are balls to chase, smells to explore and people to meet?

So, we were sitting, or I was squirming and Shelley was trying to work on her laptop (by the way, how does Shelley figure her lap’s big enough for me and a computer?), when a Great Dane walked by followed by a medium, then a small-sized dog. I barked at the Dane, ready to take him or her on. I’ve got a big-dog bark, even though I weigh nine pounds and should have a yappy bark, right?

I’m brave as long as I’m sitting on Shelley’s lap, but if I were to meet the Dane on the street, I would stop in my tracks and cower.

But that’s beside the point.

So when I was barking at the Dane, everyone started laughing, apparently at the scene I had just made with my jumping, barking and growling. I don’t see why.

I can take any dog on, just by being, well you know.                         

To further prove my point, I do not share my toys, my rawhide or my balls, as you can be sure to ask my big-dog friends, Sophie, a Golden Retriever, and Sienna, a mix-breed. I’ve snapped at both of them, and they backed down.

That’s because I am one tough (and cute) Miniature Dachshund.

Barking Duties

I am on dog-cation from blogging this week. Shelley said I can take some time off, and I decided this would be a good week to do that. Plus, I’ll be taking a week off in June when she does to go on her vacation without me. Without me! I don’t agree with that as will be evidenced by my sad, puppy eyes when she starts packing.

Anyway, even though I’m on vacation, I just want to say that, unlike Shelley, I do not need a shyness challenge.

Shelley would say I need a stop-barking-so-loud-and-so-often challenge, but I disagree. I’m just responding to noises, except to the boring trains and sirens that I am used to and don’t need to sit there and try to figure out. It’s when people are talking or I see a dog that I bark, saying, “Here I am! Come play with me.”

In fact, I am adding to my friends list. Shelley takes me to this coffee shop called the Mandolin Café. I kiss on the owner and get pets from him, plus this regular who plays the guitar and sings and now another man who is always using his laptop. I’ve just added him to my kiss-and-make-friends circle.

I guess I am blogging after all because I keep pawing in all these words. But really I’ve gotta to go. I just heard some noises and need to get back to barking.

Missing Teddy Bears

My teddy bears got a bath, and they lost all of their special smells. They smell like a clean breeze, but that’s not what I want to smell when I play with them. I can get that smell by going outside.

No, I’m not being negative.

Just real.

It all started on Friday when Shelley gave me a fluffy white bunny with floppy ears. I bonded with Bunny 2, giving her a shake and playing with her, then getting in close for a cuddle.

And then Bunny, Lenny, Doggie, Big Dog and Ducky all disappeared.

At bedtime, I grabbed Bunny 2 and settled in for biting her neck and moving my feet back and forth. It’s something I do to relax, slightly different from when I was feeding from my mother. A comfort, yes, that repetitive movement.

I scratched on the bed indicating I wanted my clan back. Shelley went to the box thing she calls a washing machine and returned with the bears, but Bunny was missing, a gray, short-eared rabbit from PetSmart. Maybe Bunny needed another bath.

The next day, Lenny disappeared. (They smell, that’s why, according to Shelley.) As if!

I guess that means Bunny 2 is Bunny. But it doesn’t mean I’m happy about it. I wonder what happened to Lenny and Bunny, my first big teddy bears.

Nope, I will not be positive about my missing bears. Never!

Dog Psychology

I am always positive, well except when I’m ignored. On my walks, I look at passersby and wiggle my tail if I think I’ll get pets. If not, I just go on with things and wait for another possible pet giver.

It’s pretty simply, really. It’s just a matter of reading other people. If they look at me and smile, or, in the least, if their eyes light up, I know I can show off my cuteness by getting low on my belly and inching toward them.

Another thing I do is bark from the patio. I know they can see me up here and that they want to come over, even though they’re too busy to do so. However, when I hear the trains or a siren, I’m not interested. The noise hurts my ears, so to block it out I have to howl, or if I catch on soon enough that they’re coming with their giant crescendo of angry sound, I scratch the door to hurry back inside.

I must admit it would be better if Shelley didn’t have a car, and then she would be home all of the time, take me on more walks and get me out to meet more people. It’s not like I carry a little black book, but I do like to collect friends, because giving kisses and getting pets is what life is all about. You give some, you get some, and through doing both, you find that life gains some balance.

It’s not like I can give kisses 24-7 because it would be too much yin, and then if I was a taker, it would be all yang.