Zoey

Archive for May, 2011|Monthly archive page

Just ask My Vet

In Best friends, Going on walks, Vet visits on May 29, 2011 at 8:34 am

I am healthy, just ask my vet.

On Saturday, I went to the vet’s office for my annual exam and shots. I don’t mind because when I’m there, I get pets and cuddles.

“She’s so well behaved,” Ms. Vet said.

I wagged my tail. I am aren’t I, I thought as I sniffed at the air.

As Shelley, my pet mommy, sat in a chair in the examining room, I stood tall and proud on the steel table, getting poked and prodded.

Apparently, I have nice, clean teeth.

“She loves to chew her rawhide,” Shelley says to explain. She had asked when she should take me in for a cleaning. No-o-o! Getting my teeth brushed is torture – to get that message across, I always shake my head and try to wiggle from the clutches of my scary blue toothbrush.

“That’s good.”

Shelley explained my diet: a blend of two adult dog food brands, two milk bones a day, cheese from the table and treats.

“You might want to hold back on the treats,” Ms. Vet said.

WHAT?

They’re not good for a healthy diet, Ms Vet said, adding that I can have some, but don’t go overboard.

I need, need treats is what Shelley should have told her.

“She has good muscle mass,” was another thing Ms. Vet mentioned.

Shelley said she takes me on walks (not enough) and plays with me (not enough there either).

Unlike Shelley, I’m at my ideal weight, plus, as a dog, I can’t go get my own treats whenever I feel like it. Apparently, I have to earn them.

I’m destined to being healthy (and also very cute), as well as one trim, fit feline-loving, bird-adoring BFF.

Not the End

In Finding friends, What's important, Woof! Woof! on May 22, 2011 at 8:40 am

The world can’t end. I’m only two and haven’t lived a full life. It wouldn’t be fair to all the puppies, dogs, cats, birds and humans for that to happen. Yep, I like cats and birds.

I whine whenever I see a bird hop close by me, wanting very much to become friends.

For instance when I was at Shelley’s dad’s house, I tried to befriend a baby bird that fell out of its nest. The bird’s parents were squawking as they flew around and around the tree (I don’t know what kind it is, but it had droopy branches that made it look like an umbrella missing lots of its shiny cover).

I barked and danced around the little creature, throwing out my invitation to play.

“Zoey, get in here,” Shelley’s dad called to me.

I looked at him, pausing in my sound, but then continued to bark.

“Get. In. Here!”

Uh-oh. That means “come now.”

I ran to the door and inside the house, hearing “bad girl” in the distance. I kept running until I ran out of breathe.

Yep, see Zoey run.

But not see Zoey play with her new friend.

Oh well. That’s why the world can’t end. I need to find more friends, and when I have enough, I’ll still want more.

Friends are what make the world go around. At least that’s what I think.

A Dog’s Advice List for Getting Attention

In Dog communication, Looking for friends, Table top decor on May 15, 2011 at 8:26 am

I can make lists, too.

If you want to get petted, here’s how:

  • Look cute.
  • Stand on high places, like tables, for a better view of passersby.
  • Bark really loud as an attention getter.
  • Sit up straight and lean your body forward, wiggle your tail and open your mouth just a little. Put your puppy dog eyes into play.
  • Closely watch the passersby as they walk past, keeping that tail wagging, just in case they look back.
  • If they do stop, arch your back like a cat and scoot in close. Sniff their hand and look up at them with sparkles in your eyes.
  • Give them a lick, or even a kiss.
  • If they seem extra nice, show them your belly for a special puppy rub.
  • Wish them a good day with one quick bark and look for your next possible pet.

Coffee Shop Dog

In A keen barker, Big dogs, Coffee Shops, Finding friends, Table top decor on May 8, 2011 at 8:01 am

I have a new strategy for meeting people. I know that Shelley wants me to be a lapdog, but I’d rather not. The reason, in part, is it’s harder to get noticed. The other reason is I have things to do.

Sometimes when Shelley gets off of work, she takes me to Mandolin Café, a coffee and sandwich shop with a sidewalk patio. She plops me on one of the wire-mesh tables, having learned that I won’t stay on her lap.

Shelley pulls out her book or some writing stuff, and I sit tall and proud, watching up and downFourth St. I’m looking for people to stop by for a pet. I stare them down, wiggle my tail and pant. If they stop, I edge in closer for a bigger hello.

“She’s so cute? Is she a puppy? She’s so soft?” I hear over and over.

You betcha! I am a cute, cute long-haired Miniature Dachshund, 2.33 years old and 9 pounds.

I bark at the passerby dogs, especially the larger ones, such as the black-and-white Great Dane that stands four-feet plus tall. I believe myself to be big sitting on a tabletop because I can see above the heads of these dogs.

What happens is I bark, and Shelley says, “No.” That usually doesn’t work, so she pulls me tight against her to quiet me down as I wiggle to get away, telling me, “You’re a little dog.”

As if!

I am a big dog in my head, and that’s what counts. It’s all about not being shy about your size, right?

Nearly Two-and-a-Half Paws

In Uncategorized on May 1, 2011 at 8:15 am

My birthday is Dec. 20, 2008.

I’m not worried that I will be three. Right now, I’m enjoying being two.

People who stop me on my leash walks ask if I’m still a puppy. Technically, I stopped being a puppy at one or two depending on who you talk to, but I act and feel like a puppy.

Here’s an example: I was in Mandolin Café on Friday, playing with the owner’s son, who just turned three. He kept throwing his ball that’s a little bigger than my toy balls. I’d bound after it and try to pick it up, but the ball was way too big. I pushed it with my nose but couldn’t get it back to him, so I gave up and ran back for more play. He giggled and I overheard several people say, “She’s so cute.”

I am cute.

Okay, one more example: I engage Shelley in a game of chase when she comes home for work, when she wants us to go to bed and I don’t want to, and whenever I grab one of her socks. I get all excited and pant and make my happy sound (a barking squeal) and run, change direction and hide.

“Where’s Zoey?” Shelley calls as she tries to find me, her best friend as I’ve heard through the paw-vine.

I feel like every day is play day, all about fun and just being my young, vibrant self.

I can have my doggie ice cream and eat it, too. It’s got bones in the ice cream scoop, like way too cool, or cold, I should say.