A Dog in Transition

In All About Me, Being Cute, Seeking attention, Shelley and Zoey, Shelley Widhalm on September 21, 2014 at 11:30 am

I am in transition between sleeping and being awake.

I am in transition between sleeping and being awake.

Dog-gone it, I am in transition.

I have been in transition, am in transition and will be in transition, probably for a really long time.

It’s not because I’m changing and growing slightly older, because everyone does that. (BTW, I’ll be six on Dec. 20, and could you please put that on your calendar).

I am in transition because as the cutest dachshund ever, I have an image to uphold.

What I’m saying is I’m trying really hard at being good.

I am moving from a place in my life of being kind of bad – when I chewed shoes, the legs of furniture and the corners of rug; when I barked at every little sound (it’s my job!); and when I ran under the bad to pout – to being for the most part good.

As a puppy, I chewed everything I could get my paws on, but now I chew my rawhides and chew toys. That change was easy, because it was a matter of growing up.

The other two changes actually require work, and – big sigh – I have to try.

My automatic and most natural response to loud noises and big dogs is to bark big and loud. But Shelley, my BFF, doesn’t want me to do that. So, should I consider the possibility of barking a tad less and a tad quieter?

Maybe. Or maybe not.

My other bad behavior is throwing a big pout whenever I don’t get my way. I scurry off to hide under the bed and slump onto my paws, bemoaning the fact that I am not getting the attention, treats or playtime that I want.

I pout at least once a day. This behavior I probably will not work on changing, because I have to pout. If
I don’t feel sorry for myself, I would have to accept not being the center of everyone’s attention span. And that’s where I belong.

See, don’t you get it? Transitions are in the middle spot between things. I am between things and in the middle. I guess that means I can keep on being a little bad, always in transition.

Note: This is an old post from 2012 that I’m recycling because my co-writer and BFF is talking about transitions. I updated my age in it, because I now am almost six, or really five years, nine months.


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