Zoey

Archive for the ‘Coffee Shops’ Category

Dogs hanging out at the coffee shop

In Coffee Shops, Shelley and Zoey, Shelley Widhalm on July 26, 2015 at 11:30 am

I am cute waiting for attention at a coffee shop.

I am cute waiting for attention at a coffee shop.

I love going to the coffee shop, not that I drink coffee or engage in conversation but because it’s a place and a way for me to get attention.

My name is Zoey, and I am a very cute long-haired miniature dachshund.

I have methods for getting attention, including looking cute (that’s a given). I stare at the people walking by, straining forward on my front paws and lifting my chin with my tail wiggling. “Look at me, aren’t I cute?” I stare and wink and keep staring. Sometimes it works, and people come back, saying, “I know she wants me to pet her.”
Well, duh.

I get petted and told I’m cute, pretty and beautiful and lots of other adjectives about my sable-colored coat and brown eyes—I’ve even been told I have a dainty, feminine face and am very regal in my stance. Yep, I’m Queen Bee of the Dachshund World.

When my petter moves on, I seek out the next one. I’m a profiler on the stakeout for my next lover of dogs who needs to stop and give me some genuine fur-rubbing.

As my BFF Shelley works on her laptop, I am the epitome of a lapdog seeking attention anywhere and everywhere I can get it. She’s addicted to caffeine, and I’m addicted to getting petted, loved, appreciated, acknowledged and having attention poured on me, like sugar, so sweet on a hot summer day.

It’s a dog’s life, this sitting around relaxing at the coffee shop.

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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?