Zoey

Archive for the ‘Discoveries’ Category

Puppy Dancing

In Discoveries, Puppies, Running on October 16, 2011 at 7:00 am

Zoey is taking a nap in a bit of comforter comfort.

Zoey’s sick this week, so I thought I would share a poem I wrote after seeing a nine-week-old mixed breed puppy during one of my interviews for work. I had trouble concentrating on my notes when Lucy, who is the size of my 9-pound dachshund, sped across the floor, chasing balls, noises and anything that stirred the air around her.

Though she’s almost three, my dog Zoey has retained her puppy side: she loves to play chase and tug-of-war, but she doesn’t prance. She loves to run around the yard, but she pants. And she loves to be naughty, but she stops when she hears “no,” at least for a few seconds. And then she’s off being her cute puppy self.

Here’s the poem:       

Puppy Dance/ By Shelley Widhalm

Puppies have a magic dance

Tumbling over paws

Too big

Their eyes like sun-glazed

Pebbles in a stream

Crazed with too much

New –

A noise,

Colors,

What’s that?

Losing attention

To skip over

To the next maze

Ending with splay- pawed

Sleep.

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A Dog’s Christmas

In Discoveries, Doggie Teddy Bears, Holidays, Presents on December 26, 2010 at 9:44 am

I don’t know what Christmas is because I’m a dog and dogs don’t do traditions and holidays and stuff.

The week before Christmas Day – the day I got three presents – Shelley carried me in my pink bag at an outdoor shopping center that allows dogs. She took me in some of the stores, where I got pets and told I was cute, because who can resist a long-haired dachshund.

When we got home, Shelley wrapped the presents using paper rolled up on a tube of cardboard. I tried to help, jumping on the paper. I liked the crinkly sound it made until Shelley pushed me off, saying, “I need to wrap this up.”

She took out a doggie teddy bear that I knew was mine, and I grabbed it and ran. I squeaked the squeaker in the bear’s belly, and Shelley laughed.

“Now you know what you’re getting for Christmas,” she said.

And then somehow my bear was gone.

I got it back, though, on Christmas Day. Shelley and her mom, dad, brother and her brother’s girlfriend all got small piles of presents. And I got my pile.

“Start it for her,” Shelley’s mom said.

Shelley ripped a tear into the middle of the snowflake-covered paper, and I worked at it with my teeth. Is this a new toy, I thought, and then I saw my toy, grabbed it and ran. I don’t want this bear to disappear.

Next, I got a meat-centered rawhide, but I only got to eat half of it before it disappeared.
“If she eats that, she’ll probably get sick,” Shelley’s mom said.

My rawhide disappeared and returned the next day. I didn’t have the energy to eat it after running around and playing with everyone on Christmas. I do that, I play myself out and have to rest up the next day.

The third present I never got to see. “She’ll probably want to eat this, too,” Shelley said. “I’ll give it to her later.”

When is later? I’m waiting for later, and it is later, the day after Christmas. Oh well, it doesn’t matter, I’m sleeping next to Shelley as she writes her blog.

Goodbye Zoey?

In Discoveries, Dog communication, My Dad, Why leave on September 12, 2010 at 4:52 pm

Dad made this shelf for me, so I can look out the window.

Did I do something bad? Mommy left me at her Dad’s house. I’m looking out the window for her, but she’s not coming back. I don’t understand. She gave me lots of kisses before she left, but I thought she was trying to cuddle with me, which is all right, I guess, but I would rather play.

I see other dogs on leashes and people walk by, and I bark. I bark at the semis and loud trucks that drive by on the highway in front of Dad’s house. I call him Dad because he calls me his little girl and sweetie. I’m not even one year old, and because I was taken away from my parents, I admit I still need some guidance.

Oh, where is Shelley? I yelp, yelp. I whine. I lower my head to my paws and lift up sad eyes. The world is not bringing her back …

All right, I must get used to my new situation. I jump off the window ledge onto the futon and bark at the front door. I run and run around the back yard, exploring all the new smells: grass, the grain elevator, a cat from somewhere close by and dogs next door. I bark. They bark back, and we start talking. I forget about Mommy for awhile.

Smart dogs don’t wear clothes

In Chasing smells, Clothes for dogs?, Discoveries, Let's be friends on July 18, 2010 at 10:09 pm

Why am I wearing a silly bow that matches my silly shirt?

The reason I do not wear clothes is I already have my fur that keeps me warm in the winter, and I pant off the heat. Clothes are not comfortable (itchy in the back where there is a square thing) and get in the way of playing. Besides, I’m a dog, not a person, though I am a very smart dog.

Smartness, however, does not prevent me from forgetting, especially when I am chasing smells or it’s been a long time. That’s why I don’t remember some things about my youth, but I do remember the bird sound. I was listening to the muted barking of dogs neighborhoods away, a growling hum from a thing called a lawnmower (I didn’t know that word back then) and voices coupled with the pant of a dog out on a lucky walk. And then this twittering, high pitched sound that deepened and rose again came to me, and I wondered, what could that be? I looked and looked and could not find the source of the strangest thing to touch my ears.

“That’s a bird,” my mommy said.

Okay. Whatever that is.

I kept trying to find the sound. I could not sniff for it, touch it, it just filled my ears.

And then I learned what birds were, things to chase and potential friends, if only I could catch them and introduce myself. At first, I barked to let them know I was coming, but they flew away. And so I learned that I should sneak up on them and wag my tail. I got closer this way, but they still departed, singing harshly to my ears. Give me a chance, I wanted to bark at the flapping of their wings.