Archive for the ‘Loud barks’ Category

A (cute) dog’s reflections on barking

In Barking Dogs, Being Cute, Cute Dogs, Loud barks, Uncategorized on July 10, 2016 at 11:30 am

I like to bark excessively.

I bark at dogs larger than me, at wheels and at loud, sudden bursts of sound.


I’m cute when I bark.!

Shelley, my BFF, tells me No Bark, but I don’t listen.

I bark and bark some more.

I probably need a dog whisperer to stop.

Or a stronger enforcement of my silence.

But I’m not going to be silent.

I want the world to know that I’m here, and that I’m cute.

I want the world to know that I have a voice.

So, therefore, I won’t be quiet, not when I can growl, grumble, whimper, bark, howl and make shrill sounds that sound like a multiple, layered snapping of my jaws. I won’t because I’m just trying to be in my being-ness through my noise.

I bark, therefore I am.


I am cute among statues.

Zoey the Dachshund: 100 Percent Cute

In All About Me, Being Cute, Loud barks, Shelley Widhalm on June 10, 2012 at 11:00 am

What dog do you know who has written 100 blogs? That’s what I thought. Maybe one or 10, but certainly not 100.

Of course, there are that many books featuring dogs (and cats – but why? I must ask) as the main character.

Add paw swipe to injury, my BFF Shelley just finished reading “Dewey: The Small-Town Library Cat Who Touched the World,” by Vicki Byron. She laughed at parts and cried at the end, apparently feeling for Dewey Readmore Books.

Shelley should feel for Zoey Writesmore Blogs than any other dog that’s gone virtual. I am hers, after all, and she’s mine.

Writing 100 blogs has made me realize how privileged my readers are to get a first-dog look into a 9.5-pound miniature dachshund’s life.

I started my blog Zoey’s Paw on June 16, 2010, the same day Shelley started her blog, Shell’s Ink. We wrote about how we met and got to know each other from my nine weeks of life to my second birthday on Dec. 20 of that same year.

Shelley decided to blog about shyness in 2011, but I figured shyness didn’t have anything to do with me. I am a gregarious, incredibly cute dog who loves attention, including pets, treats, playtime and being told, “Isn’t she cute?” I know that I am, but it certainly doesn’t hurt to hear it a hundred times.

I blogged about my fascinating life as a dog in a small Midwestern city, garnering attention, perfecting my skills at catch and intimidating the big dogs (I have an excessively loud, intimidating bark).

This year, Shelley’s blogging about 52 writing topics in 52 weeks. I’m writing about those same topics, focusing on the exciting plot of my life, me as the main character and how I stand out from my setting, no matter where I am.

Next year, I am choosing what we blog about. I’m supposed to be alpha dog, meaning I should be alpha writer.

I propose Shelley and I write about, not dogs, and certainly not cats, but about me.

Pawsitive Motivation

In Loud barks, Motivation, Shelley Widhalm on November 20, 2011 at 7:00 am

Zoey is motivated to bark and bark, but she's excused because she's cute. Right?

I am motivated, obviously, by the milk bone. Oh, and the food pyramid, starting with meat, followed by vegetables and sweets.

I like coffee; yes, dogs can like the caffeinated beverage when it has cream and sugar.

I like to play tug-of-war, chase and catch.

And I like to get petted.

To achieve these things, I rely on my cuteness.

My motivation comes from my natural instinct of going for what I want and making sure I get what I want while also being adorable. The adorable add-on is like frosting on the cake. I can get what I want – play or pet time or food – and eat it up, too.

I have the persistence quality, which gets me what I want. I love, just love to bark, because I’m a dachshund, a breed that has a big bark and a long body.

Shelley, my pet parent, tells me No Bark, and I, of course, bark and bark.

I bark when I hear noises. I bark when the train whistles blow. I bark when the trash trucks beep. And I bark when doors bang shut in the building below.

I think that I bark because I am.

I am, therefore, I bark.

I bark. I am motivated to bark. And to be cute when I make lots of noise.

To Bark, or Not to Bark

In A keen barker, Loud barks, No is a bad word on June 19, 2011 at 7:37 am

I am the opposite of shy. I am an extroverted, very cute wiener dog. I have a loud bark that I use to draw attention to myself.

“No bark,” Shelley snaps at me.

I bark.

“No bark!”

I grumble, whine and lower my head. I hear voices. Bark, bark, bark!

It’s a battle of wills. I know I’m not supposed to bark because Shelley will get in big trouble from the humane society. She’s already had a visit but she explained her way out of a fine – she said she’s training me not to bark.

But it’s not working. I bark, therefore I am.

Big Bark-Little Dog

In Big dogs, Lap dog, Loud barks, Who's Alpha DOG? on April 24, 2011 at 8:12 am

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.

Dog Psychology

In Looking for friends, Loud barks on April 3, 2011 at 8:38 am

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.

Canine Poetry

In Looking for friends, Loud barks on March 27, 2011 at 8:18 am

I turn the fence into blurring crosshatches

Until a bird sings, sound floating

Off the swish of steady flapping.

I slow each step, an easing of paws

On stiff brown grass,

Wishing for –

I raise my head

As the lifting takes away –

In my silent approach

I could chase air things

Get them grounded –

But off I go again,

As if a ship sailing circles

Enclosing possibilities

Until the next bird comes along,

Hope in its wings.

A Ghost Story

In Family stories, Ghosts, Loud barks, My family on February 6, 2011 at 10:32 am

Zoey is not up to writing this week, so I’m writing in her place. She’s experiencing a bit of doggy depression. She always does after company leaves.

My dad visited this past weekend.

When he arrived, Zoey gave him a five-minute hello with the constant tail thump, all-over-his-face kisses and body-consuming wiggles. She wanted his pets and his attention, which had to be short-lived during his two-day stay.

At bedtime, she couldn’t decide, at first, who to curl up against. She eventually picked me, her regular sleep buddy, only to jump off the bed and bark at one corner of my room, as she had been for the past three days.

I got scared, because my dad had told me she had done the same thing at his house, maybe, as my dad jokingly said, because of a ghost. One night, my dad saw a strange floating face in the house that was built in the early 1900s. He said it likely was a hallucination from his extreme exhaustion. But when Zoey started barking at a certain corner of the living room, he said maybe she, too, was seeing the “ghost.”

My dad and I, however, don’t believe in ghosts, though I also believe that there is the possibility …

Zoey started up her corner barking that night, resulting in my getting chills, thinking about my dad’s “ghost story.” I got my dad up, asking, “What if it really is a ghost?”

An hour or so later after more of Zoey’s off-and-on, late-night barking, my dad said, “Hey, when did your landlords install the garage heater?”

I had mentioned the heater earlier in the evening to explain why I kept the apartment a little warmer than I wanted, but now could turn it down a couple of degrees.

“That’s your ghost,” my dad said.

Oh. I felt quite silly.

In my family, it’s already become one of those stories that we like to tell and retell, laughing at memories of our growing up years.

Yep, I have a story and it has a ghost in it. Or not.

Plus, I have a sad little puppy.

Big Bark, Little Dog

In Big dogs, Looking for friends, Loud barks, Training on January 30, 2011 at 8:19 am

I am not shy and don’t need some silly challenge to meet people. I, in fact, am ready and eager for new friends. As you can hear by my loud bark, I am inviting all dogs and people in the neighborhood to come over to play. I used to bark at the trains, but they never stop in their tracks. I quit, but once when a train blasted its horn, I howled to cancel out the sound drumming in my ears.

But when it comes to big dogs, I’m a little scared. If we’re on walks, Shelley has to pull me by my leash or pick me up, because I dig in my paws and won’t go forward. I don’t consider this not wanting to meet big dogs a matter of being shy. It’s self preservation.

In doggie training class on Saturday, what apparently is graduation day, someone said, “Zoey has a big bark for such a little dog.”

I had made lots of noise when a big dog had rolled on her back and scooted up to me in submission. I wanted her to go away. Even with my extra large bark, I do realize I am on the small end.

In the class, we did a race to use all of the new skills we’ve learned over the last seven weeks. I came in last place. Next came the proud parent photos. I overheard Shelley ask if I could still get my photo taken with this dog-size graduation cap even though we’re retaking the class.

We’re retaking the class? I have to go through all of this torture again? I’m always heading to the door or looking out the window, wanting to be in a better place. I don’t want to learn how to be a good dog. I want to just be me. Super Cute Zoey!