Posts Tagged ‘Dachshunds’

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.


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.

A Dachshund’s Toolbox

In All About Me, Being Cute, Shelley Widhalm, Woof! Woof! on May 13, 2012 at 11:30 am

Writers like to say they have a toolbox, while it’s their dogs who like boxes.

I like tissue boxes and boxes slighter larger or smaller that I can rip apart into smaller pieces. Newspapers and envelopes also work for ripping.

I’m not interested in tools, because as a dog, I can’t build things, though I can dig.

With some imagination, however, I see that I have a tool, that of my cuteness. Don’t I look adorable in this photograph where I’m posing for the camera?

My cuteness stops traffic wherever I am, because people (most of them anyway) want to pet me. They say, “She’s so cute.”

Yeah, I know.

Another tool is my bark. What do I love about barking? you ask.

I like hearing my own voice, and I like grabbing attention. I like pointing out sounds, like the neighbor coming home, trucks driving down the alley and people talking on the other side of the window.
Do you think it’s easy to bark with all the steps I have to go through?

First, I hear a sound, lift my head and decide whether it’s a perceived threat, annoyance or stimulant (i.e. a potential visitor to pet and play with me). If I determine the noise needs an echo, I bark. If the noise is unusual or new, I bark loud and repeatedly.

Like I’ve said before, I bark, therefore I am.

My dog toolbox has cuteness, barking and oh no, not that.

“It’s time for your bath,” Shelley says.

I run under the bed to my secret spot where I hide when I want to have a pout or avoid things.

“Don’t you want to be clean and pretty? If you smell, no one will pet you.”

I don’t care, I bark to say.

After two hours of hiding, I realize I’m not getting a bath. I won! Until the next day when Shelley grabs me and hauls me to the sink.

So does my heart.

I so wish baths didn’t have to be in the toolbox, but that’s the way it is in a world where being clean matters.

See Shelley’s blog on writers’ toolboxes at http://shelleywidhalm.wordpress.com/2012/05/13/a-writers-toolbox/

Cute Dog to the 100th Power

In All About Me, Being Cute, Shelley Widhalm on February 19, 2012 at 8:11 pm

Though a picture may be worth a thousand words, that number is too small to describe me.

One picture won’t due either.

I am Zoey, an amazingly, exceedingly, excessively cute miniature dachshund. I am so cute that people stop me, even in PetSmart where shoppers already have dogs, to ooh and ah.

They tell Shelley, my pet parent, that I am adorable, cute and beautiful, plus a whole bunch of other adjectives that make me want to lift my snout.

Though I could go on and on, I know that description should be concrete, concise and careful, while evoking the senses.

My favorite sense is smell, especially when snow blankets the ground. I like lifting my face when it falls, letting it wet my whiskers and clump to my fur as I begin to climb.

At nine pounds, I can stand on top of snow once the wind blows it into piles, using my snout to push it over the edge. I like watching it fall like shavings from a white crayon, sticking to the white already there.

In the summer, the grass is like little fans that wave, lifting the sweat of the heat into a sweet smell, edged with bitter lemon.

Best of all is running when all these smells come at me, the grass, a neighbor’s grill, human sweat, the markings of other dogs on the fence and my own panting breath.

I stop.

I could have been describing myself, but instead I described my surroundings. I guess I’ll have to let my picture speak for itself. Aren’t I cute? How cute? Cute to the 100th power, times Pi, or 3.14, divided by one.

That would be me, the number one cute dog in the world.