Posts Tagged ‘Dog Writer’

Ways to stop (bad) barking

In Barking Dogs, Cute Dogs, Dog Barks on August 21, 2016 at 11:30 am

I’ve got a bad habit.

I really, really like to bark.

That’s because I want attention. Or I might have a request. I might want to let the big dogs know I’m big, too. I bark at wheels. I bark to say “hello.”

I’m not supposed to bark just to bark. I’m supposed to bark only when it’s necessary, such as an emergency or to say I need to go outside. (That’s what I read, but I just patiently wait at the door.)

My BFF Shelley has decided she wants me to stop. She looked up some things about barking and told me about them. She said she’s going to employ a few behavior modifications (Woof! Woof! as if I’ll listen!).

She learned that to stop my attention-seeking noises, she needs to stop giving me what I want, which is lots of attention. That means ignore me (As if!), but don’t punish me either, because that won’t work (and it’s not nice).

When you tell me to not bark or to stop, you’re giving me attention. If you yell at me, especially if you’re losing your patience, I’ll think you’re talking back and responding. I’ve been conditioned to expect this response, even a negative one.

It’s best to not even look at me and to do your own thing. I’ll eventually get the hint (maybe).

When I stop barking, reward me for my good behavior. You can praise me and give me treats, and eventually I’ll learn that being silent and a good girl brings better results than my naughty barking.

Give me the reward quickly, so I associate my good behavior with the treat. (I do agree with this, so maybe I’ll start listening).

Give me a verbal praise, such as saying, “Good dog” (or in my case, “Good girl, good cute girl”) and then hand over that treat.

As I catch on, extend the period of time between quiet and treat, so that I also have to learn patience (is that a word?).

And then vary the amount of time between quiet and treat, so that I have to be the one to pay attention to you. I won’t expect things to be exact but will have to be on my toes—or paws. I’ll not bark to get attention, what I wanted in the first place. We’ll be paying attention to each other (and nicely

Dog Journaler Loves to Write

In Cute Dogs, Dog Journaler, Dog Writer on May 24, 2015 at 11:30 am

Here I am with one of my journals. It has my picture on it!

Here I am with one of my journals. It has my picture on it!

I am a dog who likes to journal. I am a dog blogger, a dog writer and a journaler.

I have lots to say about being a dog, being a cute dog and how to treat your dog, so that she knows she is loved and cared for and safe and comfortable.

Here is an example from one week of my journals:

  • Monday: Go with my BFF Shelley, my pet parent, to the coffee shop where they allow dogs and sit with her, while she works on her writing. Go with Shelley to the gym in her apartment building, where I get a treat and she runs on the treadmill.
  • Tuesday: Nap while Shelley goes to work. Wag my tail and wiggle my whole body when she comes home. Pout when she has to leave again, though she gives me a treat and says she’s sorry but will be back soon, very soon.
    How long is “soon?”
  • Wednesday: Nap while Shelley goes to work. Bark when she comes home in response to some loud noises in the hall, but she says, “No bark.” No what?
  • Thursday: Wait for Shelley to come home from work. Grab at her papers to get her to play and squeal in delight when she does. Get out teddy bears for tug-of-war.
  • Friday: More of the same. Come on Shelley, stop going to work.
  • Saturday: Work again? Seriously!
  • Sunday: Shelley’s mine again. She has a day off. That means playtime.

Dog Story Teller

In All About Me, Being Cute, Dog Writing, Shelley and Zoey, Shelley Widhalm on October 19, 2014 at 11:30 am

Here I am as a very cute puppy with my BFF Shelley.

Here I am as a very cute puppy with my BFF Shelley.

I write lots of stories as a canine writer, plus blogs, poetry and even the occasional news article about the dog life.

I was born Dec. 20, 2008, and at eight weeks was sent to a pet store in Fort Collins, Colorado, where I was adopted a week later. My BFF Shelley saw me there, obviously thinking I was incredibly cute, and asked if she could hold me.

I leaned my head on her chest, gave her kisses and looked adoringly into her eyes. Despite my efforts, she left without me. But the next day, she came back with her mom and they both held me.

Her mom said I should be taken home, and I was thinking, duh! When I was taken to there, I found out my name and her name—Zoey and Shelley. I learned that I weighed 2 pounds, 11 ounces, small enough to fit into my brand new, multi-colored, six-inch-square bed.

I grew and accumulated toys and got treats and played hard. I had to get a bigger bed. I learned how to climb stairs and stand on my hind legs, wave, sit, lie down and roll over. I barked at big dogs, ran around the back yard and played catch, fetch and tug-of-war.

I went from a pup to a bigger pup to a dog. I went from kind of naughty to mostly good, but not all good, because that would be boring.

Basically, I grew from little to big, learning along the way that there’s so much to smell wherever I go. I’m not one to skip stopping and smelling the roses or whatever other pretty thing is on my path.

Canny Canine Blogger

In All About Me, Being Cute, Shelley Widhalm on June 2, 2014 at 11:30 am

I'm kinda hanging out.

I’m kinda hanging out.

I’m debating whether I should blog this week because the topic is revision as a final step of the writing process.

For one, I only write blogs, and the rest of the time, I play, run, go on walks and eat treats and, if I must, my dog food.

Second, there’s nothing to revise about me because I am a very darling, cute miniature dachshund. This photo demonstrates just how cute I am on a scale of 1-10 as 10 + cute.


I, however, can admit that I could lose a couple of pounds, because I love to eat table food and treats (I get both on occasion from two different people, and I act all innocent like, as if they should give me something because I am so, so hungry and also very cute standing on my hind legs with my front paws crossing, as if I’m saying, “Dude.)

I may exercise, but I consume too many calories, and being a dachshund, I have that low-rider bone structure that makes one pound look like two. So, I guess I have to go on a diet. That means eat more of my organic dog food and fewer treats and table scraps. Plus, Shelley’s going to make me run more, and go on more walks. I guess it’s a good thing it’s summer.

See this photo of me out in the grass among lovely nature. I’m cute, aren’t I?


Canine Resolutions for 2014

In All About Me, Being Cute, New Year's Resolutions, Shelley Widhalm on January 5, 2014 at 11:30 am

I'm winter ready in my bow and jacket.

I’m winter ready in my bow and jacket.

As a canine, I’m not exactly one to come up with impossible New Year’s resolutions to carry out over the next year. Rather, I live in the moment.

I have two major goals each year and each day: getting yummy food and getting attention.

The attention bit comes from the fact that I am a really cute long-haired miniature dachshund. Wherever I go, people want to pet me, often remakring how cute I am, and I just eat it up. In fact, I’m probably the cutest, prettiest and most fascinating dog in the world.

My name is Zoey Suzanne Widhalm. I am five years old and weigh 10 pounds, though there isn’t anything small about me and my big personality. I love to play hard, run around the back yard, invite cats to be my friends (though they turn up their snouts at me – the gall!), and chew Nylabones, rawhides and my toys, because I can’t actually talk but like to get a chew in edgewise.

This year, I have come up with sub-goals to my major goals that I want to blog about. For instance, when my BFF Shelley reads books about dog behavior to try to understand complicated me, I will write about what she learned and simplify it for her so she gets it. I will talk about my really interesting life. And I will tell a few canine tales.

So here’s to a Happy 2014 Blogging Year.

Golden Dog Books, Book 2

In 52: A Dog's Life and Tales, Puppies, Shelley Widhalm on January 20, 2013 at 11:30 am

The Three Little Dogs (Zoey’s version of “The Three Little Pigs”)

Once upon a time there were three little dogs who went on a walk without their owners out into the big wide world.

The first little dog didn’t like walking at all, so he sat his lazy butt down. He was a basset hound who moseyed down the road to see how the two other dogs were getting along.

The second little dog, a pink poodle, was walking very slowly, not wanting to dirty her paws on the ground.

The two began to dance and sing and, forgetting their laziness, trotted down the road to see how the third little dog was doing. She was a very cute dachshund with the name of Zoey.

Zoey was walking as if attached to a leash, a very good girl indeed.

“Ha, ha, ha,” laughed the first little dog.

“Hee, hee, hee,” giggled the second little dog. “Come play with us.”

Zoey shook her head “no.” “I’ve got a walk to do,” and off she went saying she’ll be safe. “You’ll be sorry when the big bad cat comes by.”

The two little dogs laughed and laughed.

Just as the first little dog sat down his lazy butt, the big bad cat said, “I’ll huff and puff and scare you away.”

This little dog looked at the big bad very scary cat and ran.

So did the poodle, even while trying to keep her prissy nose in the air.

“I’m not scared of a silly cat,” she whimpered.

“Meow,” the cat said, and the prissy dog ran.

Now, the cat approached Zoey and huffed and puffed, and huffed and puffed until all her hairs stood on end.

Zoey looked at the cat and, though she was a wee-bit thing, growled and barked, scaring the cat into a quivering, shivering fur ball.

“That’ll show you,” and Zoey walked her cute self home.

Golden Dog Books, Book 1

In 52: A Dog's Life and Tales, Being Cute, Shelley Widhalm on January 13, 2013 at 11:30 am

The Fast Cute Puppy (Zoey’s version of “The Poky Little Puppy”)

One cute puppy, and not five little puppies, dug a hole under the fence …

Wait, wait. I don’t dig holes, well, except once when I saw a mole go down a hole and I dug for two hours. The next day, when I had to do the potty thing, I climbed down three stairs and whimpered, owie, owie, owie, limping along from muscles soar and weak.

So, off I went for a walk into the wide, wide world, smelling for smells. Up and down the street and high and low from the trees to my feet, I sniffed and sniffed. And what I encountered as I trotted along was the heavenly scent of beans being ground at the neighborhood coffee shop on Paw Street.

The other puppies stopping for a sniff looked my way and off they went, but I stayed until very, very late. I ran home when the world was asleep and ate up treats that fell to the floor. Crawling into bed, I was happy and full.

The next morning, there was a sign at the fence warning against digging holes. Who had dug the hole that I had used to access the wide, wide world? I found the other puppies sniffing when I trotted to the coffee shop. I barked, “Who dug the hole?”

“Not I,” a little poodle and a spaniel barked back.

“Not I,” a chocolate lab growled.

After sorting things out, we took ourselves on a walk, the four of us, sniffing this way and that way.

“I hear something,” said the lab.

“I smell something,” the poodle said.

And off we went, running toward the source of the smell, which happened to be my house.

“Who dug this hole?” my human mother asked, hands on hips.

“He did.”

“She did.”

“Well, well,” Mother said. “No treats for you. And as for your friends, tell them to fix the fence.”

My three friends and I fixed the fence, but I still wasn’t given a treat, so I went to bed feeling very sorry for myself.

The next morning there was a sign that read: “No treats ever, unless puppies are good girls and boys.”

I was good for seven days in a row.

Mother pointed to an area of the yard.

“You can dig there.” After two hours of futile digging, Mother said, “Good girl.”

I got a treat.

The End.