Running

Maybe because I’m still annoyed about the lack of treats, but I am becoming increasingly impatient with Owner. That plus I haven’t seen Karl in a while and have no idea how to try to find Max have left me very frustrated and out of sorts. I love Owner, really I do, but I want to be free! 

We frequently play a game on some grass near our home with Sassy and Sassy’s Owner in which one of the humans throws a ball and Sassy and I race to see who can catch it first. Normally Owner doesn’t let go of the leash, but when we play this game, she relaxes and lets me chase the ball with Sassy. I dutiful return every time one of us has retrieved the ball. It would be unfair to categorize this as an outright attempt to lull Owner into a false sense of security, but this thought does play around in the back of my mind a little. 

So we’re playing fetch, and I’m running to get the ball, but, as usual, Sassy (who is lightning quick) gets the ball first. Then I see a squirrel and I’m off like a greyhound. I can’t help myself. I rush across the lawn then down a hill then across a creek and over the other side theoretically in pursuit of the squirrel.

But I realize that I have lost track of the squirrel. I am running for running’s sake. For freedom. It feels s so good, like lots of belly rubs and chicken- and beef-liver treats all at the same time. My damp paws make a lovely noise on the crunchy, leaf-strewn ground. I hear Owner and Sassy’s Owner voices calling me in the distance. But then I am stopped suddenly when my leash catches on a tree branch that had wedged itself between two rocks and I get pulled back and land on the rock. I wiggle around and manage to untangle myself but the jig is up. Owner has managed to catch up with me and grabs the leash.

Owner Puts Me on a Diet

Ever since Owner brought me home from the Shelter, she has been good about giving me yummy food to chow down on. And, being the fierce badger hunter that I am, God knows I love to eat. She also has been generous with the treats. Until now.

In the past, if Owner were trying to get me to do something—say walk nicely on leash or sit—she would happily dispense incredibly tasty beef- or chicken- liver treats when I successfully fulfilled a command. 

Although I’ve been aware that I haven’t been getting as many treats as in the past, in the last few days I have noticed that Owner was not treating me at all. When we go walking with some of the other owners and dogs in the neighborhood, I see her talking to the other owners and then pointing at me and making hand gestures like something is getting increasingly big. What, exactly, is she saying? That I’m losing my girlish figure?! 

Still, my desire to look good for the Maxes and Karls of the world are overridden by the fact that I really, truly love beef- and chicken- liver treats.

I talk over this turn of events with Sassy, who wastes no time in rubbing it in that she still gets treats from her owner just for being her adorable fluffy, lean self. “Well, you obviously must have done something to piss your Owner off. Why else would she stop treating you?” Sassy says. 

“But I haven’t done anything bad lately!” I insist. “I’ve practically been an angel. No outrageous barking, I’ve sat there on the sofa incredibly patient while she works, I haven’t even chased any cats around! I think it’s because she’s thinks I’m fat.”

“Well, I’ve been meaning to tell you…”

“Shut up. I’m charmingly zaftig.”

Still, two can play this game. If Owner won’t give me any treats, then I won’t eat the regular food she gives me twice a day in my bowl. Or at least much of it, since, hey, I don’t want to get carried away. That’ll get her.  

For a couple of days, I work this tactic. Owner constantly looks at me during mealtime with concern on her face when I only ate a little bit then went off on my merry way. I am quite proud of myself although I am also starving. 

But then, this little plan starts to backfire on me. One morning Owner is on the phone and also examining me rather extensively, checking my paws, my tummy, my head. Then she leashes me up and we get into the moving contraption. We end up at the place I hate the most—where the person who really examines me and gives me shots lives. I hate this person. Everything he does offends my dignity.  

Owner walks into the building and practically has to drag me with her. The mean guy looks me over but then miraculously does nothing else. Yay! No shots, no big pills. We walk out of there, with me all but prancing.

I have learned my lesson though. Playing games makes Owner overreact and brings on the mean guy. When we get home, I rush straight to my bowl and eat the remaining food.

Taking Advice from Sassy

A couple of days after our last encounter, I see Karl in the distance when Owner, Sassy's owner, Sassy and I approach the warm drink store. Is he every going to talk to me again? I wonder. I behaved badly, but I did try to make amends.

His owner brings him closer to the store, near where my group is already settled. I try to come across as friendly but not too needy with “Hey, how’s it going?”

“I’m fine.”

Wow, he really knows how to hold a grudge, I think. I need to nip this thing in the bud. If only because he's really gotten under my skin. In fact, I've been losing sleep over his dreamy stare and aloof manner.

“Look, it seems like we’re going to run into each other quite a bit here, so maybe we can be friends? I’m sorry I was a jerk earlier, but you still seem upset about it.”

“You were the one with the attitude problem,”

“True. But now I’m apologizing again” I reply.

“You’re not who I thought you were. I thought you were cool.”

OK, I’ve had enough, I think. I start to growl softly.

Owner, who was talking with Sassy’s owner, snaps to attention, tells me to stop, and waves the green spray bottle around. Uh oh.

Owner and Sassy’s owner finish up their drinks and get up from the table, taking us with them. Sassy has been observing the interaction between Karl and me over the last few visits. After the last one, she told me to give up, it was a lost cause. Now she said loud enough for Karl to hear, “Forget this loser. You can move on to better and bigger things.” She sashayed away from him. I wish I had her confidence and, well, sass. Anytime I try to exhibit some pluck, it always backfires on me. Like with Karl.

As we head off, I look back at him and think that maybe Sassy is right. I should find another dog to lavish my attention on. A dog that really understands me.

Mysterious Owner

Just where does Owner go all of the time? She leaves me at home on occasion, and, so far, I can’t figure out any rhyme or reason to it. Sometimes she’s only gone for a brief period and comes back with food in some bags. Sometimes there’s food for me, but mostly it’s for her. Then sometimes she just dashes out for a little bit during the day but doesn’t necessarily come back with anything. It’s all very mysterious as far as I'm concerned.

I do always know she’s going out in the evening for a long time because there's a very set pattern. First off, she puts some stuff on her face and her mouth that adds some color. Then she sprays a little liquid on herself that smells nice. She then goes into her closet and picks out a pretty dress or skirt and top and some much better shoes than she usually wears around the house. The last thing she does is grab a smaller, fancy bag into which she put her talking device, the smaller bag that contains some paper that she sometimes has to hand over to other humans when we go out, the small but long item that has some color she puts on her mouth, and the thing she uses to lock the door.

Before she leaves, she puts some treats in a little fun round toy for me, turns on the thing in the kitchen that plays music, makes sure some lights are on, and then walks out the door. I’m usually too distracted by the fun toy with treats in it to realize she’s gone till it’s too late.

I sit there on the sofa not quite sure what to do. Enact revenge by making a mess? No, I did that early on, and Owner got really mad. Sit there and whimper or bark? Rufus, the mean pit bull upstairs, would then tell me to shut up. So I walk around or just sit by the sliding glass door and wait for Owner.

Before I know it, I see Owner walking by the patio and then turn into the building. All my hurt and anger that she left me dissipates as soon as she opens the door. I jump up on her excitedly and then run around and do a happy dance.

Karl Plays Hardball

Owner, Sassy’s Owner, Sassy, and I make repeat visits to the warm drinks store over the next few days. Karl, the Great Dane is there outside every time, looking forlornly over at me but doesn’t say a word. Wow, I think on the third or fourth time, maybe I went too far earlier on. He just looks so sad, stretched out on the pavement with his head on top of his paws. I am truly awful and need to fix this, I decide.

“So, uh, smelled anything good around here?” I venture, lamely.

He looks up. “No, not really.”

I decide to go for broke. “My name is Hadley. Look, I’m sorry I was such a bitch when we first met. It wasn't cool of me.”

“OK,” he responds, barely lifting his head.

Now I should explain that I am usually irresistible to most male dogs. They find me witty, charming, and oh so cute. But now that I am trying to make amends, Karl doesn't seem impressed. This isn't good. Am I losing my pizazz?

No, on second thought--what is wrong with him?! I apologized! Wasn't that good enough?

Apparently not. Before I know it, my group is moving on, but I keep looking back at Karl. In turn, he looks at me with steady, challenging eyes.

I Play Coy

I take it easy over the next couple of days. I resist jumping into bushes (at least ones with thorns) or chase after any and all moving creatures. My injuries aren’t that bad, but I’m basically sore all over, especially on my belly. Owner is constantly taking a look at my belly but apparently decides everything is OK.

We go walking with Sassy and Sassy’s owner one morning not too long after the thorn incident. We head over to the busy shopping area where there is a popular store that provides the warm, dark drink that Owner and other humans seem to like. Owner, Sassy, and I sit around one of the tables while Sassy’s owner goes in to get the drinks. Suddenly a big Great Dane and his owner appear and sit down at a nearby table. Knowing me so well, Owner removes the green spray bottle filled water from her purse and sets it on the table. Spraying me with the bottle is a new trick of hers—she knows I hate it. Now all she has to do is flash it in front of me, and I correct whatever “bad” behavior I’m exhibiting. So putting it on the table is her way of warning me. 

In any event, the Great Dane starts to chat Sassy and me up. Sassy isn’t so interested (she's got her eye on Carter, another neighborhood dog), but I am. To hell with Max, I think. I’ll probably never see him again. We start to walk toward each other, forcing both Owner and the Great Dane’s Owner to get up as well. 

The Great Dane starts to sniff me, and I respond in kind. “I’m Karl,” he says. I snort, deciding to be coy with him. “That’s nice. Haven’t seen you around here before.” I start to walk away, dragging poor Owner with me.

“Hey, wait a minute, I haven’t finished yet. You smell nice.”

“You don’t,” I retort. He starts to snap at me, so I snap back. On cue, Owner sprays me with the bottle.

"See you around, handsome," I say.

I know I can be a pain sometimes--OK, maybe a lot. But I’ve found over the years it’s better to leave them wanting more.

A Bed of Thorns

Well, my worries seem to be for naught. No little people show up on the doorstep. In fact, things are surprisingly calm. Owner works on her bright, shiny object a lot, consistently walks me with Sassy and Sassy’s owner and others in the neighborhood, and even takes me to the dog park a few times. In fact, the dog park is a lot of fun, because Owner lets me off leash, which she never does when we’re just walking around the neighborhood. 

I like to sprint around with the other dogs for a bit, then sit under a nearby tree and watch some of the faster dogs speed race around. Hey, no one ever claimed that dachshunds could run like greyhounds. Still, I am happy to be outside and run free. Owner seems to have a good time, as well, chatting with her friends.

I’ve lulled myself into a real calmness these days, I realize. But, really, why can’t I just enjoy things for once? I’ve had so many challenges – from the nuttiness of my former owners to Owner’s initial ineptitude, then her going off for a couple of weeks. I feel I deserve a little rest from worrying. I don’t even think about Max that much, which sounds surprising given my fairly consistent fervor.

Maybe I have come to realize that I need to move on and try to accept my new life more.  

Wow, I can hardly believe what I’m thinking. Dare I say I’m showing some maturity?!
I’m contemplating all this one sunny day at the dog park as I sit under the tree and watch Owner laugh and talk with her friends. Thing are good. 

Then Owner and a couple of other friends round all of us dogs up to be leashed. “God, why do we have to leave so soon? Don’t these owners know to let a good thing go on?” one of the dogs mutters. We walk down the hill toward the various moving contraptions. There are some beautiful flowers in some bushes on the side that smell really nice. What’s more, I think I spy a rabbit. These two irresistible forces make me jump into these bushes. 

Oh. My. God. What is poking at me from all over?!

I am running around in a ridiculous amount of pain—dozens of prickly things are stabbing me. Owner is in a panic as I pull her into the bushes. The owner of the dog who muttered earlier is saying something to Owner quickly. Muttering Dog is looking at me like I’ve gone berserk, which I probably have. Owner finally detangles the leash and lets me off of it as she picks herself out of the bushes. I am too traumatized to try to run away. I just stand there, panting. Owner and Muttering Dog’s owner bend down and turn me over. There are thorns in my belly, which they start to remove very, very carefully. I whimper but try to stay still. 

Owner carries me to the car. Once we're home, she washes me off in the bathtub. She then gives me a small piece of cheese, which is my favorite treat. I fall asleep soon after on the sofa.