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.

The Invasion of the Little People

After my two ill-fated escape attempts, I decide I need to bide my time. I figure I really need to come up with a fool-proof plan to find Max and not act like a crazy pup chasing its tail. Yes, maybe I am finally getting a little common sense. 

In any event, Owner is acting very nice and kind to me, giving me lots of belly rubs and extra treats. I think she feels guilty that she left me alone for so long. So I make a concentrated effort to behave; after all, Owner really isn’t that bad—she feeds me, walks me, and in general gives me lots of love and attention. God knows, she certainly is better than my previous owners. Plus—and this means more than anything—she got me out of the shelter. So I forgive her, at least a little. 

But then comes the invasion of the Little People. I should give a little background before I continue, though. When I say “Little People,” I mean very small, very loud humans who think it’s acceptable to grab my tail and stick their hands in front of my face constantly. There were two Little People in my previous home, and they drove me nuts. They were always running around and getting in my way. One time, the smallest of these Little People poured a whole bottle of liquid that humans use to wash their food dishes over me, necessitating a long bath (I hate baths).

So Owner is buzzing around cleaning up the place and cooking. Let me tell you something, Owner never cleans and cooks, so my tail is already raised in suspicion.

The next day, the Little People descend, accompanied by several adults. It is pure pandemonium. The Little People run around and makes lots of noise, and chase me through the house. I try to stick close to Owner for protection. Owner is having a great time, laughing and chatting happily with her friends. She’s even being nice to the Little People.

Oh God, I hope she doesn’t get any big ideas and gets one of these Little People herself. That would be disastrous for me. 

That night, I dream of Little People constantly chasing me around an enclosed yard. Suddenly, my need to escape resuscitates itself.

Owner Catches Me in the Act

I am only in the crate for a brief time—before she goes to bed that night, Owner lets me out. I follow her to the bedroom and jump up on the bed. I lay my head low in submission, and Owner pats it and even gives me a belly rub. I really hadn’t meant to growl at her, but she shouldn’t have left me for so long. But apparently I need to get over it if Owner and I are going to live in peace.

That night, I pad out to the living room area while Owner is sound asleep. I plop on the carpet and star out the sliding glass door. What am I going to do? The fact that Owner left me for quite a while suggests that she could—no, would—do it again. I need to protect myself and do what feels right for me. I thought about Max again. Somehow I would escape again and find him.

The very next day I am able to seize an opportunity. Owner is walking back and forth between the patio and the kitchen, filling a watering can at the kitchen sink and then watering her plants outside. At one point, while she’s at the kitchen sink filling the can, I sneak out onto the patio. Normally Owner is very careful about closing the door. This time (rank amateur mistake!), she isn’t. I scurry over to the far side of the patio near the railing. 

I have gained a little weight since Owner brought me to her house, so fitting underneath the railing is tough. But by breeding I am a Dachshund—a badger hunter—and therefore used to squeezing through tight spaces. My ancestors burrowed in dark, small holes looking for badgers, rabbits—anything that moved. So I suck in my stomach and slip under the rails. 

Although I don’t see here (I’m trying to jam out of there so fast I don’t look behind me), I hear Owner shout, “Hadley!” then something that suggest “get back here.” Ugh. I stop, turn around, and start walking back to Owner.

More low-head submission, more trying to look adorable. Apparently it worked, because Owner starts to laugh.

I am in the Dog House

We return to Sassy’s owner’s home, with Sassy’s owner carrying (carrying!) me in so I won’t escape again. She gets on her talking device, and I have a feeling she’s talking to Owner. I go over to my bed and sulk.

I barely eat and drink for the next couple of days. Even Sassy keeps her distance. But then, somewhat suddenly, Sassy’s Owner takes me back over to Owner’s and my home.

And then, not too long after, Owner walks in the door!

Oh, Owner! Where have you been?! 

Lots of happiness ensues. But then Owner starts to take a stern tone. She is wagging her finger at me. In fact, she seems very annoyed with me. Is she mad about my escape from Sassy’s owner’s home? This was not quite the reunion I was hoping for.

Sigh. What can I do? How can I explain to Owner that she deserted me, so I wanted to go off and find Max and do my own thing? I mean, really, the nerve of her! So she can just go off? Just who the hell does she think she is? 

I'm so frustrated, almost without thinking, I start to growl a little. Owner is taken aback. I realize I may have gone a little too far. She takes me into the kitchen, where the crate is located. She knows I hate crate. It’s way too confining and humbling for a dog like me. Owner has tried to make it nice and even put food in it, but I still don’t like it. She scoots me in there, even though I’m trying to make amends by wagging my tail and looking adorable.

And then Owner shuts the door, which she normally never does. Wow, she’s really upset. This is really going downhill.

It seemed like Owner had been gone forever--I should be mad at her! And yet, I was the one in the dog house.

I am Humiliated, Denied, and Detained

Wheeeee!!! Now that I’m snug in the carpet and not rolling around in the moving contraption, I’m having a good time, despite my overall concerns about where I’m going. I poke my head out of the carpet when the moving contraption stops. I scoot out a bit a more when I see another dog being walked by a young guy. I take another look at the dog.

Wait, this is too easy. It’s Max! It has to be Max. I need to get out quickly so I make my move, jumping out of the moving contraption just as it starts to take off.

“Max! Max! It’s me, Hadley!” I call out, chasing him down the street. The guy and Max turn around. 

“Who the hell are you?” Max says. Except, it’s not Max—just a cairn terrier who looks a lot like him. No! This is horrible. And I lost my ride, to boot.

“Sorry, I thought you were a friend,” I respond, trying to be submissive. The guy looks confused but then bends down and pets me. He seems pretty friendly. He looks at my tag and says something that sounds nice.

I am completely demoralized as they continue their way down the road, Fake Max glaring back at me. I have no idea where I am or how to get back home. The nice guy stops at the end of the street and looks at me again. He seems to hesitate but then makes his way back to me, dragging Fake Max behind him.

“What are you doing? Why can’t you leave us alone? I just want to go on my walk and you’re messing everything up,” Fake Max growls. But his owner hushes him and bends down to look at my tag again. He then pulls his talking device out of his pocket (the same kind Owner is always on) and starts yapping away. I can tell my adventure is over before it really got started.

The nice guy stays with me for a long time, with Fake Max unimpressed at all the commotion. After a while, Sassy and her Owner pull up in a moving contraption, and Sassy’s Owner talks with the guy. 

Sassy says to me, “You have no idea how much trouble you’re in.” 

“You have no idea what a pain in the ass she is,” Fake Max interjects.

I slink down, humiliated and embarrassed. God, if I had only not gotten off that moving contraption with the long bed-like thing in the back. Sassy’s Owner finishes talking with the nice guy and then scoops me up and wags her finger at me. She puts me in the back of her moving contraption, with Sassy in the front staring back at me.

So much for freedom. So much for finding Max.

The (Not-So) Great Escape

So now I am on a mission to find Max. But how can I escape? And how can I locate him?

And then both a beautiful and horrible thing happened. One night Owner is very busy with a big bag, putting clothes in it. She seems distracted and certainly not focused on me. Then she organizes my stuff—my food! my fuzzy squirrel toy! my chewable bone! —and puts these items into a bag that she places in the front hall. What the hell is going on?!

Early the next morning, Owner gets up and leaves our home. She says goodbye like she’s just heading out for a bit, but there’s something weird going on. For starters, Owner lugs that big bag with her.

A little while later a neighbor and her dog Sassy with whom we sometimes walk show up. “What’s going on here? Where’s my Owner?!” I ask Sassy.

“I think you’re moving in with us for a bit,” Sassy responds matter of factly.

What?! Why?! How?! NOOO!!!

I start to run around in a panic, not believing that Owner would desert me. How could she? How dare she!

Sassy’s owner looks at me with both amusement and concern. Finally, she manages to leash me, and we head out.

I cannot even begin to tell you how traumatic the next few days are. Sassy is OK but kind of passively aggressively resentful of my presence. We play fight most of the time, much to the chagrin of Sassy’s owner. And her owner is nice but certainly not my Owner (although at this point I am inclined to disown mine).

Worse still, there is a cat at their home. Just to shake things up, I chase the cat around incessantly the first day. He finds a safe spot above the cupboard in the kitchen. I don’t think he comes down for the rest of my visit.

So that was the whole terrible part. Now for the good part. One morning – a few days after Owner forsakes me—Sassy’s owner is trying to leash me. The door is open a bit, so I take a chance and bolt out as fast as possible. Freedom! Max!

Sassy’s owner tries to catch me, but I can be really fast when I want to be. I head for the road and start to walk once I see that Sassy’s owner isn’t trying to get me.

“OK, think,” I tell myself. Where could Max be? The Shelter? How do I get back there? Being outside and unfettered feels great, but I start to have some concerns. Just where am I going? I don’t know what to do with myself. I continue traipsing along the road toward the shopping center where Owner and sometimes walk.

Why shouldn’t I leave? Owner left me. I should just do my own thing. And my thing is reuniting with Max. Suddenly I see Sassy’s owner coming around the corner. How did she get here already? Ugh. I dart into the bushes. Sassy’s owner apparently doesn’t see me. Good. I stay put for a while, trying to plan my next move.

Suddenly I see a moving contraption with a large space—almost like a bed— in back. I could hop up there and get somewhere—far, far away from Sassy’s owner and my missing one. The moving contraption starts to move – if I’m going to get on it, I need to move fast. I zoom out of the bushes and high-tail it on to the empty space in the back of the moving contraption. I roll around as it moves in fits and starts and makes turns. It’s difficult to hold on, but I finally find a secure spot in a rolled-up carpet. I feel excited, exhilarated, alive. This is an adventure! And now, it will be more of an adventure trying to find Max.

He’d better be worth it.

An apology and some plotting...

Taking a step back, I should explain my absence. I know it seems like forever, but frankly I’ve been busy. Busy making friends with new dogs. Busy getting trained so Owner doesn’t freak out so much. Busy Badger hunting. You don’t think I just sit around all day, do you?

In any event, my summer has been good. I’m genuinely having a fun time. Owner is much more relaxed, and I’m trying not to annoy her—at least purposely—quite so much. She even took me to a place where the ground was warm and sandy and there was water nearby. That was a great day.

But I still mix Max, my shelter boyfriend. In fact, I find myself thinking about him more and more. What is wrong with me? I have a nice little group of friends, Owner is becoming increasingly less hopeless, and I get the run of the place. What’s not to like?

And yet, and yet…I keep looking around, hoping that I’ll run into Max. Did he ever get out of the Shelter? What has he been up to? Does he still think of me? Or was it just a brief flirtation for him—outta sight, outta mind? Sam, the amazingly clueless dog next door, doesn’t compare to Max.

Sometimes at night, when Owner is asleep, I sneak out of my small bed that placed next to hers and walk around the house. Then I sit on the sofa and think. I think about when I will get breakfast. I think about if I will ever get to catch a badger. And I think about my next move.

Redemption

So, yes, Owner was not too happy with me, needless to say. When she came back from wherever she had been, her face was severely displeased. She raised her voice. She wagged her finger. She put me on the sofa and told me to stay, which I did. This was no time to mess around. She went about cleaning up my rampage. I realized that I probably had gone too far.

 I needed advice on how to make amends, and I needed it fast. Max wasn't around to bounce ideas off of. I thought about Sam, the dog next door. He wasn't as smooth or charming as Max, but he'd probably be able to offer some pointers--he seemed like he was even keeled. I needed to talk with him, stat. But how could I arrange it?

As we head out for our evening walk, Sam and his owner are coming back, as luck would have it. Quickly, succinctly I explain my predicament to Sam as our paths cross. When I ask how I can redeem myself, he replies, "Grovel."

OK, that sounds good. Grovel. I look up at Owner with my most dazzling, cutest expression but she doesn't seem swayed. This is going to take a lot of work, I think. Hmmm.

We go on our walk without incident--I don't make any fuss even when I see a big dog. Bottom line,  I really, really, don't want to go back to the shelter. Owner appears calmer by the end of our walk, and I figure maybe the worst is over.

We get home and she feeds me dinner. Sitting on the sofa, I curl up next to her. She says something that seems to say, "It's OK."

I Party Like a Rock Star

All better, yes, indeedy! I'm back in fighting form, bright-eyed and bushy tailed and ready to rumble. Even with Rufus, the awful pit bull upstairs, who by the way still really annoys me (and I'm willing to admit scares me) with his loud bark and incessant taunting.

Owner and I have taken to going on long morning walks at a nearby park that surrounds a lake. I am in pure heaven. There are so many exciting things to scope out--from lots of squirrels to ducks and geese. I have a sneaking suspicion that I might even be able to find some badgers. God, that would be fantastic.

I roam all around the grass (albeit still on leash--Owner never, ever lets me off leash). It feels wonderful. This morning Owner seems like she's in a particular hurry, though. She's tugging on me a little more and exhorting me to speed things up. Geez, doesn't she know about smelling the roses?!

We make it back home and Owner rushes through breakfast and getting cleaned up. And then she pulls out a big red bag and starts to pack up a bunch of stuff, including her bright, shiny object. With a quizzical look, she glances my way then heads out the front door. This doesn't bode well. Where is she going?! Sure, she'll go off for a bit, here and there. But there was something in her demeanor when she left this time that suggests she's going to be gone for a while. I don't know whether to be afraid or throw a party.

After sulking on the sofa for a while, I decide to make the best of it. If Owner is cruel enough to leave me alone for an extended period, then I will exact revenge. Let's see...oh yes, the bag of trash in the kitchen. I remember my previous owners hated it when I dug into it. I bring the bag down and then do a good job strewing the garbage around. Ha! Take that, Owner.

Then I go into the bedroom and pull down the comforter. No easy task, because it's quite heavy. After that difficult chore, I make my way to her bathroom and unspool the toilet paper. I do the same thing in the second bathroom. But I need some sort of grand finale. Something that will really get Owner. I manage to overturn the small rug in the front hall. And proceed to pee and poop.

I perch myself on the sofa and survey the damage. Nice job, I think. I'm feeling tired--destruction is hard work.Time for a nap.

Poor Puppy -- I'm Sick and So Is Owner's Bright Object

Ugh, what the hell did I eat? My stomach feels like crap. It must have been that weird-smelling brown thing on the sidewalk that Owner told me not to eat earlier this morning while we were on our walk. I pace around the home as Owner looks at me intently and drinks her warm beverage. Suddenly, rather gracefully, if I do say so myself, I vomit onto the white carpet. Owner jumps up and rushes around to clean it up. I would normally be upset that I made a mess on Owner's carpet, but honestly, I don't care at this point.

Then I plop on the carpet in defeat. When will I learn not to eat strange stuff? I start to drift off to sleep. I begin dreaming about Max, my friend from the shelter. He was just so much fun, so kind. He would have cheered me up. I think back to the fun times we had playing in the yard at the shelter. So many great games with balls and Frisbees.

I wonder where he is now. Maybe he hit pay dirt and got some owners with a big back yard and lots of squirrels to chase and no kids. That's the ideal scenario we all want.

I wake up and puke again. Owner looks up. I sense she's not doing well either. Something's going on with her Bright Object that she's always pounding her paws onto. She's shaking the machine and pushing the buttons on it furiously.

She comes and cleans up the new mess and looks very concerned. We go sit on the sofa, and she pets me in a kind, gentle way. We sit that way for a long time. It's not a good day for either of us.

I fall back asleep and dream of hunting for badgers.

I Get Some Much Needed Training and a Possible Boyfriend

Jesus H. Christ. Poor owner. She's wearing some sort of rubber thing around her knee and walking around our home slowly. Poor owner. Poor me.

I try to smooth things over from our disastrous hike by looking up at her in a terribly cute way with my big brown eyes. We sit on the sofa as she's drinking her coffee as if to say, "It's OK, I know you didn't mean to make me fall." I guess everything's going to be fine after all. But still, I feel badly.

A couple of days later, Owner and I head outside and meet someone in the place near our home where humans park their moving contraptions. This person really seems to be into petting me. And she smells like other dogs. For the next little while, this person and Owner take turns holding the leash and giving me treats. I get the point pretty quickly--if I behave, I get treats. I'm not stupid--plus my previous owners did the same thing. I decide to play along to amuse Owner, but after a while, I don't even  think about it too much. It seems pretty easy. Plus, Owner is still limping around, so I feel like I owe it to her to be good.

The other human leaves, and Owner and I practice some more. As we're working on a patch of grass near our place, I see a dog from afar. Normally Owner freaks out and tightens her grip on the leash, but this time, maybe because I'm taking it easy (see, the training really did pay off), Owner is calmer as well. We walk over to the other human, whom Owner seems to know, and the dog. He's a little Chihuahua, and he tells me his name is Sam. We check each other out. "Don't get too close, or I might just fall in love," he says. Ugh. Males will say anything. I miss Max--his banter was always classier than the rest. Still, this might be fun. Sam and his minder head back to their -- wow--they only live next door!

Sam might not be so bad after all.

In the Great Outdoors

Hooray! Owner and I are in the moving contraption again. I sit on Owner's lap as she deals with getting us to wherever we're going. We get off the big road and then make some turns on to some smaller ones. Then we stop and I hope up on the window and look out. We seem to be in the great outdoors. This is big!

We got out of the moving contraption and walk up to someone Owner seems to know. They exchange friendly greetings and then--so exciting!--the other human pulls a dog out of her car! YES! Someone to hang out with!  The other dog and I start chatting crazily, and Owner tightens her grip on the leash.

All four of us start to walk up a dusty path. The other dog explains that humans like to do this.

So here's what I've learned--the other dog is named Sally, she's a beagle mix, three years old. She's friendly but originally from some place that was cold. In fact, she says they used to have cold, wet, white stuff on the ground.

"All these stupid humans here in warm weather land don't know how lucky they have it. I had to walk in the snow all the time when I lived in the cold weather.  It was awful. But now I'm being rewarded by living here."

So on, and on it goes. We clearly are going to be pals. Owner is wonderful after all!

I am having so much fun sniffing around, I can hardly contain myself. As we descend down a steep path, I rush ahead, until suddenly I sense lots of commotion behind me. I turn around and see Owner has fallen. And she doesn't look too please. Ugh! What is wrong with me?!

A Visit Goes Badly

It's so hard adjusting to a new home. There are new people, new smells, new food, new rules...

Owner tries hard, but really is pretty hopeless. She won't let me play with any other dogs when we go walking. I shout out greetings to them, but she keeps pulling me back. And she spends so much time using her paws on the bright object, intensely focused--like when I'm going after squirrels. She'll look up on occasion and smile and pet me. But she's very determined to work on that bright shiny thing.

And sometimes she goes away. She leaves the music on in the room when she makes the food, and heads out. Without me! The nerve! Sometimes she will come back with treats. But usually she brings back something for herself.

But, really, I shouldn't complain. She feeds me, walks me, and gives me belly rubs. What more could a dog want?

Indeed, life is pretty good. Except for Rufus, the pit bull upstairs, He just leans over the balcony and snarls at me. It freaks me out every time, even though I know he's there. Other than my charming neighbor, I've met a couple of nice dogs--there's Sophie, a King Charles Cavalier Spaniel and Miko, a German Shepherd. We all greet one another on our morning walks, with Owner tensing up every time. Really, she needs to relax.

One of my favorite things to do is to get into the moving contraption and check out the scenery. In fact, we're in it right now. Fairly quickly, we arrive at another home. We get out and I'm taken into a strange place. I start sniffing around with Owner looking on anxiously and an older couple smiling. I go into a big room with lots of chairs. There, in a corner, is a bizarre stationary object that freaks me out immediately. I start talking at it furiously, and Owner and the older female start laughing.

Well, I'll show them. I scoot along and right on the carpet start to pee. Owner turns bright red and whisks me out of the room to the backyard. I see the older woman looking sadly at the rug.

While I've only known Owner for a little bit, I have never seen her so mad. All I know is that what she is saying is the human equivalent of "Bad, bad dog."

I start to wonder if I went too far. Ugh, it is so hard figuring out these humans. Don't they have a sense of humor?!

Stupid Owner Tricks

Rise and shine, Owner, rise and shine! Come on!

Owner turns on the light on the night stand and looks at me with a mixture of happiness and annoyance. She says something to me sleepily. But then she gives me some belly rubs, which are so great. After a while, I pad down the hall behind her and she goes into the room where the food is. She pours herself some sort of dark liquid into a cup, then opens some cold cabinet and pours something white into it.

A little while later we head outside. I am extremely pleased to be outside—a girl’s gotta pee and poop—but Owner isn’t walking quickly enough for me. I dash around happily, with Owner pulling way too much on the leash. But there are birds, and squirrels and so many other things to chase and smell. Much too quickly, we walk back into our home.  I've learned over the years that humans all  have the same patterns—the warm drink first thing in the morning, getting wet in some sort of cupboard, then putting some clothes on. They’re not terribly original, as far as I’m concerned.

After feeding me breakfast, Owner then sits down at a desk in her office and begins looking at some sort of bright object. She frequently puts her paws on it and I hear a soft tapping noise. I’ve noticed this devices come in big and small sizes—the small one being tiny enough to put in a bag or pocket. In fact, humans are always attached to these stupid things. What the hell?! Pay more attention to me, instead!

Later on, after Owner eats (what, no food for me?!), we go outside again. But the pleasant spell of our happy jaunt is broken as soon as we walk down the stairs by a mean, nasty bark. "Who the hell are you? Who said you could move in," I hear from above. Should I respond? I look to Owner for a clue, but she's just looking nervous. "I'm Hadley," I begin. "Just moved in." I move out further so I can see who's talking at me. It's a mean old pit bull. Damn, of all the neighbors to have, pit bulls are the worse. "You better watch yourself or else I'll beat the crap out of you," he snarls. See what I mean? Pit bulls are just plain rude.

We move on quickly, but I'm not feeling as welcomed as earlier on.

  

 

Adjustment Time

The Shelter lady walks me out accompanied by the freckly lady. "Bye, Max! Bye!" I say. And he responds, "Good luck, cutie!"

The Shelter lady hands my new owner some food, and we get into some sort of object. One of the dogs at my previous home said this was some sort of contraption that people use to go long distances. Why the hell don't they just walk? Well, anyway, I'm jumping around SO excited. I'm leaving, I'm outta here! Woohoo! My new owner laughs but wags her finger at me. I'm still springing up and down when the object starts to move. Whoops! Owner looks at me concerned and the contraption stops abruptly. Slam, right into the back of the chair. Oops.

We start moving again and things go better. We move for a while, Owner singing along to some noise coming from the moving contraption. Then we stop and she gets me out of the car. We go into some building. And I realize that this building contains stuff just for me! How exciting!

I scurry around, looking this way and that, and Owner has a hard time following me. Well, she needs to pick up the pace. She begins to put things into a basket--food, toys, a bed, bowls. I like her already, I decide. She's going to be good.

She then spends time in front of some contraption that finally spits something out. Then she attaches it to my collar. After talking with someone behind the counter, Owner hands over some sort of thing that doesn't look like a treat, in part because the lady behind the counter gives it back. Then we head out and get back into the moving contraption.

Finally, after a while, we stop and get out. Owner is talking to me excitedly and with a big smile. I start talking as well, cause why not? She's happy, I'm happy. I jump out of the car with joy and start running. Now owner doesn't seem too happy. She sounds very stern and starts running after me. Maybe I should make this a game. I start running again. So fun!

Uh oh. Owner doesn't look happy at all. I finally stop, pee, and then she picks me up and wags her finger in my face. She gets control of the leash again, and we walk around some more after picking up the supplies from the building that's all for me. Finally, we walk into my new home.

Owner puts me down and I run around. It's nice. I can be happy here. I mean, I miss my old home, but this isn't bad.

Later that night, Owner puts my bed down next to hers. But I jump up on her bed and collapse next to her. She doesn't try to move me.

It's a Dog's Life

So right off the bat let me introduce myself. My name is Hadley, a very cute, sweet dachshund mix, if I do say so myself. Quite simply, I like to hunt for things--especially badgers. That's what I do best.

I am sitting here in some cold kennel at some sort of animal shelter. I'm not sure why, exactly, my former owners returned me. Too cute? Too energetic? Simply too much fun? Who knows. In any event, I get food, water, hugs, and some exercise, but I'm hoping to blow this joint soon. It's not a ton of fun here, and the other dogs are super noisy.

Time to turn on the charm offensive so I can get out of here. OK, here comes someone. A woman with reddish brown hair and freckles. Hmmm...she seems nice. Let's get to work.

Cue big brown eyes, slight ear wiggles and happy demeanor. The woman stares at me for a bit then lowers herself down to play with me through the kennel door. She talks with one of the people who works here. And talks. And talks. Then, after what seems like forever, I'm taken outside to one of the yards. Oh bliss! Oh joy! Oh freedom!

I run around in the lovely grass yard. The two humans look at me and smile and laugh. Then I stop. I see Max--a cairn terrier--in the next yard. Max and I have a little flirtation going on, although it's all innocent since the mean people took away our abilities to really have fun. In any event, we start barking our greetings at each other. The two humans in my yard look on with concerned expressions. "Hadley, stop it!" says the Shelter woman. I glance over at them and decide that if I ever want to get out of here I'd better behave. Max, understanding as ever, says, "Yeah, you'd better stop--they seem to get worked up when any of us talk too much."

The humans then enter into a conversation. Seriously! The hypocrisy of these people! So they can talk, and we can't, just because they're bigger and stronger and feed us?!

Uh oh! The woman with the freckles is leaving. No, dammit, no! Get back here! Take me away! The Shelter woman looks on and smiles. I begin to pout, but it's no cute act.

I sulk in the yard for a while. Not even some friendly banter from Max helps. But then...I see her. The freckly lady. And she's smiling. And she looks happy. And she has a leash. Am I leaving here? Am I?!