Who's the Boss?

Sometimes I have to seriously stop and ask myself that question. Who’s the boss? Me or Lydia?  I can see all of you already owned by furry four-footed housemates smirking. Lydia of course.

One niece says that Lydia is my sidekick. It’s more than that. I think she wants to stick close to make sure this servant does what she’s supposed to, when she’s supposed to. And somehow, our time schedules seldom mesh.

This is way past open the door, close the door, open the door….This entails arguments. Usually about food.  I heard that small dogs tended to be picky eaters.  Ha! No one shared that with Lydia, my 65 pound Boxer. Dry dog food is the stuff that goes into a cube she can knock around for entertainment. She does eat what flies out. Why this tastes better than when it’s put on her dish I have no idea. Certain brands she refuses to touch. Dry or wet.  My brother’s dog has been the happy recipient of many of Lydia’s dislikes. She does like people food – mostly. But there are some things she won’t eat there, either. Once, she seemed to have an upset tummy and wasn’t interested in any food, dog or people. Then I started cooking taco filling. That, she was interested in. Put a little on her plate and she lapped it up. Weird dog.

Also a weird vocabulary for a dog. Hungry, she understands. That’s not so strange. What drives me insane is that she understands cooking is related to food and is related to hungry. Seriously. If I tell her I have to cook she sits in her one particular waiting for food spot and waits for it. If  it’s taking longer than she thinks it should, she comes to investigate. Wants to make sure I’m staying on task. If  I take something from the oven, and she wants it, she sits in the middle of the kitchen floor and waits for it. The other day it was cornbread. I gave her a corner of a piece of my cornbread. She loved it. I was done eating and went back to the family room. I heard barking in the kitchen. Sure enough, there was Lydia, standing in front of the stove where I had placed the pan of corn bread. She wanted more.

These furry companions are a lot of fun, but they sure are bossy things.  I always wondered why there were pictures of people, with their dogs at their feet. Now I get it. It’s like looking at the toddler when they’re clean and tucked in bed and could not have possibly wreaked havoc around the house, even if they did. That is moment they look adorable. Animals too. When they’re laying so nicely you don’t remember that they have been places where they shouldn’t be or have driven you crazy playing doorman, or personal chef. Every once in a while, I pretend I’m the boss, but I know how this really goes.  Who’s boss in your house?

NATIONAL SPOIL YOUR DOG DAY

by J.D. Faver

Well, I've done my part to celebrate this day. I have waited on my dog, Minx, to the point that she is rotten. I am of the opinion that your pets should be considered part of your family and should share your life completely. She has a fenced back yard and she is the queen of all she surveys. When I let her out in the morning, she polices the yard and makes sure no squirrels or birds have invaded her turf.  

Minx is also known as Heart of Darkness because she is full of mischief and way too much dog for me. She is half Chihuahua and half rat terrier; in other words pure mutt. She is black and looks more like a very small rat terrier with bigish stand up ears and more energy than a bushel of ferrets.

Every morning, I accompany her into the back yard armed with her toys. My job is to throw them as far as my poor little arms can throw. Her job is to fetch the toys back to me. This is her only trick. The only reason she has mastered this single trick is because I do not fetch. If she doesn't bring the toy right back to me, I go inside. Now if she fails to bring the toy to me, I can tell her to go get it and she does. She is probably very disappointed that she can't train me to fetch.

I get more distance when slinging a Frisbee across the back yard than with one of the balls or the rope toy. But when I had a regular size Frisbee she would grip it with her teeth and step on the curved edge which would knock it out of her mouth. For this reason, I went to the pet store and spent a whopping $9.99 on a mini Frisbee about the size of a saucer. Now, she can actually pick it up and come racing back to me...Priceless!

I know she is convinced that we are both dogs. We have to play together, go outside together, we must be in the same part of the house together. If I step out into the garage, I have my little black doggie escort. When I go out the mailbox by the front curb by myself, this sets up some serious complaints. Did mention that my dog is a yappy, talky dog? She has quite a vocabulary which ranges from a high-pitched and continuous yipping to a very vocal wowowowow. I could swear she says, "Wi wuv wu." But then again, I say that to her all the time, so it makes sense that she would say it back. :-)

So spoil your dog today, and everyday. If you don't have one, please go by a shelter and find your new best friend. Your dog is waiting for you and needs you to give him/her a forever home.

Hugs from me and a warm, sloppy kiss from Minx...

~J.D.

PET THERAPY

My pet therapists are doing a very good job with me. All three are conscientious in providing my daily therapies

Daisy, my younger cat weighs 25 pounds and she is my official Massage Therapist. She is a white cat with one blue eye and one yellow eye. She gives me a daily massage and I wish you could see her expression. She really throws herself into her work.

My older cat is a 17 year old Manx tabby with multiple health problems, the first of which is an enlarged heart. I could have told you that Emily has a great big heart. Look at the way she adopted me. She has taken on the role of my Occupational Therapist. She makes sure that I spend plenty of time cleaning up after her so taking care of her has become a full time occupation. She sheds copious amounts of fur, so I spend time every day vacuuming it off the pale beige carpet. Emily is also my acupuncturist, for her talon-like claws are frequently glommed onto my forearm or thigh through my clothes. I try to convince her that I don’t need acupuncture, but she loves me sooooo good she has to hang on tight. Big emerald green eyes assure me that it will only hurt for a little while, so I try to hang in and endure the treatment stoically.

My Physical Therapist is Minx, the half rat terrier/half Chihuahua mix I adopted. She has more energy than a bushel of ferrets and is twice as playful. Minx is an eternal optimist. She is always convinced that I am ready to play. I am always certain that I am NOT ready to play, but she convinces me otherwise. It’s hard to say no when she presents with her little smiling face and lays a toy at my feet. When she looks at me with her ‘I love you’ face, I’m a goner and I pick up the darned toy. We head for the door and once in the back yard, I throw said darned toy until my arm falls off. Minx, for her part, is willing to fetch long after my arm has fallen off, but that’s as far as I’m willing to go. I pick up my fallen arm and go inside, leaving a disappointed doggie face and a wagging tail behind.

Minx also provides Speech Therapy. Being a tiny black wolfish type dog with a snout, she ‘talks’ incessantly. When I return from work, she is barking from the second I come in the door. In fact, she can hear me pull up in the driveway and sets up her litany of welcome home barks. “Please don’t yell at me,” I say, but she keeps it up until we are in the back yard once again with darned toys. Her vocabulary is such that I’m certain she will one day soon be fluent in my language. She has a crisp, yappy bark and a wowowowow-type howl, as well as many other sounds. I know she’s speaking volumes to me but I’m too obtuse to understand. Fortunately, she remains positive and continues to provide therapy whether I need it or not. 

Between the three, I think I also receive plenty of psych therapy. Yes, they're always able to provide their furry psychological counseling. Wasn't it Charlie Brown who said, "Happiness is a warm puppy...or was it a kitty?"

J.D. Faver

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Catwoman Takes a Dog!

I have always had cats. I seem to be a cat magnet. They find me and know just how to approach me to be assured they will be taken inside, fed and spoiled.

How, you ask, would a certified cat lover be able to lose her heart to a small, stinky and yappy dog? Let me just say, it was by degrees. You know...Like how you fell in love with your kids, because, let's face it. They stink. They turn your life upside down. They want to eat when you want to sleep, and vice-versa. You have to spend all your money on them and more than that...all your time.

I'll start at the beginning: I was having a day with my younger granddaughter, who is great fun to run away with. Shannon and I had been having an adventure and were at the Sonic, where we had just loaded up on large ice cream shakes. We were headed across the parking lot when two teen girls came walking toward us holding this tiny little black puppy. And my lovely Shannon said, "Look at the little puppy." She said it in that tone of voice that conveys such intense want and need that the grandparent is forced to respond. Shannon, of course, reached for the puppy and the girl, of course, handed it to her. <sigh!> See where this is going? I called my daughter and described said puppy and she replied, yes to Shannon's request. So when I dropped my granddaughter off, she was with pup.

Very shortly after that, I was with pup. Daughter and family live on several unfenced acres and small pup required frequent walking. Pup was also prone to chew...not on anything specific, but on everything she encountered. After listening to much complaining, I heard the news that they planned to take her to a shelter because she was just too energetic and was wrecking their household. <sigh!>

Let me just say that my daughter is a very smart person and she's known me all of her life. She knows all my hot buttons and how to punch them with great finesse. Yes, I drove out to the boondocks and back, said puppy in tow. I told myself, "Don't get attached. You have a full time job and work long hours. Dogs are not self-sufficient like cats. Just find a nice home for this little beastie. That was the plan.

I shopped for her. We have toys. We have small tennis balls. We have a Frisbee. We have a braided rope toy. I have to take her out in the fenced back yard to potty and for me to give her some exercise (and me as well) I have to throw her toys. She is so small that she trips when retrieving a regular Frisbee. And her energy level is endless. Side note: Her one trick is to fetch. This is because she has learned that if she does not bring the thrown object back and drop it at my feet, I will go inside. No, I do not fetch.

All this time, I kept telling myself, "I'm too old for a dog with this much energy. She needs a family with a six-year old boy to play with her."

The first thing I did was to invest huge wads of cash in small yappy dog. I paid for a year of vet care at Pet Smart which included all her shots and spaying and free visits. That was a chunk of money to invest in a free dog.  The vets fell in love with her and so did the very handsome young vet-tech who kept referring to her as my "Little Girl" and telling me stories about his "Little Boy".  I swear, Dog People are twice as crazy as Cat People.

It was on one of her visits to Pet Smart that I made a startling discovery. I was leaving Pet Smart one sunny afternoon on my day off with small dog on her leash. A thirty-something daddy was walking across the parking lot with a cute little boy about 6 years of age. My dog went into her adorable act and the little boy fell on his knees to pet her. It was love at first sight. The dad said, "That is the cutest little dog." To which I replied, "Want her?" The dad got down on his knees and was very agreeable to taking her right then and there. This was exactly what I had been praying for. Right in front of me, the very fulfillment of the prayers was manifested.

And then my dog turned and looked up at me with her little beady eyes. Those little beady "I love you" eyes.

Oh my God!!! I LOVE HER! I gave myself a pep talk about how this was the perfect opportunity to rid myself of this little pest forever...but she gazed up at me with such love and trust, and furious tail-wagging. I took a deep breath and picked up MY dog before wishing the man and his son good luck in finding a suitable pet. I got in the car and just held her for a long time before starting it up and driving us home.

~JD Faver