Seasons Change

 

We have had heartache over the past couple of years.  The original four-pack of Molly, George, Chase and Charlie will forever hold a special place in our hearts.  Abby has gained beautiful silver streaks on her face and she is the new, self-appointed leader of a four-pack that deserves new posts.

Puppy Le Pew

I woke to the smell of poo.  Charlie slumbered in his dog bed, his head dangling over the cushioned edge and hot morning breath drifted directly into my face.  I carefully lifted him to reveal the small treasure below that had escaped during the night.  "Gross!" I told him as I carried him outside to see if he needed to relieve himself in another way.  He did.

As I was ready to leave for work, I carried him downstairs to my parent's house.  Mom had just returned from her morning walk with Abby and Dolly.  Abby was especially energetic and attempted to greet me with cold nose kisses.  "You were right", Mom declared.  I was confused and it clearly showed on my face.  "The dead animal tail at the top of the road," she continued.  "It was a skunk tail.  It smelled when I picked it up."

I looked at her ungloved hands and asked where she left the tail.

"Oh, I don't have it anymore.  Abby jumped up and snatched it right out of my hands."  Mom threw her hands up as if to demonstrate what had happened.  "She ate it."

My dog that had been kissing me just ate a skunk tail.  I must have looked ill and Mom added, "I did try to get it from her but she clenched her teeth so tightly that I couldn't, so she ate it."  Mom decided that something was wrong with my dog's behavior.

I called my husband to share my morning woes.  In the afternoon, there was a flower delivery to my office.  The card read "Just Because Wieners, Skunks and Mom".

Angel Wings

 When it became clear that Charlie’s vision had greatly diminished and he was attracted to tight corners, the Englishman looked for solutions to help our aging dachshund.  He discovered a company called “Muffin’s Halo” and promptly ordered one.  A fitted jacket with a loop for the leash had Velcro on the back to attach the wings.  These wings also held a halo, which had different loop sizes for variety. 

When Charlie seemed to need a bit of extra help, we attached his wings to the jacket and he no longer bumped into walls or furniture as the flexible halo stopped him.  It wasn't the perfect solution as this determined dog could still push himself into the most interesting places but it has helped a lot.

This is the one instance when I was grateful that one of our dogs “got his wings”.

The Dog Bowl Part II

I have been trying to dispose of two Papasan chairs for years.  The first attempt was in 2016.    They were already faded but Charlie adored the chairs.  I thought about getting new cushions from Pier One but they went out of business during the pandemic and I was out of options.  

In preparation for our move, we packed many items and moved them to our storage unit in town.  This included the two Papasan chairs.  The Englishboy listed them for sale and someone was interested in the chairs but never came to buy them.  I was at work when my mother and sister emptied the storage unit months later.  I arrived at my new house to see the chairs displayed on my back porch.  I told my mother to donate them to the Goodwill as soon as possible.  But then Abby started sleeping in the chairs.  She curled up during the day for naps in the sunshine and she was there at night on guard outside my bedroom door.  

Me: 0 Papasan Chairs: 2 for the win.

Guilt Trip

We tried to sneak out of the house with just Charlie.  Things were going as planned.  Chase was sound asleep in the bedroom.  Abby was on the back deck.  I grabbed a leash and The Englishman had Charlie tucked under his arm.  Hand on the door to the garage, I felt a tail brush against my leg.  A large and bushy tail.  A wagging tail.  Abby's tail.  

I put the leash on her and took her on a driveway walk:  up and down the driveway we ran several times.  On one of the trips back, I noticed Chase was in the yard.  The Englishman placed Charlie in the back of the Jeep and herded Chase into the house.  I started to go back into the garage but Abby dug her feet in and pulled toward the Jeep.  I tugged, she tugged.  I handed the leash to The Englishman and told him to put her in the house.  She tugged toward the Jeep one time and he helped her onto the backseat.  Our daytrip to the parents' house had one more passenger.  A very guilty looking passenger that kept Charlie quite warm on the 2 hour drive.

Abby loved the freedom of South Carolina and was able to run through the woods quite freely.  She was also willfully disobedient when we called for her to return.  On this trip the problem was solved when a friend arrived with his new puppy.  All it took was for me to hold the puppy, covering him with coos and kisses and Abby was once again my shadow dog.  

The return trip to Georgia was an easy repeat of the morning.  Charlie snuggled with Abby and when we arrived, Chase was dreaming lazily on his dog bed in the living room.

"A sly piece of good luck, which nobody knows of is delightful." Publilius Syrus

Dog Guard

Charlie had some cognitive issues that came with age and potential dementia.  At times he would get lost in the house, stuck in corners, cords, furniture and even the water bowl.  He was at his best during the day and when outside, he stuck close to the house.  Usually…

And then we lost him.  A cognitively impaired, fully deaf, partially blind dachshund.  The Englishman grabbed a flashlight and pushed his feet into an old pair of sneakers.  “He’s not in the street” he called to me.  We searched the bushes, straining to hear Charlie in the early morning darkness.  Even the birds were not awake.  Operation Find Charlie moved to the back yard.  I gingerly poked the foliage trying not to walk into spider webs. 

“I see him!” shouted the Englishman.  A small brown dog was teetering on the edge of our pond.  And then the dog disappeared.  The Englishman sprinted, Bay Watch style, and jumped into the pond. 

“I saved him just before he went under!” The Englishman declared.

He emerged with the flashlight in one hand and a sopping wet Charlie tucked under his arm.  Charlie’s paws were still rapidly paddling.  The Englishman ran toward the house instructing me to “get a dog towel”.  The shower spray rapidly warmed and he jumped into it with the shivering dog.  I could hear him talking to Charlie and apologizing for not getting him as clean as possible.  The warm and dripping dog was handed to me and I wrapped him in his towel before gently blowing him dry.

At some point in our journey with our four legged companions roles became reversed.  What once was a great guard dog now needed a Dog Guard.  And it seemed that this morning, that title belonged to The Englishman. 

Toys on the Side

As the dogs aged, they seemed to become disinterested in their toys.  Abby was the only dog that still pulled plush animals from the toy box and surrounded herself with the treasures on her dog bed.  That is, until the Englishman realized that Charlie still enjoyed toys.  He just was too short to reach them and he wasn't up to jumping into the box like he used to do.  

For now, the box is on its side and the house is once again littered with toys of all sorts: the kind that give me a heart attack each time I accidentally step on the squeaker, the kind that hurt when I'm not wearing shoes and the kind that make me smile when I realize that an old dog can still find joy in childish things.

Canine Carts and Clearance Conundrums

Charlie loves to accompany us on quick shopping trips.  Last year, after his rabies vaccination, we brought him into Home Depot with us so we could keep an eye on him in case of an adverse reaction.  He rode around happily in the child seat at the top, his brown body wedged perfectly inside.  Since then, we have brought him with us to Home Depot, Lowe's and Tractor Supply as pets are welcome.  

A few weekends ago, Charlie insisted on riding along when we took a quick trip to the local Lowe's.  I spread a towel on the bottom of the cart to make it more comfortable for him and he peered through the metal grid of the cart at things that interested him.  I headed to the garden center and found the dangerous clearance section.  I pushed Charlie to the front of the cart and started filling the back of the cart with plants.  Quickly I realized that I was running out of room and would soon need to make a choice.  Charlie was worried that my choice would be to add more plants and he looked up at me with big pleading brown eyes.  The Englishman suddenly appeared, chastised me and plucked the poor dachshund from the flowers that were surrounding him.  "Don't worry" he said stroking Charlie's head, "Dad's got you".  He left the garden center with Charlie in tow.  I headed to the cashier and realized I was stuck with the bill, once again.

Dog Bowl

It was the end of “YEAR TWO OF HOUSE RENOVATIONS”.  So much had been accomplished yet there was still so much more to achieve.  Before we had turned the sun porch into part of the main house, there were two Papasan chairs in faded orange at one end.  The frames were made of rattan and they looked like a big bowl.  You could purchase a Papasan chair at Pier One Imports or World Market or several other places online.  At the start of “YEAR ONE OF HOUSE RENOVATIONS” both chairs were lugged down to the basement and stacked into a corner where I hoped they would be forgotten.

On the occasional trip to the Goodwill, I would suggest to the Englishman that we rid ourselves of the chairs.  His reaction varied from glares, to pouts to ignoring my presence entirely.  After changing the older English Boy’s bedroom into a computer room, the Englishman moved the Papasan chairs to their new location.  He was courageous and waited until I was away for the weekend.

I must admit it…they are comfortable.  They are also comical, especially when The Englishman lost his balance and fell onto the floor.  The one thing I never counted on was how much our dachshund, Charlie, loved the chairs.  When they were located on the porch, he never slept in them.  Now, if I was searching for Charlie, the first place I looked was the computer room.  Most of the time, the little dog had curled up into one fast asleep.  Ugly or not, this was one battle that I didn't think I would win.

Indestructible

Charlie, like many dogs, has a single goal when it comes to dog toys: seek and destroy. Charlie’s needle-like nose probes the seams of a stuffed toy, searching for the tiny stitches hidden beneath the fur. His razor sharp teeth delicately pull at the threads like a musician expertly plucking the strings of a harp. A very small and precise hole appears and Charlie carefully removes the stuffing in order to retrieve the prize within: the plastic squeaker! Watching his determination, I remember, as a child, opening the Cracker Jack box from the bottom in order to possess the prize inside, typically a lick and stick tattoo.

Charlie also has a fondness for tennis balls. He chases the yellow ball when thrown or kicked until he tires of the game of “fetch but don’t bring back”. I usually run out of energy before he does. His affection for tennis balls does not end there. Charlie will often hold a ball between his front paws and peel away the fuzzy yellow covering like an orange. It is not unusual to have bits of yellow stuck to the carpet, furniture and even my clothing.

It was purely by accident that the indestructible toy was discovered. I’m not even sure when it appeared in the plastic toy box shaped like a bone, but it has become Charlie’s greatest challenge to date. It is a blue racquetball. The kind that you dodge when trapped in a treacherous indoor court while your father yells at you to stop cowering in the furthest corner. The powerful blue ball that you deflect with your racquet weapon, saving yourself from potential concussions and broken fingernails. The ball that comes in a set of three in a vacuumed-packed plastic tube at a Wal-Mart bargain price.

The ball that Charlie cannot puncture, peel, rip or chew. The ball that occupies him for endless hours while he tries to puncture, peel, rip and chew. The indestructible, economical and highly recommended (as long as you don’t throw it at me) toy.

The “Howl”elujah Chorus

Nearly every day I am treated to a special a cappella recital by George, Charlie and Molly. George begins with the prelude as a low whine from deep down in the secret, dark places of his body. The whine turns into a wail and as it begins to grow louder, Charlie joins in with perfectly harmonized staccato yips, performed with a unique falsetto. As the wail becomes a howl flowing from George’s lungs and increasing in volume, Molly adds another level of low moans in a lovely alto voice. The trio continues for a brief moment until the finale. Molly and Charlie abruptly end their serenades while George finishes the masterpiece with a quivering cry quickly descending into silence. Once the canine cantata is complete, the dogs resume their normal activities of eating, drinking and sleeping…unless a special encore is required.

All Paws on the Poop Deck

It was a hot summer and it rained frequently. For the first time in years, Georgia was not experiencing a drought. The grass and weeds were healthy, green and tall. Very tall. Tall grass was not a problem for Chase. He trampled it, rolled on it and used it as camouflage to remain invisible as he stalked birds. The height of the grass proved daunting for Charlie, George and Molly who had considerably shorter legs. None wished to venture into the backyard jungle to do their daily doggy business.

The three vertically challenged canines solved their dilemma simply by lifting a leg to my potted plants on the back deck. Even Molly, the sole female of the bunch, lifted her leg in solidarity. Determined to end this rotten behavior, I armed myself with a bottle of non-environmentally friendly bleach and a hose. I blasted all traces of residue away from the upper deck as the three dogs scrambled out of the reach of the spray to the lower deck. I approached the railing and peered below. To my dismay, that area had been utilized as the “poop deck”. I could feel my blood boil as I raised the hose and blasted the lower deck clean. The dogs jumped into the grassy jungle for safety and I continued on my mission for cleanliness. They scurried to the back stairs and were now peering down at me from above.

I stomped up the stairs and led all three as far into the yard as possible where I ordered them to go to the bathroom. I was fully aware of the ridiculous scene and prayed that the neighbors weren’t watching. As I surveyed the yard, I spied the small green dog pool discarded beneath a tree. I gingerly gave it a tug and shrieked as a brilliant blue and green salamander slithered into the undergrowth. I looked around for my pack to rescue me but they were back on the poop deck. I dragged the pool to the lower deck and filled it with water. It was large enough to prevent any additional squatting in that area and provided a great summer activity for sixteen hot paws. Molly, George and Charlie pushed their way into the pool and splashed around in the cool water while Chase continued to roll through the weeds.

Still unconvinced, I hoped for the best and prepared for the worst. I placed the hose within my reach and decided I would blast away any future bad behavior. Completely pooped, I retreated into the house with my dog entourage and called it a day.

Cookie Monsters

My mother planned a cookie baking session with her friend and three children on the same weekend that I was coming to visit with my four-pack. The dogs were thrilled to have three pint-sized humans to play with and eagerly showcased their favorite toys. After a quick lunch of sloppy-Joes, the cookie making production began. Although it was a beautiful day outside, none of the dogs wanted to leave the mouth watering smells that wafted through the house. In fact, they preferred to hang out in the kitchen, amidst the entire cookie baking activities.

The first cookies planned were a kid-friendly chocolate chip cookie made according to the original Nestle Tollhouse recipe on the back of the chocolate chip bag. The two older boys helped measure ingredients in between playing Nintendo games on handheld devices. The youngest child, a tiny blonde girl, kicked off her Sponge Bob flip flops and climbed a chair she had pushed against the butcher block island. Armed with a cookie scoop, the five year old carefully measured the dough and dropped each cookie ball onto a metal sheet. She paused momentarily, face scrunched in concentration, as she counted the dollops on the tray. Her right arm, with the scoop clutched tightly in her tiny fist, dangled below and Chase was ready with his tongue to lick the dough clinging to its sides. I smiled at the Norman Rockwell moment but quickly rushed in and grabbed the scoop, admonished my dog and washed the drool covered gadget in the sink.

Mom pulled trays of cookies from the oven and held them for the boys who used spatulas to remove the treats onto cooling racks placed on the kitchen table. Once the last cookie was removed from the oven, my grandmother began to make her delicious “S” cookies. This was an old shortbread-like recipe that was mixed by hand. The cookie was formed into an S shape before baking in the oven. After baking, a generous dusting of powdered sugar coated each cookie.

Mom, her friend and I took a break in the living room until Grandma began yelling for help. Mom ran into the kitchen and discovered that George had climbed up onto a chair next to the table and retrieved two cookies! He and Molly were on the tile floor enjoying their pilfered cookies. All dogs were banished outside along with the children who ran them ragged. Tennis ball throwing and front yard races to determine who was the fastest runner…boys or dachshunds? The dogs and children frolicked until it was time to leave. I wasn’t sure who was more tired but I smiled as I surveyed all of the cookie monsters napping in the living room, paws twitching slightly, and wondered if they were dreaming of cookies.