Get Ready - Groomer Next Week

I'm doing some anticipatory worrying. Rox is going to the groomer next week for an Ears & Nails visit. I'm nauseous just thinking about it. Here's why... we can't just take her and drop her off - that would mean a cage at the salon, and she'd be nervous I'm sure (read: Mom is nervous about it). Also, we've never taken any dogs to groomers, so we don't know if they will treat her right (read: we have no idea what they do.)

It's obviously a given that we are over-protective and still not completely aware of Rox's "full personality" yet... we admit our quirky outlook. Done.

We're going to a place where they will let us be with her while they do the nails. I sure hope this is not a mistake. I have half a mind to make Bob take her while I stay home quilting.

1. Will Roxie stand on the table?
2. Will she try to jump off?
3. Will she let the groomer do her nails? She won't let us....
4. Will she try to bite the groomer? She's never tried with us.
5. Do we need to ask for a muzzle right up front? How insulting to her!
6. Should we stand right in front of her to distract her? Use steak bits for bribes? Steak bits work for lots of things!
7. Will our presence be a distraction to the groomer?
8. Should we abandon her to the groomer and hope for the best?
9. Will the groomer let us come back for a second visit?
10. Will Rox be pissed with us when we get her home? She can really hold a grudge...
11. How neurotic are we?

I'm thinking about this now so I won't have to next week. I allow myself one day of worrying, then I try to forget it (if you believe that I have a bridge.....)

I can't forget the scream she let out when the vet techs tried to do her nails at the first visit... I really hate the idea of someone calling her a drama queen........ even if she is one.

The Intro, Such as it Was...

This was the first time Roxie met the family. I hope it's not the last!

The 75 mile trip began with Bob and Roxie in the backseat. I had a premonition that made me dibs the driver seat, and I was right. She howled, barked, cried and screamed for about 30 miles. She finally jumped into the front seat, turned around three times and went to sleep. (One of these days I'll get a video camera with audio so you can listen to her. She's incredible.)

It seems she likes the front seat.

So, that problem solved, we continued on to the family gathering, wondering if she would have her good company manners on. She didn't.

First I had asked Bob to make sure the dogs met each other outside. Of course, he didn't listen. Of course... the dogs met in the front hall and right away the little dog thought she was the boss of the bigger dog. Sound familiar?

Roxie's cousin is Zoey, a Brittany, who is around 12-ish, not in the best of health, and a wonderfully sweet little girl. I'm sure she choked when she met Roxie.

Saving drama, I'll say right up front that Rox was bossy, growlie, pushy and feeling very alpha to Zoey. I would have more pictures to share but whenever I got close to clicking, Rox would get all territorial and snarky at Zoey. Hence the single down-angle pic. I can't imagine what the Zoester thought when her Aunt Gena and Uncle Bob brought such a pushy little dog for Xmas...

On the whole, Rox was ok, but she felt so comfortable she helped herself to the sofa many times, much to the consternation of Grandma Sonja. While we were pleased that Rox jumped off the sofa when called, we nonetheless feel she may not get any return invitations.

They tried to play a couple of times, nose-to-end, tails up and wagging tentatively. But with so many family there, at the very first hint of a growlie, many hands reached to separate them. I have to conclude that it was probably not the best event to introduce them. So bad on us...

Lessons learned:

1. Just because we love her doesn't mean everyone loves her.
2. Just because we think she's sweet doesn't mean she's sweet when visiting.
3. Re-think about obedience school.
4. Get out the Cesar Milan book to review.
5. Don't introduce two dogs at a large holiday family gathering.
6. Make the back seat the preferred travel location for Herself.

All in all, it went well enough. No bites, no blood; everyone said Roxie was cute. They all said they liked her. But we wondered after we left what they were REALLY saying. Zoey probably wanted to move and leave no forwarding address! Poor Zoey........... sorry baby girl. We'll try to make it better next time!

Am Thinking of How to Write About Christmas Eve...

Taking a day or two to figure out how to describe Roxie's intro to the family....

So far, I can write with confidence that she seems to hate riding in cars. In the back seat.

And she left her company manners at home.

No dogs or people were injured in the making of this Christmas Eve visit.

More later after I've chosen the right verbiage to convey the spirit of the season...

Roxie's New Job

The water pump in our dishwasher died.... two days before Christmas. Roxie, being the holiday-spirited girl she is, has offered to lick all our dishes clean.

Isn't she sweet?

Scraggly Beard and Fangs

Belly Up and Feets to the Sky - A Favored Way to Sleep.

Finally, asleep so I can get a close-up of the beard and mustache. It was much fuller before the picker balls attacked. I'm assured by readers that it will grow back and was reminded by those who know more that I do: dachsie beard and mustaches = "furnishings."

Please forgive me for calling to your attention her beautiful little fang teeth, so sweet and pearly white. Good breath, too, which makes those (inadvertent) laughing-french-licky-kisses so much easier to tolerate.

Post Possum Vet Visit

Kind of a catchy title, yes?

Rox seems fine this morning and I do too. In the bright clear sunny morning things look a lot less upsetting. Well, not to the possum I guess...

Update: Talked with our vet, and in the absence of bite marks and with a recent rabies vaccine, we don't have to bring her in today. Just keep an eye on her.

Also, I checked where the possum had been.... GONE! Little footprints led away into the neighbors yard. On one hand I'm glad the critter isn't dead, but on the other.... looks like this might happen again if Patty Possum doesn't move on down the street.......

Funny thing, today our fortune cookie from lunch said I'd experience something exciting soon. Timing was off a bit.........

Afterthoughts

Wide awake and not sure how to wrap my mind around this latest adventure...

Was this a crisis or an adventure? Positive or negative, scary or exciting? Is there anyone to blame, any thing to do differently?

Rox was outside alone in a fenced, secure back yard. It's normal to "let the dog out" before bed. Who thinks of stupid or crazed wild animals in suburbia?! True, we knew the possum had been on the fence a week ago, but in our silly naivete we joked that it had learned a great lesson and moved on down the block. Obviously we were too flippant.

It wasn't Bob's fault because he rightly avoided possum bites to his head by keeping a distance. The ER doc would surely have chastised him if he had waded in to grab Roxie. From Bob's perspective, Rox was "winning" the fight and didn't need Bob's help.

But is fighting really a natural thing? Is it OK to let her fight just because it's instinctive? And were we really "letting her" - at the moment of battle, was reaching in between two snarling animals the wise thing to do?

We don't have critters in our yard for the entertainment of the dog. That possum, while I'm sure was cute to its mate, was a huge wild rat too stupid to move on from the yard where the fighting dog lives.

Is this something I need to feel guilty about? If so, how would I remedy the situation? How do you prevent critters from getting into your yard? Will we have to always go out with Rox from now on?

Rocky hated the outdoors. He'd pee and poop and run back inside. Roxie is a nature girl who loves to sniff and snort through woods and spends hours exploring our yard. Even the snow doesn't seem to deter her.

She seems confused by our reaction, or lack thereof. I get the idea she was expecting us to celebrate and adorn her with treats for her protection. I'm sure she thinks she protected us from the big rat. She isn't going to let any critters come into HER yard and bother HER people.

Was this just an ordinary occurrence of nature, or a crisis that will keep me up at night?

And a final thought, oh jeez louise.... what to do the next time she wants to lick my face?! Possum mouth! Shiver.........

Portrait of a One-Eyed Huntress

The Mighty Huntress, posing after the kill.

Remember the possum? Dead.

Once again tonight we hear screaming barking and see moving fence with our heavy flashlight. Again, the back neighbor turned on his floodlights, giving us a clear view of the offending critter. I'm amazed at how like a huge rat it looked in profile, back-lit by the floods. Like a huge RAT scampering along the top of the fence. Until it came to the end of the fence.

By a fluke, the critter was toppled, and fell into our yard. Sh*t. Should have fallen the other way into the neighbors yard.

Bob was ringside to the fight with the leash in one hand and flashlight in the other. Roxie went immediately for its neck and shook it back and forth. Bob watched as the possum tried to bite Rox. They were rolling around in deep snow and he's not sure if she got bit. Bob took the safe road and didn't bend over. Although he did proudly relay all the fight sounds to me. He thinks Roxie is brave..... sigh....... guy thing.

After Roxie dragged the dead critter up to the house to show me, we finally got her to drop it by throwing pieces of steak at her. It seemed a much quieter way to retrieve her, one that didn't wake all the neighbors again. Once she was far enough away, Bob collared her and brought her back in.

She's pretty darn proud, as you can see in the picture above. Notice the calmly arrogant stance and brave defiant look. Also note Bob in the background talking to our son in Seattle. Reassuring him after I called in tears then hung up to pace. "No, Mom's ok, she going to throw up, then she'll be fine." And "you should have seen her, just went for the throat and crunched it's skull."

We wiped her down with wet paper towels and found no blood. The ER vet told us to take her in tomorrow for a booster rabies shot and a closer inspection for puncture wounds. My heart is pounding and I'm about to hurl.

We are both shaking our heads. It's been three dachsies ago that we had a hunter. Lady brought us 12 birds one summer. Ick. Rox had to wade through deep snow to get to the back of the yard - she obviously was determined.

Oh well, my sleeping pill effect has worn off after the adrenalin rush. Guess I'll be tossing and turning tonight.

Roxie is rolling on the carpet, sharing the dead critter scent with us.... gag........

Can we survive the adventure that is Roxie? Is the possum really dead or just faking? Shall we always keep a supply of leftover steak handy for emergencies like this?

The Slipping of the Collar

Remember I've mentioned Rox has a little trick of slipping her collar? Well, amazingly I captured it on disk. If you look really closely you can see the collar at the very end of the leash. It has just come off her head. (Click on the picture for larger view)

What she does is turn around facing you, backs up and wiggles her head and body until it slips off. What a stinker! Here, Bob wanted to bring her back home and she wanted to continue on her walk to the corner. Luckily Bob and I both yelled "Roxie, bad girl" and she turned and ran to me on the porch. She is a very sensitive girl and when you raise your voice to her she is crushed. Had she been in the house she would have immediately rolled over and pee'd, then run to hide in her bed.

Let me say right here that we rarely scold her or raise our voices (really only twice that I can think of, including today). But when she slips the collar it's the only way to get her to stop running away. Bless her little heart, she runs right back and rolls over at our feet and pees. Of course, she is so cute we immediately want to pick her up and love her. Talk about sending mixed signals... Ceasar Milan would shake his finger at us!

The first night I had her on the trip home, she slipped her harness in the parking lot of the hotel in Pittsburgh. At night. After dark. In a strange city. Right on the edge of the interstate. I about pooped my pants...... can I say that on this blog? I haven't been able to write about it until now because I was so devastatingly upset.

When I yelled/screamed "Roxie, bad dog" she turned and ran back to me. I picked her up and sat right down on the parking lot with tears in my eyes. Wondering what in the world I had done driving 1100 miles by myself, wondering if Bob and I should ever have gotten another dog after losing Rocky, wondering if we should have gotten a 4 year old dog at our ages of 56, wondering if Roxie was the right dog for us.

Well, can ya tell I can get a leetle e-m-o-t-i-o-n-a-l where my dogs are concerned? From the adrenalin jolt of thinking our new dog was going to be lost at night in Pittsburgh to now, seeing her slip her collar outside in the cold, blowing snow, I've come around to a comfortable knowledge that she will come back when called.

The joke was on her today though - she attained freedom and the only place she could run away to was freezing cold deep snow.

She ran right back to the house. Good Dog!

And on a final note, the answers to all those parking lot questions: yes, yes, yes and yes.

Snow Pictures

Can you see me prancing? It's my snow dance! Easy walkin' where the snowblower was...

Um, could you call the tow-truck Mom? Thanks.

It snowed last night. A lot. Roxie thought she'd get up this morning to her normal routine. She didn't.

Up at 6:00 AM. Looked out back door at snow, turned right around and ran for the front door. Apparently someone told her it doesn't snow out the front door. Ha.

Bob took her on a "walk". Made it two driveways and she wanted to come home. Snow was deeper than her height in some areas. Deep snow + driving wind = poor walking conditions for weiners.

Still dark. Mom, Dad and Roxie sat in red chairs wrapped in quilts until sun came up. Roxie was in bad mood, all she wanted was quilt wrap on lap. And don't talk to her. She was mad, buried her head.

Later pictures are of the two snow bunnies. You can see the snow is still flying. The wind won't go home and weather reports are for heavy snow again today.

Rox is in her bed this afternoon no doubt wondering what is going on....

Do Mustaches and Beard Grow Back?

We just now got a good look at Roxie's face.... she's such a wigglebutt....

Where the picker balls were tangled in her face and the vet had to pull them out, a good bit of hair came out too. Naturally. Sigh. At least she didn't have to have the hair cut or shaved. Our vet did a good job in maintaining as much hair as she could.

She's a regular Raggedy Ann now..... never having a wirehair dachsie before I have no idea if the mustache and beard will grow back. It was soooo pretty........

Those damned picker balls!

Putting on my Pollyanna hat, I suppose I should be glad it wasn't a run-in with a snake or skunk. It could have been worse. Am I shallow?

No picture because, as usual, she won't pose when we want her to. I'll try later.

Studying for Final Exam - Economics and Dog Treats

I got an email saying not enough pictures in the past week. Here are a couple....

So, you're telling me there are 5 steps to the circular flow of economic activity? Really?

Sounds like a snoozefest...how many steps are there to the circular flow of treats for your dog?

Picker Balls and Thorns, Oh My!

Another walk... in the December dusk. The front door opens and I hear the words no Mom wants to hear, "Mom, she got into something she shouldn't have......"

I'm snacking at the kitchen table and first thing that comes to mind is she rolled in poop or a dead animal. The bile rises and I ask Bob "you're going to take care of it right?"

The end before the middle here: Roxie is fine and the trip to the vet was no charge. Yay.....

So here's the middle... she walked into, then tangled with a picker ball vine. Yeah, I know that's not a real horticultural term, but you see my meaning, right? She was COVERED, COVERED, COVERED in little tiny picker balls.... in her feet, her face, her ears, her body, her legs..... It seems that wirehairs "attract things"........

She was eating/picking them off her legs. Bob and I tried to pick them off on the family room floor. She wiggled and twisted, and argued and barked and whined. Then she told me not to touch her face.... by the judicious use of her teeth. Not a bite, really. Just a snap and hold. Sort of "here's how mad I am, so stop it".........

Yep. That did it for me, I'm a quick study when it comes to snaps. I know she was frustrated. It probably hurt having those hundreds and thousands of picker balls pulled out. We used little combs, which worked well. But the face and lips required professional help. I caved, called the vet and asked if they might be able to sedate her. Sure, they said, come on in.

We get there. They take us right in. The vet tech asked if we wanted them cut out or shaved. My face told her neither.... well, we haven't introduced her to family yet because we were waiting for a clear fecal (remember those darned worms?) and were looking forward to showing her off at Christmas. What a disappointment if she had her face shaved! She has such pretty mustache and beard.......

So one of our favorite vets comes in, Dr. R, and right away she starts picking balls from Roxie's face. And the sweet little brat stood there so calm and quiet, nary a peep out of her! We said with some embarrassment that she wouldn't hold still for us at home. Dr. R was most reassuring, saying the dogs act different at the vet. Ummm, apparently so. No sedation needed!

So home again, home again, skippity skip. Beard and mustache intact, albeit a little thinner. A big dinner with a topper of scrambled eggs, white rice, a taste of velveeta - apparently those little picker balls she ate off her legs are "distressing on the tummy" - here's hoping she doesn't feel the need to hurl at 3:00 AM.......

Bob thought he might go back tomorrow to see just what the vine was so he can identify it next time. Ya think?

Oh, and I forgot to post yesterday that Bob came back from a Roxie walk with HUGE thorns in his hands. He "fell down". In a bush. "It was Roxie's fault." She pulled him.... can you see my perplexed frown?

He walks in the door, "Mom, I'm hurt" That took 30 minutes of kitchen table surgery with the pointy tweezers and the lighted magnifying glass.

Between the two of them, they are keeping me busy. I don't know whether to not be home when they return from walks, or stay at my post for the injured.

Sorry, no pictures as we were too busy pickin'

Bud Wasn't Nipped

Mom slept in, Dad caved. Roxie barked, they walked in the dark. 6:30 AM.

Dad needs Mom to keep him strong........ no walks in the dark!

If Mom keeps sleeping in, the night morning may get husband and dog.

Get up Mom!!!

Good - 2, Bad - 0

Yay. Quiet night. Out twice, nary a peep. The yard remains dark, no impromptu gathering over the neighborly fence........ Perhaps Patty Possom has moved on to other digs........

And, to follow-up on the morning walk story, Rox got up at 6:00 AM, Mom let her out the back door into the yard, she came in, snubbed her food and stomped to her daybed in the front room. However, when Bob came down, she did acquiesce to a seat beside him for the reading of the Wall Street. The walk was at 8:00 when the sun was up (sun up being a figurative term in winter Michigan, where I should say when the dark turned to grey......).

We survived and have hopefully nipped two bad habits in the bud. Cross your paws....

A Dark and Scary Night

I'm typing this Monday morning because my hands were shaking too much last night. We had "an incident".......

Rox went out about 9:30 PM and came back in to what she apparently thought was a too small treat. So, as she has learned to do, she went back to the door for another "potty trip", thinking I'm sure that two small treats are better than one big one. She's smart, our little girl.

Waiting patiently by the door, I soon hear the most gawd-awful noise. She's barking, screaming, waking the dead in China and bashing up against the chainlink fence like........ I don't know what. Being the modern, independent woman that I am, I immediately called for Bob. I did, after all, have only my jammies and robe on.

We have a huge flashlight by the door, the kind that takes two hands to hold. The beam shines all the way to Chicago, but you have to open the window, then open the screen in order for the light to shine to the back of the yard. Sure enough, we see the fence moving, moving, moving each time Roxie threw herself against it.

By this time, I'd turned on the overhead lights in the family room trying to let more light into the back yard. The neighbor behind us, no doubt curious about the noise, had turned on his backyard flood lights. We had never met him before last night, but Bob and he had a lovely male bonding adventure. Man against dragon, and like that.

Turns out, and here is the heart of the story......... Roxie had found a possum. The critter-who-dared-enter-Roxie's-yard was "treed" on the top of the chainlink fence. Rox was almost able to reach its tail as she jumped. Luckily the stupid possum had the foresight to hang its tail on the neighbor's side of the fence.

You know the story about how this pesky critter "plays possum"? Well, tis true! That little furry idiot froze in place on the fence, as Devil Woman jumped and barked and bashed in a futile attempt at possum-murder.

By this time, several neighbors were out, backyard floodlights were burning the darkness away (lit up like a night-time crime scene on TV) and the cries of his woman had prompted Bob to don his battle gear..... ok, it was really just some shoes, a coat, the leash and the big flashlight, but Bob was pumped. "What do you think it could be?, he asked excitedly, as he primed the flashlight. I attributed his enthusiasm to the proverbial "it's a guy thing" - personally I was wondering if I should call Shane, our neighbor to the west who's a police officer, or call to alert the emergency vet of an incoming patient. I suppose if we'd waited just a little bit longer, the neighbors would have called the cops for us..... er... on us........

Off to battle, a rescue mission to pull Roxie from the certain jaws of death. Or to get her back in the house before the neighbors called the cops.....

Backlit by the bright floodlights I could see the Critter on the fence. The neighbor had his warrior stick and was (carefully) hitting the fence trying to get the possum to leave town and Roxie was following right under the deadly trespasser. Possum moved three feet to the left, Roxie moved three feet to the left.

I called (helpfully) from the sunroom "can't you just lean down and pick up the dog?" Bob thought exposing the back of his head to the possum was not a good idea; as he told me later when we were all safely tucked under quilts "those things are nasty, you know - I didn't want it to jump on my back during the rescue. I'd have been right at the fence level....... no, I wasn't going to bend over."

The story ended with the neighbor using his warrior stick to force the possum up a tree, further out of reach. Bob was able to bend over to put Rox's leash on without being attacked from behind by Patty Possum, and we finally got to meet our new neighbor. I'm sure he's formed a highly positive opinion of us.

After a very long and loud 1/2 hour Roxie came running, dancing into the house. "I had me a possum, Mom - it was barkaliciously cool, did you see me? Huh, did you see ?!" Two treats and into her bed under the quilt. Sweet dreams brave girl.........

As I drifted off to sleep, I imagined the possum sitting in the tree thinking "goddam dog."

Who's the Boss in this Family?

So, Little One thought she had trained Bob well. She was ever so tickled with Herself for helping Bob see that when SHE woke up at 5:30 or 6 AM, HE had to get dressed and walk her.

She didn't seem to care that he's retired now and can sleep as long as he wants. She knew Mom wasn't going to get up that early and walk her. And she certainly didn't think she had to go outside in the big fenced back yard upon waking. Really. What self-respecting dog would settle for that when the leash awaited?

Well. Mom said this has to stop! Herself had figured out how to slip her collar (more about that later) and Mom was panicked that if she did that in the dark of pre-normal waking morning, she would be a black dog lost in the black night. Really and truly, this whole thing is a safety issue. We don't neglect this dog, no matter what she tells you!

When Rox started her morning noises at 5:30 Am today Mom yelled "NO". Roxie went back to sleep. Or at least Mom did and didn't hear any more noises until 6:15. Good Dog.

A moment here, please, to tell why those noises are so hard to resist (and why Daddy can't resist his Little Girl - he's such a soft touch)... there is the early "dog-moaning" as Rox wakes and stretches. Then the "emm, emm" of her gently letting the world know she is awaking. Then the low rumbly "woo wooooo", and finally the paws on the bed on Bob's side. It's all very cute and designed to make her people go "awww". Well, Mom said NO this morning. Ooops.

Mom said to Dad, "would you like me to make sure it's light out before you walk her?" Dad said "how in the hell are you going to do that?!" or some words to that effect.

And here is the part that prompts this posting... I come downstairs and Bob is sitting in the family room putting on his hiking boots. Roxie is sitting in front of his feet, as if to say "yes I am too going on a walk, Dad is taking me." She was glaring at me, her and Daddy against me. Two against one. I swear, she was giving me the evil eye. I'm sure she understands English. She kept looking up at him, saying with her eyes "you ARE taking me, right?!"

The world came to an end when Bob passed by the leash on the front hall table and left on his Sunday morning Starbuckien Run. She was particularly miffed that I fooled her away from the front door by making eggs. I know that was the highest form of deceit... and she'll never tell you that she got an egg for breakfast and scarfed it down with vigor.

After eating her lovely and highly nutritious meal she retired to her daybed in the front room and pointedly ignored Dad when he arrived back home. She refused to sit with him as he read the Sunday paper, a long-standing appointment of Norman Rockwell proportion.

Little One is pissed.

Oh, and by the way, she DID go out in the back yard this morning. Mom is such a bitch..........

The Worms, They are Gone

Worms went away, yay! Still have one more dose the end of January. No prob, tasty pill. Some of those whipworms hide inside. Boo. January tasty pill will find them if they are hiding. And.......KILL THEM........... he he he

After Snow Wrap-Up

Herself loves her walks no matter what the temperature or the depth of the snow. Bob cannot say no, and they return all covered with snowballs in boots and feet and belly hair. After a quick de-balling by Mom (who fusses at Dad for letting Baby get cold!) Rox is off to Wrap-Up in a warmed flannel quilt. Mom makes Dad clean up the melted snowballs on the kitchen floor.

Rox thinks finding deer and squirrels is worth a little snow. Mom isn't sure.