I searched Craigslist, the entire eastern seaboard and much of the Midwest , for a puppy to no avail. It wasn’t until my early morning, not enough coffee, attempt in which I misspelled Dachshund and found a female puppy about 40 miles down the road in Kentucky at a price I was willing to pay.
She’s a beauty. I had thought I wanted a red, smooth hair Dachshund. What I have is a coal black, smooth hair Dachshund. She’s black velvet and midnight giggles. She’s just perfect.
I am so happy.
And so is Phoebe. So far Emmylou (she’s a blue, Kentucky girl) has played with Phoebe’s toys, eaten Phoebe’s food, monopolized Phoebe’s mom and pretty much made herself at home. Phoebe is all smiles. I suspected she needed a playmate and I was right.
Dachshunds are special creatures. Nothing snuggles like a Dachshund. And they make these cute little sounds and they’re just so damn cute. I very much have a case of puppy love.
Off and on, like many things in my life, I journal. I got started in earnest when the book The Artist’s Way was popular. For a while, I was pretty good about my morning pages – 3 notebook pages of morning brain dump.
I’ll journal somewhat regularly for a bit and then abandon it for even longer, mostly because I find myself journaling over and over the same things – the things I need to do that I continue not to do and the self-improvement activities I should do, but don’t.
The blog is like this too, to some extent. I love blogging, but as my life becomes more and more mundane with more and more left undone, I find myself with nothing to write about. This becomes a problem, like the journaling, in that I need to write.
The act of writing clears my mind and focuses my thoughts. I often say I don’t know what I think about something until I write about it. So here I am writing about why I’m not writing. And I’m stumped.
If anyone has an ideas to help me through this impasse, I would like to hear them.
I’m thinking of getting a dachshund puppy. I’m awfully glad there are none for sale in the area right now, because my puppy fever is alarmingly high. I need to think this through and I need to wait until spring because training will then be easier.
I spent the weekend dog-sitting, Dolleigh, for my parents. Phoebe had such a good time even though Dolleigh just tolerated her. Having Dolleigh love on me as only a dachshund can was a delight.
When I was making the decision to get Phoebe, I vacillated between a dachshund and a Shih Tzu, finally deciding on Shih Tzu because they’re lower maintenance dogs and I felt I needed that for my life at the time.
As it turns out, I’m not sure Phoebe is as advertised. She was supposed to be a half Shih-Tzu, half Maltese mix which means she should be much smaller than she is. She only vaguely resembles a Shih-Tzu. She exhibits herding behaviors, runs in circles, and is not the couch potato her supposed breed should indicate. As a point of fact, she’s pretty high maintenance. I believe her mama had a dalliance with an Australian Shepherd.
I wouldn’t trade her for the world, but after dog sitting and seeing how much she enjoyed having a companion, I’m wondering if a second dog wouldn’t be good for her, too. Lord knows, there is nothing more fun than a dachshund puppy. I would be in a constant state of delight.
I’ve had two dachshunds in my life. The most recent, Trudy, now lives with my son who is ridiculously in love with her. I didn’t feel like I could stand between a boy and his dog once Chef Boy ‘R Mine had the ability to have a dog in his life. So off Trudy and Willy, the Italian greyhound, went to live with him. The two of them are unable to be separated. They’re a bonded pair.
The other dachshund, Stevie, was the best dog who ever lived. She died in a tragic accident that was my fault and I still mourn her.
I’ve always said two dogs are easier than one. I do adore Phoebe, but she is usually much too busy to spend much time giving me lovings whereas dachshunds live to bestow affection upon their humans. I crave a little furbody next to me.
There are downsides, of course, the expense and the irritations of puppyhood – chewing, house training, socializing. However, I think the decision is made to get a dachshund puppy. Let’s hope I can wait until the timing is optimal.
2400 sq. ft. and here we all are
It’s a dreary Saturday morning.
The sound of the gentle rain on the roof and that of a snoring, old dog are comforting.
I’m on the sofa. Next to me is the old, snoring dog that I’m taking care of while my parents are out of town. Dolleigh is snuggled underneath the sofa throw and seemingly content. Behind me, on the back of the sofa, is Izzy, my black and white cat. She, too, is sleeping but without the snoring – she’s far too young for such indignities. Maggie, the old champagne-colored cat, is sprawled on the coffee table in front of me. While old enough, she is quiet in her sleep. Perhaps her cat nap isn’t deep enough. Phoebe, my somewhat Shih Tzu puppy, is nestled against me. She is not sleeping.
Phoebe is jealous – the first sign I’ve seen that she is even a little bit territorial about my affection. She loves Dolleigh and this whole dog-sitting thing is a great adventure for her, but nonetheless, she does what she can to distract me from loving on Dolleigh, an impossibly fat and affectionate dachshund.
Dolleigh, in her old age and rotundness, invites affection. When I pet her, she lifts her muzzle to give me kisses. She stays close to me, unlike Phoebe who is usually too busy with a toy or a cat to snuggle with me. But with Dolleigh here, Phoebe is bestowing great gifts of affection and staying very close to me.
2400 sq. ft. and here we all sit.
It is a gray, gloomy day, but, still, it is beautiful. The damp causes the changing leaves to glow in the mist. I’ve sat here, loving on pets, and drinking coffee for several hours while staring out the atrium door to the backyard. It’s just that kind of day – one that provokes a lazy stillness. Later, perhaps, I will curl up with a book and read between my own cat naps.
This is a three-day weekend for me. I feel quite comfortable at the idea of spending this day doing nothing of any import. It won’t surprise me, however, if I turn into a whirlwind of activity and tackle some household projects.
It’s that kind of day too– one pregnant with possibilities, but no agenda. I may wallow in the comfort of this sofa or I may tackle the disorganized mess of this house. Either way, I’ll be steeped in contentment. It’s just that kind of day.
2400 sq. ft. and here we all sit. I know if I get up, so will the animals. All of them will follow me to whichever room I go. If I do turn into a whirling dervish of activity, all of them will make their way back to the family room where they will continue to nap and snuggle with each other.
Whatever it is I end up doing, I think I will do it without music or television. I am loving the sounds of this rainy, dreary Saturday.