This is a pretty old video of Kit that I created a few months ago. Despite being old, it is INCREDIBLY adorable video of her. I followed her around during her bath time with a camera and took several pictures of her, as in a story sequence, and it is shown as if it is being told by her.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Random Picture Moment #5
I had just realized - all of my random picture moments were pictures of Penny or Kit, but hardly any of my oldest girl - Shelby! This picture was taken when we first moved here in 2006, a little before Shelby's first birthday. It's one of my favorite pictures of Shelby.That other dog
Well today is Annie's birthday, otherwise known to all the people who know me as "that other dog". Annie is not MY dog, mind you, she's just a dog who lives here, terrorizes me here, and is owned by my mother. Annie was born from the intentional mix breeding by my parents who decided a maltese and a poodle bred together would have wonderful offspring!
Ech.
My mom was looking for the perfect hybrid puppy. (You can tell as to why I'm a little less than thrilled [or maybe not...]) around the time I obtained Shelby, and she decided to breed her own. More specifically she wanted a puppy that looked like a "little black maltese". I don't exactly approve of backyard breeding with little responsibility put into it, but there was not much I could do except complain, which I do anyway.
Well one day after my mother's own birthday, the maltese went into labor. This was a dog who had been bred several times before, and everytime before to a maltese, so it always produced WHITE puppies. So you can imagine the dog's reaction when she delievered a solid black puppy.
It was so priceless, even I thought so.
She looked at the crying puppy - completely and utterly puzzled - as the puppy screamed. She did that little cock-head thing and looked at it as if to say "What is this?!" She then licked the puppy for about a half hour (as if to lick the black off of it) and the whole time, looking at it, still pondering "what the heck?!"
She gave birth to 6 puppies, 5 of which were healthy (one little black girl was a runt who was destined not to make it). 5 were black, one little male was white.
As the puppies aged, two little black females stood out to my mother. One was a petitie little girl, calm, a tiny bit shy. One, which had white patches on her, was a hurricane. The puppy took favorably to me, and was possibly one of the craziest out of the litter. Even though I had a new puppy of my own (Shelby) and had hardly ever took interest in my mother's litters (produced by her dogs), I could hardly resist to play with the adorable bundles of black fur, remembering the whole time that the only puppy staying was the shy female puppy, because she was what my mother wanted; even though my favorite was the crazey one.
I made the terrible mistake of telling my mother that I liked that puppy. The crazey one.
That was then the one she kept.
She kept her and named her "Annie".
Once the rest of the litter was sold for a profit, Annie lived in our house. Let me rephrase that. Annie peed in, chewed things in, and ran back and forth in a speed so as to trip me constantly, in our house. Wait, wait - our NEW house!
Even worse the little dog must have knew I was less than thrilled with her antics, because she began to drive me even more crazey when she was around 6 months old. She would stand and stare at me, growling and barking. As soon as I would move (most of the time not even towards her) she would get up and run away from the room to my mother, barking and screaming her head off. She also had a fascination with my room and my stuff which lead to the rule, as it sounds, "ANNIE IS NOT ALLOWED PAST HERE - ALIVE". She would also growl at me and only me in the middle of the night, while everyone else was trying to sleep, if I would make any noise at all. And she had a million more annoying antics... like barking randomly for no reason, tearing up the house, and jumping wildly (while barking) on anyone who came into the house.
She also made it impossible for me to catch her. Granted, I didn't want to, but my mom often needed help, and often asked me to put her dog away for her. It would start with me slowly creeping towards the dog, saying in a cuesty voice "Come here Annie, Annie, Annie". The dog would stand dead still until I was within 3 inches of her, then bolt; tearing through the house barking and growling as I ran around the same furniture in circles trying to catch her for 10 minutes until she would then eventually dead STOP and I would trip over her, slaming face first into the floor. I'm sure she found it very amusing.
I ALWAYS identified as a dog lover. I mean, I love dogs. At the time, I had two younger puppies - a 9 month old Shelby and a 2 month old named Penny. My Dachshunds. I spent hours with those two just bonding with them. I LOVE DOGS. But that Annie - DROVE ME INSANE!!! I tried making peace with the dog, tried showing the dog I was ok, tried catching the dog. (Tried shooting the dog...)
Nothing worked.
My mother always would say that it was "just a game and the dog just wanted to play with me." That would explain why she always wagged her tail. I was sure that the little creature was out to kill me or something.
And my mother loved the dog and insisted on bringing her everywhere I took my dogs. Trip to the park. All 3 dogs. Trip to the pet store. All 3 dogs. Arrrrrrrgh.
Shelby developed an unusual hate for Annie, though, soon. Annie loved Shelby; and showed it by jumping in her face, grabbing her ears, growling at her, not ever leaving her alone, etc. Annie is far bigger then Shelby. Always was. But that didn't stop Shelby from trying to kill Annie everytime Annie got near her or me. She still tries that to this day. Last night I wa slaying on the chair, exhausted from coming home from spending days in the hospital after emergency surgery, and as Annie was trying to jump up to us, Shelby sat faithfully protecting me by trying to kill Annie.
And it was no other dog Shelby ever showed that aggression towrds. Just Annie.
Good Shelby.
Although I can't say that Annie is still the same now as she was. No, it's gotten somewhat worse. But better in a way. She now is slightly calmer, and will actually approach me at sometimes and let me pet her. I guess she calmed down with age. Or she realized that no matter what she did, I was still going to be here. Either way, we still have that healthy revenge relationship between us. But I wouldn't have it any other way.
So happy 2nd birthday, dummy. Here's to another year of you terrorizing me in my own home.
And to me, moving out soon.
(Sorry if any of this is hard to read, confusing, etc. I just got out of the hospital and I am on so many pain meds that I can't think straight. Or up and down.)
Ech.
My mom was looking for the perfect hybrid puppy. (You can tell as to why I'm a little less than thrilled [or maybe not...]) around the time I obtained Shelby, and she decided to breed her own. More specifically she wanted a puppy that looked like a "little black maltese". I don't exactly approve of backyard breeding with little responsibility put into it, but there was not much I could do except complain, which I do anyway.
Well one day after my mother's own birthday, the maltese went into labor. This was a dog who had been bred several times before, and everytime before to a maltese, so it always produced WHITE puppies. So you can imagine the dog's reaction when she delievered a solid black puppy.
It was so priceless, even I thought so.
She looked at the crying puppy - completely and utterly puzzled - as the puppy screamed. She did that little cock-head thing and looked at it as if to say "What is this?!" She then licked the puppy for about a half hour (as if to lick the black off of it) and the whole time, looking at it, still pondering "what the heck?!"
She gave birth to 6 puppies, 5 of which were healthy (one little black girl was a runt who was destined not to make it). 5 were black, one little male was white.
As the puppies aged, two little black females stood out to my mother. One was a petitie little girl, calm, a tiny bit shy. One, which had white patches on her, was a hurricane. The puppy took favorably to me, and was possibly one of the craziest out of the litter. Even though I had a new puppy of my own (Shelby) and had hardly ever took interest in my mother's litters (produced by her dogs), I could hardly resist to play with the adorable bundles of black fur, remembering the whole time that the only puppy staying was the shy female puppy, because she was what my mother wanted; even though my favorite was the crazey one.
I made the terrible mistake of telling my mother that I liked that puppy. The crazey one.
That was then the one she kept.
She kept her and named her "Annie".
Once the rest of the litter was sold for a profit, Annie lived in our house. Let me rephrase that. Annie peed in, chewed things in, and ran back and forth in a speed so as to trip me constantly, in our house. Wait, wait - our NEW house!
Even worse the little dog must have knew I was less than thrilled with her antics, because she began to drive me even more crazey when she was around 6 months old. She would stand and stare at me, growling and barking. As soon as I would move (most of the time not even towards her) she would get up and run away from the room to my mother, barking and screaming her head off. She also had a fascination with my room and my stuff which lead to the rule, as it sounds, "ANNIE IS NOT ALLOWED PAST HERE - ALIVE". She would also growl at me and only me in the middle of the night, while everyone else was trying to sleep, if I would make any noise at all. And she had a million more annoying antics... like barking randomly for no reason, tearing up the house, and jumping wildly (while barking) on anyone who came into the house.
She also made it impossible for me to catch her. Granted, I didn't want to, but my mom often needed help, and often asked me to put her dog away for her. It would start with me slowly creeping towards the dog, saying in a cuesty voice "Come here Annie, Annie, Annie". The dog would stand dead still until I was within 3 inches of her, then bolt; tearing through the house barking and growling as I ran around the same furniture in circles trying to catch her for 10 minutes until she would then eventually dead STOP and I would trip over her, slaming face first into the floor. I'm sure she found it very amusing.
I ALWAYS identified as a dog lover. I mean, I love dogs. At the time, I had two younger puppies - a 9 month old Shelby and a 2 month old named Penny. My Dachshunds. I spent hours with those two just bonding with them. I LOVE DOGS. But that Annie - DROVE ME INSANE!!! I tried making peace with the dog, tried showing the dog I was ok, tried catching the dog. (Tried shooting the dog...)
Nothing worked.
My mother always would say that it was "just a game and the dog just wanted to play with me." That would explain why she always wagged her tail. I was sure that the little creature was out to kill me or something.
And my mother loved the dog and insisted on bringing her everywhere I took my dogs. Trip to the park. All 3 dogs. Trip to the pet store. All 3 dogs. Arrrrrrrgh.
Shelby developed an unusual hate for Annie, though, soon. Annie loved Shelby; and showed it by jumping in her face, grabbing her ears, growling at her, not ever leaving her alone, etc. Annie is far bigger then Shelby. Always was. But that didn't stop Shelby from trying to kill Annie everytime Annie got near her or me. She still tries that to this day. Last night I wa slaying on the chair, exhausted from coming home from spending days in the hospital after emergency surgery, and as Annie was trying to jump up to us, Shelby sat faithfully protecting me by trying to kill Annie.
And it was no other dog Shelby ever showed that aggression towrds. Just Annie.
Good Shelby.
Although I can't say that Annie is still the same now as she was. No, it's gotten somewhat worse. But better in a way. She now is slightly calmer, and will actually approach me at sometimes and let me pet her. I guess she calmed down with age. Or she realized that no matter what she did, I was still going to be here. Either way, we still have that healthy revenge relationship between us. But I wouldn't have it any other way.
So happy 2nd birthday, dummy. Here's to another year of you terrorizing me in my own home.
And to me, moving out soon.
(Sorry if any of this is hard to read, confusing, etc. I just got out of the hospital and I am on so many pain meds that I can't think straight. Or up and down.)
Random Picture Moment #4
This is Penny from June of 2006. She was about - ooo - the wee age of 6 weeks old. This was one of the first pictures I recieved from her breeder in North Carolina, and I think it depicts Penny's attitude - still to this day - perfectly. "I am great."
It wasn't the stomach flu
Helloooooo. A few days ago I ranted in a post that I caught the stomach flu from the girlscouts. It was NOT the stomach flu; it turned out to be appendicitis, and my appendix ruptured. I had been in the hospital from Sunday to yesterday. I had emergencey surgery for it.
Now hopefully I can get some more posts up here, but it's odd to sit upright with (a) a hole in my side and (b) pain medications, because I constantly feel as if I am going to fall over.
Thank you, to anyone who reads the DachsBlog, and sorry I have not been on, the hospital would not allow me to bring my desktop computer in.
I promise, I will be searching in my mind between the pain medication (which I LOVE) for material to post! Until then there are still many pictures I can post.
Now hopefully I can get some more posts up here, but it's odd to sit upright with (a) a hole in my side and (b) pain medications, because I constantly feel as if I am going to fall over.
Thank you, to anyone who reads the DachsBlog, and sorry I have not been on, the hospital would not allow me to bring my desktop computer in.
I promise, I will be searching in my mind between the pain medication (which I LOVE) for material to post! Until then there are still many pictures I can post.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Our Possible 2008 Scheduale
It's that time of the year again! January! Time to start thinking about the shows, trials, and other things that we want to be participating in this year! Of course, I will have full coverage here (gosh that made me feel like a news reporter) after we get home from the events.
Febuary 23 - Shelby's first NADAC agility trial.
2nd weekend in March - Pawsabilities in Harrisburg. It is a charity event held by Susquehanna Service Dogs. It is a HUGE event; many people bring their dogs every year. They always have a breed match show there, and we participate every year.
3rd weekend in March - AKC shows in York. (Yeah... finally something that is not a 2 hour drive...)
April - AKC shows the last 3 weekends. (Help me ...)
May - AKC show in Lebanon. (Too close to the renisance faire for me.)
June - AKC show at Ludwigs Corner. To know where this place is you either (a) Live there (b) have family there (c) got lost there or (d) show dogs.
July - AKC shows in York.
Hopefully there will be some more UKC shows for us, some other agility trials and at least 1 earthdog trial, I have been itching to get to one of those, but I don't feel like going the whole way up to the Poconos just for one... ok I WOULD but, lets put it this way. No one else in my family is willing to spend a 4 hour drive in the car with ME or 3 gassy Dachshunds.
Febuary 23 - Shelby's first NADAC agility trial.
2nd weekend in March - Pawsabilities in Harrisburg. It is a charity event held by Susquehanna Service Dogs. It is a HUGE event; many people bring their dogs every year. They always have a breed match show there, and we participate every year.
3rd weekend in March - AKC shows in York. (Yeah... finally something that is not a 2 hour drive...)
April - AKC shows the last 3 weekends. (Help me ...)
May - AKC show in Lebanon. (Too close to the renisance faire for me.)
June - AKC show at Ludwigs Corner. To know where this place is you either (a) Live there (b) have family there (c) got lost there or (d) show dogs.
July - AKC shows in York.
Hopefully there will be some more UKC shows for us, some other agility trials and at least 1 earthdog trial, I have been itching to get to one of those, but I don't feel like going the whole way up to the Poconos just for one... ok I WOULD but, lets put it this way. No one else in my family is willing to spend a 4 hour drive in the car with ME or 3 gassy Dachshunds.
Random picture moment # 3
This is Kit at 1 week old. She was still with her breeder. If you look at more recent pictures of her, you'll see most of her black faded to give way to the beautiful red color underneath her.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Home again ... finally!
I originally started working on this post on Sunday. Then I started vomiting and realized I had (and still have) the stomach flu. So here it is late; better late then never.
Today I made it home from my "vacation" with our girlscout troop. In short, we stayed in a little "cabin" about 3 minutes from my house all weekend, watched DVD's, ate junk food, fought, terrorized eachother, put on about a hundred pounds of make up (this is a room full of teenage girls, after all), played games and slept.
I especially like this trips, because I like the element of adventure that comes with them. 97% of my days are spent in the same house, with the same routines, and worst - living with the same people. It's not particuarly that I just like a break from the ordinary. The adventure of things kind of consumes me. If you told me a plane would be ready for me tomorrow to take me to a Fergie concert in Manhattan, I would be packed by the next morning. I live for adventure.
One thing about this trip, however, brought unmesurable amounts of worry over me before I left. Actually, three things. And their names where Shelby, Penny, and Kit.
I hated leaving them.
Not as much because I MISSED them, but more I trusted no one else to take care of them like I did. I examined my choices.
(1) Leave them in a kennel, which is not a choice I particularly liked, seeing as in September of 2006 when we traveled to Ocean City, MD for a weekend - I had to leave Shelby and baby Penny in a kennel. When I came back, my dogs where thin, starving, thirsty, covered in urine, and really overly happy to see me.
Besides, I didn't have the money. Moving on to choice number 2.
(2) Hire a friend to come in and out and take care of them. But I knew nobody nearby that I trusted or would come down to our little home in the boondocks, and I was NOT going to entrust their fate to the neighbors.
And again, I didn't have the money.
Not realizing my probably most practical option was right underneath my nose. The people who shared the house with me could take care of them. Aka, my parents.
Who are not particuarly thrilled with dogs - especially not my father.
The thought of them taking care of my dogs brought on more worry. I could just see them sitting in crates in fecal matter for the whole weekend. I didn't know if it would have made any difference if it were specifically my parents or not, in my mind nobody could take care of them like me!
But I had to agree. What other option did I have?
I sat for quite a while writing up care directions before I let. "Do not let Shelby alone with Kit, she might kill her. Do NOT let Penny offleash outside for any reason, she will not come when you call her. Do not give them newspaper with staples, they will swallow them. Do not leave them outside alone." The list when on and on and on...
This was also my first time leaving Kit.
The morning before I left, everything seemed to be in order. I kissed each little Dachshund on the nose. "Be good for grandma. May the Lord bless you." Kit affectionatley took my finger in her mouth. Shelby seemed to wonder what was going on. Penny couldn't care less.
Really, she couldn't.
So I set off on my little adventure. It wasn't quite what I thought it was. I fought with most of my friends, cried once, tripped twice, got scared witless, hardly got any sleep, had to wear a shirt two days in a row (ick), and on top of it all - SOMEONE gave me the stomach flu...
Even though I usually had fun at these things, this time I couldn't WAIT to get home. Not as much to what was at home; as long as it was away from that camp.
As I approached home, I began worrying about my 3 little babies. If they were ok, if they'd be fed enough, etc. When I usually got home from something like this, I would rush to them going "I'm home, I'm home!" and Shelby would jump into my arms and Penny ... well, wouldn't...
But I barely had the energy to move, let alone give them an energy-full greeting. I stumbled into the room they were in, and for a moment forgot how to open the door. Finally once I remembered how a door knob works, I came into them.
My room was a mess. Disorganized, etc. And they were all three sitting in peed-up crates. I moaned, out of exhaustion, and began cleaning them up. Shelby was so glad I was home. Kit snuggled against me and Penny gave me dirty looks.
Even though I was tired and frustrated, I was so glad to see them.
(I think...)
And I learned one thing...
Never ever go to a girlscout thing ever again without ... Well, never go to a girlscout thing ever again.
Problem solved.
Today I made it home from my "vacation" with our girlscout troop. In short, we stayed in a little "cabin" about 3 minutes from my house all weekend, watched DVD's, ate junk food, fought, terrorized eachother, put on about a hundred pounds of make up (this is a room full of teenage girls, after all), played games and slept.
I especially like this trips, because I like the element of adventure that comes with them. 97% of my days are spent in the same house, with the same routines, and worst - living with the same people. It's not particuarly that I just like a break from the ordinary. The adventure of things kind of consumes me. If you told me a plane would be ready for me tomorrow to take me to a Fergie concert in Manhattan, I would be packed by the next morning. I live for adventure.
One thing about this trip, however, brought unmesurable amounts of worry over me before I left. Actually, three things. And their names where Shelby, Penny, and Kit.
I hated leaving them.
Not as much because I MISSED them, but more I trusted no one else to take care of them like I did. I examined my choices.
(1) Leave them in a kennel, which is not a choice I particularly liked, seeing as in September of 2006 when we traveled to Ocean City, MD for a weekend - I had to leave Shelby and baby Penny in a kennel. When I came back, my dogs where thin, starving, thirsty, covered in urine, and really overly happy to see me.
Besides, I didn't have the money. Moving on to choice number 2.
(2) Hire a friend to come in and out and take care of them. But I knew nobody nearby that I trusted or would come down to our little home in the boondocks, and I was NOT going to entrust their fate to the neighbors.
And again, I didn't have the money.
Not realizing my probably most practical option was right underneath my nose. The people who shared the house with me could take care of them. Aka, my parents.
Who are not particuarly thrilled with dogs - especially not my father.
The thought of them taking care of my dogs brought on more worry. I could just see them sitting in crates in fecal matter for the whole weekend. I didn't know if it would have made any difference if it were specifically my parents or not, in my mind nobody could take care of them like me!
But I had to agree. What other option did I have?
I sat for quite a while writing up care directions before I let. "Do not let Shelby alone with Kit, she might kill her. Do NOT let Penny offleash outside for any reason, she will not come when you call her. Do not give them newspaper with staples, they will swallow them. Do not leave them outside alone." The list when on and on and on...
This was also my first time leaving Kit.
The morning before I left, everything seemed to be in order. I kissed each little Dachshund on the nose. "Be good for grandma. May the Lord bless you." Kit affectionatley took my finger in her mouth. Shelby seemed to wonder what was going on. Penny couldn't care less.
Really, she couldn't.
So I set off on my little adventure. It wasn't quite what I thought it was. I fought with most of my friends, cried once, tripped twice, got scared witless, hardly got any sleep, had to wear a shirt two days in a row (ick), and on top of it all - SOMEONE gave me the stomach flu...
Even though I usually had fun at these things, this time I couldn't WAIT to get home. Not as much to what was at home; as long as it was away from that camp.
As I approached home, I began worrying about my 3 little babies. If they were ok, if they'd be fed enough, etc. When I usually got home from something like this, I would rush to them going "I'm home, I'm home!" and Shelby would jump into my arms and Penny ... well, wouldn't...
But I barely had the energy to move, let alone give them an energy-full greeting. I stumbled into the room they were in, and for a moment forgot how to open the door. Finally once I remembered how a door knob works, I came into them.
My room was a mess. Disorganized, etc. And they were all three sitting in peed-up crates. I moaned, out of exhaustion, and began cleaning them up. Shelby was so glad I was home. Kit snuggled against me and Penny gave me dirty looks.
Even though I was tired and frustrated, I was so glad to see them.
(I think...)
And I learned one thing...
Never ever go to a girlscout thing ever again without ... Well, never go to a girlscout thing ever again.
Problem solved.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Random picture moment #2
Since Penny was all snowy, and wet and stuff in my last post, I thought I'd post a picture of how she usually looks - well groomed. This is Penny at the 10-13-07 UKC show.
To match 2007
"Hi Shelby," I said as she sat anxiously watching me in her little basket, as I sat on the computer, logging into my online classroom. "I detest Algebra," I said, looking at the long quiz ahead of me. So I took the alternative.
I decided to put it off til later!
I jumped into the "My Pictures" part of my computer, zooming through all the pictures of my 3 girls. Baby pictures of all of them, show pictures, Shelby agility pictures, backpacking pictures, etc. They brought back memories. Pictures of Penny in the first snow of '07, playing in the summer, Shelby swimming in the pool, running in the yard in September. Yes, very many happy memories of a good year. Not only did I love taking pictures of my girls, but I loved looking back and remembering that time.
Then I realized, I hadn't taken pictures of them for a while. I mean, I had a few dark and lousy pictures I took of Kit; besides the pictures a friend took at the 1-12-08 show, I had no pictures of my crew since the fall of 2007! And worse - I had many Shelby and Penny pictures, but no pictures of all 3 of my girls at once.
So today I set out, to make another memory. I'll want to look back and say, "That was a good year." Or look back when they're seniors and say "They were so young." Look back years after their death and say "They were beautiful dogs."
Maybe by then I would forget how hard it actually was to get the three of them to stand still long enough to take a photo... together...
So I decided. Finish schoolwork, then later I would take my girls out, set them on the pool deck (it takes the best face pictures, because you can kneel below them) and take a picture with all three of them in it!
Then later I reclusivley came out of my room to find a different sight outside from what it was later. We had at LEAST two inches of snow. "No!" I said. Well, there went my plans, I thought. "But no, I have to get a picture of them all 3 together. What if I don't get another chance? I am very busy...". So I was determined. We were going to get a picture outside in the snow, even if it killed me - them. Oh. I mean. ... Me.
In a T-Shirt, Miniskirt, Boots, a thin jacket, a camera, and a leash with 3 little Dachshunds at the end, I determinly headed out into the snow. At first, Shelby refused to go out the door, for the fact she hates snow, and Penny refused to go out the door because well, I had told her too. But Kit was excited and jumped out, jumping over Shelby's head, smashing it into the snow.
Making her even more mad.
We headed out into the snow. It was Kit's first snow, and she loved it. Penny's second snow and she throughly was enjoying herself as she did last year. It was Shelby's 3rd snow, however, and she hated it as much now as she did 2 years ago.
I snapped some lovely pictures as you will see at the top of this blog. One I just took of a small part of our yard in the winter time.
When we finished running in the snow, I got the three girls up on the patio table and tried to take a nice picture of the three of them altogether! Shelby was shaking so hard her feet were turning inwards, Penny would not look at me, and Kit ran in front of the other two as if to say "Pay attention to me!" I finally got a great picture of all three of them, then set them down on the ground and ran towards the door.
Shelby ran in first, shaking off snow. Then Kit, wagging her tail. No Penny. I looked back and saw her standing beneath the roof of the porch, looking at me as if to say NO WAY EVER. "Penny, come," I called. She refused, and in fact began walking in the opposite direction.
Eventually she came back but she wasn't happy about it.
So enjoy the pictures of my girls in the snow! Note: I know they look kind of scraggly, but they usually are very well groomed. They were just out in the snow, after all.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Random picture moment #1
Kit on the day of the UKC show, 10-13-2007. The poor little baby fell asleep while waiting for Penny to go into the ring.
Meet Shelby: The Christmas Puppy
A week before Christmas, 2005, I was on cloud nine as we drove down the backroads.
Of course, I was not high. Except for the kind of high that only comes from a - you guess it, new puppy!
It was my Christmas gift to myself. I had been following the progress of that litter since they were a week old. It was consisted of 5 beautiful longhaired puppies - 4 black and tan and one bright red girl. The bright red girl was my choice.
I could barely contain my excitement as we made our way towards the breeders house.
I already had the perfect name picked out for her. Shelby. I made my way into the breeders house, and saw the playpen with 5 beautiful little puppies. And one red mother dog glaring STRAIGHT at me. Angrily.
We made our way home with me cuddling Shelby in my arms in a blanket. The poor little baby was shakey and scared of everything. Wasn't too soon but on Christmas night though, my excitement was soon broken when my baby seemed to be in some excrutiating pain. Everytime I would touch her, and sometimes randomly, she would scream as if being murdered. I was up crying that night. "This beautiful puppy, and I can't even be near her. And she's in pain? What happend? What did I do?"
Worrying and worrying for days on end, the day of her vet visit, Shelby immediatley stopped her crying. Whatsoever. She was completely SILENT. Not a sound. We took her into the vets office, describing her problem, but they looked at us as if we were crazey. Shelby of course made her way around the office being cuddled, wagging tail, recieving treats. Silent.
Later we were out in the parking lot. Sense of relief flowed over me."I love you Shelby," I said, placing her on the ground outside to open my car door. Immediatley she began screaming as if severe pain.
Until I picked her up again.
I looked at her, oddly and speechless, as she gave me a look as if to say "Ha ... ha ... HA."
To this day when Shelby doesn't get her way, she brings out the ear shattering screaming. In fact she does that most of the time. If she's happy, if she's angry, if she's hungry, if she's sad. And it's QUITE an ear piercing sound.
I love my little Shelby.
But I love her more when I wear earplugs.
(The picture at the top of the page is Shelby, her first morning home)
A love/hate relationship?
Sitting at a show recently, I was passed by someone who commented on my dogs, saying how well behaved the show dogs were! It brought back a memory...
On a warm January day, I screamed and cursed at my little Dachshund, who was playing in the biodegradable cat litter/compost area.
"Penny! GET OUT OF THAT!"
Of course, being the rebel Penny was (imagine a 9 week old puppy being so resistent to leash training she would scream and attack the leash), I knew she wasn't going to come so easy. Cursing under my breath, I stomped through the grass over to the little Dachshund, grabbed her and headed up towards the house. While walking I did a quick head count. "I have Penny I see Shelby, where is Kit?"
I looked around frantically for a moment, then spotted the baby puppy again playing in the cat litter pile. I didn't want her smelling like cat pee, and I knew at that age, she would not respond to my commands so well, so again I stomped off towards her, cursing even more under my breath. I scooped her up in my arms, and with one in each arm, and a third following me, I made up most of the way to the house, then sat Kit and Penny down. "There we go," I said, half proud of myself, mission accomplished. Then I realized, Shelby was missing. I turned to see her in the cat litter.
I was calm, remembering Shelby was incredibly obedient. "Shelby come," I commanded. She looked up at me, let her ears down, then went off ignoring me.
I think the neighbors heard my next screams.
From MILES away.
Later I sat on the pool steps, half fuming under my breath with my jaw hurting from clenching it as I watched the 3 of them. As always, Penny was as far away from me as possible, sniffing around, Kit was exploring territory around me, and Shelby was as close to me as possible, while sniffing the ground in front of her.
I was regretting the harsh things I screamed, though, when Shelby frustrated me. I mean, did they drive me crazey? Yes. Every single day. They are not easy. Kit is not housebroken, and Penny began following the reasoning "If she can go inside, why can't I?" as well. I constantly have to break up squabbles between Kit trying to play with a not so willing Shelby. Not to mention Kit's teething stage. Most people who raise dogs I know, keep them for a few years, then re-home them. I can see why.
But.
I started thinking. It's in the way little Kit gently teeths my finger when I touch her little nose at night. The way Penny rebels to no end. The way it feels to prance around a show ring. The way it feels to run around an agility ring with a little dog soaring over the jumps and through the weaves. The way Shelby swims the entire length of the pool, despite her small size after her prize, a fleece toy. The way Kit cuddles against everyone, even Shelby. The way Penny squeaks her squeaky toys. The way Shelby's little brown eyes watch me as she cuddles up against me at night to fall asleep.
And I remembered why I decided to stick it out to the end with them.
I turned to Shelby. "I love you. Even though you drive me crazey." I picked up Kit. "I love you. Even though you drive me crazey." I walked the whole way across the yard to Penny, trying to avoid me. "I love you. Even though I drive you crazey."
Yes I know this is a very sappy post but what can I say? I love my dogs. Even though they drive me absolutely mad.
Shelby then approached me with a rotted peice of meat.
After chasing her around trying to retriever the disgusting thing, I also make this statement.
I love my 3 dogs.
But I will never EVER get a 4th one.
Unless it will moniter the other 3.
On a warm January day, I screamed and cursed at my little Dachshund, who was playing in the biodegradable cat litter/compost area.
"Penny! GET OUT OF THAT!"
Of course, being the rebel Penny was (imagine a 9 week old puppy being so resistent to leash training she would scream and attack the leash), I knew she wasn't going to come so easy. Cursing under my breath, I stomped through the grass over to the little Dachshund, grabbed her and headed up towards the house. While walking I did a quick head count. "I have Penny I see Shelby, where is Kit?"
I looked around frantically for a moment, then spotted the baby puppy again playing in the cat litter pile. I didn't want her smelling like cat pee, and I knew at that age, she would not respond to my commands so well, so again I stomped off towards her, cursing even more under my breath. I scooped her up in my arms, and with one in each arm, and a third following me, I made up most of the way to the house, then sat Kit and Penny down. "There we go," I said, half proud of myself, mission accomplished. Then I realized, Shelby was missing. I turned to see her in the cat litter.
I was calm, remembering Shelby was incredibly obedient. "Shelby come," I commanded. She looked up at me, let her ears down, then went off ignoring me.
I think the neighbors heard my next screams.
From MILES away.
Later I sat on the pool steps, half fuming under my breath with my jaw hurting from clenching it as I watched the 3 of them. As always, Penny was as far away from me as possible, sniffing around, Kit was exploring territory around me, and Shelby was as close to me as possible, while sniffing the ground in front of her.
I was regretting the harsh things I screamed, though, when Shelby frustrated me. I mean, did they drive me crazey? Yes. Every single day. They are not easy. Kit is not housebroken, and Penny began following the reasoning "If she can go inside, why can't I?" as well. I constantly have to break up squabbles between Kit trying to play with a not so willing Shelby. Not to mention Kit's teething stage. Most people who raise dogs I know, keep them for a few years, then re-home them. I can see why.
But.
I started thinking. It's in the way little Kit gently teeths my finger when I touch her little nose at night. The way Penny rebels to no end. The way it feels to prance around a show ring. The way it feels to run around an agility ring with a little dog soaring over the jumps and through the weaves. The way Shelby swims the entire length of the pool, despite her small size after her prize, a fleece toy. The way Kit cuddles against everyone, even Shelby. The way Penny squeaks her squeaky toys. The way Shelby's little brown eyes watch me as she cuddles up against me at night to fall asleep.
And I remembered why I decided to stick it out to the end with them.
I turned to Shelby. "I love you. Even though you drive me crazey." I picked up Kit. "I love you. Even though you drive me crazey." I walked the whole way across the yard to Penny, trying to avoid me. "I love you. Even though I drive you crazey."
Yes I know this is a very sappy post but what can I say? I love my dogs. Even though they drive me absolutely mad.
Shelby then approached me with a rotted peice of meat.
After chasing her around trying to retriever the disgusting thing, I also make this statement.
I love my 3 dogs.
But I will never EVER get a 4th one.
Unless it will moniter the other 3.
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