Hot Dog

All of our dogs have their tendencies. One of the most endearing, I think, is our dachshund Millie’s propensity to bask in front of the fireplace during the winter months. This is such a common occurrence that we have even made a little pad for her to lay on. It’s gotten to the point that she now hops up the moment I grab for the stick lighter.

I’ve tried numerous times over the last two years to take a decent picture of her before the fire, and this morning I finally got my shot. The answer, it seemed, was switching to my Sigma 30mm lens. It’s definitely a fickle piece of glass, difficult to master, but when it works, does it ever work.

See more 30mm shots HERE.

Making Way For Baby…

This weekend, we took the first step toward preparing the nursery – we booted the dogs out of the dog room.

Smith is still kind of confused…

…but Sam has figured out what’s what pretty quick…

Ignore the chairs. They’re only acting as placeholders for some form or fashion of room dividers.

Basic Consideration and Situational Awareness

We have four dogs. The neighbors behind us have a similarly sized pack. They don’t get along. Whenever they are in their respective yards at the same time, there is complete and total doggy chaos. Smith hurling himself at the fence, running back and forth, Sam doing the same, the girls running underfoot. It’s really annoying, and it’s dangerous for the dogs.

One would think, given this, that some care would be taken before letting the dogs out. I’m pretty conscientious about looking before letting the dogs out. After all, I don’t want to have to go run them down when they start playing “Attack the Fence”. Oh, and I don’t want to be an asshole.

Then there are the neighbors. Who have the advantage of their house being higher than ours. They can see right into our yard. It should be easy – one might say unavoidable – for them to know at a glance if we or our dogs are in the backyard. I stress should be…

At 6:10 this morning, I’m standing on the patio, waiting for Smith to finish going bathroom. All the other dogs have gone. They’re wandering the yard. Our patio light is on. So basically, I’m in the backyard, illuminated (still dark outside), calling for Smith to come inside. Which is PRECISELY the moment our neighbors decide to let all of their dogs out.

This happens at some time or another probably every two or three days.

Seriously, WTF?

And don’t give me that crap about “maybe they can’t see you” because they can. Because I’ve been in the backyard, with the dogs, seen them come to their door, look out, and OPEN IT ANYWAY.

Assholes!

Another Way to Terrorize the Dogs…

I can only imagine the chaos that would be unleashed if we got our hands on one of these (sans the muzak):

LOLSMITH

Walk the Dog

Alas, this year’s Mighty Texas Dog Walk didn’t live up to the high level of expectations set by last year’s.  A big part of that, I believe, was due to the wind, which was hustling in from the northwest at a pretty much constant 25-30 miles per hour.

Wandering around the exhibitor booths and watching your dog make a fool of himself is great fun when the weather is gorgeous.  Not so much when it is cool and blustery.  That, and there did not seem to be as many vendors around this year.

Pre-Walk Highlight – Taking Smith over to the "agility course" the fine folks at Roger Beasley Saab had set up.  After a flat refusal to go through the tunnel, we coaxed Smith over to the hurdles.  He jumped the first one – maybe a foot off the ground – without incident.  At the second hurdle, however, he made no attempt, and instead reared up, knocked the whole thing apart, and then walked across.  He’s a problem solver, that one.

On the walk, sadly little occurred in the way of Smith chaos.  He did have a moment of quite loud whining, and he did reclaim his role as water dish tester, but sadly, there were no kiddie pools for him to pee in, and no girl scouts for him to make cry.

Still, it was in all another fun morning, and I fully plan on partaking again next April.

 

Dog Walkin’

After the fantastic experience that was last year’s Mighty Texas Dog Walk, I couldn’t resist registering for this year’s event, which promises even more dogs, and likely even more chaos.

Smith will be making his return and, I hope, will live up to the high expectations he set for himself last year.

Of course, since both the wife and the camera are coming along, he will probably be calm, quiet, and otherwise well-behaved, robbing me of some much anticipated hilarity…

Dog With College Degree Called to Court

"My client had absolutely nothing to do with any animal getting a
degree from an institution of higher learning," said McGuire’s
attorney, Dean Henry. "The whole thing is bizarre."

I’ll say.

LINK to the story.

Must Love Dogs – Here Comes the Science

Slate posted a fascinating article this morning exploring the bond we humans have with our pets – and more specifically our dogs.  Considering the wife and I have four of the critters, I found it of particular interest, and imagine that anybody else who has a canine (or feline, bovine, or equine) in their lives will find the same.

Money quote:

They dance with joy when we come home, put their heads on our knees and
stare longingly into our eyes. Ah, we think, at last, the love and
loyalty we so richly deserve and so rarely receive. Over thousands of
years of living with humans, dogs have become wily and transfixing
sidekicks with the particularly appealing characteristic of being
unable to speak. We are therefore free to fill in the blanks with what
we need to hear. (What the dog may really be telling us, much of the
time, is, "Feed me.")

Check out the rest…"The Real Reason We Love Dogs"

It is Impossible to Look Cool While Pleading with a Dachshund

Usually, when the wife or I tell people that we own four dogs, we are greeted with an expression one might reasonably expect to see upon informing someone that they like to dress up like Nazis while they make Pop-Tarts and watch documentaries about predatory cats.  Then follows the inevitable questions which revolve around how we manage, etc.

The answer I give (I don’t claim to speak for the wife – I know better) is that it is not that difficult.  The dogs have a certain pack momentum that makes feeding them or getting them outside or whatnot a relatively simple task.  So long as the routine is maintained, they are mostly simple to manage. 

Or so I thought.

Ever since moving into the house, our (or rather my) method for getting the dogs into their kennels has remained the same.  It begins with me saying "come one, everyone, let’s get in our kennels!".  With that, I secure treats.  Sam, our obsessive-compulsive creature of habit, heads for his kennel.  Smith and the two girls follow.  After some tail wagging, prancing, and drooling, the dogs get their treats, the kennel doors get closed, and the mission is accomplished.

This has been the way of things for the past year.  It has become as predictable as the rising and setting of the sun, or the string of expletives that pass my lips when I go to leave for work in the morning only to find that some construction worker has parked his pickup truck (or poorly modified import car) so that it is blocking our driveway.

Well, not anymore.  For some inexplicable reason, the dachshunds have decided sometime in the past forty-eight hours to stop recognizing the kenneling procedure.  Now, instead of running into their kennels like two crazed squirrels, they stand in the living room and stare.  If I stare at them, they cower and slink toward corners.  If I approach them, they call upon their special dachshund powers and pee on the floor.

For me, this is grounds for picking them up and personally depositing them in their kennel.  This is also grounds for doing so without bestowing treats upon them.  I think having to clean up urine is fair grounds for witholding the treat bribe.

The wife, on the other hand, disagrees, and last night proceeded to sit on the stairs and watch as I tried in vain to get the dachshunds into their kennels.  What followed was about twenty minutes of humiliation as I stood in the dog room and called to the girls in a high-pitched, pleading voice, trying my best to sound like I had no desire to drop kick them like footballs (well, they are about the right size…).  In the end, they peed on the floor anyway, I declared the game over, and put them away.

It goes without saying that they behave like little angels for the wife.  No mind games or staredowns or floor waterings with her.  Only with me.

So…no…owning four dogs is not particularly difficult.  Owning two dachshunds, on the other hand…