Dogster

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Daisyland

Spring?

A lot has happened since I last wrote. We have been someplace strange. They call it Chicago. Good things about Chicago: things for me to chase. A lot more. It's so much better to chase rabbits than it is to chase pigeons. We like to go to the park, where I can scout for food and chase people. Sometimes I get sent to daycare at a place called Tucker Pups. I have a best friend there, who I follow around wherever she goes. When I get dropped off, I don't even say goodbye to Sarah, I run after my new friends, and am part of a swarm of dogs...aka my posse.

But Chicago isn't perfect. First, our place is much smaller, so it's harder for me to chase, and I bonk my head sometimes. Also, it got super cold here. I had to wear a tshirt, a jumper and a coat with a hood and boots for months. And snow! I had no idea about this stuff. Once, I jumped into it thinking it would be sturdy...but I sunk in and was covered.

Now it's supposedly spring. The snow is almost completely gone, and I don't need to wear my coat or boots anymore. Watch out world! I'm coming back.

Backpacking

I am a city dog. I like city smells, city treats on the city dirt, homeless people (or as I call them, uncaged people) and city attention. But I was excited when my parents got me dressed and took me out to the not-city to do something called "camping."

It wasn't too hot out, and there were some nice skunk smells but then all of a sudden, burning, searing pain in my hand. Sarah thought that all she would need to do is relocate my arm the way they usually need to do (i pop out of joint a lot), but that didn't work. Then Demid came down and started saying something about me bitten by a rattlesnake because I was PARALYZED. And my breathing seemed strained. So Sarah ran with me to the car (muttering something about how my grandfather climbed off of Mount Hood after a fall with a concussion and a broken foot for 6 miles, and she did 10 days of Outward Bound with her own broken foot).

When we got to a doctor, it was determined that what was wrong was a "bee sting". So I got what Sarah called a "speedball" (consisting of benedryl, epinephrine and dex) which made me sleepy and then hyper and then sleepy and hyper and we went back to the not-city.

And I was carried the whole way. And I laid in the tent the rest of the afternoon and snapped at not-bees.

Lazy!

So this weekend was very strange. Sundays are DaisyDays. Everyone knows that. But then this Sunday was different. I hadn't even gone outside to do my business yet when Demid started crying, saying that his shoulder blade hurt and that he couldn't breathe. Suddenly Sarah woke up and he scooted down the stairs with her and out of the house into.the.car.without.me.on.a.sunday.

This shouldn't be a surprise for any of my dachshund freundchen, but it turned out that what was wrong was that he had a sore back, not that I was being abandoned.

I should teach my Demid to stop going up and down the spiral staircase - which is certainly what is doing him in - and just stay on one floor, or yell for Sarah to carry him up and downstairs. This is what I do, wait for Sarah to carry me, I mean, and it works out pretty well. I am actually not unlike Roman royalty, as additionally, I also like to lay back and have grapes dropped into my mouth.

Maybe if Demid has to stay at home another day, I will plant this subliminal message while he is in his Percoset and Flexoril-induced naps.