Home sweet home

This is what Tanglewood is.

Tanglewood is a big green hill of sunny grass and big trees with springy moss all around them. Tanglewood is a field big enough for me to run as far as I can think to run in any one direction and still not be at the end of it. Tanglewood is six weeks of crushed grass and honeybees and rabbits and an off-leash run every single day. Tanglewood is seventy-nine high school kids on hand to take me for walks and tell me how Pretty I am, and how Good.

And this is home.

Home is air conditioning. Home is the big bed with a patch of sun smack in the middle of it. Home is eyes closed and four fuzzy paws in the air.

Spring, the sweet spring

I liked snow. But I like grass even better.

The Mama doesn't think I'd ever walked on grass before I came to live with her and the Other One. And that was in December and it was already all cold and frozen. This is much, much different.

We went for a long walk today, all the way to the back of the condo complex the long way round, on grass the whole time, around the back of the tennis courts and then into the little patch of woods and all the way through to the other side. The other side is a soccer field, and no one was there when we got there so the Mama took off my leash and said Free Dog and I took off at a dead run, intoxicated on cool wind and green smells coming out of the soft ground and sunshine on my back. She sat down on the ground and I came running back to her and jumped on her lap, and we snuggled for a second. Then we went walking back through the woods but in the other direction and made a big loop and finally ended up back home. We even crossed a little creek on a bridge made from a board, and the Mama was going to carry me if I couldn't do it but I trotted right across. I heard her telling the Other One that maybe I should do agility classes, whatever those are.

I'm not worried. Nothing bad ever happens to me here.

My social life

The Mama insists that dog meetup is good for me, but I don't really like it.

She drags me to at least three every month, and the only one I really like is the all-dachshund one, but even that isn't exactly my idea of a party. The other day we went to one and I got snapped at by a Chihuahua while the treats were being handed out, and after that I wasn't so brave anymore and went and sat on the Mama's lap. Then, the minute I decided maybe I could venture off the lap, I was attacked and humped by a Yorkshire terrier.

The Mama says the Yorkshire terrier was five months old and a third of my body weight, and I need to learn how to deal with other dogs doing doggy things. I say that I would rather be at home with the Cat, who mostly ignores me but will sometimes wrestle for a minute if I'm a pest about it. I like our wrestling matches because they always end with her licking my face.

We have another one this morning. Sigh.

Snow!

The Mama got up early today and said, "Come on, let's go," and we went out the back door into the big yard that all the condos share, except that it was almost dark because the snow was falling so fast, and no one was out because it was Saturday and it was cold, so we had it all to ourselves.

I like to snuffle along the ground and build up a mini-mountain of snow on the bridge of my snout, then fling myself into the air and shake until it all falls off again. I like to roll on my back. I like to dig.

Most of all I like being off leash, which is a privilege I have earned little by little by being Very Very Good and always coming when the Mama calls me, no matter how much I don't want to. I like to run far far away until I'm just a little speck on the far side of the lawn, and then when she calls me to barrel back toward her through the falling snow as fast as I can, a little warm speeding bullet of joy, and hurl myself up toward her lap so she'll pick me up, wet fur and all, and spin me around in her arms.

The Mama says I should just wait for summer, when we go out to the place where there's no cars for miles around, just grass and trees. I say bring it on.

Primary Dog

So today, like every other morning of a Work Day, the Mama stood in the rain box and put on clothes and smeared funny-smelling gook all over her face, and then -- as though it were a Travel Day, which it wasn't -- she showed me my harness and leash and got me dressed and said, LET'S GO VOTE, and we went outside together to the car. Personally I think every day should be a Home Day, but if it's not I'll take a Vote Day, whatever that is, over a day where she goes away for a million hours and I have to stay home and play with the same old toys and try to talk to the Cat.

Anyway, we only drove for a minute, and then we got out of the car and went into a place where I'd never been before, but there were lots of people there standing in line, and some nice old ladies at tables who smiled at me and said I was Pretty in my new blue-and-white sweater with the marabou collar and Good for sitting politely and checked the Mama's name off a list. Then the Mama and I went over to a booth and the Mama did something with a pen and a piece of paper, and then we gave the paper away to another lady (again with the Pretty, again with the Good). Then we drove to the place where they hand food through a window and I got half of the Mama's egg and some little pieces of sausage with melted cheese on them. Then we went home, and the Mama hugged me and kissed the top of my head and took off my harness.

Then she left, and I had to stay at home all day after all.

Still, a good day: outing, new people to dote on me and remind the Mama that the Universal Law of Pretty/Good still exists, and -- as proof of that reminder's efficacy -- an egg I didn't have to share with the Cat.

There's something to this Vote business.

Unfair, I say, unfair

I have some complaints with the world at the moment. Here they are:

1) The Mama is eating cereal with sliced bananas, and she is not sharing. Sliced bananas are perhaps my favorite thing in the world, and to smell them but not be invited to partake in their sweet tropical goodness is perhaps more than a small dog should be asked to bear. I have tried the Sit, I have tried Meerdog pose, I have whined, I have lain down and rolled my eyes in the Dachshund Look, and I have launched myself into her lap. And still, no bananas.

2) I am allowed to sleep on the bed with the Mama and the Other One, but not in the spot of my choosing. I am perfectly aware that the bed is divided into quadrants, some of which are more desirable real estate than others. The penthouse quadrant is, of course, the Mama's pillow, first of all because it contains the Mama's head, and secondly because it is near the window, which even in cold weather is ALWAYS KEPT CRACKED, because the Mama likes fresh air at night. This means that whoever occupies the pillow has firsthand knowledge of what's happening in the driveway, and as any dachshund knows, knowledge is power. So I want to sleep there, I want I want I want, and I am not allowed. The Cat is allowed, for reasons of seniority and sharp bits on the ends of her paws, but if I try to assert myself I am either dragged down to a less desirable quadrant of the bed and immobilized by way of the Mama's arm over the top of me, or -- horror of horrors, if I am persistent enough -- crated.

Not okay.

3) A package came from the pet store with presents for both of us. The Cat got a cat tree that goes all the way up to the ceiling, with toys and hidey-holes that I can't reach, and an upper story that gives her access to the top of the bookcase, which drives me insane with jealousy. And what did I get? What was *my* present?

Dog shampoo.

Clearly, nefarious forces are at work in the world.

Weekend!

Today the Cat woke me up because she likes to eat early, and I let her do it because when she's hungry she books it down the stairs to the kitchen and I'm almost as fast as she is now; my paws barely touch the carpet until I'm at the bottom, I've got this descent thing so figured out. Which is new because when I first came to the house, I'd never seen stairs before and the Mama had to coax me up and down one step at a time with a piece of cut-up turkey.

Come to think of it, I haven't seen as much of that turkey lately. But I digress.

The point is that the Cat will get down the stairs and hide around the corner and when I come rocketing after her she will spring out at me and I will abruptly 180 and we will go running back UP the stairs with me in the lead, and then I'll get excited and whine and play-bow and she will fluff out all her fur but in a happy way and then turn around and run DOWN again, and I will go after her and sometimes we start running around the couch, and sometimes we keep the stair thing going until either the Mama or the Other One puts a stop to it by coming downstairs with us and making disparaging comments about elephants in the house and finally opening some cans.

Well. That is to say, the Cat gets a can. I get kibble. I never eat my kibble right away; I always situate myself one step behind the Cat and wait politely with my nose outstretched but just out of swatting distance for her to finish what she's got. It used to be that she would leave a little food in her dish. Lately she's been eating it all.

The Mama says it's because there's never anything left when she comes back for her mid-morning snack. I say seize the day.

There's no place like home

My week divides into two halves.

There is the half where the Mama goes to work and leaves me at home to play with the Cat and work on my napping and tissue-shredding skills.

There is the half where the Mama stays home most of the day and is only gone a little bit, or if I'm lucky not at all.

And then there is Travel Day in the middle, which is the day the Mama goes to work and takes me with her. We leave early in the morning and don't get back until late at night, but it doesn't get boring because we move around a lot. We go to the University and the Mama teaches a class and then takes me down to her office and gives me a chewie while people come in and sing for her. Then we get back in the car and we drive to the School, but on the way we have lunch and stop by the pet store and if I've been good I get a toy or another chewie (today it was the chewie), and everyone there oohs and ahhs and says how Pretty I am in whatever I'm wearing. Then the Mama teaches another class at the School and I get to play with the human puppies, who look grown-up but don't smell or act like it yet. Then we go to the Rehearsal, and on the way we stop at the kosher rotisserie and the Mama gets the Roast of the Day, which on Travel Day is always leg of lamb, and before the Rehearsal begins I have lamb and green beans cut up very small for me by the Mama and take a nap on the couch, which by this point I need because this is all very tiring. Then the next set of human puppies arrives and they sing, and after I say hello to everyone (more Pretty, more Good) I lie down underneath the Mama's piano bench and go to sleep.

Then, finally, we go home and I sleep all the way in my booster seat, which has soft high walls and is a better place to nap than anywhere in the world except the Mama's pillow, and when I get home I find my second wind somewhere and dash around the house like a lunatic and then plop down on the Mama's lap and relax.

Travel Day is very exciting. And I especially like this moment at the end, because it means that the Work Days are over for the week and the Home Days are about to begin.

There's no place like Home.

What you should know about me

Here are all the things I have:

Humans: 2. Both of them adore me, but I am first and foremost the Mama's girl. The Other One knows this and is probably bitter about it, because I'm not very subtle, but I'm too adorable for this to be held against me. I do wag and lick when the Other One requests it, because I am Good.

Cats: 1. I was not sure about this cat at first, but she has proven to be good at licking my ears, and will participate in the nightly Doxie 500 race around the sofa if it means I'll cuddle with her afterwards. She is almost, but not quite, as pretty as I am.

Puppies: 6. Except I wasn't supposed to have them because I was too young, and now I don't have them anymore because first they were sold, and then I went to live with the Mama and the Other One. And I will never have any more, because I no longer have the necessary technology. But I'm not too bothered by this, because it means I get to be the Mama's puppy forever and ever and probably after that too.

Toys: lots. I have the big red Bobo and the little blue Bobo and the woolly lamb and Mr. Mallard the squeaky duck and the Kong and the Kong puzzle ball and the AirDog barbell and the AirDog donut and the Gladware container and lid and some tennis balls and the little plastic balls with the bells inside that used to be for the cat until I stole them and sometimes one of the Mama's socks, if she doesn't catch me taking it from the laundry. I also have lots of clothes and a Coach collar with a fire-hydrant nametag and a Hug-a-Dog harness and three pairs of dog boots, which I would rather chew on than wear, so I think that makes them count as toys too.

I used to sleep in a kennel. And then after that I slept in a crate with soft sides and a dog bed inside. And now the crate is folded up and the cat sleeps in my dog bed, which she likes because it's bigger than her old one, and I sleep on the Mama's pillow, all curled around her head like a balaclava. This is partly because I am housetrained now, but mostly just because I am Good. I know that I am Good because I hear it every day. And I know that I am Pretty because they tell me so every time they see me.

My world is better now.