You Can't Please Two Dogs At Once...

I got out on the right side of bed today. I just thought I’d share since I was so grumpy yesterday.

It was actually hard to get up. It was very cool outside last night and I slept with the windows open, a fan blowing the air into the room. I find there’s no sleep better than that with fresh air, while I’m curled up under my covers. It helps even more if you have a cuddly dachshund who likes to crawl under the covers and tuck herself under your arm. Of course, this does lead to all sorts of complications because the other dachshund gets jealous. In this case, it was Rory who was jealous. This meant that when I finally woke up this morning and opened my eyes, Rory was sitting far enough away to indicate she did NOT want to cuddle and she was glaring at me. It may seem odd that a dog could glare but, trust me, they certainly can. When Rory is mad or sad, her ears flatten and she looks very, very dejected or she glares. This morning, she was glaring.

She still hadn’t forgiven me by the time I left for work. I can tell when she’s mad because she makes a point of rudely ignoring me even when I’m attempting to pet her.

Meanwhile, Sookie smugly sat nearby, knowing that she was in favour.

I find the politics of my dogs rather amusing. They love each other but there are times when you can’t actually tell. It’s actually quite peculiar. Sometimes, they fight and play so roughly I’m worried they’ll hurt each other but, moments later, they’re laying peacefully, side by side, resting.

One of their favourite games is “Torment The Beasts Next Door.” This involves tearing up and down the fence line several times while the Dog Whisperer’s beasts try to chase them through the fence. Then, just as Dog Whisperer’s beasts are in a complete frenzy…Rory and Sookie dart away and hide behind the tool shed. Meanwhile, the beasts next door turn on one another, sniping because they’re so wound up they take their energy out on one another. It shouldn’t be amusing but it is.

Some nights, when Dog Whisperer’s dogs aren’t outside, I watch Sookie and Rory run around and around the garden. Last night, Rory was not in the mood to run whereas Sookie was. I watched my peculiar pup run with delight around and around and around the shed. When she was finally done, she decided to go chew on Rory.

The odd thing is that Rory doesn’t seem to mind being chewed. There are often nights where Rory sits happily chomping on one of her chew bones while Sookie sits astride her back, chewing on her ears. There’s no damage done except for a bit of slobber but it still surprises me when it happens before Rory just takes it in stride, placidly ignoring the chewing. Sookie soon gets bored and finds something else to do. It’s just as though Rory is tolerating her annoying sibling’s behavior and deliberately doesn’t react because she knows that eventually Sookie will stop because she’s not getting a reaction. Rory is a smart dog so I wouldn’t be surprised if that was her strategy.

Rory has some fun habits of her own. She likes to jump in the air, completely leaving the ground. This isn’t any hopping…this is full on leaping into the air as though she’s on an invisible doggie trampoline. Her new favourite leaping routine is to run up to me and then leap up by my knees. She loves it when I catch her and scoop her up. She’s got to the point where this is now expected and we have certain cues at which point I know she wants me to catch her as she jumps. The main cue is whenever I go into my bedroom and take my shoes off for some reason. This is Rory’s cue to eagerly leap, all paws off the ground and my cue to catch her under her belly and scoop her up. It took a little practice but we have the routine down now.

Sookie, meanwhile, stares at me with her Very Serious expression. She does not like to jump but she does like to be picked up and cuddled so I must make sure that I play “Scoop up the Leaping Rory,” I must quickly follow it by “Pick up the Serious Sookie.”

Another habit of Rory’s that both endearing and slightly irksome is that she despises it when I’m at the computer. For example, right now as I sat down to blog, she cast me a disgusted look and then slunk off outside. She will continue to sulk outside. Periodically, she’ll come inside and see if I’m still at the computer. If I am, the whole routine begins again. Usually, I end up having to go coax her inside and showing her I’m done with the computer.

For a while, I did think the problem was not so much me being at the computer but, rather, more the chair I was sitting in when I typed. My chairs, you see, are not very heavy. Sometimes, I hang things like my coat over the back. Occasionally, when I take my coat off the back of the chair, the chair tips over. This has happened more than once and it scares Rory whenever it happens. Thus, she doesn’t like my chairs.

However, one night when I took my laptop and sat on the sofa, Rory did the same thing: Gave me a dirty look and ran outside. Meanwhile, Sookie just ignores it. She likes to sit near me while I’m typing. Actually, she prefers to sit on me but that makes it hard to type.

If she does sit on my lap, I thus have to contend with a jealous Rory. She’ll come in from one of her sulks, see Sookie on my lap while I’m working on the hated computer and, well, let’s just say it takes more than a little coaxing for her to forgive me.

I know, I know…I write about my dogs a lot. I also spoil my dogs too much. Some would say I’m exaggerating to say that dogs have moods and that I’m anthropomorphize them too much. However, it’s very hard not to because, well, there’s no mistaking it…my dogs do have moods and they do act decidedly human at times.

I mean, I began my day with a sulky Rory and a cuddly Sookie. At present, I have…a sulky Rory and a happy Sookie because she’s sitting by my feet while Rory is outside, currently yipping her “COME OUT HERE” yip because…she’s bored and wants attention.

One thing I’ll say is that I’m never bored when my two girls are around.

Happy Thursday!

For the Love of Two Dachshunds...

I think that no matter how much I try to be mistress of my two dogs, it is really they who are the mistresses of me.

I don’t think that’s exactly a surprise.

It’s actually more of a situation that I find occurs with cat owners. In my experience, cats never belong to a human being. Instead, the human being belongs to them.

This is a situation I’ve tried to avoid with my dachshunds. However, I think it might be time to face the truth. Even though I pay the bills, clean the house and feed them, I do, occasionally, feel a little like a sucker.

For example, I’ve mentioned that Rory has lately taken to protesting the heat by sitting down when we’re out for a walk. The walk usually occurs after I’ve already decided it’s too hot and rather than have to deal with a stubborn dachshund, it would be better for us all if we bypass the walk in the heat and just spend time in the garden.

Unfortunately, at about the same time every evening, I am approached by Rory and Sookie who go and sit by the front door, expectantly. They know it’s time for walkies and no matter what I do, they will either sit and stare at me in reproach or follow me around, accusingly, until I give in and walk them.

This may not sound like much of a threat but, trust me, of all the dog breeds out there, dachshunds, in my opinion, are among the most talented at making you feel horribly sad and guilty just by looking at their big, sad, pathetic eyes.

So, I usually give in and take them for a walk. As anticipated, Rory sits down at certain points of the walk because she’s hot. She prefers to sit on longer grassy patches under a tree. I’m sure this is because it’s fairly cool compared to the heat of the pavement.

It was a nuisance but I usually managed to get her moving.

Then Sookie seemed to decide that “if Rory’s doing it, I will too.” And she, too, began to simply lie down when we’d walked enough and she got hot.

This was a wee bit embarrassing, as you can imagine. However, I could eventually get them up and moving. A squirrel or bird got them moving more quickly. It’s amazing how fast they could recover from their ‘heatstroke’ that caused them to lie down when a squirrel scampered by.

Then, last week, it got worse. Rory would not budge. She stubbornly refused to walk any further and plonked herself down on all fours, back feet kicked out in the irritatingly cute way she sits and that was it.

Thus, I ended up carrying her. Sookie, fortunately, walked along behind us while I carried Rory.

Yes, I was a little embarrassed. Well, more than a little embarrassed. When you’re out for a walk with your dogs, it makes far more sense when they actually walk.

I ended up putting Rory down and making her walk the last 50 feet to our house on her own legs. Nevertheless, it taught me a valuable lesson that when it’s hot, no matter how pleading the eyes, we will NOT go for a walk because, in the end, I will most likely be the only one walking.

Last night, on our walk, it was thankfully cooler and I had only one ‘sitting down’ incident which ended up actually being Rory relieving herself and not actually sitting. Oops.

We did, however, have another incident. Someone had thrown some type of pork bone outside one of the houses along our walk. Because I don’t usually look down at the ground when I walk, I didn’t notice it until Rory seized it and started to chomp on it.

I hate when this happens. I mentioned in an earlier blog that we’re always running into chicken wing bones and that irritates me. Those also worry me because in addition to it being rather vile when one of the girls tries to eat it, I know chicken bones are bad for dogs because they splinter.

I’m not happy that my dogs eat bones that they find. However, the reality is that they’re dogs and, well, that’s what dogs do. They like to eat bones. Dogs eat bones. Cat eat fish. At least this is what cartoons have portrayed for many years.

Anyway, when I saw Rory with the pork bone, I did not really want her to eat it because, well, you don’t know where that bone had been. So, as I usually do with the chicken bones, I showed her the treat I had for her to try to get her to drop the bone. This usually works 75% of the time. The other 25%, I try to grab the bone from her mouth, toss it away and give her a treat instead.

That didn’t work last night. Instead, Rory bit down on my fingers and I ended up with two puncture wounds and she ended up with the bone.

The wounds weren’t deep but I was a little upset. I knew instantly that it was an accident and my fingers were just in the way of her bone. It was a little silly to reach into her mouth anyway- normally, I don’t have to- I can grab the piece of bone that’s sticking out of her mouth and gently pry it away.

We were almost home when she found the bone. By the time we got home, my finger was bleeding, I was upset that my little pup had bitten me even though I knew it was my fault and I was just generally feeling horrible.

Rory, being the smart creature she is, knew she’d done something wrong. I tried not to be upset with her but it was hard because my feelings were hurt. It’s the same type of hurt I felt when they escaped out of the gate for the first time when I brought them home: Rationally, I knew that they didn’t understand and were just hunting prey. Irrationally, I felt like they were trying to get away from me.

Last night, even though I rationally knew Rory didn’t mean to hurt me, the irrational side of my brain was hurt anyway. I was bleeding and my little ball of fluff had bitten me because of a stupid bone.

I tried very hard to stay mad at her but, well, as I said, I’ve realized she’s really the mistress of me and as she attempted to cram as much of her body up against me in the strange way she has when she needs comfort and love, I realized that I was being silly. As such, a few mouth cleansing biscuits later, we’d made up.

I suppose that it’s like any relationship that involves unconditional love: No matter what she does, I can’t help but love her and forgive her. As I said, she didn’t mean to do it and she made sure I knew she was sorry. Sookie, meanwhile, just watched us in the way she has. She gets very serious and watches me solemnly, trying to figure out if I’m a) ok, b) angry with HER and c) willing to give her a cuddle to prove everything’s ok.

I know, I know…my dogs are spoiled rotten. I know this. I can’t help this. This is why I end up carrying my poor, lazy, heat-suffering pup a block or two instead of dragging her along on a leash. This is why I often end up stuck in a small corner of my bed while my two dogs stretch out and make themselves comfy. This is why my dogs have an overflowing toy box including a new orange monkey because I couldn’t resist.

Yet for all that I give them, they do give it back to me. This morning, I woke up to discover Rory lying parallel to me, her head on my pillow and her nose just very barely touching mine, her eyes watching me sweetly, waiting for me to wake. For non-dog lovers/owners, that sounds weird but, for me, it makes me feel very loved and needed.

And no matter who the mistress of the house really is, that’s worth every treat I give them.

Another Rainy Monday

Oh, but it’s a gloomy day out there today.

The sun tried to peek out once around lunch time but before that and after that, the skies have been grey and it’s done little but pour with rain or threaten to pour with rain.

We’ve had so much rain lately that even I’m fed up with it. I usually love the rain. After all, it’s one of the reasons I wanted to move back from L.A. Ironically, it’s quite depressing to have sun all the time and to know without absolute certainty that even though it’s a little cloudy in the months from May-September that it’s not going to rain and, if it does, it’ll be a few raindrops that are just enough to make the dusty cars look terrible. I got fed up with sunshine all the time. I know, I know- readers who are in the wet and soggy Midwest (including my mother) will laugh and say I was crazy. However, try it sometime. It’s like getting to eat your favourite food for every single meal, whenever you like. Eventually, it stops being your favourite meal and you yearn for something different.

This may explain why I’m tired of the rain. For the past two weeks, we’ve had five days of rain to every two that are sunny. It’d be nice if that flipped and we’d have two days of rain and five days that are dry.

Still, as the saying goes, into every life a little rain may fall. In our case, it’s been quite a lot of rain but, well, it makes the grass green, the seeds grow and all that. It also makes my garden a soggy mess and depresses my dogs.

It’s hard to have depressed dogs. They sit around and mope. They sigh a lot. They enter a drowsy state of ennui. It’s actually not a little unlike my mother when it’s been rainy or snowy for a while (sorry, Mum!).

The worst thing is- and my mother does not do this- is that both Sookie and Rory seem to hold me personally responsible for the fact that their outdoor playground has become a mass of soggy muddy puddles and every time they go out, this wet stuff falls from the sky and soaks them.

It’s hard to explain to a pair of dachshunds that I do not control the weather. It’s actually quite hard to explain anything to a pair of dachshunds for any length of time. Rory tries to understand. She looks at me with alert eyes and does that adorable little head cock that dogs do when they recognize a word. In Rory’s case, her favourite word is “treat”. Her second favourite is “dinner.” This would explain why, when I took the girls to the vet on Friday for their annual check up and injections, I discovered that not only was Rory a whole pound heavier than Sookie but if she gets much heavier, I have to put her on a diet.

Rory used to be the smaller of the two dogs. Methinks that her preference for doggie ‘junk’ food over nutritious doggy food is not a good thing. Methinks I have to limit her snacks even more than I already am.

Anyway, back to the rain. The dogs are fed up with the rain. Rory does attempt to stay active. She often runs around and has a good chomp on a toy. Meanwhile, Sookie goes into a state of malaise where she lies on the sofa and refuses to move. She prefers to sit on my lap. I prefer her to sit on my lap except for times when she’s ventured into the rain out of necessity and returns, wet and muddy. These, of course, are the times that Sookie prefers to sit on my lap because it’s warmer.

When it does stop raining and both dogs deign to go outside, they immediately go to the infamous sewer grate. After the rain, there are fun happenings there- there is the sound of water streaming many feet below us and, even more exciting, there is a pipe that is cascading water down from the surface level to the stream below. The dogs find this absolutely fascinating. They find it so fascinating that whenever we go on a walk, Rory must investigate all the sewer drains to see if they, too, are doing interesting things.

I’m a bit tired of sewer drains. Fortunately, if I provide the pebbles, Rory has figured out how to drop them into the drain herself now. It’s weird but I figure it means she’s not Up To No Good. I’m sure the sewer department would disagree but, hey, they haven’t had to chase her after she’s got out of the worlds’ smallest hole in the fence.

It looks like both tonight and tomorrow will continue to be wet so there won’t be much sewer drain activity or any outdoor activity of any kind until at least Wednesday.

It just means that I’ll have a couple of sulky dogs on my hands. I’d like to make them understand that I can’t control the rain but, well, even if I did, they’d still blame me.

They are dachshunds after all.
Happy Tuesday!

Wet Days and Offended Dachshunds

Today has been a very wet sort of day. We started having thunderstorms around 2 a.m. I know this because I have a little dog who is not fond of thunderstorms and I awoke to find her struggling to find her way under the covers (She tends to get tangled between the sheet and the comforter and can’t figure out how to get under the sheet) while simultaneously trying to sit on my chest. Soon afterwards, I saw a flash of lightning, heard the crash of thunder and discovered that Rory had, in fact, found her way under the covers where she proceeded to burrow down by my knees which is her place of safety.

Sookie, meanwhile, leisurely wriggled herself under the covers where she spooned up against me in her favourite position. Sookie has an amazing ability to wriggle into a comfy position with very little movement. Rory, on the other hand, tends to live up to her middlename of Wrigglebottom and thrashes, wiggles and squirms her way to where she wants to go.

For the rest of the night, the storms rumbled. I woke up sporadically, as did the dogs. By the time my alarm went off, the thunderstorms had subsided but the rain continued to pour down.

It finally stopped for a while around 1 p.m. We’re supposed to have more storms tonight through tomorrow. I like a good thunderstorm and I love heavy rain. My only problem is that I’m having a wee bit of a problem with flooding in my back garden.

My area of Cincinnati is built on a spring. This means that the water table is high to begin with which is why we can’t have basements or anything. This also means it can get quite wet when it rains because, eventually, there’s nowhere to where the water can drain.

I’m a little sad about my Soggy Lake of Wetness that has taken over the back garden. I planted asparagus last year. It requires a trench to allow the ferns to grow and drop seeds. Unfortunately, this provides a nice place for water to gather, sit and then flood outwards. Since we’ve had a ton of rain already this spring, I’m pretty certain my asparagus is no more.

Also, it means I have little Ponds of Wetness all across my lawn. I watch the dogs try to dodge the Ponds as they do their business. For two dogs that enjoy getting down and dirty when they dig in the mud and who can tear through a giant puddle without thought if a squirrel appears, my two girls are decidedly finicky about rain. They don’t really like it. They do not like to get their feet wet. Being dachshunds, their tummies are quite close to the ground so, chances are, if their feet are getting wet, so are their tummies. Thus, as soon as they tear out the back door and discover the grass is soaked, they stop dead in their tracks, stare disdainfully around and then stare at me reproachfully as if the rain is my fault.

I’d expect nothing less, honestly. Dachshunds tend to take things personally. They sulk if you offend them and you must bribe them to forgive you with either lots of cuddling or with a treat. Usually, it takes both a cuddle and a treat. The problem is that you don’t always know what it is you’ve actually done. Some nights, I’m sitting on the couch with Sookie sleeping draped over the back of the couch and Rory sleeping beside me when, without prompting, Rory will sit up, give me a filthy look and then go sit in her crate in a huff.

The thing is I know I should just ignore her and let her sulk. After all, I haven’t done anything.

It’s not that easy, of course. She usually stays in her snit until I end up laying on the floor with my head in the crate whispering sweet nothings in her ear while petting her. Yes, I am embarrassed to admit this but there you have it. Captain Monkeypants often sticks her head in a dog crate. At least I’m honest.

Anyway, going back to the rain and our soggy back yard. At present, the water has drained a little since it’s not raining. This means that there are still puddles all over the place but the Soggy Lake of Wetness has drained. If I do walk across the grass, there will be squelching and splashing.

Naturally, it doesn’t help that my grass is also a little jungle like at present due to the exploded lawnmower situation. I was hoping to remedy the lawnmower situation soon but, unfortunately, silly Captain Monkeypants trusted that when UPS says a package is "out for delivery", it means it might be delivered. As I write this blog at almost 8:30 p.m., my package is to be delivered by "The End of the Day". I'm not sure how that translates in UPS time but, well, let's just say I figured it'd be here by now and it's not. If it does get here tonight, it's going to be too late to do anything but attempt to get the 100 lb box into my living room. Which is likely to be an adventure unto itself. One that is reliant on UPS. Which is to say...it might not happen. Anyway...moving on...

The sad fact is that even though I have a nice unexploded mower due to be delivered any moment now (or tomorrow, depending on how long UPS "Day" actually is), I can’t use it. I’m afraid if I subjected it to the Soggy Lake of Wetness, I might accidentally explode this mower too. I don’t want to blow up another mower especially a new one.

Thus, my poor dogs have a small reason to give me dirty looks when they have to go outside during wet times at the moment. The grass is about as tall as they are and rather than just get wet tummies, they also just get…wet.

On the plus side, it does deter them from escape attempts and from barking too much at the squirrels and bunnies that taunt the girls by showing themselves and then staying out of reach. It also means I don’t have to keep checking on them to make sure they aren’t Up to No Good because most likely, they’re in the house.

Of course, when they are in the house, they’re generally sulking because the rain means they don’t get a walk and they’re bored.

Have I mentioned that dachshunds take things personally?

Happy Wednesday!

Summer Dog Days

Well, I'd say it was a better day because at least it wasn't Monday. Maybe that's true but it could, in its own way, have been a Monday.

Our impromptu meeting today was short. There were no bagels, awkward or otherwise. There weren't even any doughnuts. I was quite disappointed. If you have to sit through a staff meeting first thing in the morning, at least provide sustenance!

Nevertheless, we ended up being in our meeting for less than 15 minutes. It was scheduled in order to tell us that our president, aka Marcel Marceau, was resigning.

I have to admit, I wasn't shocked. I wasn't even that surprised. When you merge two companies and one is dominant enough to force us to rename everything after them, you have to see where the power lies. We'll never know why our president decided to resign. He's not the type to tell us that. My guess is that, like us, he's tired of the changes and since he'd lost some modicum of power, he was ready for something new.

He then announced that he'd be staying through the end of the year. People were already crying. They continued to cry. I, Captain Monkeypants, had the insensitive thought of "well, he's not going yet! We're stuck with him for four more months!"

I am obviously not the majority, I'll admit. I think there are things our president has done that have been smart. I believe those people in our company who tell me how different he used to be. I, however, have only known the stressed-out, moody, favourite-playing president who, up until recently, barely gave me the time of day. He can be fun, I'll admit that. Yet there was this teeny voice in my head that said, "Well, maybe it's for the best. Maybe the new president won't favour the same people and things will change."

For the rest of the day, following the meeting, there was a somber air about the office. I'm not sure why since it's not like he's leaving tomorrow. The regime is changing but...not yet. We still have work to do. I, especially, have work to do since my coworker is skipping out on her project and it's fallen on me to do it. It's a lot of work to get done in two days which is why I was infuriated when the same coworker whose work I am doing hosted a loud gossip session at her desk with four people for about 40 minutes when I'm desperately trying to keep on top of 'her' work. I tried to convey that I was working but they were oblivious.

I think I'm just grouchy. That's really what it comes down to really. It's the hot oppressive summer heat. It's hard to have the energy to do anything. Everything feels stagnant and the air is heavy. Normally, I wouldn't let my job get me all crotchety like this because it's just the way things are. Yet, at the moment, it feels good to glare and snipe. Well, not good but better.

I don't think it's just me. I know lots of people who are feeling similar. Even the puppies seem to be sniping at each other more. They play but they get annoyed with each other far quicker. The annoyance lasts just long enough for one to cross the room and the other take a flying leap to pounce on her but its definitely there.

Though Sookie is feeling better. She proved this to me last night by the fact that I took her temperature and it was normal. Of course, having to take her temperature was not fun for either of us. The ear thermometer was $39.99. The rectal one was $7.99. Payday isn't here yet. You can put the equation together. Hmm...that may explain her short temper. I suppose if someone did that to me, I might be waspish.

Still, she managed to prove even more that she felt better later on last evening. I happened to look out of the window and notice she and Rory were tossing something around. Curious, I went outside to investigate. Somehow, my fearsome hunters had stalked and captured a bird. It was dead and still mostly intact. I confiscated it and threw it away. They were not happy with me and proceeded to spend the rest of the evening stalking other birds. They gravitate towards the chirping and they watch. One thing about dachshunds is when they're on the hunt, they're dedicated. They sit very still and just wait. And then, when the moment is right, they pounce.

I have to admit, I didn't expect them to actually catch a bird. After all, birds can fly. I wasn't sure whether I should be impressed or horrified. However, since the bird was dead, I settled for an impressed shudder as I put it in a plastic grocery bag, double wrapped it and threw it away.

The dogs were very annoyed for the rest of the evening. Normally, when they decide the day is over and it's time to sleepy, they get up on the sofa with me until it's time for bed. Last night, the both slept on the floor, side by side, their backs to me.

Perhaps there really is a reason why they call them the dog days of summer.

Happy Wednesday.

Discipline Issue and Publishing Doubts...

It's over halfway through the week and I don't know about you but I'm exhausted!

It hasn't been a bad week though. Work is slower than it has been for the past couple of weeks but I'm still finding ways to keep myself occupied. The only danger in being less busy is that you notice things that usually prickle in your mind as annoyances during a busy day but, in a more relaxed day, really start to bother you.

Still, what is work when things in life are going so interestingly? While I'm experiencing a slight case of puppy frustration- one of my little girls will NOT listen to me, even when I raise my voice (as the reading materials suggest). Even though I take them out regularly, they still like to 'have accidents' inside. I bought them puppy pads, just so they had somewhere to go that was easy to clean. They've decided they're chew toys instead. Never mind that they have a ton of chew toys scattered around the dog-proofed area. Anything they can sink their teeth into is fair game.

I know, I know, they're puppies. That's part of their charm. It's just hard. Sookie is very willful and stubborn. One of my coworkers was generous enough to give me a 'puppy shower' gift- a magazine all about Dachshunds. There are tips in there for everything including housebreaking. It says that Dachshunds, by nature, are willful and stubborn. I'm seeing that first hand. Yet the problem is I'm trying everything they're suggesting and still Sookie ignores me. Rory is more manageable. She's a sweet soul with a mischievious streak but she does listen and she does know when she's done wrong. Sookie, on the other hand, glares at me when I firmly tell her 'No' and slinks off. I love them both, equally but I'm not sure how to handle the differences in personality. While I'm glad I have them both for the sake of them being able to keep each other company, I also worry that they won't need me so much. That I'm just a third party to their little puppy world.

I think part of it is that they're both a little afraid to go outside, thanks to the beasts that live next door(s). This morning, I was trying to encourage them to relieve themselves so I could go to work and just as I feared, my neighbour let his three noisy dogs out into their yard. Pandemonium ensued. In the darkness of Daylight Savings Time, my girls were terrified. They didn't relieve themselves because they were too worried by the barking. I was angry. While I know my neighbours have every right to let their dogs out, it would be nice if they would be slightly more thoughtful and at least look to see if we're out there. I only put my back yard, outside light on when we're out there. It wouldn't take much to be thoughtful.

But I've lived here since August. Thoughtfulness is not in their reportoire. Before I got the puppies, I'd be out in my yard, working. I could hear the neighbour's dogs bark at me from inside. Clearly, the neighbours got fed up of the barking and so they let them outside. Never mind that I was enjoying my peace. Never mind that they don't control the annoying creatures. They just didn't want to hear the barking.

I think my only solution is to build a privacy fence. I've done the estimates and if I get the materials myself and build it, I can afford it. It should be my responsibility but, in truth, I do want the privacy and so I think it's our only option. I don't expect it to eliminate the problem entirely but at least I'll be able to set foot in my own garden without being besieged by a platoon of yapping dogs.

Puppy/dog woes aside, this is a big week for me. My book is published. It's for sale. I'm now in that stage where I'm wondering if it was the right thing to do. I published because I had a ton of people say they'd buy my book, mostly on Facebook. So far....there's not much follow-through. I know, again, it's a question of the impatience of Captain Monkeypants. I want instant results. People don't give instant results. They'll buy it if and when they're ready. If they don't, well, I gave it a shot. I'm going to try self-promotion next. I have some ideas. I have some support in good friends who either have already bought my book or have pledged to buy it. Other than that, I'm in a scary stage where I've put myself out there. Readers will either like it or politely abstain from giving feedback.

In my heart, I know it's a good read. I won't say it's a good 'book' because, let's face it, I don't intend to win a Pulitzer with it. But I think if people gave it a shot, they might like it. The worst part now is that I'm reliant on those sales, on that feedback. And, as a self-professed control-freak, I'm not sure I like having that reliance.

The thing is, I do now have that reliance and I have to accept it, even if I don't like it. It's part of the writing process, for better or for worse.

And, if it gets to me, I still have two puppies that keep me entertained. For example, I have one of those small animatronic "Fur Real" pets that's a pig. If you press its back, it grunts and snorts and wiggles. The puppies are fascinated and...slightly worried. If an animatronic pig can get their attention, there's hope for me yet.

Happy Thursday!

Double the Trouble....

I missed a blog today. It's the first one I've missed for a reason other than vacation in quite a while. I had a very eventful weekend which culminated in some rather unpleasant stomach bug/problem.

Nevertheless, the rest of the weekend is good. I have puppies. Not just one...but two. Sookie Stackhouse Monkeypants has a sister, Lorelie (Rory) Gilmore Monkeypants. I did just mean to get Sookie. It's just that when I went to pick Sookie up, I met her sister. I felt bad about tearing the girls apart but Sookie came home with me or, rather, she came to my parent's with me.

It became rather obvious from the time Sookie came into their house that she was used to playing with other dogs. She spent the whole of the first few hours trying desperately to make friends with my parent's three dogs: Dudley the Demented (a Yorkie), Odie the Decrepit (a Chihuahua) and Oscar the Brave (a mini Yorkie).

Well, let me just say those three boys were terrified of little Sookie, even Oscar who, until now, has been brave enough to stand up to two large, female German Shepherds who belong to my brother. In fact, he was brave enough to try to, uh, 'mount' them. If you want to see comical, it's seeing a mini Yorkie think he's got a chance with a German Shepherd. One kick, and Oscar lost that battle.

Yet Oscar was terrified of Sookie. All she wanted to do was play but none of the other dogs would play. I realized that she was used to playing with her sister and, in fact, having her sister around might make it easier on me to leave them alone while i was at work. At least they could keep each other company.

So I called the people from whom I adopted Sookie but, alas, the sister-dog had been promised to someone else. I was a little disappointed but I knew that even if it wasn't Sookie's sister, I was going to have to think about getting her a companion. While the lady from the rescue centre in Ohio had been a little weird, what had stuck with me is that Dachshunds need a companion.

So, I went to my Writer's Conference on Saturday. It was an interesting conference although, once again, it made me realize that I'm not sure where I fit in the world of writing. I realize how jaded I am when I'm in a group like that. The speakers, one fiction writer and two non-fiction writers, gave lectures on how to get published, giving the list of what you have to do to get an agent and get published.

And, as I listened, I got a little frustrated. I've heard that list over and over. I've read it in books. Every published writer who likes to give lectures makes it sound easy. Yet it isn't. Time and time again, I've tried almost every suggestion they've given. Nine novels later and I'm publishing myself because nothing works. Truth-be-told, what it takes to get an agent is either to meet the agent and persuade them in person that a book is worth considering or to know someone. The first method would be nice but I have to face facts, I'm not good at that type of thing. The easy answer is to get good at it. Yet, I'm in my mid-thirties and about fifty-times less shy than I was twenty-years ago but I know that I'll never find it easy to chat to strangers out of the blue. I'm ok if there's something to talk about but when it comes to selling myself...I stink. It's why I'm a lousy flirt- I have no idea how to do it and if I try, I get embarrassed and can't follow through. The second method, to know someone, would be nice. Yet I don't know anyone. Any leads I've ever had haven't followed through. So, I'm self-publishing.

Of course, we also got a lecture from a non-fiction author on the statistics of self-publishing and 'why you shouldn't do it.' Of course, she was talking about the type of self-publishing where you pay a ton of money upfront for a set number of books and it's up to you to sell them. My self-publishing is Print on Demand where I pay nothing, all costs come out of the sale of each copy. Also, while it sounds a little snobby, I wasn't wowed by the non-fiction author, anyway. Her claim to fame is publishing one of those books of photos you see in Barnes and Noble, Historic [insert name of city/town here]. While I think it's great she's getting her book published, writing non-fiction and fiction is like apples and oranges, just as getting it published is a completely different process. Many times with non-fiction, you just submit a proposal to an agent/publisher. You don't even need a book. You promise to write the book. Then they agree to take you on as a client provided you follow through. Fiction doesn't work like that. You have to write the most amazing query letter ever. Even if you do, you still get rejected. Then you send a partial manuscript. If they like it, they request the whole thing. If not, you get rejected. I've sent a couple of partials...that's as far as I've got.

So, when it came to self-publishing, I'm taking the plunge because I think I have a book worth reading and I want people to read it. I can't get an agent to give me the time of day because most of them say "we're not looking for this kind of material," even though it says quite clearly in their submission requirements that they are.

Anyway, what I took from the writer's conference is that while I still have a lot to learn, I'd like to learn something new from someone who's going to be honest and admit that even though they might be published now, you can't follow a checklist to do so: It's all about timing, connections and finding a way in.

However, it wasn't all bad. During the conference, I got a voice mail message from Sookie's former owner telling me that the people who'd claimed her sister hadn't picked her up. They really wanted the two girls to be together and so if I wanted her, I could have her.

Well, I was there as soon as humanly possible. I picked up little Rory and reunited her with her sister. Sookie was a changed puppy. The two of them are like peas in a pod. They look almost identical. Rory is a little shyer but also a little naughtier. Sookie is a little feistier but also a little less obedient.

I love them both. They're currently napping on my couch, watching House while I write this. Rory was crying for my attention but I let her cry. I'm trying not to go running every time she whines or it'll get out of hand. I do plan on sitting with them shortly though because there's nothing better than curling up on the settee with two sleepy dachshund puppies who just want to know you're there.

Today was hard though. I didn't leave my parent's until this morning since yesterday, I didn't much feel like driving home feeling rather cruddy. The puppies were very good during the trip with minimal crying. Yet I had to dash almost immediately off to work, only spending enough time with them so they could get to know the house a little before I shut them in the kitchen.

I spent the rest of the afternoon worrying about them. When I came in, they'd managed to break through my barricades and...they were missing. I searched everywhere, my calls more and more panicked. I finally found them cowering behind the couch, afraid they were in trouble.

They weren't. I was so relieved to find them and find the house completely undestroyed that I fussed over them. They are already mostly housebroken and as long as they have lots of toys to chew, they're pretty good about not chewing things they shouldn't.

It's already changing my routine. Tonight my boss told me I was crazy for getting two dogs and that I'd regret it because it's more than twice as much work. He's probably right but I can't tell you how nice it is to know that they'll never be alone because they have each other when I'm gone. It's nice to see them sleep together, sit on each other's heads, steal each others toys and, best yet, chase each other around the living room until they're so tired, they actually sleep at night.

It's going to be a long road until they're more mature. In the meantime, I'm trying to adjust to sharing my home with two new friends. It's nice to have the company even if I'm not fond of having to get up in the night to take them out.

And there's nothing nicer than being greeted when you get home from work with wagging tales, attempts to maul me to death by licking and a warm body sitting on my lap.

I think I can live with that.

Happy Monday!

Animal Rescue People Aren't People-Persons

It has come to my attention that people who work for animal rescue organizations are, in many cases, a little, uh, odd.

They're not people-persons (or is it people-people?). I suppose if you are passionate about animals and spend your day with them, it's probably a little harder to relate to people. Nevertheless, as a neophyte pet-adopter, I was a little alarmed after my first interaction with one. My second has be slighly baffled and bewildered.

However, thanks to the wisdom of my good friend, Ms. P, who has some great experience in rescuing dogs, I'm learning that it's not something to take personally, she has dealt with the same thing.

My first experience was with a lady who I contacted through petfinder.com. She had two female puppies for rescue, and one male. I asked her about the female and she said the one in the picture was already being adopted but I could have the other one. I sent in my adoption application, clearly stating that though I'd listed a vet, I have never had a pet and thus had never visited the vet. Instead, I would be using this vet for my future animal care.

The next day, I get an email saying that she has, in fact, given my puppy away to another person who decided she wanted both a boy and a girl. I suppose it's nice to send a brother and sister off together but it did irk me a little that one of those was supposed to be my puppy. Then she offered me the male that she had left. I politely declined. For obvious reasons, I am a little hesitant to get a male puppy, particularly this soon. I have, however, been wanting a little girl for a long time. I told her that while I appreciated the offer, I was going to pass on the male puppy because after losing Sausage, I wasn't ready for a male.

Well, rather than just say, "ok," she sent me back a rather snippy email. She was annoyed that she'd called the vet and the vet's office had 'never heard of me.' Well, when I state on the application that I've never been to the vet, you'd think she could have figured that out without the phone call. Then, to top it off, she scolded me for not wanting a male and told me that it shouldn't matter the sex of the dog, they all need homes.

I respect that. Except I have good reasons for not wanting a male dog at present. I thought about writing her an angry response but realized it would do no good. Clearly, she was someone who couldn't relate to humans and their reasoning as much as she could feel compassion for animals. It's not her fault, I suppose.

My next experience was a little more bizarre. There's a Dachshund Rescue of Ohio who are featured quite heavily on petfinder.com. I found a little dog who seemed perfect, she was a one-year old, housebroken, no kids, sweet personality. I applied for her.

I got an acknowledgement of my application and they told me how sweet the dog was. I figured "oh, ok! She still needs a home, yay!"

Well, the thing with the Dachshund Rescue of Ohio is that they don't have a shelter. All of their dogs are in 'foster' homes. So I can't just go visit and pick one out.

I finally got a call about the dog four days after I sent in my application. The lady was...odd. First of all, not a great conversationalist. Second of all, not good with people. The first thing she asked was if I had another dog. Since I had quite clearly indicated on my application that I did not, in fact, have another dog, I was a little surprised. When I restated that I didn't, I was told bluntly that the dog I had applied for couldn't be mine. She was not 'only dog' material. I accepted this. I was surprised that this information wasn't on the petfinder.com profile, but so be it.

Well, just telling me that was not good enough for this lady. She proceeded to take ten minutes to lecture me on dachshunds and how they like to have other dachshunds around. The dog I had applied for, for example, already had a best-friend-in-the-whole-wide-world and that it would be heartbreaking to seperate them. However, the best-friend-in-the-whole-wide-world was NOT up for adoption.

Do you see why I was confused?

After this, she offered me an older girl who was an only dog but, I was then told "she shouldn't be an only dog and I really should have another dog first." Then she told me about a puppy she had but she didn't say I was a good candidate and, when I asked, she changed the subject.

I was very polite during the whole thing. I finally told her that she'd been very helpful and that she had helped me decide that a puppy was the best option.

Then I got ANOTHER lecture on puppies and how I should NEVER buy a puppy from anyone because there are so many puppy mills out there and that's why there are so many dachshunds that end up being rescued.

But, here's the thing. I was offering to give a good home to a dachshund dog that, supposedly, needed one. I'd be a good owner, I think. I have a large yard (albeit with yappy dogs next door) but it's fenced in and ready for a dog. I'm also planning on spoiling it rotten, though being a good petowner and trying to train it responsibly.

Yet I was told that, for all intents and purposes, was not going to be able to rescue one of their dogs. I know I could go to the shelter and rescue a mutt but I really, really want a dachshund. I can't help it. I think most people feel an affinity for a certain type of dog and, for me, it's dachshunds. They're the only dog that make me stop and want to squeal when I see one.

So, yes, while I think the concept of puppy mills is atrocious and should be outlawed, my feeling is that all dogs need a good home. I'm going to give a puppy a good home. I'm not going to a puppy mill but even if I accidentally did because I didn't know any better, would it be better to give one of those dogs a secure place to live? Wouldn't I, in essence, be rescuing one of those?

I'm not going to a puppy mill. The puppy I found, I found from another adoption site. I'm just saying that regardless of where puppies come from, they need homes. It's like saying to a young child, "we can't adopt you because you come from a really, really crappy place." You don't do that. It shouldn't matter. I know by consenting to getting a puppy from a puppy mill, you're supporting them but if those dogs aren't rescued, what happens to them? They exist. They don't just go away.

It just befuddles me that I couldn't rescue a dog even though I really, really wanted to do so. What befuddles me more is that both times, I was told off by the rescue people when, in actuality, I was trying to do a good thing.

It probably wouldn't have been so bad the second time except I felt like I was being scolded and made to feel like a school girl who had done something naughty.

Nevertheless, I learned something from my experience. I'm hoping my puppy, whom I'm planning on naming Sookie Stackhouse Monkeypants (only I'd use my real last name because, surprisingly enough, my last name isn't actually Monkeypants. I know...you're shocked), will find me to be a nice pet owner.

As long as she doesn't mind being called Sookie.

Happy Wednesday.