Heavy winter snowfall creates unique challenges for a small short-legged dog. This does not dampen his enthusiasm however. After donning his favorite sweater, Brody begs to venture out. My snowblower creates a path, allowing him to happily bound along scooping up the icy moisture with his tongue.
I have a greater understanding of the phrase, “you can’t live with ‘em, you can’t live without ‘em.” We’ve been vacationing in Florida this past week. Though we’ve had a great time, I’m missing my buddies Jake and Brody. They stayed behind with our sitter.
I miss Brody’s watchful eyes as he follows me everywhere, and him yanking me along as he walks on a leash. I miss Jake trotting faithfully by my side with a slack leash, and coaxing him out of hiding so we can pen him up.
It amazes me how treat oriented dogs are. They will preform any task for the reward. Brody is no exception. Though we haven’t taught him a host of tricks, his go-to stunt is sitting up on his hind legs and dropping his front paws. Perhaps he believes he’s too cute to resist (and he’s right).
At our house treats fall into two categories, “treats” and “chew-chews.” The mere mention of the word “chew-chew” evokes mayhem. Brody and Jake will go nuts for 1/2 a chicken substitute chew (comparable to rawhide but better for their digestive system). For Brody, its barking and a classic pose. Jake spins round and round, joining in the chorus of barks.
As a pet owner I use this love for treats to my advantage whenever possible. If our dog gets loose outside, I mention the word “treats” and abracadabra he comes back. When we are in a hurry to leave the house and Jake goes into hiding, “treats” brings him out. After a long day at work and I simply want to collapse on the couch I have been known to utter the word “chew-chew.” Jake and Brody’s pleas for attention evaporate and order is restored to the universe.
Our English cream dachshund is fast approaching his first birthday. He has eclipsed his big brother, Jake, in size and weight but is respectful of him when they play together.
We look at Brody and marvel how much he resembles a Golden Retriever were it not for his short little legs. My wife and I laughed when an internet search suggested that the gene responsible for his appearance is called the Chinchilla gene. Could this be true?
Brody now has a new nickname, “the supervisor.” He is always looking on and observing whenever my wife or I is involved with a project around the house. Assuredly, he is making sure whatever the task is it’s being done right. If by chance a piece of whatever it is being worked on falls to the floor, Brody is quick to scoop it up and make tracks for the rug in the kitchen to study it further.
Well, our little English Creme hot dog turns out to be quite a shredder. It doesn’t matter whether its a credit card receipt, an empty toilet paper roll, a newspaper, a computer power cord or my slippers. If he can get his teeth on it he will chew or shred it.
This fall, when Jake, Brody and I were able to take walks, I talked to them as we walked. Jake(r) was the baker and Brody was a toady. I guess you could say I liked to make rhymes while we ambled along.
Brody was a toad because he hopped along yanking the leash. He couldn’t stay on the sidewalk or walk in a straight line, hence the nickname. This spring he’ll need a new nickname once he becomes a good walker.