Mom said I could remind all dog owners to make sure their best friends have plenty of hydration in the heat. Starbucks and others are really great to give an extra cup of water in the drive-thru for the cause.
“An Extra Water for Charlee, Please”
Thanksgiving 2014: Selfie with Mom & Cousin Morgan
First of all, I extend sincerest apologies to family, friends, and blog followers for my hiatus during fall semester. My workload has been grueling. Despite that, finals are over, and I survived! And, I should even make the Dean’s Honor Roll (although I am a little concerned because the professor in my “Javelinas: Danger! Danger!” class put test questions on the final pertaining to things we never even discussed in class and which could not be found in our textbook). Whatever. Right? Anyway … my classes were as follows:
“Lizards of Arizona”
“Poisonous Snakes Indigenous to the Southwest”
“How Arizona Heat Can Heal and Kill”
“Javelinas: Danger! Danger!”
“Advanced Communications: Barking vs. Public Speaking”
As you can see, I had a full load. But, my mom made sure I had plenty of good food, treats, walks, baths, adventures, air-conditioned quarters, and a clean bed. (Dad made sure I had plenty of TV time.)
Anyway, just wanted to thank everyone for not giving up on me. I hope to be graduating soon and able to write more often after that.
Happy Holidays!
Cheers,
Charlee
It all happened on my second walk around 8:30 a.m. My neighbor’s nine-year-old daughter was walking her two dogs. Technically, these little dogs are called Papillons. But to me, they look like long-haired Chihuahuas. And I hate Chihuahuas.
So, I barked. I may have barked a lot. Anyway, my mother was trying to pull me back, as I may have been a tad bit aggressive and feigned an attack on them. It just seemed that way. I mean, I would never attack, especially when the nine-year-old daughter and her mom always pet me and give me presents.
Anyway, I fell off the curb and howled. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. And, it was my bum leg.
“What have I done now?” I wondered, as my mother bent down and tried to examine the damage. I, of course, would not allow her to help — at all. Remember, Chihuahuas. I have a duty to continue barking as I intermittently howl in pain.
So, Mom just picked me up and carried me home, scolding me (rather unsympathetically, I would say) along the way. I was still barking. To any observers, it probably appeared as though I was a naughty dog.
So, we get inside. The leg does not seem to be broken. However, I have a dangling, bleeding dewclaw, and it hurts every time I move. My mother Googles “dangling dewclaw.”
“In case of bleeding, call vet.” Oh no! The vet?
So, she called the vet. Closed. (Hooray!!! 4th of July; Independence Day; a holiday!) Oops. Celebrated way too soon because my mother then called the Emergency Animal Clinic and described the situation. (Why, oh why, does there have to be an Emergency Animal Clinic?) They wanted to take a look. Of course. Why not? Let them take a look. Ugh.
So, my mother (my dad is always gone in the summer, and she has to do EVERYTHING) carries me to the car and drives me way up to the Emergency Animal Clinic at Scottsdale and Williams.
Did I mention that I hate going to the vet? You know what happens, and it did. Yes, the thermometer in places it just shouldn’t be. Anyway, guess what you do with a dangling, bleeding dewclaw.
“Oh, well, we will just spray some antiseptic on it, and yank it out.”
I nearly pottied on the floor. They were going to “yank out” the nail. Oh my goodness. I started panting. My heart rate skyrocketed. “Yank?” Sounds onomatopoeic. What a terrible thing to do to a dog all because of “Papillons.” (And did I mention that they had barked first? Really, they did.)
Sigh. I am at home now … recuperating. The vet said bed rest for five to seven days. That’s like telling my mother to go on bed rest … IOW, not happening. Energetic. Can’t miss anything. I mean, there are lizards and baby quails and a baby dove even.
Yes, and those awful Chihuahua lookalikes. But, I’m not one to hold a grudge. In fact, I can hardly wait until my mid-afternoon walk. I just hope no one notices my bandage.
March 25, 2014 – I just hate being 10 years old. My legs aren’t what they used to be. I lost my footing and fell, hurting my bum front leg. It was more embarrassing than anything because my toenail scratched the hair off the bridge of my nose. I am considering rhinoplasty, but the best plastic surgeon my mom knows is in Manhattan. I don’t think I could get there and back without anyone noticing, especially with my nose bandaged. And does rhinoplasty even repair lost hair on the nose? I wish I could quit staring at it in the mirror.
April 4, 2014 – I find this sign discriminatory on several levels.
No Pets Allowed?
April 17, 2014 – Those Farmer’s Insurance commercials are funny. The bear on the motorcycle … still chuckling.
April 24, 2014 – So, I was reading The Wall Street Journal today and saw an article about a cat café in New York. Apparently, cat lovers can go and eat, drink “Cat’achinos” (whatever) and adopt homeless cats at this cafe. I really feel for a homeless animal in New York (even a cat, I suppose). Still, I don’t think I want to go to Manhattan for a rhinoplasty anymore.
Just a quick update for those wondering about Charlee’s recent three months in rehab. Charlee’s addiction continues and, in fact, has increased to over a pack a day. While she has attempted to overcome the desire, those chicken-covered rawhide treats from Trader Joe’s have consumed her.
I Need Another Rawhide Now
Gonna Catch a Lizard
An Unsuspecting Lizard
To the vet this week I went with Mom for my annual check-up.
Initially, my tail-wagging thought was: “Hooray! An adventure with Mom!”
But, unfortunately, once inside did I recognize sans aplomb
The scent of needles and sound of desperate dogs’ “yups.”
“Oh no!” I whined as I turned (tail uncurled) towards the door.
“Get me out. I want out. Out, out, out – out and now.”
My mom tried to soothe me, but I wondered, “How
Could she love me and to this place me lure?”
“Get me out. I want out.”
Do the Polka Dots Hide My Spots?
Lured by a box of milk bones? Yes, and impetuously, I did not even read,
If they were organic and gluten-free, as my mom always does for me.
The irony of my imperfect rhyme is that while I am a smart canine,
I ate humble pie, thinking it was a treat, while I got a shot in my behind.
A Wounded Paw
Water Tastes Better from SBUX
Mac-too Not Wearing a Seatbelt
Mac-too Snatching Gumdrops
The Paparazzi
Holiday Tea at the CBTL
This FaceTime Is Amazing
Hmm … Not the Best Hiding Place?
A Mocking Dove
Love My Grand Jack
9/11 Memorial – Human & Canine Heroes
One Day I Will Catch a Lizard
Charlee & Mr. Bill
Backside of Charlee’s Business Card
Curb Walking
Charlee & Her New Blog
Farewell, Dear Mackie
The Birth of Mac-too
My Rawhide Is Bigger
The Solo Water Cup
One day her dog sitter, not yet speaking “Charlee,” left a note: “I think Charlee wants a bath. She sat beside the bathtub all afternoon, barking at me.”
I finally bought red plastic Solo Cups, filled them with bathtub faucet water, and placed them beside each bathtub. “Et voilà!” I thought with satisfaction. (Admittedly, after filling Solo Cups for nearly 10 years now, I often think that was one of my less brilliant problem-solving initiatives.)
Why do I share this anyway? Well, having the privilege of wearing golden handcuffs during much of my career, I have eaten at some notable restaurants over the years. While I appreciate fine food, the Muleshoe, Texas girl in me cannot help but take note of the disdain with which many fine dining establishments sometimes offer water. Yes, water.
“Still, sparkling, or tap?” the server asks, often with an exotic accent and slight grimace before offering the “tap” option to ensure you feel uncivilized (despite being clad in haute couture) should you be pondering “tap” as your choice. Next time I encounter hauteur for not choosing the $12 water, I may just pay a bit of homage to my quirky Charlee and ask, “Got tub?”
What began as a simple adventure last Thursday ended with enlightenment. Allow me to explain.
Charlee had just returned home from an outing with her dad. Apparently, she found the outing rather disappointing because she immediately ran over to me and did her little dance, i.e., several 360-degree twirls, indicating she wanted something (or more accurately, wanted something more).
Having only a few errands on my agenda, I asked Charlee, ”Do you want Mommy to take you on an adventure?” That obviously was the right question because she ran over to her chain and tapped it with her nose. So, off to The Home Depot (conveniently located next door to PETsMART) we went for a product return now four weeks procrastinated (two birds with one stone, n’est-ce pas?).
The Home Depot’s Spacious Carts Rank High on Charlee’s List
With that errand completed, we headed next door to PETsMART. This particular PETsMART is not Charlee’s favorite because it has a pet daycare and boarding facility, both of which concern her. (She has abandonment issues because I traveled extensively for work over a 10-year span.) Anyway, last Thursday, she wanted out of the store.
Needing to compensate for a rather disappointing PETsMART workout, we power walked the 15-store strip mall as we do in the cooler weather. Generally when we do this, we stop at Fry’s Supermarket, where Charlee jumps on a bench and takes a short breather before heading back to the car. But, not this past Thursday …
Instead, Charlee headed right past Fry’s to the front door of Barnes & Noble, pulling me towards it with determination. “No, Charlee. No dogs allowed in Barnes & Noble,” I said. Charlee, usually one to behave immediately, was insistent that we go inside and sat down on the pavement in front of the door, staring up at me expectantly. “Charlee, no dogs allowed,” I repeated firmly, as she was blocking the door where patrons were gathering. “There’s a Starbuck’s inside,” I explained, knowing without a doubt she totally understood me and the rationale for her outdoor confinement. “Now let’s go.” She obeyed then, albeit reluctantly.
No Humans Allowed on Planet Dog? Pshuh!
Charlee looked at me as though to say, “Of course, humans are allowed on Planet Dog. Who else could we train so well?”
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