Handsome Dog

So I finally got around to taking my dashchund (did I spell it right this time???) Toby to the groomer. He hates to get in the car because he is extremely intelligent and he knows he is:
a) taking a trip to the vet or
b) taking a trip to the groomer or
c) taking a trip to grandmas where I will leave him for a short period of time (which is multiplied by 7 in dog days remember!).
None of these trips makes him happy. Not that he doesn't like grandma, but he feels a pure and unconditional love for me. Anyway, he got in the car after much prodding, and I took him to the groomer who absolutely loves Toby. She always tells me how good he is when she bathes him, how sweet he is to her, etc. and I just want to say "Are you sure you haven't got him confused with someone else's dog?" because, as anyone who has not grown up in his household knows, Toby does not tolerate interlopers (i.e. anyone he doesn't know intimately) in his domain. But, I guess he becomes docile as a pussy-cat when he is not in his home territory. Hmm. I mean, this is a dog who still barks at my dad's wife, who, at one time, he saw a couple of times a week, and my dad has been married to her for 6 years! Get over it, already, dog! But, I have to say, it is the funniest thing when he gets home from the groomer, he knows he looks good and he prances all around making sure everyone tells him how handsome he looks before he can settle down and sleep off all the excitement.

Opie the O'Possum

My dog Toby is a daschund (I never know if I am spelling that correctly). Someone told me once that dashchunds (maybe if I spell it differently every time, I will get it right one of the times) were originally bred to hunt and kill gophers. It totally makes sense to me. He is my protector. Even when the rest of my family could care less what I am doing, Toby is following me around (to be fair, he could just be looking for me to drop food that he can snag).

Anyway, last night I let him out to pee one last time before bed and he didn't come in and I heard a racket of barking and snarling outside my bedroom door. I went out to take a look (and to make him be quiet before the police, FBI, CIA and neighborhood watch were called) and I saw he had a huge (okay, I exaggerate, a very, very large) possum in his jaws and he was throwing it around like a rag doll. I immediately thought of rabies. He gets his shots regularly for this very reason. So now, to add to the thunderous noise in my backyard, I started screaming at him "You're gonna get rabies from that thing!!! Drop it now!!!" He, of course, ignored me completely and tossed the thing some more. I know I should love all of God's creatures, but I find possums really repugnant. I apologize to anyone who thinks they are cute. And, by the way, you should seek professional help.

So there I am, wrestling with a dog who is wrestling with a possum. Someone should have gotten it on film. I finally got him away from it and shoved him inside. Now is when you should tell your children to stop reading. But I will say, no cute, fuzzy animals were harmed in this story. However, really, really ugly ones were. I went out to look (carefully) at the possum. It was toast. I could not bring myself to throw it in the garbage at 10 pm. So I went to bed.

This morning Toby could barely contain himself he wanted to go outside so bad. I was not fooled into thinking his bladder was that full. No dummy, moi. So I went outside and low and behold - the possum was gone! Either Harry Potter came to visit and transfigured it into an ivy leaf or, it really wasn't dead. I guess "playing possum" isn't just an old saying. So, all's well that ends well.

Ode to Opie

There once was a hideous creature
Who, really needing to pee, sure
That he was alone,
He strayed far from home,
And my dog rearranged his features.

Apologies to Angie.