I turned one year old last month and I promised myself that I would
drop you a note and tell you how my life is with the Kreiss family. As the
breeder who introduced my dog parents and helped bring me into the world,
you
deserve to know how your "little one" is doing.
But don't be expecting one of those heartwarming Lassie stories or
Millie the Dog memoirs. Think of this more like a Jerry Springer-Spaniel
sort
of story. I know you thought I was an easy going puppy but it was all an
act.
I am an Alpha all the way, babe.
The Kreisses are okay as owners go. Clearly the Mrs.needed me to fill
in the gap left in her life when her kids both decided to get married within
a year of each other. I hate when that happens. I want to be wanted just for
myself. By the way, I resented that you sold me. I mean, it was a great
price
and in dog dollars it was a killing but I don't like to think of myself as a
commodity. And you could have been a little more thorough in interviewing
the Kreisses. They do not, I repeat, do not have the fenced in yard they
promised.
I don't mind that you sent me away from Tucson where I was born but I
just cannot get used to doing my business in the snow. That ice really
freezes up the works, if you know what I mean. The Mrs. doesn't shut up when
she walks me. "Hurry upaEUR|That's a good ZoeaEUR|. HurryaEUR| Hurry." She's
out there
in woolen pants, a down coat, a hat and gloves. I'm out there in my birthday
suit and she wants me to hurry up. When I hear "hurry up" know what I do? I
take my own sweet time, pretending that I found something great to sniff. Or
I put up my ears and stare just behind her to give her the creeps. Oh yeah.
One thing I am happy about is that there are no kids around to share
the attention. When we pass kids at the bus stop I wag my tail like crazy
and
pretend to love the little rats. The Mrs. eats it up. She always says the
same thing to the moms and dads, "Oh Zoe loves children. Of course they can
pet her." Let me tell you, it takes a lot of self-control not to take a bite
out of those fat little fingers.
It's a pretty easy gig I have. In the beginning the Mr. didn't like me at
all. He didn't want me, he didn't want to walk me, and he didn't like the
fact that I barked in his ear for no good reason for 15 minutes straight
every night when he turned on the TV. But he just needed to be trained. Now
he plays with me before he even thinks about the TV. And I have trained him
to throw my Frisbee every time I bring it to him. I could bring it to him a
hundred times and he just keeps throwing it back. And he thinks I eat out of
HIS hand?
The Mrs. started out strict, putting me to sleep in a crate in the
kitchen every night and I pretended to love it. I kept quiet, kept my nose
clean and sure enough, within six months they were discussing the fact that
I
was "bonding" more with the crate than with them. (what a crock!) Within
eight months I was in bed with them. They may get the good pillows but I'm
the only one in that bedroom getting a belly scratch every night.
I know this is a process of give and take but I did hold my ground in
several areas. I refused to get housebroken overnight. I saw no reason to
relieve myself outside in the freezing cold when there are perfectly good
area rugs in the nice warm dining room. But as my first birthday approached
I
had to shape up. They were beginning to talk about physical examinations
that
did not sound like fun, so now I'm trained. So, okay, big deal. I made some
concessions.
But I do draw the line. I will not sit on the floor when everyone
else is on the couch and I won't eat unless the Mrs. keeps me company.
Sometimes I won't eat until she gets down on the floor and pretends that she
is gobbling my food. You should see her. Maybe I can get a picture out to
you. I will also, from time to time, bring a small dead bird into the house
and deposit it on someone's bed. I am a dog, after all, and I will not let
them disrespect my native culture.
I will definitely keep in touch, Maureen, but let's keep this just
between us. The Mrs. thinks she's the only one in the family who writes. And
neither of them has any idea that I know how to use the computer.
Love,
Zoe |
