Today I’m taking a departure from research and personal reading and crafting to tell you about my favorite things: my dogs. I suppose “thingsis not quite true since I think of them as my companions and my children. Let me introduce you:
Corky is a long-haired black and tan dachshund. He was the first of this group of dogs. I had been petless for several years when he came into my life. Corky is NOT a quiet dog. He plays loud, barks loud, and talks incessantly. He loves to play. Corky is now about 9 years old. He was several months old when I found him. He actually belonged to my grandson, before that to my grandson’s dad, and before that who knows. So Corky had a little anxiety at being left places. He found home with me but still is anxious when we separate . . . like when I’m gone forever taking the trash out to the alley (sigh).
Cyndar is the second dog to the family and is 2 years younger than Corky. She’s a long-haired dachshund as well, but is red. She joined us in hopes that she would keep Corky company and help keep his anxiety level low. Her real name is Cyndar Ellah. She’s a funny little girl that has a funny group of stories around her. All that, however, is for another day’s musings. Cyndar, rather than helping Corky deal with his anxiety, has FED it. So, instead of coming home to one overly anxious dog, I was now coming home to two. Not only were they overly excited and anxious as I pulled into the driveway, they acted like idiots (in the same joyous manner) when my neighbor would pull into her driveway. (another sigh here)
Next to join my family is Pistol. He’s not actually my dog, he moved in when my roommate moved in. Pistol is an older min-pin (he’s now about 17-18 years old). He’s now blind from cataracts, is arthritic, but can smell and hear like I don’t know what. If I peel a banana, his little nose is in the air. Yes, my dogs like bananas. Pistol is, just like old men, rather crotchety. He complains if you walk to close to him and barks crazily if another dog gets near his pillow or his dish of food. Now, when his mama (my roommate) comes home from work, he lets her know it’s time to be held. She picks him up and he makes a yowling noise that, every evening, cracks us both up. He almost sounds like a cat in heat (dare I sigh again?)
Last to join us is Zed. Zed is a 3 year old Yorkie. He’s speedy, silly, and lovable. He was my son’s dog that joined us when my son moved where Zed could not go. He’s been with us about a year. Zed loves bananas, green beans, carrots, and anything else we drop. He has gotten goofy and won’t eat his food unless I stand right beside him (double sigh). We keep Zed in a puppy cut to keep grooming time down. With four dogs, time is not always our friend.
So, that’s the family. Watch the blog for more Tales from the Tails. arf arf