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Oh Go Fetch Yourself!

If there’s one thing I love to do, it’s play fetch.  Balls, sticks, clods of dirt – heck, I’ll even fetch a blade of grass.  Any time my man human makes that throwing motion, I’m good for at least 30 minutes.  But therein lies the problem.  I’m lucky if he can manage to toss the “whatever” for more than 30 seconds.  

 

Sure, we fetch a while when he gets home, but by then he’s tired.  He’s had a long day.  I, on the other hand, have spent most of my day snoozing, stretching, snoozing again and pressing my nose up against the sliding glass door.  

 

But like Superman’s Bizarro World, “where alarm clocks dictate when to go to sleep, ugliness is beautiful and the world’s greatest hero is a chalk- faced duplicate of Superman,”  we have Jerry and a Lam Ngo.  No, a Lam Ngo is not a thing – or a typo.  Lam is a software engineer in North Carolina and Jerry is his miniature dachshund.  

 

Together, they built and perfected a machine that allows Jerry to play fetch all by himself for as long as he wants (we in the dog world lovingly refer to them as the Iron Men).  Lam even loaded a video of Jerry playing with it on YouTube.  

 

 

That was several years ago.  Unfortunately, Jerry’s at the age now where fetching, alone or with Lam, is no longer an option.  The machine is likely collecting dust or entertaining a new little puppy these days, and that’s just fine.  I may have a few more dog years ahead of me than Jerry but, still, I envy him just a little bit.  

 

Jerry and Lam are the epitome of what the dog-human relationship is all about.  You get the sense their companionship and love for one another runs deep.  Why else would one go to such lengths (it took two years to build)?  

 

So here’s to you Jerry, and you Lam, for thoroughly enjoying each other’s company and for figuring out a way to do so even when you’re miles apart.  But thanks, most of all, for sharing it and thereby inspiring the rest of us.  

I Can Hearz Beethoven

It seems that dogs, and pets in general these days, are being bombarded with all sorts of sounds from just about every imaginable direction.  Cell phones ring, surround systems blare and mowers, trash trucks and food processors roar.  According to a recent Newsday article , this wall of sound can result in physical and psychological problems (that sure explains a lot). 

 

But when it comes to soothing the beast, savage or otherwise, it would seem classical music is the way to go.  So say Susan Wagner and Joshua Leeds, authors of the book Through a Dog’s Ear: Using Sound to Improve the Health & Behavior of Your Canine Companion.  It makes sense when you think about it.  Rock, Jazz and Heavy Metal have all been shown to agitate and nervously excite most dogs.  Classical music, on the other hand, calms and relaxes dogs of every shape, size and breed. 

 

Susan and Joshua have created “intentional” classical music just for this purpose.  It often involves “lower tones, slower tempos, simplified structure and solo instruments.”  This combination, they say, relaxes dogs’ heart rates, calms brain waves and significantly lowers stress levels. 

 

With my 2nd birthday a little more than a month away, I know what’s going to be at the top of my wish list

   

Since beginning my new blog earlier this month, my e-mail (fritz@thecelebritypup.com) has been inundated with requests for photos.  They can be summed up with this nugget: “How can you call yourself a Celebrity Pup and not include even one picture of yourself?  What exactly are you trying to hide?”  Only my insecurities Jerry.  I’m pretty short for a dog.  Oh who am I kidding?  I’m short period. 

 

 Me (on the right) and my neighbor/girlfriend Keely

 

It’s been over a week since my last post.  My humans have been VERY busy and haven’t bothered to leave the laptop on very often.  I’ve learned to turn it on by myself if daddy leaves the lid up, but mommy’s always putting it back down (kinda like the bathroom thing).  However, I did manage to squeeze in enough time to post some pics.  You’ll find most of them on a new page I’ve created called Pup Pics.  The pic here is featured on The Doggy Dish page.   

 

By the way, I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge my girl Keely (that’s her with me above) for arranging to have the pictures made.  She and her humans were kind enough to share the finished product.  We hope you like them. 

Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

One of my humans once said that “under no circumstance will a dog sleep in my bed.”  He’s never admitted it, but he had preconceived notions of friends and acquaintances who allowed this.  If joining them for dinner, he would carefully inspect plates, drinking glasses and utensils for stray hairs.  And he couldn’t help but obsess over the thousands of hidden hairs that were surely on the furniture and in the carpet (not to mention the fear of sitting in a spot where, at one time, there might have been an “accident”). 

 

He’d wonder why some people just didn’t understand that, when he visited, there was no desire to become best friends with their mutt.  ”Why don’t they chain this thing up or shut him in a spare room,” he’d ask himself.  Dog tongue, or nose, or paws, or hair, meant one thing.  Dog germs! 

 

It’s funny how humans form opinions on certain things despite never having experienced them first hand.  Like that toddler in the store who seems to be deliberately pressing your buttons as she’s screaming to get her way.  Her mother doesn’t even seem to notice, meanwhile, when all you can think about is, “If that were my kid, she would NOT be acting like this in public.”  And then you have a kid of your own and soon familiarize yourself with a concept called “picking your battles.”

 

You might say that, under our roof, the tables have been turned a bit.  My human has me to contend with now.  It would seem dogs are viewed in a somewhat different light these days.  Imagine, with actual experience and interaction comes tolerance and wisdom.  The guard is down and the prejudices have disappeared (at least the pet-related ones). 

 

No need to guess where I sleep most nights. 

 

Can I Come?

If you’re a human, you know all too well how busy the weekend can be.  In fact, it’s not unusual for the typical weekend to outpace the work week – what with it’s ball practice, lawn mowing, errand running tasks that beckon.

 

May I beseech you then please not to abandon your pet?  It’s easy to do.  We understand.  Really.  But, particularly for dogs, our need for love and attention is right up there with our need for a roof over our heads, food in our stomachs, chew toys in our mouths and green grass to – well, you know what I mean. 

 

Yes, I know, we can seem a little needy at times, but it’s only because we miss you.  We miss smelling you and hearing your familiar, calming voice.  We miss playing with you in the yard and chasing each other around the house.   

 

But most of all, we miss showing you unconditional love.  It’s what makes us tick.  Despite the mood you’re in, despite the day you’ve had, despite the short tone you may’ve spoken to us in earlier, we miss loving you at every opportunity. 

 

We even miss holding you.  Yes, you read that right.  We miss holding YOU.  If you’ve ever had a two-year-old, arms raised, look up at you and gently say the words, “Hold you,” then you know what I mean.   

 

So, the next time you find your weekend full of activity and non-stop madness, take a deep breath and consider Max or Molly for just a moment.  Think about whether you might be able to include them in what you’re doing.  Your dog will be thrilled to know he or she is loved enough just to be allowed to tag along. 

 

After a few tries at this you might just find your family outings all the more memorable when the dog that loves you more than life itself realizes you feel the same way. 

 

 I got $20 on Mom

  ”Don’t worry kid.  They’ll be back.” 

Okay, so I thought managing to hunt and peck my way around the Internet was pretty impressive, but I had no idea, until today, that there are dogs that have learned to TALK!  Lots of them.  Granted, it may be just a phrase or two now, but this is revolutionary. 

  

 

Why is it I can think these words and phrases and even post them on a blog, but I’m unable to form the sounds necessary to make the words come out of my doggy snout?  Is there a certain gene or trait needed to pull this off?  Do you know how it works?  Are any of these dogs surfing the net like me?  Writing blogs?  Reading this?

 

I’ll make you a deal.  You teach me to talk and I’ll teach you the Hokey Pokey. 

 

Oh my goodness!  I think I’ve died and gone to doggy heaven. 

 

You might think that, to a puppy, the only thing a newspaper has going for it is the opportunity to go on it.  Au contraire mon frere.  On occasion, I actually find the time to read an article or two while shaking the dew off the lily. 

 

Monday, one of my humans left a section on the floor.  But before I could assume the position, I looked down to discover the delectable delights known as Rudy Green’s Doggy Cuisine.  It’s a line of frozen entrees for dogs – sort of like a TV dinner for your Dachshund, or other less-desirable breed (kidding).   

 

Karla Haas (of German Shepherd ancestry I presume) is the genius behind this “People food for dogs.”  She says it’s basically the same food humans eat, but without all the salt, pepper, onions or anything else that might induce the “technicolor yawn.” 

 

Gute Arbeit leisten Fraulein Haas!

Cleaning Up After Myself

It has come to my attention that the video gift I offered as a part of yesterday’s “The Scoop On Poop” post should be clarified.  Several vistors have e-mailed and asked if the poop-eating Dachshund featured was yours truly.  After all, if he is me, then my weight stats on “The Doggy Dish” page would fail to ring true. 

 

Alas, neither pup is me nor a pup I’ve met.  I simply needed video of a dog eating poop to illustrate my point so, I went to YouTube and typed “dog eating poop” into the search box.  The fact that one of them (yes, you’ll find several) featured Dachshunds was simply a stroke of luck.

 

Since launching The Celebrity Pup blog last weekend, I’ve also had questions about when I might add photos and/or video of myself.  I hope to do so soon, but understand a dog’s life is not as easy as society would have you believe.  Learning to type and surf the net (not to mention read and successfully use a credit card) was hard enough.  I’ll likely need some help operating cameras.      

The Scoop On Poop

I eat poop.  There, I said it.  And, embarrassing though it may be, I am no respecter of my poop.  Dog poop, rabbit poop, deer poop, poop of all kinds.  You might call me a “connoisseur of the sewer.” 

 

It’s disgusting, I know, but despite my approaching 14 in human years, I’m like a toddler when it comes to smelly, wet, gooey stuff.  I just can’t resist the “piece” in the piece de resistance. 

 

Before you write me off as some sort of weirdo, let me say I’ve met a lot of breeds in my day and, to a dog, every one of them has admitted to secretly enjoying the occasional dung dessert.  Think about that the next time your furry son or daughter greets you with a tongue lashing. 

 

My gift to you…

 

I don’t know about you, but I have a thing for gloves.  I don’t wear them, mind you, but I love to tear into them, especially when they’re on one of my humans’ hands.

 

I’m fortunate enough to have a pair – humans, that is - that don’t seem to mind this unusual fetish of mine.  There’s something about the moving fingers of a glove that make me shift into attack mode.  I just can’t help myself. 

 

Despite my “glove love,” there is one thing that sends me into high gear faster.  Hand puppets.  You might say hand puppets are kind of like gloves on steroids.  They’re like little fake people pretending to be real people.  But unfortunately for them, the world already has a plentiful supply of fake people.

 

So, since I’m not big enough or strong enough or scary enough to do any major damage to a real human (and not that I’d want to), the next best way to let off some pent up energy is to pounce on a puppet with my paws and gnarl that neck until his head pops off.

 

BEHOLD, MY NEXT VICTIM (despite the adorable singing and the quirky song)…

 

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