When it snows, the dogs turn into puppies. IO loves it when we kick snow in her face, and Jackson loves to catch snowballs in his mouth. Their joy is contagious, and I cannot help but remember the delight of catching snowflakes, building snowmen and making snow angels.
Apparently Dixie is mad at me. Very mad at me. Last night she ate, not 1, but 2 of my shoes. Different pairs of course. Sadly, one of the shoes she chewed up was my black patent leather Nine West heels. Easily the nicest pair of shoes I have ever owned, my all-time favorites and my go-to shoes anytime I dress up. Not to mention they were my only pair of black dress shoes. They were timeless and I would have had them forever. The best part is that they were in my closet with the door closed (or so I thought)–I didn’t live through Cheyenne without learning a thing or two. Evidently, I left the door cracked open just enough for Dixie’s tiny little 10 pound body to squeeze in and destroy whatever suited her fancy. At least she has good taste.
As a 6 year old dog, it has literally been years since she chewed up a pair of shoes. Clearly, she was mad at me. And not just a little. She was devastated when we discovered her. She slunk around and cowered and wouldn’t look us in the eye. Her tail, which curls over her back, went down straight. Today she is a completely different dog, playing with me and curling up in my lap, intent on making up with me.
Meanwhile, Cheyenne has found a new way to embarrass us. The neighbor’s house fascinates Cheyenne. They have 2 golden retrievers and a cat. She sits as close to the underground fenceline as she possibly can without getting shocked (my thoughts on electric fences still to come), and stares at their house. The other morning she had been outside for quite some time and ignored my every request to come inside. I tried opening the garage door because sometimes I can trick her into coming to me that way, to no avail. Eventually I had to go outside to get her. She was intently gazing across the street and did not move even when I walked up to her. Judging by the amount of snow that had accumulated on her body, she had been sitting in the same spot the entire time she was outside. I literally had to pick her up, and carry her inside after wiping off the snow. Once inside, she held up her paws, and licked at them. Her poor little paws were frozen from sitting in the snow so long.
I already regret giving Baby Titten a new string. However, I have to admit her persistance is quite admirable. Currently the string has been dragged into the hallway and every time I walk down it she runs right next to my feet, meowing, and batting at my feet and then stopping by and sitting on the string. If I ignore her, she sits and meows. Actually it is more of a buur-rupt? kind of sound. If I ignore her further, the cries progress into the more mournful ma-raooww! And then, when I walk back by, she insists on walking in front of my feet, as though trying to herd me back to her string. She is, of course, trying to tell me to play the string game, but my only goal while this goes on is not to trip over her and fall. Last night before bed, she was desperate to play and first thing this morning, before coffee or breakfast or a shower or even taking the dogs out, we had to play with the string. Sigh…
Baby Titten loves to chase strings. We had a string from a pair of pajama pants that we kept for years. She carried it around like a security blanket. She would lay it in directly in our path and wait by it, for hours if necessary, and then cry and carry on until we would play with her. She would chase it until she was panting and her sides heaving. Have you ever seen a cat pant? It’s very strange. She will also catch the string in her mouth and take you along for a walk to some distant corner of the house. Sometimes we would hide the string because it became too overwhelming. Jack’s toy obsession does not begin to compare to Baby Titten’s string obsession. He is a Border Collie for heaven’s sake! This should not even be a contest.
Eventually the string disappeared and since then, she has not had strings on a regular basis. Lately, she has really been missing her string. I have caught her in my closet on multiple occassions batting at a drawstring on a pair pants. Tonight, she hit a new low in the string substitute search. She found a mouse toy, sat by it, and frantically cried, trying with all her might to tell me… something. I took the mouse by the tail and dragged it in front of her and she just looked at me. Apparently, not what she wanted. Maybe she wants to play fetch? I throw the toy to her. Again, not what she wanted. Suddenly I have an inspiration. I turn the mouse around, so I am holding it by the head, and the tail is dragging on the floor. She pounces. This is exactly what she wants, and I am struck by how exceptionally pathetic this whole scene is. Out of pity, I took a drawstring out an old pair of pants and we played the string game until she panted.
Caught in a rare moment of harmony, we finally have proof that they really are friends.