The Little Pack

I woke up this morning with the pain of losing Dixie still raw, said goodbye to Baby Titten (who is going to live with my parents), and prepared myself for a day of sadness and tears. Instead I received an unexpected laugh. Last night we gave Cheyenne her first rawhide in almost 2 years. Dixie was not allowed to have them any longer because we needed to adhere to her diet so strictly to slow the growth of her stones as much as possible. Cheyenne was so happy and proud of that bone. She carried it all over the house, looking for a safe place to keep it. We assured her no one wanted her bone, certainly the cats were not interested and Jackson has never chewed on a rawhide even once in his 9 years of life so she was safe there. Or so we thought. This morning, Jackson stole Cheyenne’s rawhide and would not give it back. And he has been chewing it all morning. It is so bizarre, I have no idea how to react, other than to die laughing. So while there has been a lot of change lately, and certainly there is more to come as they figure out their new dynamic, I am reassured in one constant: where Cheyenne is concerned, laughter is never far away. Although our little pack has become a mini pack, these guys continue to bring such joy to our lives, even during times of sadness.

With a lead-in like that, you know this has to be about Cheyenne. This morning I woke with my neck cranked and aching, head half off the pillow. Not too long after coming to consciousness, the reason why became all too clear. Cheyenne had appropriated my pillow for herself; to sleep on, and slowly but steadily pushed me out of the way. And man was she cozy. Now you have to truly know Cheyenne to understand that there was not even a hint of disobedience or insubordination in this act. She simply stumbled upon this great spot and could not believe her good fortune. Further, I can imagine she was quite amused with herself for never thinking about sleeping in this spot before. It’s funny as long as this is not  a new pattern.

After the drama with Dixie the past few weeks, tonight finds me writing about a more familiar topic: Cheyenne. Also, I am thinking I have used the phrase “tonight finds me” a few too many times recently. But I digress. Cheyenne. Is too smart. For real. We have now had this unique, hilarious, spirited, stubborn dog for a little over 3 years. You wouldn’t know it, but she is 4 years old. You wouldn’t know it because until very recently she a) acted like a puppy on speed most of the time, and b) didn’t really know that much. Maybe that last statement is inaccurate: she knows plenty, just not the things I would choose, or have attempted to teach her. And to be fair, she sits almost every time now, lays down and even comes most of the time. But “Don’t smash the cat” and “Quit pawing” still aren’t going so well. So I have known all along that she is super smart, but not motivated and I finally have proof. She has this really fun game she plays where she refuses to come to bed at night and I have to put her on the leash inside the house to get her to follow me. A coworker of mine thinks she likes the extra attention, and I am pretty sure she is right. Sometimes I just show her the leash, and I say, “are you really going to make me use this? Inside? Really?” And with the last “really,” I drop my voice an octave, like I am tough, and I give her The Look. You know the one where I raise one eyebrow, and look super serious because I mean business, young lady, and pretend to be badass but really no one, even my dog, actually believes it, but it works because it plants a seed of doubt in her little brain, like maybe, just maybe, this time I mean it. And I don’t think I can actually raise only one eyebrow, but, you know, its sort of along those lines. Lately, more often than not, she then gets up and walks down the hallway and goes to bed. The other night she went into the bedroom, and while I was brushing my teeth, she slowly and deliberately wandered into the hallway and began to head back to the living room, all the while looking over her shoulder to make sure I knew what she was doing. Sternly, I said, “Shooey, no.” She waivered but decided to keep going.  Sterner yet I said, “That is e-nough. You go back in the bedroom and go night-nights. Now.” And then I employed The Look. (Note to self: use of the term “night-nights” may hamper the effectiveness of my sternness).  She did. Which proved to me she understood everything I said to her. I told she no longer had an excuse, I knew her secret. The next day she was super-excited when I came home, smashed the kitty excessively (I can’t even comment on how disturbing and ridiculous the last sentence sounds to me). So I put her in time out, in our bedroom, by herself. Which didn’t work, because she scratched at the door. So I went in there and I told her to sit and that she needed to calm down. Then I pointed at the bed and said, “get on the bed, go to your spot, and lay down.” She tried to look confused and wagged her tail as though she was unsure. Nice try Shoo Shoo. I am on to you, dog. So I pretended to raise my eyebrow, and cocked my head to the side like I meant it. And she complied. Which means she understood every single word I said to her and all 3 commands I had given at one time. They say that knowledge is power, but I am pretty sure that this knowledge doesn’t help me make her behave.

I have been dying to write about this today. I woke up this morning to Jackson sleeping on his back, all four paws in the air, head on my pillow, snoring. He was not only snoring, but his bottom lip was quivering. Quivering! I wanted to laugh out loud, wanted to wake up my husband, but knew not to disturb this rare occurance and just enjoy it instead. This is the first time I have ever heard him snore in 7 or so years. I have been laughing about it all day.

Is that grammatically correct? Oh well.. to my 8th grade English teacher, wherever you are–I’m sorry! Anyway, tonight when we came home, the dogs were so adorable. They were all excited and wiggles and tail wagging and exuberance. Dixie picked up her toy and looked at me and then took off running, looking over her shoulder at me. She wanted me to chase her, so I did. Never one to be left out of games involving toys, mere moments later, Jackson brought me a toy. So now I am chasing the little dog, pretending to try to take her toy, throwing another toy for Jack at the same, when lo and behold, Cheyenne is play-bowing me with a toy in her mouth. Umm, Cheyenne really doesn’t play with toys. Almost ever. So now I’m trying to throw a toy for her as well, and laughing hysterically because she doesn’t fetch and doesn’t really know what to do with the toy, she just brought it to me because everyone else had one and she wanted to be a part of it. And then I notice IO, also carrying around a toy. It is amazing to me the way they copy and learn from each other and the way their little minds work. It was adorable.

Of course it wasn’t too long after that that Cheyenne was chasing Baby Titten who was crying about being chased, Jack was whining that I wasn’t throwing his toys fast enough and Archie was running around yowling and IO and Dixie were the only ones not causing trouble… Such is my life. A few minutes of peace or joy closely followed by chaos.