Behavior Modification: Chapter XX

One evening last week Simon and I walked almost two miles on the hiking trail, from green gate to green gate and back. 

Then, when we got home, I made his favorite supper of a little Beneful, a little Moist and Meaty, and, best of all, filet mignon-flavored Alpo, all stirred to perfection.

Next, we sat in the big-dad chair to watch the news and evening shows, Simon on my right, while I had my supper of salmon patties with creamy cheese sauce (one of Mary’s specialties), french-style green beans with almonds, and buttered cut corn.   I, of course, shared my precious salmon patties with Simon, and when I finished, I let Simon lick my plate, being sure to leave him a little sauce and salmon.  He likes the green beans too.

Food gone, he jumped down from the chair, crossed the room to the love seat, hauled his full little body up, burrowed under the blanket and disappeared for the rest of the evening.

I was devastated.

Two nights ago I shared with him my Kahn’s thin-sliced bologna and provolone cheese sandwich with Catalina dressing.  I tear off the bologna that sticks over the edge of the sandwich for him; all right, I also let him have a bite of the sandwich from time to time.  He stayed longer.  But not much.

Last night, however, after an invigorating walk (he chose all the turns and directions), and after sharing my tortilla and polska kielbasa with hot sauce supper, Simon stayed most of the evening, left about midnight; he even licked up the hot sauce.  At least he doesn’t leave to sit with anyone else. 

I have discovered that in order to get him back, quickly, all I have to do is go to the kitchen, get several Kraft mozzarella cheese sticks and a box of almond-nut thins, mostly gluten free.  Before I can return to my chair he is there.  It never fails, no matter how sound asleep he is.  He is like Gromit the dog, Simon loves cheese; I suppose it helps that sometimes I say, “cheese, Simon, cheese,” before I leave; but whether I do or not he knows.  Behavior modification!  I guess I should take some comfort in the fact that he doesn’t sleep around.

Behavior Modification: Chapter XIX

Simon has short black hair and a long back.  Last evening as I opened the back door to let him into the house, I noticed three mosquitoes riding on his back, chatting.  Once inside the house, they took flight and proceeded to  bite me the rest of the evening.  Did Simon know he was giving aid and comfort to the enemy?  I wouldn't think so but one can never be too sure!

Ode to a Floater...

               #438

              Old Eyes

I have a pet floater,

I call him Mo,

I take him with me

Wherever I go.

He lives in my eye

And moves like the ghost

Of a long dead mosquito,

The bug I hate most.

Some days the floaters

Are numerous as stars,

But Mo always stays there

In orbit like Mars.

Sometimes I swipe

At a passing brown blot

Before it can bite me,

Forgetting it's not--

A mosquito!

My favorite poet, one of them...

             #437

          The Best

Ogden Nash wrote funny verse,

Till they packed him in a hearse,

Drove him to the cemetery,

Where he must forever tarry.

Behavior Modification: Chapter XVIII

Simon never wakes up from a nap and wonders, why am I a dachshund and not a German shepherd?  How do I know?  I know because I never see him look pensive and disgruntled.   He revels in being a dachshund.  He is, so to speak, always in the moment.

Gloom, despair, agony, oh me...

                #436

           A Usual Season

'Tis a season of disarray;

The center has not held.

What can I do, what can I say?

I’m lost and do not understand;

Where can I go to pray?

Behavior Modification: Chapter XVII

We were just past the bridge on the hiking trail when Jose and his dog Jake caught up with us.  Simon was immediately offended for some reason.  He planted his feet and gave me the look.  Since Jose decided to wait for Wayne, whom he had just talked to on his cell phone, I suggested he and Jake turn around and walk back to the bridge.  They started back, Simon unplanted himself and off we went.  Wayne and Jose joined us later, and all was well.  The little dickens never knew.  Tricked him, I did.

Night thoughts...

               #435

              Imagine

Other worlds, other creatures,

Hiding light years in our sky.

Will we ever come to know them?

Will we ever find out why?

Behavior Modification: Chapter XVI

The water bowl should be a simple topic.  I fill it with clean, cold water, I put it on the mat, trying not to spill it, the dogs and cat drink from it.  Ever since I found disgusting black mold growing in a spot along one side, I wash it with dish soap once a day, so that mold never happens again.  Last night I saw Simon getting a drink.  He sniffed it first, then drank a long, hearty drink of clean water; I had just cleaned the bowl and filled it with cool, clear tap water.  He sniffed it first!  I was offended!  I suspect that if the bowl had mold in it he would have lapped it right up without the sniffing, for when we go for a walk, he will lick anything wet without hesitation. 

For example, we walk down Fairway and he licks the chemical based run-off from green glistening yards.  No sniffing, just tongue on cancer-causing wet street.  Now I keep him to the middle of the road if there is run-off visible.  Puddles?  I avoid them if possible because invariably Simon will lick up the nastiest looking puddle water wherever—without sniffing first. 

Finally, there is the creek.  As creeks go, Silver Creek, especially after a hard rain, is delightful.  It is wide but never too deep; at the bridge over the hiking trail, two branches of the creek run together, and after a hard rain the two branches are usually two colors of brown, each of which maintains its separate identity for a short way beyond where they join.  Usually though the creek is very shallow.  Just past the bridge, perhaps two hundred yards, there is a man-made drive down to the water before it joins the other branch.  We usually let the dogs go down there to wade in the water and to drink.  On hot days it is obviously very refreshing.  Never has Simon sniffed the water first.  He simply walks in, walks around, and drinks from various parts, regardless of what is floating by.  Then he finds the muddiest place possible to emerge. 

Since he is a very long and very short dachshund, as most dachshunds are, the water immediately reaches his belly.   I enjoy watching him wade through the water, though he might sniff it first once in a while.  

Behavior Modification: Chapter XV

If things were the embodiment of principles, then Simon would be the embodiment of Stubbornness.  Each creature or thing can be the embodiment of more than one principle, since looked at from the realm of ideas, each creature or thing is a combination of many ideas or principles.  Simon is Beautiful; Simon is Loud; Simon is Short and Long; Simon is very Stubborn. 

 A week ago Mary and I took all 3 dogs to the hiking trail.  There were many dogs and many people.  Simon was not happy with many dogs; he stopped and planted his feet.  I turned around, everyone had passed us, I yelled for Mary to call him.  She called, he planted his feet more firmly and refused to budge.  I tugged a bit, the collar slipped up his neck, giving him a funny, put-upon expression as it moved his ears forward.  He simply looked at me as if to say, you know what I want.

I did indeed.  I walked back to him, he turned around and out we went without a bit of hesitation, over to the Berea Municipal buildings, then turn right and walk up the very steep hill.  We did and all was copacetic.  For a while.

We were halfway down Center Street to the Log House when Simon decided he wanted to go down someone’s driveway.  Simon, I said, we cannot go that way; it does not lead anywhere.

I really wanted to make it to the Log House.  It is a good distance from home, half mile down, half mile back.  Simon would not go forward; he wanted to go sideways, for Heaven’s sake.  He had never done that before, but the temperature was in the high eighties that day, and I decided he was a little addled from the heat.  I was a little addled from the heat.

Simon, I said, Little Master (I call him that frequently anymore, for doing what Simon wants is easier than not doing it; besides he is Lovely and fairly Loyal), do you want to go home?  He looked up at me, turned around, and home we went.  Rapidly down Center to the 4-way stop.  Across Forest and down the Forest Street hill, me trying to run behind him, then onto Fairway, where I slowed him to a fast walk.  Then up the driveway to the front door and in.  He sat down on the stairs inside the front door and waited till I got the lead off and sat down beside him.  I put my arm around him, scratched his ear; he licked my hand, and we sat there for a while, recovering.  

Stubborn, but Good; Genesis Good, but Stubborn.  Last night on the hiking trail he stopped to pee frequently, he stopped to stick his nose in the grass, he crossed the trail to stick his nose in the grass on the other side, he stopped to sniff anything that stuck up off the ground, he stopped to eat grass, a lot of grass.  He stopped to meet Beavis, twice, going and coming. (Beavis is a reddish brown dachshund, Simon’s counterpart.)  It seemed as though Simon wanted to do anything but walk.  Every once in a while he would roll his eyes up at me as if checking my frustration level, after which he would walk ten paces quickly before finding an excuse to stop again.  I estimate we spent twice as long walking half as far last night.  And now it is time to go again. 

Behavior Modification: Chapter XIV

I was standing behind the sofa behind the table behind the chair behind the table behind the sofa when I became aware of a pair of bright black eyes, just barely visible, regarding me over the sofa seat.  The top of his black head was visible too and his ears were perked up.  Simon wanted up on the sofa, but Dexter the Beagle was already there.  Given the look I was getting, Simon clearly wanted me to correct the situation in his favor.  

While I was considering the eyes considering me, Dexter got down and left the room.  Simon jumped up on the sofa, pulled a blanket over himself and disappeared.  Crisis averted.  Still, seeing a pair of eyes regarding me over a sofa seat was somewhat unnerving.

To recover, I walked back to the bedroom to take a nap on our new mattress.

Who Wags Whom?

               #434

          The Tail of Simon

Do I wag my long black tail,

Or does my tail wag me?

Who ever stuck it on back there

Hung it where I can't see.

Speaking of Sleeping...

              #433

          The Little Guy

The Little Guy has puppy dreams;

We hear him on the sofa,

Puffing air out of his cheeks:

He's a perfect little loafa.

Just Imagine....

              #432

       Simon's Lament

He's got me in his arms again;

He treats me like a specimen

Of Teddy Bear, or children's toy,

Something to cuddle and annoy.

Why won't he let me stay asleep?

I feel so doggone used and cheap!

              Alas

Behavior Modification: Chapter XIII

I knew it was Simon when I found a dog on the sofa, even though only his butt was visible with his short hind legs sticking in the air; his body from his hind legs on was covered by a brown blanket which he had wrestled over himself (I have seen him do that before); and, when I peeled back the blanket, I saw that he had shoved his head completely under a soft red pillow with little wavy things on one side that resembled some kind of deep sea sponge.  The pillow was up against the end of the sofa.

He is a very secretive creature when it comes to sleeping.

Possibly Inspired by My Wife...

                   #431

           Possibly a Story

Possibly the Possum,

Off to town,

Riding his pony,

Short, black and brown.

This time his quest

Was food for his clan;

An apple, a pear,

That was his plan.

Instead, what he found,

In a strange neighborhood,

Was cornbread with butter;

So he took what he could.

He packed up the pony,

He crawled to the saddle;

Possibly rode hard

In his haste to skedaddle.

He made it to Knockford

Before the dogs came.

He climbed a near tree,

For the pony went lame.

Possibly sat there

On a high branch

Munching his cornbread,

Taking a chance;

He couldn't play dead,

For they'd rip him apart,

Especially the dachshund,

Who almost was smart.

So he sat there and ate,

His cornbread with butter;

While the dogs barked,

He only could mutter.

The moral of this tale

Of Possibly the Possum,

Though not in plain sight

Until you hit bottom,

Is don't get involved

With a neighborhood thief,

Unless you're prepared

For a shirt-load of grief.

Possibly escaped

To tell his long story,

And lived to grow old,

Short, grey, and hoary.

An ending.

Behavior Modification: Chapter XII

The Question of the day: "Is there anything That Dog won't bark at?"  Mary asked that about Simon, of course, after he startled her, once too often, in the middle of the evening, with two very loud barks that set off my pacemaker and, I am certain, ripped the fabric of space and time.  For a Little Guy, Simon has a very loud bark.  

For example:  I stay in bed later than my wife, for I go to bed later, usually around 3 a.m.  In the late morning, 10 a.m. for instance, if he is not in bed with me, and if he believes (I assume) that I have slept long enough, he stands, feet firmly planted, just inside the door to the bedroom, and he barks once.  Loudly.  Even with all my physical ailments, I rise off the bed like some Hindu mystic.  One Simon bark is all it takes for him to wake me, or any sound sleeper, I imagine.  His barks shatter and penetrate.  In fact, since we discovered their power, we have had to put up the good wine glasses for fear of damage.

Think then how someone might respond caught up in the action of an exciting and suspenseful TV show like Castle or Justified or The Glades.  Mary is rather easily spooked anyway, as is Simon, apparently.  Simon doesn't miss much.  He barks, she yells, I giggle.  She yells again for me to "mute" the TV; she means "pause," for obvious reasons, but she has trouble keeping the two functions straight.  "Just do it!  You know what I mean!"  I do it.  And, as Tonto says in The Lone Ranger movie, "NOTHING!" of course.

Well, sometimes we hear a car going by on our otherwise quiet street, but usually nothing, for which we are all profoundly grateful, except Simon, who would always appreciate another excuse to bark.

A Tale of Greed and Cunning...

                 #430

             Morality Play

The finicky cat

And the ever-hungry rat

Agreed to a truce on the spot.

Said the cat to the rat:

"I'll share my food, if you promise

Not to eat the whole lot."

Said the rat to the cat:

"You have yourself a deal;

Now, let's see what you've got."

Well, the cat moved back

And uncovered his pot,

And the rat dug in

And ate the whole lot.

Then the cat ate the rat,

Like as not, like as not;

Then the cat are the rat,

Like as not.

Update on 2013-07-05 21:15 by Startzman

This time I saw the verse as a song; I was singing it,

and thus the additions.  Feel free to sing it yourself,

Tra la la.

Behavior Modification: Chapter XI

A garden snake and a frog live by or in the back pond.  Simon, from time to time, has seen the snake.  One evening not too long ago, the snake was in the water.  Simon saw the snake and tried to catch it.  The snake escaped and disappeared under a rock.  Simon, in true dachshund fashion, would not give up looking for the snake. 

Simon frequently sees the frog who lives in the pond.  The other night the frog was sitting in the middle of the pond at the end of a very long strand of pond plant.  Simon immediately saw the frog.  Dachshund instincts kicked in and the relentless chase began.

The pond is lined with rocks, and Simon climbed on the rocks to pursue the hapless frog, to no avail, of course.  Every time we go back to the pond, Simon climbs on the rocks to pursue something only he can smell—the invisible snake, the disappearing-into-the-water frog, or perhaps something else that visits the pond in the mysterious “overnight” the meteorologists are so fond of talking about.

Simon precariously circles the pond on the rocks, slipping, knocking rocks into the pond, sliding toward the water.  It is impossible to see how such a long dog maintains his balance and does not fall into the water, but he does.  Both ends work hard: his nose is constantly sniffing and snuffing while his tail wags rapidly—fwip fwip fwip.  (That’s the sound Earl’s tail makes in Mutts when he wags it rapidly—fwip fwip fwip.)  And so does his underneath—his four short but very sturdy legs and feet.

He goes back there to search for things even when we are not out there with him.  I’ve heard the rocks moving as he circles the pond.  What if he falls in and I am not there?  Mary thinks he can climb out without any trouble.  What if he can’t?  What if he panics?  What if he slips back in trying to get out?  Worries, worries, worries.  It is not easy being owned by a dachshund.

After Seeing the Movie "Signs"...

             #429

         The Cornfield

Down in the cornfield

Between the mighty rows,

Little evil creatures lurk

Who gnaw on children's toes.

Their eyes are red and silver,

They see only at night;

The only thing that kills them

Is reflected full moon light.

Always take a mirror,

Always take a wand

In case someone should toss you

Past the moonlight's deep beyond

Into the evil cornfield

Like an ancient vagabond;

Into the evil cornfield 

Where there is no correspond.