Archive for April, 2010

A Patient Hound

April 24, 2010

It’s Friday and as usual I am sitting on the stairway landing, staring out the window.  Technically, I am not allowed up the stairs.  But I’m not on the second floor yet, so I figure that the landing is a nice compromise.  Through the window I can see my neighbors’ front yard and the sidewalk.  I couldn’t care less about being sociable to my neighbors, but the sidewalk is of great interest to me in the evenings.

I have a powerful internal clock.  For instance, I know that exactly 9:30 p.m. I go to bed and at 12:05 a.m. I wake up for a drink of water.  I know that in exactly two minutes Alpha Dad should walk up the sidewalk.  I lay down on the landing and wait.

When I’m waiting for Alpha Dad to come home, two minutes is a very long time.  I count the seconds by thumping my tail against the wall.  One, two, three.  I lose count of the numbers- arithmetic is no interest of mine.  I’ve heard that patience is a virtue, but I know that basset hounds don’t need virtues, whatever they are.

Cat scampers down the stairs behind me.  It’s not fair- how come a fat and rude creature like Cat is allowed upstairs and I’m not?  The injustice of this all distracts me for a moment, but soon my focus is back on the sidewalk.

Sure enough, there is Alpha Dad walking up the sidewalk.  I rush down the stairs and to the back door, which I scratch with my paw until Sister Fairy lets me out.  I pounce out of the bushes just as Alpha Dad opens the gate.

“Woof!” I say, jumping on Alpha Dad.  My internal clock informs me that it is time for my a belly rub.

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What Bassets Aren’t Allowed to Do

April 17, 2010

When I arrived at the P-A-R-K today with Alpha Dad and Sister Martian, there was a policeman trying to give people tickets for having their dogs off-leash during No Dogs Allowed hours.  Since I couldn’t read the No Dogs sign, I walked right into the P-A-R-K and luckily wasn’t caught be the policeman.  Unfortunately, some of my friends got busted by the strict cop.  I don’t understand why they won’t let dogs off-leash at the P-A-R-K after 9:00- nobody is ever there during the day and we’re not bothering anyone!  Some rules Rules in general don’t make any sense to me.

When I was entering the P-A-R-K, I ran into my friend and fellow basset: Chip.  Chip was heading back toward the parking lot with his parents.  In his mouth was a headless wabbit.  Chip was looking mighty pleased with himself, and he even let me take a sniff of his prize.  For some reason, his parents weren’t thrilled about Chip’s find.  Chip’s Dad kept trying to get him to drop the wabbit, but of course Chip wouldn’t do something that stupid.  What sort of basset hound would drop such a prize just because someone asked them nicely?  Unfortunately, Chip’s Mom proved to be a real Alpha Parent.  She grabbed the wabbit by the hind legs and yanked it out of Chip’s mouth, and then flung it off the trail.  Chip and I both gazed wistfully at the dead wabbit lying in the grass. 

The good news: there is always next time, assuming that Chip and I aren’t kept out of the P-A-R-K by some policeman who doesn’t like dogs.

My Bad Day was Fur-tilizer’s Fault

April 12, 2010

Yesterday was a very very sad day because a certain hound dog (ME!) didn’t get to go to the P-A-R-K.  I whined and ran in circles and even knocked the kibble out of my dish, but Alpha Dad wouldn’t take me.  He tried to explain why I couldn’t go, and it had something to do with a funny-sounding word: “fur-tilizer.”

Today, Alpha Dad agreed to take me to the P-A-R-K.  As soon as I put my paws in the grass, I could see what he was talking about.  Fur-tilizer looks like cat excrement but it smells even yuckier.  I tried to roll in it, but I didn’t like the way it felt on my fur.  When I was done playing with the other bassets, I was really stinky- and not in a good way.

Here’s the worst part: when I got home, Alpha Dad gave me a bath!  He said that playing in fur-tilizer isn’t good for dogs or people and that it could make me sick.  The only thing worse than a bath is going to the vet, so I didn’t put up too much fuss when he poured half a bottle of “Soothing Lavender Lilac” shampoo on my back.  Even my tail got a good scrubbing.  I was cold and wet all day.

I hope that they never put fur-tilizer on the grass at the P-A-R-K ever again.  I don’t want to have to endure a bath after every trip to the P-A-R-K!  Weeds have never bothered me, but fur-tilizer sure does.

Friend of the Birds

April 9, 2010

Recently, Alpha Mom took me to the P-A-R-K.  The P-A-R-K is supposed to be a place where dog lovers can let their dogs off the leash, but the village isn’t so big on this.  Someone set up no-dog hours, and if a Basset tries to go for a walk during these hours, he has to be on a leash.  Whoever set up the no-dog hours is first and foremost about as low as Cat in my book.  He or she is extremely foolish, because they forgot one key detail about Basset Hounds: we can’t read the “No Dogs” signs.

It was a lovely Saturday evening, mildly warm with a thin breeze.  And of course, I couldn’t read the “No Dogs” sign.  A wedding reception was underway on the P-A-R-K patio, and while the scents were delicious, I knew better than to interrupt the party.  Innocently off-leash, I trotted through the grass. 

BIRD!

Only the scent of a WABBIT is more captivating than that of Bird.  I buried my nose in the grass, searching for my nearby playmate.  And then I saw him, wandering around in the grass.  He was just a little thing, with light brown wings and beedlike eyes.  I gave him a warning “woof” and the chase was on.  The bird hopped around to the other side of the patio, and I followed at rabbit run speed.  I wanted to catch the bird as soon as possible, lest it fly away.

Reader, you must understand, I am a playful hound.  I do not eat birds like some malicious breeds, rather, I corner my playmate, take a big whiff, and I move on to other scents.  The bird must have known this, because it stayed on the ground, hobbling around in front of me.  I took a few steps forward, and soon I had the bird trapped between my paws.

“Someone stop him!  Stop the dog!  He’s hurting the injured bird!”  A crowd of wedding-goers was watching me from the patio now.  I couldn’t understand what they were saying, but I figured it must have something to do with cheering me on.  Just to get the crowd going, I let the bird go.  He raced off into the grass, and I followed.  After a few laps around the patio, I cornered him again.

“Come here, doggie doggie!  Leave the bird alone!”  I glanced at the bird between my paws.  He was a timid little guy, and petrified with fright.  I took a step back, but he just stood there like some sort of lawn statue.

“Woof,” I said.  “I won’t hurt you.  I just want to sniff you.”

“He killed the bird!  Oh my god, someone stop that dog!  Wait, the bird isn’t dead yet!  Somebody save the bird!”  From the increased volume of the cheers, I figured I must be some sort of celebrity amongst these wedding-goers.  Perhaps they had all read my blog?  I decided to take the opportunity to show off my muscular build and glossy coat, so I began to strut around the bird.

I was enjoying my moment in the spotlight, but just then Alpha Mom marched out onto the grass and grabbed my collar.  Apparently she could read the “No Dogs” sign.  I squirmed backwards and tried to pull off “no go,” but I was too late.  Alpha Mom steered me down the path and into the P-A-R-K, where a plethora of scents awaited me.

Bluepaw

April 6, 2010

Many of my fans are probably wondering why some call me “Bluepaw.”  Here is the story…

When you have a sense of smell as acute as mine, you pick up fascinating odors all over the house.  For instance, cell phones give off a pleasant metallic odor (and they crunch nicely between your teeth).  Malt balls have a distinct chocolatey scent that can even be detected when they are hidden in plastic Easter eggs.  As I discovered one day, pens also have attractive scents.

I was lying in the middle of the living room.  None of my family was around, and truth be told, I was one bored hound dog.  I caught the scent of ink, and soon I had dug through the magazines on the coffee table with my nose and located a pen.  When you have massive paws, removing the cap of a pen is a little tricky, so I gripped the pen between my paws and chomped.

Eventually, I got sick of chewing on the pen and left its remains in the middle of the living room.  I wandered through the house, going about my business.  You know, sniffing Cat, snoozing, watching the squirrels in the neighbor’s yard, and snoozing.  Eventually, my family returned and Sister Fairy bent down to give me a belly rub.  I rolled over, but she caught one of my paws.

“Woody,” I recall her telling me, “your paws are blue!  What have you been up to?”

I looked at my paws in horror.  What indignity!  A Basset Hound with blue paws?  I would never live this one down.  I tried to lick the ink out of my white fur, but it was too late.  The ink was dry.  Since then, “Bluepaw” has become a sort of nickname for me around the house.  It’s not like my siblings have never gotten ink on themselves!  But everyone seems to think it’s funny when a Basset Hound dyes himself blue… but that’s the story.

Wabbit Food

April 3, 2010

I always beg for food under the table during dinner, and occasionally I will be rewarded afterwards with a share in the leftovers.  Tonight was one such lucky night.  My Alpha Parents placed some leftovers in my dish, and instantly my nose was twitching, trying to identify the scent.  Was it a fish skin?  No, I usually got to eat those before dinner.  Steak?  I hadn’t smelled any during the meal.  No, this was a new food.

The color was unnatural: white and shiny with a trace of blue.  I nudged it with my nose, only to find that the round object was slimy.  My room was no place to enjoy such a treasure, and I scooped it up with my mouth and walked into the kitchen.  I rolled the treat around in my mouth, still unsure as to what it was.  Was it a fruit or a vegetable?  Or perhaps something in between?

Resigning myself to the fact that I could not identify the treat, I decided that if it was People Food, it had to be delicious.  I dropped the snack onto the ground, contemplating my next obstacle: how to eat it.  Its round shape made it awkward to just take a bite out of it, because every time I tried to, the snack rolled an inch forward.  And the scent- I couldn’t get over how sharp the scent was.  It was something between mud and Cat excrement, or perhaps a combination of the two with salt on top.  With my teeth, I managed to scrape off slivers of the treat, which I nibbled up from the ground.

A surprise awaited me after I chipped off a few chunks of bluish-white slime.  A yellow sphere tumbled onto the ground.  It was slightly powdery, and it stuck to my teeth and tongue.  Sister Martian sat down next to me as I finished the remains of my leftover snack.

“Woody, are you enjoying your first Easter egg?”

I didn’t understand all of this question, but the word “Easter” prompted the word “Wabbit” in my head.  This food was associated with Wabbits?  The Easter Wabbit eats these slimy things?   I had heard that vegetables were wabbit food, but this did not appear to be a vegetable.  Perhaps the saying was wrong and wabbits ate this new food instead.  I had been lied to!

My stomach began to twist and gurgle.  Suddenly, I felt nautious.  I wandered into the living room and lay down on the floor, waiting for family movie night to begin.

Spring Break Woes

April 1, 2010

Today, I was hoping to get some beauty rest as usual while my siblings were at school.  Unfortunately for me, their spring break has begun, which is anything but a break for a basset hound who requires 22 hours of sleep per night!  Brother Pooch, Sister Martian, and Sister Fairy were all home today and kept me awake with their activities.

Around nine in the morning, all of my siblings came downstairs for breakfast.  I don’t have an alarm clock by my dog bed, but the toaster is just as efficient.  I was so groggy that I didn’t even want a bagel!  Then, my siblings turned on the television to watch game shows.  All of that clapping and the bright lights that illuminate the living room are enough to drive a hound dog crazy!

I tried to go back to my bed to escape the noise, only to find Cat sleeping there.  I walked right up to her and prodded her with my nose, but that Cat just rolled onto her back as though she were waiting for me to give her a belly rub!  Eventually, Cat took the hint and left, but now my bed reeks of Cat.  I even found a whisker lying there.  Yuck!

Brother Pooch was talking to me about Easter while he scratched behind my ears this afternoon.  I didn’t understand much of what he said, except for something about a bunny, which I know is synonymous with WABBIT!  A real-life WABBIT in the house- I can’t wait!  That’s going to be the best game of Chase ever!!!


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