Low Riders and Puppy Tales


CaseyKC

Active Member
Preamble

When my old desk top computer died from something my computer savvy son diagnosed as " The Blue Screen of Death," I learned that I should have kept copies of journals, photos and other documents I didn't want to lose. Who knew? I took the poor thing to our local computer store where the nice folks who work there confirmed my son's diagnosis, sold me a new lap top, and attempted to recover my files. They were partially successful. Some parts of some files and thankfully Libby's puppy photos magically appeared on my new lap top. Portions, but not all of my dog journal entries were recovered, but a lot of my stuff just went poof, Since then, I have been trying to reconstruct some of the missing entries in my dog journal, which I called, "Lowrider Tales."

I thought since it is a quiet summer here in this forum, I would from time to time, share some of the recovered and reconstructed entries from that journal. Some of them I shared several years ago in another forum that no longer exists, but of course I have no record of what tales I shared due to "The Blue Screen of Death" on my previous computer. If you were a member of the forum that no longer exists, forgive me for repeating myself.
 

CaseyKC

Active Member
Kathy and Pineapple

When my mother was in her eighties, but still able to live alone, I would make periodic visits to her home to make sure everything was in order, take her grocery shopping, run errands, and to whatever appointments she had scheduled. Since it was an eight hour drive from my home to hers, I would spend several days to a week at my mom's house and take along my dog, Kathy. She was usually excellent company on these trips.

During one visit, on the first morning there, I awoke to a smell that I immediately attributed to plumbing problems. Mom, a late riser, was still asleep, so I scrubbed out the toilet tank, called to mother's neighbor who was raking his lawn and asked him if he could check the trap on the roof, thinking that perhaps some leaves had collected in or around it and maybe clogged the exit. Her neighbor climbed up, inspected the trap and reported that it was fine. Mom was just waking up at this point and even she could smell the odor. I decided to call a septic tank pumping service. They sent a truck to my mother's house, opened up the area around the holding tank, but found it and the leach field were in perfect order. They pumped whatever was in the tank because they were there anyway and, regardless, I would be charged for the visit, but they assured me that the odor problem was not created in either the holding tank or leach field, and left for their next appointment.

With all the windows in the house open, the odor went away by late afternoon and we enjoyed a pleasant evening.

Mom was a night owl, staying up late at night and sleeping late in the morning. I would go to bed at my usual time, leaving Kathy to join me later when Mom retired for the night. When I woke up on the second day of my visit I could not fail to notice that the odor had returned. I opened all the windows, checked all the drains, dishwasher, the washing machine and anything I could think of associated with water and plumbing. The horrible odor wasn't any worse around these things than it was throughout the rest of the house, so where it was coming from was puzzling.


I left Mom sleeping and drove into town to purchase baking soda, air freshener, fabric freshener, scented candles, drain cleaner, toilet bowl disinfectant and everything else I could think of to eliminate bad smells, but once again the odor persisted all day until around 4PM. Then, once again the house was odor free..............until the next morning. The bad smell was back and lingered again until late afternoon, then, once again the house was odor free.

I was becoming quite concerned, I wondered if a creature of some kind had gotten into the walls and died in the insulation. But this didn't explain why the odor was present all day until late afternoon. I thought that whatever was causing this odor was extremely unpleasant and could perhaps be hazardous to my fragile mother's health.

That night, the last night of my visit I sat up quite late with my mother, trying to convince her to return to my home with me the next day for a nice long visit, but she wasn't interested in leaving her home. Close to midnight, Mother opened a can of pineapple chunks, drained the liquid and poured the pineapple chunks into a bowl. She offered some to me, but I declined. Mom sat down in her chair and Kathy jumped up from where she had been sleeping and sat at my mother's feet. Mom ate a piece of pineapple and gave Kathy a piece. It was a chunk for Mom and a chunk for Kathy until the bowl was empty. I was just thinking about going to bed since I had a long drive the next morning, when I began to smell the awful odor again. It was Kathy having really terrible gas. Apparently the pineapple she had shared with my mother did not agree with her. I asked Mom if she had been sharing pineapple every night of our visit. When Mom confirmed this was so, the mystery was solved.

I left early the next morning with all the windows in my car rolled down and the fan for the air vents blasting uncontaminated fresh air into the car. When I reached the Turnpike and collected my ticket, the skies turned dark with clouds and soon an absolute deluge of rain pounded my car. It was necessary to roll up my windows. Apparently the storm was going my way and for the next 190 miles I drove through the rain, gagging as the fumes from Kathy's midnight snack accumulated in my car.. At my exit from the Turnpike, I pulled under the meager protection of the toll booth, rolled down my window and handed the toll lady my ticket and money. Unfortunately I dropped a quarter. It rolled underneath my car. As the full impact of the lack of air quality in my car wafted into the toll booth, the toll lady stepped back and began frantically waving my ticket like a fan in front of her face. While I was digging through my purse for another quarter to replace the one that had dropped, the toll lady told me to "just go," and not to worry about another quarter. I pulled through the toll booth, closed the windows again and continued on to my home. Around 4PM, Kathy stopped percolating and expelled the last of the air effects of her pineapple snack. As fate would have it, at that point, the rain stopped. Windows wide open, I drove the rest of the way home. It was a lesson in canine digestion that I have never forgotten, and I made sure that Kathy never tasted pineapple again.
 
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CaseyKC

Active Member
It is all true Lupita. At the time I saw no humor in the situation, but with time, I found the whole trip and visit quite funny.
 

CaseyKC

Active Member
Abigail Comes to Our House

When my son was seven years old and my daughter eleven, they launched a collaborative campaign for another pet. Our Siamese cat, Bon Toi, had gone to the Bridge about a year earlier and at that point, we had no furry, four legged family members. Apparently the blue Beta who lived in a bowl on the kitchen counter did not count. That Beta, Blue Boy, had traveled from California to Maryland with us by car in a peanut butter jar during one of our PCS moves, (Permanent Change of Station in military speak,) survived BonToi, the aforementioned departed Siamese's frequent paw dipping into his bowl, and even tolerated the occasional Cheerio or Rice Krispie that young, curious minds wondered if he would enjoy. Three years later, Blue Boy successfully made another PCS journey from Maryland to Massachusetts in yet another peanut butter jar. Blue Boy, was nice, the children informed us, but couldn't cuddle or play with them. My husband and I acknowledged the wisdom of this statement.

The major flaw in the children's pet campaign was a lack of consensus between the participants in regard to the relative merits of cats or dogs. Our son promised to walk, feed, and clean up yard droppings of the canine variety. He pointed out that he would be outdoors playing with a new dog instead of playing Nintendo. Concurrently, our daughter, promised to feed and clean the litter box of a potential new cat who would, she assured us, sit on her bed and keep her company and focused while she did her homework. I correctly suspected that in the event of parental capitulation, these promises would not, on a long term basis, be kept, and that I would be expanding my job description and taking on additional duties.

In private conversation, my husband and I discussed the pet campaign and agreed that the children should have another pet or pets. Blue Boy, the Beta, was at least five years old and his formerly brilliant color was fading. According to a pet store employee I had consulted about his fading color, at plus 5 years old, Blue Boy was already a contender for Beta Senior Citizenship in Captivity, and his faded blue color signaled the approaching end of his Golden Years. As I was not anxious to experience another inevitable future PCS travel with a Beta in a peanut butter jar, a new Beta, upon Blue Boy's demise, was not an option. Besides, I missed having a dog or cat to keep me company, especially when my husband was away on temporary duty and the children were in bed.

We didn't want to disappoint either one of the children and decided we would begin looking for a dog and a cat. Our plan was to visit area shelters on Saturdays, telling the children that we were doing a reconnaissance in case, by some miracle, beds were made in the morning, trash was taken out to the dumpster, dishes were cleared from the table after dinner, and homework was completed neatly and without nagging on my part. We had a few weeks where these activities were eagerly completed without my having to remind either child.

My daughter wanted a cat, "just like Bon Toi," so we left our name and telephone number at the various shelters we visited in case a Siamese became available. My son would silently walk up and down the halls in the shelters, peering intently into the dog enclosures, shrug or shake his head, and move on. We would question him on the way home about what he was looking for and all he would tell us was that " I want to find my dog." One Saturday we visited a shelter with a beagle that had been thought to be a stray and was picked up by animal services. My son announced that "this one is like my dog, but it isn't her." This beagle wasn't available anyway as she was well known to the shelter folks as a notorious escape artist. When animal services would drop her off, the shelter personnel would phone her owners and they would be in shortly to retrieve her. We left our name and telephone number in case a really homeless beagle became available, or a Siamese cat, and went home.

Military families have friends living all over the world, with close friendships forged during duty assignments. We also had the usual assortment of extended blood relatives. I decided to telephone some of our friends and relatives living within a day's drive from Massachusetts to tell them about our quest and ask them to keep their eyes and ears open for news of available candidates. Several days later, a friend I had alerted in Maryland called to say that one her military friends living on post had a neighbor whose husband had been reassigned to Germany. This lady fully intended to join her husband in Germany, but her beagle had been bred to another beagle just before they received orders. She couldn't join her husband in Germany until the pups were born and good homes had been found for them. There were still two female pups left,and the owner was becoming rather desperate to fly with Mama Beagle to Germany to join her husband.. My friend suggested that we come for a visit over the weekend and we could go to the puppy lady's house and take a look. My husband was on duty that weekend, so on Friday morning I packed clothes for me and my children, put together snacks and a picnic supper for the trip, borrowed a small dog crate, and picked my children up when school let out for the weekend. I told the children that we were going to visit our friends in Maryland and get a beagle. After a long drive, during which time my children finally fell asleep after we crossed the Tappan Zee Bridge, we arrived at my friend's home. Her husband carried the children, still sound asleep, into the house and put them into beds with the covers already turned back. After bringing in my suitcase, I climbed into bed beside my daughter and fell sound asleep. I woke up in time to shower and dress before our 10 AM appointment to meet the puppies. The children were wide awake and full of energy and excitement. They had slept all the way from the New York/New Jersey border and woke up on Saturday morning in Maryland. While they had had plenty of sleep, I was still pretty tired, but off to see the puppies we went. My friend and hostess decided to come with us. I had no trouble finding the house because we had previously been stationed at this post and I knew the area well. As we walked up on the porch, I reminded the children to be calm and quiet around puppies, and even before I rang the doorbell, we were greeted with a characteristic beagle bugle howl.

We all trooped into the living room after being invited to come in.There is nothing more precious than a ten week old puppy and these little girls were just adorable. Instead of being mesmerized by the puppies, my son made a bee line for the Mama Beagle. "This is the one," he announced. The owner explained that Mama was her dog, but my son could have one of the puppies. When one of the puppies began to play with his shoe lace, he picked her up and said, " I guess this one will be okay." I was embarrassed and irritated by his lack of enthusiasm, but signed a paper promising to have her spay, accepted a temporary health certificate from her vet, and tried to pay the lady, but she insisted that she only wanted to make sure her pups had a good home, and asked that I mail an occasional photo from time to time. We all got back into the car and I was rather horrified to see that my son had passed our puppy to my daughter. This was definitely not going the way I had expected. I pulled the car over to the curb and apologized to my friend for having to stop to speak to my son about his attitude. I wanted to find out what was wrong, and turned around to the back seat to question him. The conversation went something like this.


Me (glaring at my eight year old son): "Exactly what is your problem?"


Son (in a very subdued voice): "I wanted a bigger dog. This one is so little."


Me: She is just a baby. She will grow up to be just as big as her mama."


Son (in a voice filled with great disbelief) "Yeah, okay."


Me: " I wouldn't lie to you. Have I ever lied to you?"


Son: "Well.......yes."


Me: "When did I lie to you?"


Son: "You told me if I picked my nose it would get big and red and glow in the dark, just like Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer."

Me: "Well, your nose is just fine, aren't glad I told you not to pick it?"


Son: " I did pick it, a lot, when you weren't looking."


Well, he had me there! I had told him that teeny little white lie, hoping to put a stop to this behavior. I was momentarily at a loss for words. I looked over at my friend in the passenger seat. She was frantically digging in her purse. Her face was sort of red and at first I thought she was crying. I asked if she felt okay, thinking that maybe our arrival at her home late the night before and my little chat with my son had upset her. She found a tissue in her purse, wiped her eyes and blew her nose. Meanwhile, my daughter was assuring my son that our puppy really would grow bigger. When I looked back over at my friend, she looked a lot better, although her face was still kind of red. "I wouldn't have missed that exchange for the world,"she whispered." Then she undid her seat belt, turned around and said to my son, "Have I ever lied to you?" When he acknowledged that she hadn't, she said, "I promise you, your puppy will grow and be just as big as her mama." Since this seemed to be the general consensus of all the females in the car, my son brightened up considerably and took the puppy from my daughter onto his lap. As I pulled the car away from the curb, my friend asked my son, " What are you going to name your puppy?"


Son: "Mommy already named her."


Me: "No I didn't."


Son: "Yes you did."


Me: "No I didn't."


Son: " Yes you did. You said we were going to get Abigail and now we have her."


Daughter: "Geez, you are such a dummy, Mom said we were going to get A BEAGLE!"


Me: "Don't call your brother a dummy."



My friend: Choking noises and more purse searching for a tissue.:


Me: "There is a box of tissues in the glove compartment. I need one too, and an Excedrin when we get to your house."
 

foxycharlotte

New Member
OMG, that story about the pineapple hits home. One night I let my long haired eat some pears and the next day we went on an extended car trip. I was lucky it didn't rain because I thought the inside of my car was going to melt from the gas my dog was having.

On your other story that is so cute about your children.

I can't believe that these are true. Its great that your able to remember these stories in such great detail.
 

CaseyKC

Active Member
FISH CAKE

About seven or eight years ago, I belonged to a dachshund meet-up group that had scheduled a Founders Day celebration. It was to honor the ladies who originally started the group way back when, and to raise funds to donate to a dachshund rescue for medical expenses such as spay or neuter. It was also a get together for owners and their dogs, with prizes for dog races and games, as well as fund raising items, crafts, baked goods, handmade dachshund coats, sweaters, and a hot dog lunch for sale. With the admission ticket, a free piece of cake was included.

I was in charge of the cake and ordered the largest sheet cake available, half chocolate, half white. Early on the morning of the event, I went to pick the cake up. It was supposed to have "Happy Founders Day" written in icing and a dachshund outline. Instead, I arrived at the bakery and the cake said, "Happy Flounder's Day" and had multiple orange and white striped clown fish in icing. What kind of an event celebrates a flounder? They had also added little plastic sea shells for more decoration. When I mentioned that this was not what I had ordered, the bakery personnel were so sorry. They told me that the cake decorator thought that the bakery employee who had taken the order, (I had placed the order two weeks earlier) had made a mistake and had "corrected" the mistake. She, (the cake decorator) does not come in on weekends, so my choice was the fish cake or nothing. The bakery was very kind, gave me the cake for half price and also gave me a gift certificate as a donation to raffle at the Founders Day Celebration, and off I went.

We had a tarp tent set up for the cake which sat on a table all by itself. Meet-up group members took turns cutting the cake and passing it out. I had the first shift and cut into the part that said, "flounder," so at least that wasn't showing. There wasn't much I could do about the ocean theme decor, but no one questioned why the cake was decorated the way it was.

It was really good cake, and the icing was cream based, not overly sweet. Every last crumb was eaten!

Two nights after the event I received a call from one of the original founders. She was no longer able to be active in the group because she was in her late eighties, but, as one of the honorees, she did attend the Founders Day celebration for a brief visit and brought her really ancient dog, a black and tan, 16 yo dachshund named Nemo, after the Jules Verne captain in 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. She thanked me for having the orange and white "Nemo" fish put on the cake in honor of her dog. This has been a total comedy of errors. She was so pleased that we had made reference to her dog on the cake that I didn't dare tell her the truth about why the cake had icing fish on it. All I said was, "I'm so glad you were pleased." As an aside, there is a clown fish Disney movie character named,"Nemo. "This whole cake thing upset me at first, but since everyone seemed to be happy, I guess it was meant to be.

Of course Libby attended the festivities. She sat in her cup bed in a booth and sold kisses for 10 cents each. Libby is not very discriminating in regards to kissing people. She will kiss just about anyone in reach of her tongue. She raised over $10.00 for rescue. That's a lot of kisses, but I suspect that some people put more than ten cents into the collection can! When she was finished with her kissing duties, she participated in, and won a game where a child's swimming pool was filled with water and small pieces of hot dog were scattered on the bottom. Dogs were supposed to put their heads under water and grab a piece of hot dog. Most of the other dachshunds would not climb into the pool, let alone put their heads under water, but Libby hopped right in, repeatedly dunked her head, grabbed and ate every hot dog chunk before she would get out of the pool. Her prize was a container of home made dog treats made of oatmeal and canned pumpkin. She loved them, but then, Libby loves anything she can eat. She is very food motivated.

Sadly, our meet up group has disbanded due to the advanced age of the majority of the members. I like to think that they stopped by The Rainbow Bridge on their final journey and are now reunited with their beloved dachshunds.
 

Lupita

New Member
I chuckled aloud over the cake incident! That must have been such a shock when you saw it, but it seemed to have ended well! You're making me wish I had written down all the funny things my Lupi has done over the years.
 
Nice stories.

I have recently rediscovered the joys of writing with fountain pens. That inspired me to start my own retrospective journal.

Paper and ink aren't susceptible to computer viruses or failures.

And then I discovered Blogger as a fun way to share my stories. I don't have a large audience, but then I mostly just write for me.
 

CaseyKC

Active Member
I have absolutely fallen in love with almost every dog I have transported long distance. For me, my annual trips to and from Florida from New England, are long distance, 1674 miles. I stop frequently for potty breaks for my passenger/passengers, and usually spend 2 or 3 nights in a pet friendly motel along the way, or sometimes I visit with a friend who lives close to my route. After spending this amount of time with a dachshund, I just do not seem to be able to forget about them after they reach their destination. One little girl I drove to Florida, still holds a place in my heart and took a little piece of it with her.

GIGI
Her name was GiGi. She was, at the time, a 6 year old, black and tan smooth hair, weighing in at only 6 lbs, traveling to her forever home in Florida. When I met up with her foster mother in a parking lot at the start of my trip, we spent a lot of time trying to fashion a way to seat belt her in the back seat. I have a terrible fear of air bags in the front seat deploying, and a little girl like this wouldn't stand a chance if that happened, but she was so small, that she could slip out of the smallest harness, and sure enough, I didn't even get out of the parking lot when she was crawling into my lap. She curled up on my right thigh, and put her little head in the bend of my elbow as I held the steering wheel. She never moved or made things dangerous for driving, so I gave up the struggle to contain her in a seat belt in the back.

At the beginning of the trip, she trembled almost constantly. At first I thought she might be cold as it was January and it does get nippy in New England at that time of year. I had the heater going full blast and it made no difference. Even in her little black paw print sweater, she shivered and shook. Eventually I decided she was frightened, and this did seem to be the case because, whenever I had to stop for traffic, I would pet her. Then she would stop shaking and relax. That first day, due to a construction detour, I got a little lost and stopped at a convenience store for directions back to the main highway. The second I got out of the car, little GiGi started to protest in what had to be the loudest noise I ever heard coming out of a dachshund. I quickly got directions and got back into the car. As soon as I was settled into the driver's seat, GiGi was back in her chosen spot, quiet. Of course I had to take a little time before I turned on the car to tell her she was safe, remind her that she was on her way to her forever home, and give her some cuddles.

I knew a little bit about GiGi's life before coming into rescues and wondered if she thought I was taking her back to her original home.
GiGi was in rescue as the result of a divorce. Post divorce, her human father got custody and acquired a girl friend who abused GiGi. This was reported by a neighbor and then, GiGi was removed from the home to a shelter, pulled by the rescue I work with, fostered until she was healed and ready for a forever home. Now she was on her way to her new forever home in Florida and new parents, a wonderful retired couple.

I made it just south of Washington, DC on the first night out and had booked a reservation at a pet friendly motel. We arrived at this motel quite late due to a bad storm in the DC area. There was a ton of traffic and accidents all over the place. I pulled off the highway for a couple of hours
to a parking lot, hoping the storm would move on, (it didn't) and that after rush hour some of the traffic would clear, (it didn't) so, after trying to persuade GiGi to eat some of the food her foster mother had sent, (she wouldn't,) I stopped at a Roy Rogers and bought two roast beef sandwiches. While she ate hers and I ate mine, I called the motel to say we would be arriving late due to traffic and the storm. When we were finished eating, GiGi made a quick visit to some rain soaked weeds so she could do business. We got back on the highway and inched our way south, arriving at the motel at midnight!

GiGi won the battle of the beds once we got into the motel room. I had brought her little cup bed in, placed it on the floor and put her into it. Out she hopped and tried to get up on the big bed, bust she was so small she couldn't jump that high. I repeated the tucking her into her own bed routine several times but she wasn't buying it. Dachshund stubborn! Oh yes! Finally I placed her in her bed and put dog and dog bed on my bed and quickly turned off the light. She immediately began to bark and cry in the most amazing display of dachshund vocal "melody" and volume imaginable. This little girl had a voice like a howitzer. I was scared to death we would wake up other motel patrons. I turned on the light, put her directly on my bed where she burrowed under the covers, heaved a huge sigh, and not another peep. The score was now GiGi 3, Casey 0, GiGi got 1 p09nt for winning the battle of where to ride in the car, 1 point for what she would eat, and 1 point for where she would sleep,

The next day we continued south, all the way through Virginia into North Carolina. I stopped at a Walmart near the highway to purchase some dog food that she might like, bought a couple of varieties, but she continued to turn up her little nose and refused to eat any of it and of course refusing to eat any of the kibble her foster mother had sent along. I decided we would just share whatever I was having. She was quite enthusiastic about Long John Silver fish after I scraped off the breading. I pretty much had to stick with fast food places since she was so very unhappy if left alone in the car. That night we stayed with a dear friend of mine in NC.

When we got to my friend's house, I put on a pair of slippers and settled down on the sofa for a good chat with my friend. It had been several years since we had seen each other. GiGi gave a little play bow and raced off with my sock from my bedroom. My friend who had heard GiGi's sad little story was in tears because I mentioned that this was the first sign of personality emerging, other than dachshund stubborn. My friend had some dog toys left from her Golden Retriever who had crossed the Rainbow Bridge. She brought them out and placed them on the floor by the sofa. GiGi was totally delighted. As I sat chatting and catching up with my friend, GiGi began to make numerous trips to our bedroom, each time carrying a toy. We waited until all the toys had been moved before checking to see what GiGi had done with them. We laughed so hard. The toys were all piled on top of my open suitcase. I guess GiGi figured we weren't staying in NC and wanted to make sure we wouldn't leave her new treasures behind. The next morning when I loaded the car with my suitcase and shopping bag with GiGi's treasures, she stuck her nose in the bag. She probably wanted to make sure we hadn't left any toys behind.

We made it to Kingsland, Georgia on this day and checked into a pet friendly motel. The next morning I took GiGi out to do her business in an area set aside for doggy comfort, including a fake fire hydrant for male dogs. There was a rustle in the bushes and GiGi started barking in her huge outdoor voice. I was concerned we would wake up motel patrons so I scooped little miss mouth up to talk to her about consideration for others as it was only 0630. Just then, an armadillo came out of the bushes. My brain registered that it was indeed an armadillo, but as I had never been up close and personal with one, my legs took off running through the parking lot. I was still holding GiGi who was still barking her foolish head off. I'm sure GiGi from New England had never seen an armadillo either. She was either determined to protect me or scare the armadillo away. A man who was loading suitcases onto his car roof started to laugh at us. He told me that armadillos are not dangerous to people or dogs, but will do a lot of destruction to a flower garden.

After that adventure, I hastily packed the car and we were on our way to Ocala, Florida where we would meet GiGi's new parents at a McDonalds. It was Sunday and early, so I encountered almost no traffic. We, GiGi and I arrived a little early, so I shared an egg McMuffin with GiGi and told her how much I would miss her and never forget her. I was getting a little weepy when her new parents arrived. The paperwork had been taken care of by a Florida rescue rep, so I told the people how wonderful she was, turned over her food, new/old toys, bed and blanket, kissed her good by and continued on my way, feeling glad for GiGi and so sad that she wasn't mine. Her new parents called me for several years to tell me how much they loved her and how she was doing. GiGi has a piece of my heart forever.
 
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