‘Sup?

Hello … it’s me!

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Yup – that’s me. Exhausted.

We haven’t chatted in nearly a month, and for good reason. It’s been an endless array of guests and vinipotes here at La Casa de la Doxie. Dad’s tired … I just caught him napping in his chair when he should have been working.

I sit and wait for the next visitor …

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But every once in awhile, I get a surprise … like when my dear friend Frank arrives (visit the website if email does not emulate the video:  http://dashthedachshund.com).

That’s some sweet action, #amirite?

And in-between visits, I got to spend some time with my dear friend Hanna.

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She’s not shy about her unabashed preference for my company.

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Then she fell asleep.

#OhWell.

Anyway, we’re about five weeks away from a BIG TRIP in the RV … we’re headed to the Midwest (FYI – I’ve been there, I’m an avid traveler as you may already know). That’s when the fun really begins. Until then, we’re preppin’, getting things ready so that we can have big time fun.

P.S.: I am hopeful that the snow in the Midwest will melt over the next five weeks.

 

Cookies!

Hello! It’s me!!

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That’s the look I give somebody when they present me with a bag of cookies and nobody has ever given me a bag of cookies before.

But my friend Amy baked me a bag of cookies and wrapped them up nicely and let’s just say I demonstrated sincere appreciation for my gift. Take a look (visit the website if the video doesn’t emulate via email). I was utterly light on my feet!

That’s some tall cotton, #amirite?

Dad has been rationing the home made dog-friendly cookies in bite-sized portions. Not nearly enough to make me happy, of course, but enough to be constantly reminded of the importance of having friends that make you cookies.

COOKIES!!

Fly Over!

Hello! It’s me.

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I like to lock Dad down with my right front paw … it’s the best way to force him to sit with me on the couch for five or six consecutive hours, #amirite?

Anyway, today’s not about me. We had friends visit from Texas … and they brought a drone. They flew the drone over our house and neighborhood. Here’s the video … please visit http://dashthedachshund.com if you cannot see the footage here.

 

Chupacabra

Hello! It’s me!

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There are threats.

  1. Real.
  2. Perceived.
  3. Rusted Metal.
  4. Chupacabra.

Last week I was visiting friends … Mom says “Is the cat in the house?” Friend says “yes”. I enter the back yard, and this cat (which I swear is actually a chupacabra, #amirite?) puts my head and neck in a vice grip unlike any I’ve ever experienced. As I began to pass out from asphyxiation, Dad kept trying to pull on my leash. This only served to accelerate the slow death I was experiencing.

When the cat/chupacabra finally relented and decided to partake in other activities, I screamed a bunch of obscenities, loudly if I may be so bold.

I was comforted by Mom.

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I’m not a fan of the pseudo-chupacabra.

P.S.: Look at what the chupacabra did to our plants in the front yard.

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Hips Don’t Lie

Hello. It’s me.

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That look means “please don’t make me walk, my right rear hips hurts”, #amirite?

The great “ejection from the house” of 2018 resulted in a bigger issue.

After hobbling on three legs for three days (#symmetry), Mom and Dad took me to the vet. We crossed all of our toes, hoping there wasn’t a break.

The results?

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No break – just deep tissue damage in my hip and knee (and according to the vet she could easily see food in my tummy).

Just like that I’m walking again. And vomiting (from the drugs). I’ll take the latter if I can have the former. After all, hips don’t lie.

Ejected From The Building

Hello. It’s me.

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That’s me … shrouded in terror.

The weather is crazy … cold (60), and showers were developing to the north.

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The pictured shower belched out a downdraft that blew through our new backyard, where the screen door was open. Carnage ensued.

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The wind blew through the house and up to the front door, where I was sitting.

The front door closed … quite violently if I may be so bold.

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I was sitting in front of the screen door, behind the front door … so when the front door closed violently, the force of the air opened the screen door and ejected me from the building.

Mom and Dad heard the boom and then heard me scream.

When they caught up to me, I was a full city block away, about to cross a thoroughfare, leaving a trail of potty behind me. Mom heard me scream again when the postal worker tried to pick me up … fortunately, Mom yelled at me to wait, and I finally stopped running and waited.

Here’s the view from the scene of the recovery.

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Mom held me for about a half-hour while I shivered myself into a calm state (if I were wearing a fitbit, you’d see that my pulse was literally racing). After Mom proclaimed that I “smelled like urine”, Dad soaped me up good and now I rest next to Dad, nursing deep tissue injuries.

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I just want to relax in my new back yard … no more downdrafts. And I really need a thorough soak in the spa now.

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Geez.

P.S.  Congrats go to Frank’s Mom, who was four days off in determining the day we could use our back yard (February 20 was the official day). Dad came in second place, missing by 5 days. Mom says we missed by more than two months, but who is counting? I’m too frightened to count, to be honest, after being ejected from the building.