I said "No!"

This weekend, we decided to take the girls on an outing to the dog bakery so that they could get out a bit.  It's been bitter cold here, so walking is still not an option for us.  I'm not sure how they know that we're going somewhere and they're involved with the trip, but it's always a different scenario when they're going.

Blueberry and Bunny both really like to go places in the car.  It's even better when we take the van.  Somehow, when Mr. Taleteller and I start getting ready to go, all three of the girls know.  Lilac is the opposite of Blue and Bunny, though.  She'd rather climb through cat territory on her own than ride in the moving box of death.  She will tolerate it, but she would rather avoid it.  She's never gotten sick riding with us, but she curls up in a corner and closes her eyes, waiting for it to be over.  Time has not helped the issue any and we try not to make her go too often since it seems to be something she dislikes.

It used to work out well when we would go.  Bunny and Blueberry would go in the van and Hawk and Lilac would rest their bones in a quiet, puppy-free zone.  Since Hawk's passing, my husband has been a little uncertain about leaving her at home alone.  I feel that she prefers to stay home, even if it is alone.  She and Hawk were certainly never close, so I don't see her caring whether she has his company or not. 

That brings us to our departure last weekend.  I'm sure our departure routine isn't that different from most other people's who have dogs.  Mr. Taleteller called the girls to go out for a potty break after we'd gotten the things we needed loaded in the van and had it warming up a bit.  Blueberry and Bunny were waiting for him at the back door, barely able to keep four feet on the floor as they anticipated our departure.  Lilac was in the living room, pretending that she was the exact same color as her dog bed and that we couldn't see her lying there.  Mr. Taleteller called her to go potty several times, and Lilac just burrowed into her bed a little more.  He took Blue and Bunny out to the turn out pen and returned for Lilac, carrying the leash with him to hook to her collar and lead her outside.  She grudgingly got up and met him in the kitchen.  I thought I saw her give him a meaningful look, but it was so fleeting, I might have been mistaken.

In any event, he took her outside as well and soon all three of the girls had taken care of their personal business.  A quick walk through the grass followed and then they headed towards the van.  We generally unhook the leash of each dog as she stands at the open door to the back seats of the van and then that dog will jump in the back and find her comfy spot for the ride.  Bunny and Blueberry were busy jockeying for postition, both wanting to hop into the van first and get situated.  The two of them did both get in and then Mr. Taleteller unhooked Lilac's leash and leaned down, prepared to help her step up into the van.

Instead, she pushed her way between his legs with surprising speed for an elderly greyhound and marched right up to the back door.  He stood there stunned.  I sat in the van laughing.  He looked at me and we had a short conversation.

Mr. Taleteller:  Do you think she'll be alright here by herself?

Lilac:  (stomping her foot at the back door)  It's cold out here, dammit!

Me:  She's been home alone before.  She'll be fine.

Mr. Taleteller:  You're sure?  I don't want her to freak out that she's all alone...

Lilac:  (glaring)  I'm not getting any younger here, whippersnapper!  Open the door for a lady, you young punk!

Me:  It seems pretty obvious what she wantes.

Mr. Taleteller:  Alright!  (There was something muttered under his breath about women being difficult, but I didn't catch it exactly.)

Lilac:  I could have died from the cold out here while you're flapping your gums!  Open the door!

Mr. Taleteller opened the door and Lilac made her way into the house in record time.  I'm sure she was asleep in her favorite bed before we even left the driveway.  She certainly knows how to make herself clear!  It turns out Bunny and Blueberry picked out a reindeer antler for her to chew on anyway, and she didn't have to leave the comfort of her bed.  She seems to have us all trained, except perhaps Mr. Taleteller, but she's not finished with him yet.

Merrily We Stroll Along

Walking in our neighborhood is an enjoyable experience for the most part. Somehow, though, throwing two grehounds into the mix makes things infinitely more interesting. Two different styles of walking could not be found. Bunny is always eager to go. As soon as I pick up her harness, she is dancing around, barely able to be still long enough for me to put it on. It is at this point that Blueberry enters the fray. She, too, is all shades of excited, however, I am hesitant to take her. Blueberry and I have a long history over her walks. If I zig, she zags -- if I am trying to move forward, she has to stop and sniff the flowers -- if I want her on my left, she will always end up on my right. I dearly love her, but she has never been easy to walk. She also has never seemed to have the stamina for it. So, as I get ready to go for a walk, Blueberry walks between Bunny and me and gazes up at me, very soulfully. Guilt kicks in.

Me: Blue, we're going for a walk, you don't like walks.

Blueberry: I never get to do anything!

Me: That's not true, but when I take you, we always end up having a problem.

Blueberry: Oh, I see! You just love Bunny more. Woe. Is. Me.

Me: Blue, come on! Don't be like that! You'll get exhausted and I can't carry you back home.

Blueberry: I've been working out!

Me (suspiciously): Running in and messing up our bed at night is not working out.

Blueberry: Please, please, please!

At this point, she breaks through, barrels past me and stands at the door wagging her tail wildly. I know two things in this scenario. One, she is going to sulk outrageously if I don't put a leash on her and two, if i take her, I am going to end up tired and frustrated on the walk. Sadly for me, I seem to be unable to resist this one small request of hers. I know that she needs exercise and that it will make her happy to go along with us. She really does ask for very little from us. So, I give in and grab a leash for her.


In the beginning, it's all sunshine and roses. Both girls have tails wagging and the thrill of what we might encounter makes everyone's steps light. As we get to the end of our street, Blueberry is suddenly walking quietly beside me while Bunny continues to forge ahead. I try to keep Blue enthusiastic and moving along. Another two blocks and her tongue begins to loll out of her mouth. I try to sound upbeat and cheerful. As we arrive at the park, Blue is now walking behind me, switching sides on occasion so that I have to keep switching the leash back and forth to keep her moving. Bunny is now intent on the park, ecstatic with the knowledge that there might be kids to pet her, pee mail to sniff, possibly a dog to greet, and maybe even a toad to catch by the creek. Her little feet begin to dance on the sidewalk and she prances over to the grass to get to her destination even quicker. I drift over into the grass, hoping to cut corners a little and make it a tad easier on Blueberry. Finally, we reach Bunny's favorite spot to sniff and leave pee mail and Blue gets a few seconds' reprieve.

By now Blue's tongue is hanging out nearly to the sidewalk. Walking has never been her forte and now that she's getting a little older, it is even less so. Still, she doesn't want to be left behind. She soldiers on. As we leave the park, it begins to become ridiculous. I will say here, for the record, that I strongly believe that a lot of this is for dramatic purposes and that I do not believe it is possible for a brief walk to overexert a hound to this degree. This is the point, as we slowly walk up the gentle hill where her sides begin to heave. She walks as far behind me as the leash will allow. A desperate gasp escapes her lips. I look at her and realize that I have lost the battle yet again. I don't think she realizes how lucky she is to be born during the age of cell phones.

I pull out my cell phone and call Husband. I explain that I need him to come and pick up his dog in the van. He doesn't even ask where we are. The scenario has played out enough times that he knows where we will be sitting on the edge of the sidewalk like poor, shiftless drifters. A few minutes pass and he arrives. I open the door and suddenly Blue jumps in with remarkable enthusiasm. Bunny looks in the van and then hopefully down the street. I tell her to make up her mind. I see her weighing the option of greeting Husband and going for ride versus the possibility of being petted by someone she has yet to be formally introduced to, since there are no strangers in her world. Blueberry sighs from the back seat of the van and Bunny decides she doesn't want to miss an opportunity like a drive through window. We both get in and she stands between Husband and I, excited to see what might be out there.

Maybe it would be easier to just pile them into the car and go for a ride. Is exercise really that overrated?

Hope Springs Eternal

Today life took an interesting turn for Lilac, our old lady greyhound, and Bunny, the puppy. During the week, my mornings at home are usually filled with Bunny cuddling up as close to me as she can possibly get on the couch. If we were any closer most mornings, she would be inside my skin. I believe she keeps hoping that she can will me to stay at home with her. That, and of course, hope always springs eternal that I will feel generous and share some of my breakfast with her.

However, a surprise was in for her today. I got ready to leave, but instead of grabbing my things for work, I grabbed my purse and the bag we take with us when the dogs go with us. I picked up a leash, and Bunny couldn't get to the back door fast enough. Hawk and Blueberry, our other greyhounds, also beat a path to the back door. I called to Lilac, and she opened an eye from the cushy dog bed at me, then flopped her ear back to the bed. So, out the door I went with Bunny while hubby held on to the other two who were not going. Then he got Lilac and convinced her to come out with him.

Lilac does not like to ride in any moving vehicle. It doesn't impress her at all, and at thirteen years old, she is most content to sleep in a sunny spot in the house. She was a good sport, however, and went to lay on the back seat, no doubt praying to the canine gods that she would survive whatever crazy ordeal we were putting her through this time.

Bunny, on the other hand, loves to go for rides. Her little nose is always pressed to a window, watching the world go by. Each and every thing is still new and exciting to her. She associates going for rides with drive thrus, where people fawn over her, trips to the dog bakery, where people fawn over her, visits to the nursing home, where people fawn over her, travels to dog obedience, where people fawn over her, and going other places where people fawn over her in general. Perhaps you see a trend.

In the back of the van, Bunny was her enthusiastic little self. Lilac looked at her the way you look at a person who runs off to jump into the icy waters of New Year's Day as a Polar Bear. I think she even shook her head in mild disgust. I can imagine the conversation between them.

Bunny: This is so exciting! It's gonna be great! I wonder how many people will want to pet me!

Lilac: It's not going to be what you think it is, kid.

Bunny: I hope there are people there! They'll want to pet me!

Lilac: There will be people there, and trust me, you don't want any part of it.

Bunny: I'll bet they think I'm cute! Everybody will want to pet me!

Lilac: I'm getting car sick. Think what you want, just be quiet.

When we arrive, Lilac's suspicions are confirmed. This is nothing she wants any part of. She squats in the grass as we head inside, doing everything she can to delay us from getting inside. Bunny, of course, is at the end of her leash, waiting for the big adventure. As we walk in the door, I see her little nose start twitching. Most likely she's trying to figure out why she can't smell the people who are no doubt waiting inside somewhere to pet her over the strong smell of antiseptic. Lilac tries putting the brakes on at the door, but Bunny's and my forward momentum pulls her over the threshold and we're inside.

Fortunately, we are the first appointment of the morning, so we don't have to wait in the lobby. We head straight for the scales. Dutifully, Bunny hops up on the scale, wagging her tail in anticipation of the attention she's about to recieve. Lilac begrudgingly stands there after I lift her up so all four feet are on the scale. Then we head for the exam room.

Bunny checks every nook and cranny, no doubt waiting for the fanfare that is about to begin at her arrival. Lilac tries to climb in my lap, completing her entire spring shed there in the exam room. She blows enough hair off her body to make a carpet for our entire upstairs level in our house.

A few minutes later, the vet comes in to get Bunny first. She fusses over her unusual coloring, and Bunny wags her tail like a little fan, doing the greyhound version of the Grace Kelly wave. Finally, the people have noticed her. Lilac tries to hide under my chair as we wait. Her plans are foiled, however, as they return Bunny, whose tail is no longer wagging until she sees me. Lilac is reluctantly led from the room, most likely hoping that they are not cutting her toenails this time.

Five minutes later, it's over, and I collect our things, along with both dogs and go out to pay. We get back in the van. Lilac can't get in fast enough. Bunny is stunned, there weren't people there to fuss over her after all.

After lunch, I decide to run out for lunch. I take the dogs out first, and then decide I'll take them along for the ride, since Blueberry and Hawk are sulking over being left behind before. I open the door to the van, and help Hawk get his back feet up in there. Blueberry leaps in right behind him. Bunny waits for her turn, then leaps like a dainty gazelle into the back as well. I turn to look, and Lilac has departed, to stand at the back door, waiting to go inside. No amount of convincing will get her back to the van, so I open the door and let her go inside. She's happy as a clam.

We pull out and head off to go pick up my lunch. It seems another conversation is going on in the back.

Blueberry: Bunny, stay on your side of the seat! I need my space.

Hawk: Don't step on me, I'm an old man!

Bunny: Where are we going? I bet they're all waiting to pet me!

Ahhh, hope springs eternal!