Days of Whines and Cold Noses: New Blog Home

This blog has been moved to http://cranmerleedaysofwhinesandcoldnoses.blogspot.com/.  It is now a fictionalized, humorous tale of a freelance graphic designer and her two Basenjis--Harper and Pop Tart. I hope you will take a look. LeeBeth

New content and format coming!

Hello!
This blog will be changing content and format in the next week.  Please be patient while the new blog about a fictional basenji household is under construction.
Hope you check back in a week!  Meanwhile you are welcome to check out old posts.

Dog Names

Dog names are odd things.  Usually I'm very good at remembering the names of all my neighbors and friends' dogs.  Not the neighbors' dog who lives behind me though. This evening I walked by an open window and heard my dogs outside charging up and down the fence line.  The neighbors' Rottweiler had gotten loose AGAIN and was running around in the backyard outside the fence. 
My Tallie has a cervical disc tear and is supposed to be "staying quiet," as if "staying quiet" and "basenji" are somehow compatible!  He should not be romping around trying to intimidate a Rottie, so I yelled out the window for the dog to go home. Of course, I couldn't remember his name, so my yelling was like spitting in the wind.
He knew I was talking to him, but was content to pretend I could be yelling at any creature wandering around my backyard--the bird skipping in and out of the bushes perhaps?  The stink bugs crawling up the siding? Certainly not him. Tomorrow's goal is to find a mnemonic to remember his name!
My mother always contended that before you name a dog, you should shout that name out the window 3 times to hear how it sounds. Usually she followed her own advice--"Here, Spunky!" "Here, Cleo!" seemed to have worked well for the first hounds our family had when I was a child. 
I've had a much more difficult time following her advice.  "Here, Talon!" makes me sound suspiciously like a hanger-on in a biker gang, and "Here, Grinner!" just sounds silly or gives the appearance I've taken one too many Prozac.
Some days I wonder how I could have strayed so far from such good advice.  Then again, I remember we had a dog named "Bandit" when I was in high school, so even my own mother was known to ignore her own advice occasionally.

Basenji Thievery

They look so innocent, don't they?  However, one of these dogs is a thief!  I had so many things to do today, and my memory is not what it used to be. Last evening I carefully made a list to remind me.  This morning as I'm groggily drinking my coffee, I looked all over the table and couldn't find my list.

"No problem," I thought. "I'll find it eventually, so let's start with what I do remember." The dogs seemed to be just lying around, approaching the day slowly like me.  I got caught up on all the emails I needed to answer and looked again for the list.

It was still nowhere to be found,  and I had a feeling that there was something important I was forgetting to do.  The basenjis reminded me that I had forgotten to walk them, so Grin, Pilot and I headed out the door. (Pilot is the dog on the left, Grin is in the middle and Tallie is on the right in the photo.)  Poor Tallie is not allowed to go for walks now until his cervical disc is better.

The walk seemed to clear my mind because when the basenjis and I got home, I remembered a task I had promised to do for a friend.  One more item down, but what were the rest? 

I'll never know because as I was finishing writing up the information for my friend, I felt something damp and in pieces under my foot.  When I bent down to pick up the mess, I could make out a word here or there on the torn scraps of what had been my To Do list.  Suspiciously, no dogs were under my feet. They wore all lying innocently in sun spots. It was obvious one of the basenjis was able to steal the list off the table, chew it up and spit it out in disdain without my ever noticing the little thief in action.  But which one was it? Look at those basenji faces and tell me which one you think looks like he's capable of such a crime--Pilot, Grin or Tallie.  I await your verdict.



Signs--Good, Bad, Bald?

When life gets trying--and boy has it been trying the past few years--I find myself looking for signs that things are going to get better.  You would think I would have learned my lesson a year ago. The morning started out like any other morning.  I got up and grabbed the dogs' leashes for our morning work.   The sun was just beginning to rise in a grayish sky.  I remember hoping it wouldn't rain as I struggled to put the coats on the two squirming dogs. It was chilly and I knew they'd be shivering without them.
Grin, Tallie and I stepped out the door and immediately I got more than a shiver up my spine.  I could feel eyes watching me.  Creepy eyes.  I glanced up from the dogs and saw 12 turkey vultures perched on the roof of the house directly across from mine.  In the sky another dozen were flying lazy circles over the houses.  As if this weren't disconcerting enough, when I turned around (yes, I considered fleeing back into the house), I saw 5 more turkey vultures sitting on my roof looking down at me!
For those of you who have never seen a turkey vulture, let me give you a brief description.  They are huge, ugly birds with a wingspan of about 5' with grayish feathers on the bottom and a red, almost bald head. 
They are scavengers.  I saw no dead animals and the dogs certainly didn't act like they smelled anything dead.  This did NOT seem like a good sign.  What were they trying to tell me, "We've got our eyes on you?" "You're dead meat?"
I looked to the basenjis.  They were ignoring the vultures completely and were pulling against their leashes wanting to start their walk.  In that moment it came to me that I could go back inside and curl up in bed or I could follow my dogs' example and get on with living the day.   What the heck, we were already outside --all with our coats on--so I just laughed at the birds and carried on.  I like to think the dogs were proud.

Sun Dog, Table Dog

Today is a fiercely windy Monday, and the dogs have been moving from room to room in search of sunny spots.  Basenjis are superior at making the most of a tiny beam of sunshine in an otherwise dreary day. 
My first Basenji Phoenix made an art form out of sunbathing.  Unfortunately, the sunniest spot in my first house was in the dining room--in the center of the table!  That dog loved to jump up on the table, stretch out on her back and "catch some rays."  I always thought if she'd been a Weimaraner, she's have made a perfect model for William Wegman.
Nonetheless, I tried everything to break her of the habit:

• Putting tin foil down on the table top because I was told dogs hated having their nails touch tin foil.  Phoenix thought it was great fun making scratching sounds on it.
• Taping balloons along the edge and top of the table because I was told the popping sound would scare her enough to stop her from jumping up.  Phoenix made an agility game out of that by seeing how gingerly she could weave between them.  Then she'd grab one and bite it to enjoy the noise she had created.
• Shooting her with a water pistol when I found her lying on the tin foil among the balloons.  She would continue to sit there but now added batting water away with her paw to the game!
• Etc., etc., etc.

After months of exhausting myself coming up with ideas to get her down, I finally declared her the victor in "The Battle of the Broyhill."  The terms of the surrender were simple. The conquered would cede the territory hereafter known as "The Dining Room Table" to the victor in exchange for the victor's assurance she would no longer eat the flowers out of the flower pots or nip at the conquered when she told her to come out of her crate.  The terms were so reasonable that until the day we moved, the truce was adhered to and Phoenix never missed a day in the sun.

Dogs on a Swing Video Share for Easter

Happy Easter to all my friends who celebrate Easter!  Hope this video from Huffington Post makes you smile as much as it did me.  I cannot imagine any of my basenjis who would enjoy the swing as much as the basenji in the video does.  http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/03/28/dogs-on-a-swing-video_n_1386220.html

Disappearing Puppy

A puppy can make any day better.  I was feeling blue because one of my basenjis might need surgery this week for his neck.  Then I started thinking about all the predicaments my dogs have gotten into over the years.  Maxi was a master at making me worry!  My Queen Anne home was a large townhouse, and as a puppy Maxi used to appear out of nowhere and try to dart out the door everytime I opened it. One day when he was about 5 months old and I was cleaning, I realized I hadn't seen or heard him for a good 15 minutes.  As anyone can tell you, a quiet basenji puppy is probably up to no good! 
I called his name and figured he 'dcome flying into the room with tell-tale fluff from a pillow hanging out of his mouth.  However, after calling several times and finding no puppy, I began to get alarmed.  Had he somehow gotten out when I'd taken out the garbage?  After a complete search of the house, I was frantic! 
Then I heard a tinkle (and, NO, not the kind of tinkle you usually associate with a puppy).  It sounded like glasses toasting, but I was the only one in the house. The noise was coming from the large chest in the dining room. When I opened the door to the lower cabinet, I found a very content Basenji puppy pawing the liquor bottles!  I was so relieved I didn't know which to grab first--the licker or the liquor! 
Life has a way of playing jokes on us, but remembering the good times definitely helps get us through. 

Of Bubbles and Bravery

As all good basenji owners know, most basenjis do not like water.  Some like my Maxi considered it an evil almost beyond bearing.  When I walked him on rainy days, he stopped every block to try to lick his front paws dry! Then he'd put them down on the rainy sidewalk and we'd start the whole process all over again. 
One day I discovered just how much Maxi really loved me and how brave he could be.  I was exhausted and achy after a day of teaching and decided to soak in the whirlpool bath--a luxury that I usually didn't indulge in because I would spend most evenings giving the dogs attention after work.
I left the bathroom door open because Maxi scratched to get in and I didn't want to listen to the commotion while I was soaking.  I just knew he'd never venture into the room once he realized I was drawing a bath because he'd been known to hide under the kitchen table when I tried to give him pre-dog show baths.
I sank into the bubbly water and closed my eyes in bliss. In less than a moment I could sense a presence in the room and fearfully opened my eyes.  There stood poor Maxi two feet away from the tub with a look of absolute horror on his face.  His "mom" was in the biggest puddle he'd ever seen! What to do? What to do?  How to save her?
He flew toward the tub and began frantically drinking the water.  No matter what I did, he would not stop.  The look of fierce determination on his face plainly said, "If you are too stupid to save yourself, it is my job to do it for you even if it means drinking this entire tub!"  I tried to push him back, but he just continued gulping.  Soon he tried to jump into the tub to pull me out.
At that point I gave up trying to relax in the tub.  Who needs relaxation anyway when you have the love of a dog brave enough to conquer his worse fear to try to save you?

Dogs and Squirrels: Sometimes Life Gets Nutty

A Rottweiler ran out into the road to greet Grinner and Pilot while we were walking yesterday.  He scared the heck out of me, but luckily he was very friendly.  The incident did get me thinking about all the encounters with "wildlife" my dogs and I have had over the years. 
I used to live in town and would walk my then two basenjis each morning at 5:00. I was always afraid I'd lose one of the basenjis if I dropped a leash from my still groggy hands, so I kept Phoenix, my escape artist, on a leash which snapped around my waist.  That left both hands free to control Mad Max who fancied himself a sled dog.  
One morning I heard a crashing sound in the tree above us. Before I could even look up a squirrel juvenile with half of its tail missing FELL out of the tree, landed on my head, slid inside my jacket and clawed its way down my back and left leg before making a terrified escape onto the ground. 
I'm still not exactly sure of the sequence of events, but Phoenix on my left tried to climb up my legs to catch the squirrel as it scampered down.  Brave Max, who was on the right, did his best to defend "his girls" by circling and lunging at the squirrel.  All of his efforts might have been more effective if he hadn't been on my right while the squirrel was doing its death spiral done my left leg. 
In the amount of time it took me to scream like a girl, I had two dogs' leashes tightly wrapped around my body and one firm conviction in my brain--I had RABIES and maybe my poor dogs did, too! I could feel the squirrel's marks on my back even as I disentangled myself--not an easy feat while Maxi was still convinced he could kill the squirrel which had run right back up the tree it had fallen out of.  Soon I realized my hounds did not have a scratch on them. No canine rabies! Good. Now I would be the only one to die and I had time to write a will in which to provide them a good home.
In spite of my scream when the squirrel hit my head, no one came out at 5:00 AM to see what all the fuss was about. (Later I would remember that and wonder just how safe it really was to walk my dogs alone that early.) However, right then the only thought I had was to find someone who could tell me how many squirrel bites I had on my back.
Unfortunately for my neighbor, she arrived on the street walking her Pit Bull a minute later.  I think I scared her worse than the squirrel had scared me as I frantically called across the road for her. Bless her because she took pity on the crazy woman rambling on about rabid squirrels and did check my back after she stopped laughing. 
Apparently squirrels are not known for viciously attacking people--who knew?  What I thought were bites were merely scratches from the clumsy youngster's paws.  She assured me I would not get rabies and so did the four other women who I checked my back at work.  Still I was leery everytime we passed that tree from then on though Max and Phoenix always looked forward to reaching it.  I think until the day we moved they thought it was a squirrel slot machine, and if they waited long enough, one day it would rain squirrels on them again.


 

Dog "Show" more than I expected

After caring for my mom during her terminal illness in 2010-2011, I am getting back to showing dogs, basenjis in particular. After gleefully promising to show a friend's basenji 3 days at the York dog shows, it occurred to me that I hadn't worn my skirts in almost a year. And apparently the hallway is not only full of hell, but also donuts, chocolate and ice cream. What to do when all my clothes were too tight? After a week of dieting, I was beyond proud of myself that I could get back into a skirt that was practically new.

Showing was a bit of a disaster the first day as the male dog I was showing got distracted by girls in season. So distracted, in fact, apparently he thought I was hiding one in my hair because he kept trying to climb up to find her! I felt like Bruce Willis at the end of Die Hard when I got out of the ring. When the judge turns to you and says, "I just feel sorry for you!" you know you're not looking your best--or going to win.

Cleaning up in the bathroom afterward, I decided to change clothes in a stall which is always a challenge. Of course, the zipper of my skirt broke, and I got STUCK in it. Apparently I wasn't really able to fit into the skirt after all! I hopped out of the stall with a pair of jeans as far up my legs as I could get them, calling for my friend to help me. Thankfully she is a very practical friend who had a sewing kit in her bag, so--to the great delight of all in the ladies room--she cut my me out of my skirt in front of the sinks.

Now I say she is practical, but she isn't always sensible. She actually suggested I sew the skirt back up and it would be fine. "Does she really know me?" I asked myself. "Me--the person she has never even seen sew back on a button?" I dropped the skirt in the trash while she and I were
laughing so badly it didn't matter that the whole reason I had for taking it off was to save it from being dirtied by puppies later in the day.

You probably know the old saying, "Whenever God closes one door, he always opens another, even though sometimes it's Hell in the hallway!" This blog is about how I am getting through the hellish hallways in my life with a little help from my dogs and a sense of humor. I hope you enjoy my journey.