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.

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?