Working hard

Tiny Dog goes to work with me. Every day. She didn’t used to insist, but now she does, even on Saturdays, though how would she know it was the weekend?

She sees me put on my shoes and coat, and starts to trail me, hopping up on her back legs for attention: HEY you! Pick me UP!

Blurry since I am walking. This is outside, where she is refusing to walk.

 But you get the gist.

She's close to my left heel as I gather my lunch and coffee and purse and hat and mittens. Still dancing for attention.

So I put two coats on her, and her new hat. And she goes in my coat like this:

Two-headed 1/2 dog, 1/2 human monster.

The Walgreens checkout person asked me last week, with Tiny Dog tucked in my coat, Do you seatbelt her in too?  I do, I said, snug like this.

And when we get to work, she greets all the techs, making sure none has snacks. She dances and sneezes and play-bows for cookies. She twirls, she smiles. Treats fall from the sky, well, the techs. (You should see how ruthless her begging is at lunchtime as everyone rotates through their breaks.)

Most of the time she is like this:

A very kind pair of clients, who lost their dear old cat, gave me his bed. It plugs in, and the heater is activated by pressure. So Tiny Dog warms up, safely in a cage, out of harm’s way of feet and dogs coming through the treatment area.

It’s a pretty good dog time for her, going to work. I see why she insists.

Tiny hats for all!

O, internet, you can be wonderful sometimes.

One of the pleasures of writing this blog is seeing where folks are reading it. Hello France! Hello Ukraine! Hello States! Hello Russia! Hello Netherlands! Hello Germany! Hello Hong Kong! Hello Romania! Hello Poland! Hello Mexico! Hello Indonesia! The breadth of readers astounds me. Thanks for wanting to hear about tiny dogs.

And also, this lovely thing happened: someone out there made three hats for Tiny Dog. Karen and Steve emailed me about their 2 pound chichi Auggie (0.9 kg!), and how Karen had to knit clothes for him since he was so minute. And also: would I like a hat? I would!

So: here they are! 

A. Fleece & lined (dog print fabric!) reversible hood with Velcro chin strap
 

B. Two pullover stocking knit caps

Same hat: two looks! Check out the attention to detail:

chin strap, plenty of room for ears, jolly dog print inside, and soft soft fleece.

Not quite Georgie's size, since the hat is made for Tiny Dog, but I HAD to do it. Had to.

Not sure what she's thinking, but she just wants a nap, I believe.

Want one too? Please email Steve, who will chat with Karen, the knitting and fleece hat genius: littlebirch@hotmail.com.

Ask her about teeny sweaters too!

Equations for joy

This was Wednesday:

Wren is suffused with joy today. I can’t claim to know the source of her happiness, but it could be the sun on the floor, me being home and the big dog at daycare, a belly full of breakfast?

She is uncharacteristically taking a soft chewed toy from the collection, over to her bed and giving it a quick thrashing, then going back for a new one. A single floppy gutted stuffed creature is down for the count, one after another. They don’t complain.

Mr Frog lounging nonchalantly despite his left jugular being ripped out.

I pick out a new toy for her and she trots over, takes it in her mouth, sallies over to her bed and shakes the toy-beast. Then comes back for more. This is not like her at all. But I love it.

Tiny Dog is quick to join in, jumping on Wren’s shoulders with a minute growl. In Tiny Dog, she finally has a friend. Others have tried, but failed. Smaller, like a little sister, is safer for her.

Meanwhile, the usually loud one, Georgie, is silently shaking by the front door, in hopes that I will notice and take her on a walk.

This is today:

 

It’s hard to know that her spark of happiness will be brief, yet it’s still infectious. 

Fall fashion: blaze orange.

And it lingered throughout my week, through the rush and thrum of my busy work week of bladder and ear infections, itchy dogs, weeping wounds, ascites (fluid in abdomen), anal sac expressions, new kitten and puppy wellness exams, diabetes glucose curves, acupuncture appointments for hip pain and skin issues, hypertension check-ups, three referrals to ophtho, mysterious new masses, investigations of weight loss, discussions of obesity, post-op knee surgery complications, walk-in appointments squeezed in, adult vaccine appointments and heartworm tests, and some good-byes to a few old cats. Hardly time to exhale, dust off your shoulders and go into the next exam room, again, and again, and again.

Sat afternoon arrived, and I promptly took a three hour nap.

All three chihuas joined me, Wren tucked into my arms, Tiny Dog under the covers on my ankles and George rotating between 4-blankets-deep sleep to digging out for a breath of fresh air.

Upon waking, the first thing I saw was the darkness of the room, then I heard Wren stir, stretch on my face. She has the softest coat of the four dogs and it’s easy to hold her on your chest, as your wake up, little by little. She will dart a tongue out to your lips once or twice, as a hello, and then flop over, demanding a belly rub. Her joy is still there, of course. It’s always there. Right in front of you.