The Oscar Goes To ...

 So, yesterday I told you about Oscar and his big bluff. I wondered about Emmy and finally Oscar told me how she came to live with my mom.

When Oscar came to live with my mom, she didn't know just how much she would come to love him. I have heard her tell people that she fell in love with her first doxie, Oscar. She says she would never have named him Oscar, like Oscar Meyer Wieners. She was quick to tell everyone that he was special, that he was, indeed, an Oscar, like the award. She loved him so much and wanted more little dogs just like him. So, when he was 6 months old, she bought his wife, Emmy. Also an award, her name on her registration was Sweet Emmy Lou.

Oscar says that he was afraid that Emmy would steal the show, but she didn't. Emmy had the same color fur as Oscar, but hers was long. While Oscar was stubborn and demanding, Emmy was gentle and obedient. She did not grow to be bigger than 6 lbs. Oscar weighed twice what she weighed, but Emmy had a presence all her own.

Sarge, the Collie was a very kind and gentle soul. He always obeyed and looked out for all of us dogs. Louise was a big goofy girl, often an escape artist. She would dig under the fence and then use her big size to knock the panels away and off she go, exploring the neighborhood. Louise was never intimidating, just her size. She liked to meet people and other dogs, she even liked cats. She was afraid of mice and loud noise. She hated thunderstorms and would be the first one to head to the basement when a storm was brewing. Being a St. Bernard, she was bred to rescue people in storms, but that would never have happened with her!

She taught Oscar and Emmy how to dig next to the fence and she would gain escape for all of them. Except Sarge. He would not leave the yard without permission. When Mom would discover the breach in the fence, she would dispatch Sarge to bring the three dogs back home. Then she would scold Louise, knowing that she was the one responsible.

The stories about the big dogs were fascinating! I almost wished that Sarge and Louise were still here. Oscar told me they would be very, very old. Oscar is the one who discovered Sarge after he suffered a stroke. He made Mom come with him to Sarge's side and they slept on the rug next to the wood stove with Sarge that night. Sarge came around the next day, but he could not stand up and had to be carried outside to pee. Oscar told me how Mom stayed with him until he died.

As sad as this was, it was comforting to know that my mom stayed with him. She really loves her dogs! Emmy died before I came to live here and now Oscar is gone, too. My mom says that Mr. BoJangles is much like Oscar. I think she might be right about that! He is not afraid of anything and he rarely obeys!

Oscar Made a Bluff

 I am beginning to understand why Wall-E liked to write! This is Cujo here again. I think I may have mentioned that Wall-E called our mom "Gramma". I learned more things everyday when I came to live here. Oscar helped me learn the rules, while Toni-Louise showed me how to break the rules. Wall-E was good at telling me stories about our family.

Wall-E came to live here because he couldn't stay with his very first family. He was given to a little boy named Gavin. Gavin was only four years old and he loved Wall-E very much. Wall-E loved Gavin as much as Gavin loved him. One day Gavin's mom called my mom to tell her that the puppy couldn't stay in the apartment she lived in anymore and that she (my mom) would have to come and get him (the puppy, not Gavin).

This was very confusing to me. Then he explained that Gavin's mom is my mom's daughter and Gavin's Gramma. Gavin's Gramma loves Gavin, so she went to Minnesota and brought Wall-E back to live with her and Gavin's Papa. That is how he came to know her as Gramma. Wall-E was so sad about leaving his boy, so Gramma helped him write some post cards to his boy. Gavin liked the post cards, his mom told Gavin's Gramma that he was sleeping with the post cards.

So, Wall-E started his very own blog! He wrote letters to his boy almost every day for four years! Every time Gavin came to see him or Gramma and Papa took him to see his boy it was like they were never apart. This made me wonder if I might like to have a boy until I realized that boys grow up to be men and I don't like men. Anyhow, Wall-E's blog turned into a book called "Letters To Gavin". 

One day, not long after I came to live here, my mom told me we were going to see a vet. Oh no, this was not good! I do not like vets! She told me not to worry, our vet is a lady and that I would like her. A lady vet? Okay, I can go along with that. It seems that I had an umbilical hernia. So, that is what that swimming lady was talking about when she said I had something wrong with my belly!

The trip to the vet wasn't bad at all. I stayed most of the day, but I was sleeping and don't remember much about it. My hernia was gone when I woke up and so were my testicles! No one consulted me about this! I healed just fine under my mom's care and I don't really miss anything that was taken away that day.

I suppose Oscar felt sorry for me while I recuperated from my ordeal and he stayed in with me and told me stories about how he came to live with my mom. He didn't start out being her dog, but he was still a small puppy when he came to live with her.

By this time I had met Gavin and his mom, Adrienne. I liked them both and Gavin was extra gentle and patient with me. He is okay, I like him. Now I found out that Adrienne is not my mom's only daughter. Jill gave Oscar his first home and his name. She didn't keep him very long, though. She already had a big dog named Crash. He was a St. Bernard and belonged to Gage, her son. So she was used to big dogs that obeyed her.

Maybe she should have done some research before getting a dachshund! Jill complained every day about Oscar and kept asking her mom to take the dog. Mom already had two dogs! One was the sister of Jill's big dog and her name was Louise. The other dog was a Collie named Sargent Pepper (Sarge).  Mom wouldn't even hold Oscar. She called him an ankle biter and said that she preferred "real dogs" like her big ones.

One day Jill said she was taking the tiny dog to the pound!! "Fine, bring the dog to me!" said the crazy dog lady. She took the tiny dog to her house where her big dogs were in residence. She placed the tiny dog on the floor along with his toys. She told the big dogs to be nice and they stood, silently watching the tiny dog, as he picked up a toy bigger than himself and carried it to big dog dish they shared and placed his toy atop the food. Sarge and Louise walked slowly over to meet this new tiny dog and just guess what he did? He barked and snarled at them!!

This how he became the alpha male and ruled the pack. Oscar confessed to me that he didn't know if this tactic was going to work and that he was intimidated by their size. He was bluffing!!

Men, I Don't Like Them

Cujo here again. One thing I neglected to mention in my story yesterday was meeting Dad. I did not like him. He was a man, he wore a hat. He was nice to me and he held me, but I leaned far away from here and looked for my mom. I have lived here a longed time, most of my life and he has always been kind to me. He even gives me treats, but my heart belongs to that crazy lady, my mom.

I learned right away that Oscar was the boss of us dogs. He would nip you if you over stepped his boundaries. I bet if he was here today, he would be putting Mr. BoJangles in his place! For a long time, it was just us four dogs and Martha, the boy cat. Wall-E was the sensitive one. Wall-E was quite fond of our dad and Toni Louise is still partial to him. Oscar was like me, he preferred our mom.

I am not sure what my original name was. I was scared of everyone and every creature here at first. I only wanted to be in my mom's lap. She held me a lot. That first night, I was amazed to see that all the dogs got into the big bed with the people!! I had never slept in a bed before! I usually just found a place on the floor and was lucky if there was a blanket I could curl up on.

Oscar showed me how to wiggle under the covers and find a good spot. His spot was right next to my mom's leg. He slept there every night. Sometimes our dad would say he was cold and try to pull him over to his side. Oscar would snarl at him and snap his teeth together in warning. So, I chose to sleep next to Mom, right above Oscar. I still sleep there. Mom says I am in her arm pit. All I know is that I like to be touching her while I sleep.

Mom took me everywhere those first few days to introduce me to the people in the camp ground. I liked the ladies, but shied back from the men. I absolutely hated the children who wanted to grab me and hold me. Mom wouldn't let them, she told them I would bite them. How did she know this? She was right. Oscar told me to just trust her because she knows everything.

After much discussion, Mom finally came up with a name for me. She said that since I was afraid of everything, I should be named Cujo. I didn't care about a name. Wall-E informed me that this was a great example of irony. I didn't know what that was. Wall-E was a big fan of words. He wrote a book! That is another story for another day. He told me that there was once a very large dog named Cujo. The dog got sick with rabies and terrorized everyone around him and tried to kill his family.

Why would she name me after a mean dog? I asked Wall-E and he told me that was the ironic part, because I am just the opposite. Okay, so maybe she is a little crazy, I thought. I was most afraid of Martha, the boy cat. He is huge! He is not afraid of anything. He hunts a lot and will bring fresh meat to us dogs. My mom is not a fan of this fresh meat.

One time Martha brought a whole mouse to me! I was so excited. I picked my mouse up in my mouth and suddenly there was Mom. She yelled at me to spit it out RIGHT NOW. I ran from her, she chased me and told me to put the mouse down, but I did not! I was so busy trying to avoid capture that I didn't have time to chew and when she grabbed me from behind, I swallowed it whole.

That was a bad day and I do not recommend this method of eating a mouse. It made my throat hurt and it made my mom not want to kiss me. I like my smoochie time with my mom. It is a ritual we have first thing in the morning. I go outside and pee, then I run back inside and sit on her lap while she plants kisses all over my head and tells me how much she loves me. It is our special thing.

Oscar told me that Emmy was also a dachshund and that she died right before I came to live here. So now I knew how little Emmy had been lost. Oscar told me that he was still very sad and missing her. She was his wife. He told me that she was quite small, but had a very big personality. They had three puppies that other people adopted. This was when they lived in a big house in a big city. I wondered why my mom wouldn't keep the puppies and how she could let other people have them. Oscar told me there were many reasons.

In the place they lived, they were only allowed to have four dogs. So, I wondered about that, too. Oscar was one dog, Emmy was two dogs, why couldn't they keep two of her puppies? This is when I found out that there were even more dogs before me! My mom really loves dogs!

 

The Crazy Lady

 Cujo here. My mom is not feeling well today. I confess that I like it when she is not up and about. She is sitting next to me and the rest of my pack. 

I was just taking a stroll down memory lane. I have been told that I should be taking a brisk walk around the park. My mom says that her back is out of whack from picking me up. She says I am fat and heavy. I heard Dad say I was shaped more like a propane tank than a hotdog. This is insulting! 

I am old and set in my ways. I am not sure just how old I am. I didn't always live here with my mom. I do remember the day I found her, though. 

I started my life in a puppy mill. My owner was a hoarder of dogs like me. As I recall, there were a lot of us. So many that you had to fight to get enough food. One day some people in authority came and took all of us dogs away. There were men with jackets and hats on and I was scared out of my wits!

These men chased us and then tried to grab us. This did not go well for either group. I am a dachshund, you know, and we will attack if provoked. I ran and hid, but they eventually cornered me and threw a sack over my head. I tried my best to bite and I think I may have caused some injury, though not substantial enough to let me loose.

We were shoved into cages and taken to a facility. Vets checked us out and gave shots to each and every one of us. I do not like vets! After that we were displayed in cages like zoo animals. It was humiliating! After a time, people adopted us one by one. It was strange to not be with all the dogs I had grown up with.

A man chose me one day. He drove a giant truck and told me that I was to be his new companion. I did not want to be his companion, I do not like men! He wore a hat and a coat, just like the men who chased me down and captured me. I was not nice to this man. I refused all of his attempts to befriend me. He finally gave up and asked a family that he knew to take me. They did, but I could tell they weren't excited to have me. They were nice enough, but they didn't really love me.

One day we all got into their car. I heard them say they were going swimming. Swimming? I don't swim. I have no desire to be dumped into a vat of cold water!! I sat in the back seat with the children and listened to them talk about a crazy lady. They said she was crazy about wiener dogs. Is that what they think I am?

We finally arrived at this camp ground and the mother of the family grabbed me and took me inside the office with her. Let me tell you, I was not happy about this turn of events. I could tell that something big was about to happen. The woman holding me went up to the check-in counter and said this: "My cousin got this wiener dog to ride along with him in his truck, but the dog don't like him. We took him, but we don't really want him. He has something wrong with his belly and we don't want to have to pay to have it fixed. I know you love wiener dogs, do you want him?" Whoa, wait a minute here! They took me, but they didn't want me? Who does that!

The crazy lady said that she had just lost her little Emmy and wasn't sure she was ready for a new dog. Okay, how did she lose little Emmy? Do I really want to know? Things are getting strange. The lady holding me said. "Well, I'll just leave him in the car while we swim." What is wrong with this woman? Leave me in a hot car, I could die!!

Next thing I knew was that I was being snatched from that woman's arms by the crazy lady. "You cannot leave him in a hot car! He will stay with me while you swim!" She sat down in her chair and started talking to me. To me, not about me. She told me not to worry, she would take good care of me. I think I like this crazy lady!

She sniffed my head and told me that I needed a bath and then she asked me if the people in that family were smokers. I wanted to tell her that they were and that I did not like it, but she could smell it. She took me into her house and grabbed a towel (she called it a dog towel) and some dog shampoo and proceeded to soak me in warm water! So, this was a bath, I thought to myself! She rubbed that shampoo into my fur and then she rinsed me and dried me. This all happened so fast that I didn't have time to object. She talked to me the entire time. She told me that she would take me to live in her house if I passed a test.

A test? I am no longer a puppy, but I have never had a test. What, I wondered, was a test? Like everything she had done so far, this happened really fast. She opened another door that led to a big fenced in yard and three other dogs came running in! She called out for a dog named Oscar.

She introduced me to this dog by the name of Oscar. He was a dachshund, like me. He was stunningly handsome with his black fur with touches of tan. I am red. Just red. This dog named Oscar had a regal stance. He came over to the crazy lady and she told him all about me, even the part about the people wanting to leave me in a car! She then put me on the floor in front of Oscar. He sniffed me thoroughly, barked very loud, then wagged his tail. The crazy lady clapped her hands!

She told me I had passed this test and that I was going to be one of her dogs. Then she introduced me to a white funny looking dog by the name of Wall-E. He was very timid and I liked him immediately. He told me later that the crazy lady was his Gramma and that she was not really crazy, she just loved dogs.

The girl dog, Toni Louise, was more cautious. The crazy lady told me she would come around and not to worry about it. We went back into the office and I sat in her lap while she checked customers in. The swimming people who were going to leave me in the car came in. She told them she wanted me. That is when they asked for money! The crazy lady gave them $50 and free swimming for the rest of the season. Later she told me she would have given them more, because there was no way she was going to let them take me back!

She put me on the floor and I walked over to the family that never really wanted me and just looked at them before I turned around and came back to  my new mom and put my feet on her knees to be picked up. That is how I came to live here with my mom, who is crazy about all of us dogs!

Grease!

 My persistent headache has returned with a vengeance. It makes me cranky and not fun to be around. It also seems to enhance all my annoyances.

Not big things, these things that annoy me and make me wonder. It annoys me that cookie is the singular form of cookies. Why isn't it cooky? Who decided which words and phrases should defy the rules of grammar? Why should there be exceptions that prove the rule? Who was in charge when this happened and why did they let it happen?

See what I mean? I have used far too much energy thinking about this. It really doesn't matter. Cooky or cookie, I will eat it! I am constantly searching for palatable recipes for HeWho love to eat. I am always on the lookout for things to enhance his salt free existence. It is not easy, you know. HeWho loves fried foods (who doesn't). 

So, when I saw a recipe for baked churros, it caught my eye. I had all the ingredients on hand and decided to just make a small batch. It sounded good. It was a little labor intensive, or maybe I just thought so because I was disappointed with the results. I have made cream puffs before and this recipe was similar, in that you boil the wet ingredients, then add the flour, then the eggs. No need for the electric mixer or food processer. Just a heavy bottomed sauce pan and a wooden spoon. It took some elbow grease to get the eggs to incorporate into the dough to the consistency of masked potatoes.

I followed all the directions and adhered to the suggestion of having all the elements ready in advance. I had my cookie sheets covered in parchment and my pastry bag all ready to fill and squeeze. While the dough was warm, it was easier to work with. I piped the long rows onto the parchment and popped them in the oven and cooked them for 10 minutes at 425. They were predicted to "puff slightly". This was followed by broiling until "golden brown". This last step requires constant attention, lest you burn them to a crisp.

The dough has very little sugar in it, but you roll them in cinnamon sugar while still hot. The ridges from the piping tip were rumored to give the sugar something to grab onto.

I am known to experiment with my cooking attempts. Usually the recipe is treated like a suggestion by me. I will offer up my experiments to willing subjects who will be honest about their taste. These were so bad, I didn't even do that. These were so bad that even HeWho wouldn't eat them. The dogs didn't like them and I didn't like them.

You know what they needed? Grease! They needed grease. Grease makes everything tastier.

Tired

 When last we spoke, I wove the tale of the rubbery chicken. I have since learned that we were not the only customers who returned a cooked bird. All from the same batch of chickens in the store's freezer case. I don't know if I will ever buy meat there again. I suppose I should reconsider that since, in 16 years this is the only bad experience I have had with their meat department. I learned early on to check the expiration dates. I do it in every store now. 

I am sure HeWho will ask what was discovered to be wrong with the hen. He is chatty like that. He has no filter when it comes to asking questions. He once asked a swimmer when her baby was due. Thank goodness she didn't hear him. She was holding her 7 month old at the time and was definitely not pregnant, just had not dropped all those baby pounds yet. Realizing she had not heard him, he was on the precipice of asking again when I stepped on his foot and continued to apply pressure until he shut his mouth. I prefer that he not be standing next to me when he makes these faux pas. 

Since the day of thanks I have found myself to lack energy. I enjoyed my day of sitting with my foot propped up. It was better in three days. I did end up washing the dishes, but HeWho helped. It should come as no surprise that he is clueless about the whereabouts of kitchen items. He cooked dinner. Hamburger Helper makes a great meal. He even made a salad. The next day, I found that he had put the lettuce on the second shelf of the fridge instead of the crisper drawer. He even put the leftover beef stroganoff in the fridge. He wedged the skillet he cooked it in on top of the eggs at an angle. To his credit, he did take the serving spoon out and left it on the stove.

Somehow I doubt he will ever become adept at household chores. The store is closed at least until March. We have a night registration set up and it should be pretty easy. I replace the brochures, envelopes and registration forms daily. There are instructions posted. A map of the park is on the front of the building and the brochure has a map. The drop box is right there in sight and the current rates are posted.

Unfortunately, I seem to have overestimated people. They call and ask me what to do. I always tell them to look to the right or left (I can see them on the monitor) and the instructions are right in front of them. But they want to be told how to do each step of the process. I am beginning to think that there is an entire generation out there that never learned to read. Or maybe it is just reading comprehension they are lacking in.

All this just makes me tired. HeWho wants to take a trip, but just the thought of getting everything ready 

and loaded exhausts me. All I want to do is sleep. My major accomplishment today? I bathed the dogs. I have been resting since and am looking forward to bedtime.

Hen Happenings

Yesterday dawned bright and early and I was happy to see the sun shine. I showered after lingering over coffee, having done most of the prep work for our tiny dinner the day before.

Things sort of went downhill from that point. I had accidentally caught a glimpse of my hair in the mirror a couple of days ago. Hair grows, you know, and mine was at that length that defies styling, no matter how much or many products you try to tame it with. It looked like my hair was a separate entity hovering just above my scalp. So, I cut it ...... again. I have been doing a fairly decent job of following the cut lines my stylist had cut. But that was almost a year ago. This time, I am afraid I went way off track. And not in a good way.

The only word I can think of is "choppy". My hair is baby fine (limp) and straight. As I toweled my head and got ready to dry it, the image of Moe from the Three Stooges popped into my head. Yes, it was that bad. But, we were not seeing anyone today, so ... I don't get too excited about my hair. It grows fast. It helps that I can laugh at myself.

I went into the kitchen to prepare the feast. I pulled my roasting hen from the from the fridge to get her all gussied up before plopping her in my iron dutch oven. I peeled away the wrapper and noticed that her skin looked odd. It was very thick and when I pulled it up, it stayed. I called HeWho for a second opinion and he agreed it looked "different" to him, as well. We both leaned close to sniff the bird. It smelled okay, so I proceeded to season her and stuff her cavity with a handful of fresh herbs and an orange. Into the oven she went on low heat. For five hours. I checked after the first three hours and really expected it to be falling off the bones. I kept the lid on and it should have been quite moist.

I was a little annoyed. The green bean casserole and the dressing and sweet potatoes were ready. The rolls were watching the progress and waiting to be toasted. Two pies sat on the counter and whipped cream was done. I shoved the hen back into the juices that were halfway up the side of the pot and waited some more.

At some point during all this activity my right foot started aching. I just changed shoes and went on with my chores. I just figured my feet were not quite ready for real shoes. I wear Dawgs all the time. I have about 7 colors and I love them. They have great arch supports and hug my feet just right. I slipped on the cranberry pair from my latest purchase .... it being Thanksgiving and all, I thought that was appropriate.

Finally I yanked the bird from the oven. I grabbed one leg and pulled it out of the pan. It was stiff and unyielding. I grabbed a knife and cut a small piece of breast meat off. It tasted like nothing. It was like chewing a rubber band. HeWho gave it a go and we both spit it out. Why did I not go with my first instinct and buy a turkey breast?

As we sat down to our vegetarian Thanksgiving meal, I realized that my toes were throbbing. I think this is the same foot I dropped something on this summer and am pretty sure I broke something in my foot near my toes. I figured it was just arthritis flaring up in those joints. Why not? This was just the day for it!

I sat down after our eating to facetime all the kids and told HeWho I did not intend to get up again until bedtime. He threatened to clean up the kitchen, which would have been fine with me. I had washed most everything as I cooked and there was not that much to clean up. That man is just full of empty threats!

I had a very restless night. My foot ached and would wake me from time to time. This morning it was so swollen I couldn't get my shoe on. My second and third toes look like fat sausages and the ball of my foot is puffy and swollen. HeWho wanted to whisk me away to the emergency room. I am having none of that. The only thing they can do that I am not already doing is an X-ray. The treatment is the same for a sprain or a break in that part of my foot. Ice, elevate and stay off of it. I have broken my left foot 4 times. I have crutches, braces and everything I need right here.

The side dishes were tasty and the pies were fine. The store took my chicken back and HeWho will be heated up leftovers to go with the rotisserie chicken he picked up when he returned the defective hen. Life is good, despite everything!