The Puppinator - aka "Snuff Doggy Dog"

The birds went absolutely crazy outside the office window this morning. A whole bunch of them. I thought it must be some sort of bizarre mating ritual, or a fight among the blue jays. Arnie was outside, but his involvement didn't even cross my mind as the area of the yard by the office is blocked off to his roaming at the moment. Or so I thought.

Awhile later, I realized I'd left the kid outside and should probably bring him in. I noticed that the temporary "blockade" to the aforementioned area of the backyard was ajar and he was way too quiet. As I peered around the corner, I saw the little assassin with a bird (dead) in his mouth. He put it down as soon as he saw me (unlike his deceased brother, Max, would have done) and came trotting into the main yard. He looked entirely too smug, however, with a tiny feather attached to his lower lip (reminded me of the old Sylvester the Cat cartoons, just after he's chomped down on Tweety Bird). I don't know if the kid actually managed to catch and kill the bird, or if the bird was a young'un on a training mission and had an unfortunate encounter with the fence. Regardless, the other birds were not happy with Arnie.

I brought him in - he appeared entirely too proud of himself - and went to the store. When I got back, he went outside again, and the birds started their angry chatter. Without thinking, I yelled out the back door, "Arnie! Inside! The birds don't like you. You're a murderer."

The things we say to our kids. He appears to be completely unscarred by the comment . . .

Hide and Seek

I hereby confess a guilty pleasure (and semi-aerobic activity). I frequently find myself playing hide and seek with the dog. For those of you who remember Max, this was his favorite game, and was MUCH more aerobic than playing with the Puppinator (aka Arnie). Arnie is still a novice, and seems to be not quite sure whether he should be having fun or be scared. When he's scared, he piddles, so I try not to press the issue. He's only 3-1/2, and Max romped with me well into his 15th year, so there's still hope for a bit more fun in our frolic. Dear God above, I hope I'm not the only fool who does this with their 4-legged child . . . Natey?!

Dog Talk

We include the Puppinator in a lot of our conversations - as if he could take our side, commiserate, support, et. al. Sometimes we even speak on his behalf - guaranteeing he has a part in the conversation. But some of those canine chats are topics for another entry. This morning, he fulfilled his 3rd-wheel-of-support role. I commented to the Frau, "We should invite the girls [our neighbors] over to watch the game on Saturday." To which the Frau responded, "What game?" "What game?!" I exclaimed, "Hello? The Mizzou/OU Big 12 Championship game?!!" To which she nonchalantly said, "Oh . . ." A little while later, the game was mentioned on the morning news, and I looked at the dog and said, "'What game?' she says. Can you believe that? She's just not a big sports person." To which the Frau turned to the dog and said, "I never have been." A pregnant pause. "But I'm still just as gay as she is!" He just rolled his eyes, tuning us both out. Smart dog.

Arnold the Puppinator

This is my "son" - I share him here as one of the central pleasures of my life - next to my wife - and at great risk that once his cuteness quotient is discovered, we will hear news of an Arnie Alert. He is an only child these days, occasionally trying as he starts his "terrible twos," and beginning to revel in our undivided attention - a trait not uncommon to his dachshund brethren. But he misses the occasional ornery romp with his 15 year old brother. Dear old Max - mutt extraordinaire - may he rest in pastoral peace (1991-2006).