Dog Lessons Part II

You know when someone says, "Living with [name here] has taught me patience," you know that [name here] is a pain in the ass.

Annie has taught me patience.

She won't relieve herself in the backyard when it rains, no matter how much it must hurt to hold it in (and she doesn't always succeed at holding it in). I might remind you here that we get 155 days of measurable precipitation a year.

She will pee on other people's lawns when it rains - no problem! - so I try to take her for a walk, but it hurts her to walk (arthritis), and one of our neighbors is a self-satisfied, velour-track-suit-wearing dog hater. We end up walking very slowly in odd dotted lines, kind of like a Family Circle cartoon read in slow motion.

She uses the furniture as her personal napkin and back scratcher, and has taught Scotty to do the same.

She spends all day in bed, getting up only for meals and treats and an occasional romp with Scotty.

In grooming jargon, she "blows" her coat twice a year, completely shedding and rebuilding her coat, top layer, undercoat, everything. To pet her during one of her shedding seasons is to get a handful of dog hair. Not her fault, but still.

Before her arthritis got bad, she would bolt at the first sign of an open door or open fence gate. To what purpose? Even if she could speak English, she would not be able to tell you, because I am pretty sure this is only one of the signs that she was dropped on her head as a puppy. For a dog who likes nothing more than spending the entire day in her fluffy bed, this behavior just does not compute. Yet, I have had to pick her up from the pound once, from the local water treatment plant once, and had to chase her down too often to remember.

But. Scotty likes her. It's fun to watch her outwit Scotty over toys and treats. And who else would put up with her? Besides, she's cute.

BULLETIN: Annie No Longer At Death's Door. Stay Tuned for Important Updates

All the doggy behaviorists tell you not to anthropomorphize your dogs by assuming they think like people. And I would agree with them if I only had Scotty. And Shelby. And every other dog I have known. But even Cesar the Great Dog Whisperer would agree with me that Annie thinks like an Olson twin.


Her last bout with anorexia seems to be resolving itself. It started a few days ago when she woke up cranky and wouldn't eat her breakfast. Being all hard-assed, I gave her two tries at eating it and then put her bowl in the fridge until dinner. At dinner, she nibbled, but mostly looked pathetic. At least I tried to be all hard-assed. By the third day, I was hand feeding her and fretting about taking her to the vet. Today she's over it. She must have dropped that holiday pound that she put on during all the festivities.

She also thinks that she is being followed by paparazzi. On walks she tries to stop for every passing car and look inside, attempting to make eye contact with the driver. HONEST. I believe she thinks that they have all been looking for her, and that she just wants to assure them that they have found her. And she expects them all, once they have seen her, to pull over and ask for her autograph. The worst part is that it actually happened the other day. A poor, grieving woman who had recently lost her collie saw Scotty and Annie and pulled over in her truck to ask me about where I got mine. (I don't think Annie realized that the woman was really more interested in Scotty and I didn't have the heart to tell her.)

There's also the posing, the horror she expresses in having to go outside to relieve herself, the fear of black cats (very superstitious), the substance abuse (Greenies) and the early bedtimes. I'm telling you. She is One Of Them. Or she really wants to be.

And for the record: I got them at the Humane Society. Vancouver's cast-offs. I suppose that might explain a lot.