Older Dog Wisdom: Tux 40 - Thanks Giving

There is much to be thankful for in Tux’s home this year.

We survived his sister Grace’s cancer scare. Grace and I fought minor seasonal allergies while Tux fought not only seasonal allergies, but food and environmental allergies as well. Tux had periods of time when he was allergy free, for which we are all thankful 

We survived tornadoes, wind storms, snow storms, ice, sleet, prolonged periods of high temperatures, and other weather-related issues. We managed to go through four or five tornado warnings without having to huddle in the basement waiting for the house to come down around our ears. We hate basements. 

When we weren’t huddled together against the elements, we enjoyed periods when it was a joy to get out, go to a favorite park and walk a mile or two with ease. We enjoyed nearly daily walks in parks. We survived an attack by a snarling devil dog (thanks to Grace, who nipped the much larger dog on the ear and he retreated). We met many people in the parks - with and without dogs of their own. Some stop and pet Tux and Grace every time we see them while others comment on how cute they are. Grace loves the latter people. We’ve watched the parks we walk in change with the seasons, going from admiring the newly budded trees, to the awful heat where everyone and everything tries to survive, to the beauty of fall colors to the freezing cold and snow on the ground.

Tux is especially grateful for his toys - from the oldest (11 years old) to the newest.

Yes, we have much to be thankful for - including each other. Tux and Grace have brought much laughter to their humans with their antics. Grace can do silly things and remain dignified while Tux can do dignified things and look silly. Always, always, they are at the door to greet us when we come home for which we are thankful. They are grateful because we go for walks and we feed them at regular intervals. Who can ask for anything more than that?

Older Dog Wisdom: Tux 39 - Stockpiling Stuff

Tux was on a quest today. He was determined to find his oldest and most favorite toy, the pink, blue, and white plush ball. When he couldn't find it in the family room, he started going room to room, but it wasn’t in any of the rooms. He next checked his toy box - yes, he has a toy box although his toys seldom reside there. You can enter any room in the house and find at least two of his toys. Occasionally, his humans get tired of stepping on the plush squeeky toys and in a fit of pique, will gather them up and dump them in the toy box. He must, then, patiently pull each toy from the box and return it to its rightful place.

His plush ball was not in the room where he’d left it nor was it in his toy box. Stemming his rising tide of panic, Tux began looking in places where perhaps his sister Grace may have put it just to see him running around like a fool - she’d done it before. But it wasn’t on the stack of dog pillows in the corner of the family room nor was it on the beds. 

By now, he was well and truly in full panic mode. Where was his ball? 

You may ask what’s so special about this particular toy. He was given this toy as a “Welcome to the Family” gift the day he was brought home as a six-week-old sweet puppy. Yes, Tux has had this toy for 11 years. He has never ripped the squeaker out of it and it remains is in working order. It is his go-to toy when he’s stressed. Whenever I hear him squeaking a toy, I know he has his ball and is trying to become centered and at peace once again.

Every once in a while, the toy becomes dingy from too much loving and I’ll take it and throw it into the laundry basket while he’s outside. Today was no different, I noticed it was getting a little ripe and put it into the laundry basket thinking I’d do a load of laundry and have it back where I'd found it before he really had time to miss it. Alas, doing laundry was postponed, and now he wanted/needed his special toy, and the quest to find it continued.

I finally had retrieve Tux’s toy for him. When I handed it to him, I swear he glowered at me. My sweet boy had turned into angry dog. He is, as we speak, asleep with it lovingly held in his mouth as little snoring sounds emanate from him. 

It doesn’t take much to make Tux a happy camper - just an ancient plush toy and a nap.

Lesson Learned

Would that we humans were as easily pleased as Tux. However, we seem to need more than a nap and a toy to make us feel safe. We need things around us or as the late George Carlin said, we need “stuff.” 

Do we need all the stuff we stockpile? Do we really need all those books we keep just in case we run out of things to read? Never mind that we keep buying more books, and many of us have a Kindle and have dozens and dozens of books stored there, too. Now that winter is upon us - almost - I’m switching out summer clothes for winter clothes. As I put the summer clothes into their storage containers, I asked myself do I really need this many t-shirts? The answer was no. Did I set any aside for Goodwill? Absolutely not. I figure that, for this year at least, it was enough to admit I didn’t really need all those t-shirts. Maybe next spring, I’ll actually give a couple of the t-shirts to Goodwill.

While clothes are import, books seem to be my equivalent to Tux’s plush ball. When I’m stressed, I can sit and look at my crowded and overflowing bookshelves and feel the peace return. How could I possibly consider giving away any of them? So, like Tux, I have a stockpile of books, just in case.

Older Dog Wisdom: Tux 38 - Making Lemonade

A while ago, Tux’s sister, Grace, had surgery. She had a cancerous bone in her left front paw, and the toe had to be amputated. Her surgery went well. When Grace came home, Tux commented that she “smelled funny.” Grace, though, was still woozy from the anesthesia and the pain meds. She didn’t care what he thought.

As Grace convalesced, our routine changed. Grace’s doctor said that she needed to take it easy until the stitches were removed. She wasn’t allowed to go on our morning walks. Since I was already feeling guilty about her having lost a toe and having a huge bandage on her foot, I decided that if Grace couldn’t go out for walks, then Tux and I wouldn’t either.

Tux, of course, didn’t understand the concept of solidarity. It made no sense to him that just because Grace couldn’t go for walks that neither could he. He wasn’t injured in any way so how come he wasn’t going to get to walk in the park every morning? Of course, Grace didn’t look at him with her big Cocker Spaniel eyes asking why she couldn’t go out for walks. No, she turned those eyes on me.

So I now had two Cocker Spaniels looking dolefully at me every morning. It’s almost more than I can handle. Oh, the guilt of it all! What a bad mother I am to deny my four-legged children their heart’s desire. I got over myself by blaming it all on the vet who had said Grace couldn’t go for walks with us until she got her stitches removed. 

Tux, of course, still didn’t understand his being denied the highlight of his day just because his sister had been told to stay home. But he dealt with that, too. He told himself it wouldn’t last forever, and that he would benefit from an extra hour’s nap.

Lesson Learned

Sometimes we don’t understand why things happen to us. The best we can do is think of all the cliches we’ve ever heard about bad things happening to good people. Cliches like “When life hands you lemons, make lemonade.” I do love fresh-squeezed lemonade, and I've been drinking a lot of it lately.

Older Dog Wisdom: Tux 37 - A Boring Walk

This morning’s walk with Tux and Grace was so uneventful that Tux didn’t know what to do with himself. There was nary a duck, a bunny, or even another dog to be seen. There was nothing to stalk. No dog to protect his sister from. Not even a human to smooze. What was a guy to do?

Tux checked out all his usual places - the underbrush where he had vanquished a bunny the day before, the path leading into the park where he’d seen the obese black dog two days earlier. Alas, there was no bunny and no black dog.

As we rounded the final curve before heading home, there were no Mallards. Then he saw something, though, because he went into stalker mode - pulling up his left front paw in a beautifully executed hunter’s pose, then he began placing one paw slowly in front of the other, he wanted no fast moves that would startle his quarry into flight. We three, Tux, Grace, and I, were sneaking up on something. After each step, he’d pause, slowly raise his front paw, pause, take another step. Repeat. The classic hunting dog’s recipe.

Unfortunately for Tux, the effect of his magnificence was lost on the two elderly people who were headed our way  and who he’d been stalking. As they neared, the man kept his distance, as well he should, in the presence of an Alpha male like Tux. The woman, on the other hand, stopped in front of Tux and bent down to extend her hand, palm down, to him. Tux took a cautious sniff of the woman’s hand. He lost interest when his sniff revealed that these people didn’t even own a dog. The woman cooed, “What a cute dog! How old is he?” When I told her Tux was 11, she replied, “My goodness, that’s really old for a dog, isn’t it?”

Grace snickered, I swear.

Tux, in an effort to keep his dignity in tact, muttered, “Old, smold. I’m the one with all my teeth and no gray hairs.” He turned his back on the woman and busied himself with inspecting the moss growing nearby.

I wished the couple a good day, and we continued on our way. Tux preferring to forget that the woman existed. He was in search of something, anything, of interest. There was nothing this morning. Even the Westies, normally in their yard as we pass by, were no where to be seen. 

What a boring walk, Tux pronounced as we headed home.

Lesson Learned

Not every walk is interesting according to Tux. We humans need to learn that lesson as well. Not every day of our lives will be filled with interesting people and/or events. We need to appreciate the “boring” days as much as we do the exciting ones. We need to learn how to entertain ourselves when he have one of those boring days when nothing of interest is supposedly happening.

Older Dog Wisdom: Grace 5 - Hawk!

As Grace, Tux, and I walked along the park path minding our own business as well as Grace and Tux doing their business, a hawk came swooping out of a nearby tree and dipped low. Only Grace noticed it. Tux was busy ascertaining whether a grasshopper was a serious threat to the security of his family.

Grace followed the flight pattern of the hawk. It was by far the largest bird she’d ever seen. When the hawk settled gracefully on a large branch of a nearby tree, Grace watched it. When it didn’t take flight again, Grace lost interest. She moved closer to her brother and nudged him with her nose as if to say, “Did you see that?” He, of course, was oblivious, but to be supportive of his sister, he looked around with a look that clearly said, “Huh? What?” Grace rolled her eyes and turned away. She glanced at the hawk still on its branch, still watching us.

I assumed the hawk was trying to decide how to get the tasty-looking black cocker spaniel, with just enough meat on her bones to be juicy, back to its nest. I didn’t like the way the hawk was tracking Grace and so decided it was time to depart the scene before the hawk could figure out the logistics of kidnapping Grace. 

Grace, too, seemed to be aware of the hawk’s intention. As we made our way back along the path toward where we’d left the car, I noticed Gracie glancing over her shoulder. We moved up the walkway with more speed than we generally move at that hour of the morning.

When we finally rounded the corner, we were out of sight of the hawk. Grace and I visibly relaxed, and Tux wanted to know why we were slowing down. He was more interested in getting to the car and getting back home to his breakfast. 

As we sauntered along the path, the hawk came by for yet another look at the tempting tidbit ambling along the walkway. Grace had seen it too and began pulling on the leash in an effort to get us to the car faster or, at least, to the path with its leafy canopy. Since Grace is not a hurrier, I picked up the pace. 

Soon, we were racing (well, for us, it was racing, for others it might have looked more like a lively saunter) for the car. I couldn’t get Grace and Tux into the car fast enough. Or myself, for that matter. 

We’ll never know if the hawk figured out the physics of picking up and flying off with an object that weighed three times what he did. Probably not. Hopefully not. One never knows though. Better to be safely at home than fighting hawks, I say.

Older Dog Wisdom: Tux 36 - Missed Opportunity

Our walk was, for all practical purposes, well, uneventful. The weather was cool as the sun had barely risen over the rooftops of the neighborhood’s homes. It was a welcome relief from the days of sweltering temperatures during the day and humid nights. The breeze that occasionally kicked up as we strolled along the path was both welcome  and raising the hope that this day wouldn’t turn ugly on us.

As we turned the corner to head back to the car, I noticed a small creature standing in front of us. It was only barely on the sidewalk and would have been unnoticeable had it been in the nearby grass. 

I waited for Tux to snap into hunter mode, but he seemed not to see the creature. Even Grace seemed not to notice the lurking creature. A dog bark from somewhere across the street caught Tux’s attention. He stared hard into the neighborhood hoping to catch sight of loud-mouthed dog. 

We moved slowly up the sidewalk, but the creature declined to remove itself from our path. Did it not realize the danger it was in? We did, after all, have an intrepid hunter with us who, if he ever sighted the creature, would hunt it down. Instead of fleeing, it continued to hold its ground.

I began to think that maybe it was injured and unable to leave the eminent danger a mere 18 inches away. It was then that I realized that this was no creature. It was bird. A baby bird. A baby Cardinal. No wonder it was sitting placidly on the sidewalk. It had no experience with someone like Tux. The closer we got, the clearer it became that it was, indeed, a baby Cardinal.

Just as I was deciding to take Tux and Grace on a detour, the baby flew away, although it had a tough time gaining altitude. At the same time, Tux finally noticed it. He was totally stunned as he watched it fly away.

Lesson Learned

Tux had once again missed an opportunity to be a real hunter. Do we humans do the same thing? Do we miss opportunities because we are distracted by the equivalent of a barking dog?

Older Wisdom: Tux 35 - Squirrelly Behavior

We were in the park the other day and saw something I’d never seen before. First, though, I heard a new sound. It wasn’t yet another bird’s song I didn’t recognize. The sound sounded familiar yet wasn’t. So what was it?

Tux spotted a movement on a tree and stopped dead in his tracks staring at a tree about 20 feet in front of us. Grace was unperturbed and continued her quest for new smells in the three-inch-high grass. 

I looked around trying to see what had caught Tux’s attention. There was nothing that I could see that was out of the ordinary. In the distance, I saw the Mallards amiably strolling toward their neck of the woods and the pond in the ravine. Across the street from the park, the Westies were sunning themselves in the early morning sun. Nope, nothing extraordinary going on in the park. But Tux was like a statue - standing rigidly still, one front paw pulled up in his classic hunter’s stance. 

As I looked up in the direction that Tux was staring in so intently, I finally saw what he had seen. It was a squirrel. Nothing unusual about seeing a squirrel in the park. This squirrel though, was quite different. He had a plastic cup in his mouth. And he wasn’t about to drop it just because some Cocker Spaniel hunter came into view. He was angry at being disturbed. He was chittering at us, but the sound came out muffled as he chittered behind his cup.

The squirrel had stopped in his tracks and was starring at Tux. Tux stared back at the squirrel. I stared at the squirrel. The squirrel ignored me. It was Tux he was interested in. Grace finally figured out that Tux and I were mesmerized by something so she looked in the direction we were looking. She saw the squirrel and then she looked at me as if to ask what was so interesting about a silly old squirrel?

I couldn’t believe my eyes. I’d never seen a squirrel carrying even a branch let alone a plastic cup. I couldn’t imagine what had struck this squirrel about the cup. One thing was for sure, though, he was not going to drop his cup. Before I could dig my iPhone out of my pocket to take a photo of the squirrel, he was on the move.

The squirrel surprised me. Instead of heading up the tree and to safety, he came down the tree toward the ground. What was he thinking? Down he came. About six inches from the ground, he jumped down. Sprinting toward another tree, he jumped onto it and scurried upward.

In the meantime, we all stood stock still watching the squirrel. He never dropped his precious cup. I surmised he had headed to his home tree. I suspected, too, he had a nest in the tree he risked life, limb, and cup to reach. I looked upward, but saw no discernible nest in the boughs of the large tree. 

Tux was reluctant to leave the scene. He undoubtedly thought that either the squirrel with his cup still firmly gripped between his teeth would return or this was a trend and another squirrel with a cup would come down the tree. Neither event occurred and I dragged him back onto the path and on to our morning walk.

Lesson Learn:

Keep an eye out for the unexpected.

Older Dog Wisdom: Tux 34 - Alarm Clock Needs

For more years than I care to say and with few exceptions, I’ve not set an alarm clock. Who needs one when I have Tux? His internal alarm clock is more persistently accurate than my own so we use his.

Of course, his alarm clock can be more erratic than mine. Take this morning, Tux began his pacing, which can be as annoying as any inanimate alarm clock, at 5:30 am. He paces from the back door to my side of the bed over and over until I wake up. If that doesn’t work, he’ll put his front paws on the bed near my head and stares. That always works. I don’t know what it is about a staring dog, but it works every time. I got up and let him and his sister, Grace, outside. I prefer to get up around six, he gets up whenever nature calls.

Ignore him, you say? Not possible. Nor is it particularly smart considering that he needs to go outside. Ignoring him has dire consequences that I prefer not to face at any hour, but particularly not at 5:30 in the morning.

Occasionally, I’ll wake up and glance at the clock and find that it’s after seven. I don’t know why that happens. Tux is fast asleep and has to be awakened. I’ve often wondered if he gets up in the middle of the night and watches TV or something. I can imagine him sitting in my chair with his paw on the remote surfing the channels until he comes across something interesting like the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show or old reruns of Lassie.

Lesson Learned

Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. It is much more pleasant being awakened by a pacing Tux than the blare of an electronic alarm clock. Plus, since he’s not terribly consistent, it’s always interesting not knowing when I’ll be awakened. Adds a bit of spice to my life and I’ve learned not to make many very early appointments, a bonus in and of itself.

Keeping Appointments: Tux - Older Dog Wisdom

Tux and I have a daily appointment to go for a walk. He loves his routines. He expects to have his morning walk in by nine. He’s okay with walking earlier, but insists that the walk must start by mid-morning. If we’re not out the door on his timetable, he starts pacing. He goes from wherever I’m at to the front door and back again. When I don’t get that hint, he’ll sit where he can make eye contact with me, and stares at me. He’s willing me to get up from the computer and leave for our walk. 

Having a Cocker Spaniel stare at you is hard to resist. When Tux and his sister, Grace, were puppies, I couldn’t resist. Over the years, though, I’ve grown tougher. I can resist for a while. In any event, we get out of the door mostly on schedule. Tux’s schedule, I might add.

On a recent walk after a tremendous storm the afternoon before, we saw the paths strewn with puddles like polka dots dropped every few feet. There were hundreds of twigs and small branches strewn down the paths as well. There were even branches three inches thick obstructing our way. There were no trees torn up by the roots. Even the young saplings planted last fall weathered the storm, more or less in tact.

Tux kept thinking that the larger branches might be dangerous snakes or eels or something. He stalked a lot of them. None turned out to be either dangerous or dangers reptiles.

We were the only ones in the park. There were only a few squirrels out and about. Even the birds were quiet. The morning was cool and we enjoyed the walk although we had to cut it short when Grace started limping badly. 

Lesson Learned

Even Tux understands the importance of being on time. People who keep me waiting for an appointment drive me crazy. I’ve been known to walk out of doctors’ offices when they’ve kept me waiting way beyond my appointment time. At some level, I can understand being kept waiting by doctors, although why they haven’t figured out that if they’re consistently behind schedule, they need to space their appointments further apart. 

Tux obviously has a schedule: breakfast as soon as I get up, morning nap, walk by nine, nap until lunch, outside for a stroll around his yard, back in for his afternoon nap, dinner, nap, outside, and to bed by ten. He likes to keep his schedule. 

Older Dog Wisdom: Tux 32: Bunnies and Branches

We were in the park by 6:00 a.m. this morning. Rumor had it that it was going to rain. Our weather people haven’t gotten it right (except for major events and then only when the tornadoes were practically upon us) that most of us have given up checking the TV weather people or even checking the weather apps on our phons. You see people stepping out their front doors and stopping a moment to check the sky. If it’s cloudy, we go back inside for an umbrella.

Tux, however, doesn’t care what the weather is or will be. He’s only interested in the walk. Everything else is totally immaterial to him. 

So there we were out in the park before the sun was even up. It was getting warm. The humidity was high. Ugh. Grace, Tux’s sister, and I were already suffering from the heat. 

There were birds singing on the tree boughs above our heads. Squirrels were running amok in the grass. The park was empty as we started our walk. As we made our way around the park, we saw a half dozen bunnies, most of whom headed for the underbrush when they caught sight of us. There were two, however, who held their ground. They hunkered down in the grass trying to be invisible. Grace, however, saw them, but she’s not one to waste energy chasing after other animals, especially those faster than her. 

Tux looked to see what Grace was staring at and immediately went into his 3-point hunter’s stance. Then he started advancing toward the bunnies. Slowly he place one paw in front of the other. The bunnies didn’t move. Tux advanced. Finally, Grace and I realized that he wasn’t stalking the bunnies. No, he was stalking a small fallen branch with its leaves still attached. The branch lay between Tux and the bunnies. He’d completely missed the bunnies. 

Once Tux determined that what he was stalking was a branch, he returned to the path ready to resume our walk. Grace didn’t move. She turned around to look at me. I swear she was giggling. As for the bunnies, I’m sure one of them snorted his derision.

Once again, our intrepid hunter had stalked an inanimate object rather than the living, breathing wild creature standing not two feet beyond the object of his choice. Never mind his idiosyncrasies, he remains our favorite intrepid hunter.

Lesson Learned:

There are times when we cannot see that which is directly in front of us, be it love or an opportunity. We need to learn to see the forest and the trees. Or, in Tux’s case, he needs to learn to see the branch and the bunnies.

Older Dog Wisdom: Grace 4: 3x5 Cards

Tux has his many and beloved 11-year-old toys. Grace, though, is a girl after my own heart. She has a fascination, dare I say it? an obsession, with 3x5 cards. She loves her index cards. I dare not leave any within her reach, including on tables because they’ll be gone when I return. I love being able to blame my misplaced/lost cards on Grace.

She caught on to my ruse not long ago. She no longer tries to hide the fact that she has taken my index card. Nope. She tears off a corner and leaves the rest for me to discover. I like this about her. Since I get the card back only a little worse for wear, I don’t lose the data on the card.

At one time, I thought I could foil her theft by attaching a pen to the card thus making it awkward to carry because of the added heft. It didn’t deter her at all. I found the card with the pen nearby. The obligatory corner was gone, the pen was unharmed, and my list remained legible.

I have a confession to make. I love my iPhone and all the many apps I keep on it, including shopping apps like Grocery iQ to keep my grocery list, apps to keep track of books, apps like Awesome Notes which is the closest I’ve come to having 3x5 cards on my iPhone, and a host of other apps. Even so, I continue to use 3x5 cards to make a list of things I need to accomplish on a particular day, for instance. I’ve recently discovered 2x2 cards. A quick perusal of the cards next to my chair includes a reminder to download Steven Tyler’s Dream On from iTunes, another reminds me to get some Journey tunes, while a third reminds me to get distilled water the next time I’m in a grocery store. Even with loving my iPhone and its apps, I haven’t given up my need for 3x5 cards, regardless of their size.

Grace is inordinately pleased that I continue to use 3x5 cards. She loves the heft of the cards, the ease of carrying them around, and how satisfying chewing off one corner is. For my part, I’m pleased that she likes the cards rather than plush toys. 3x5 cards are a heck of a lot cheaper than plush toys, and since I can’t seem to stop buying the cards, we now have a life-time supply stashed in a cupboard in the family room.

I asked Grace what lesson I could pass on about her passion for 3x6 cards. Her answer, while rude, was pithy. She said to tell you to figure it out yourselves. Such a mouth she has.

Older Dog Wisdom: Tux 31 - Meeting the Westies

As we’ve walked through our favorite park, Tux and I have met a lot of dogs along the way. Among the many have been the trash-talking Daschunds, the drooling devil dog that attacked Tux and his sister Grace, and a number of mutts and purebreds. I haven’t yet mentioned the Westies.

The Westies are a pair - in more ways than one - of small white dogs, one female, the other a male. They live in a house where the backyard abuts the park. We start and end our walk across the street from the Westies’ house. When we first started walking in their park, Tux and the male Westie exchanged words. After several months, they stopped doing it. I think they just got tired of it. We walk every day unless the temperatures are below freezing or above 90. So after a while, it became too tiresome to trade insults.

On the other hand, Grace has exchanged nose bumps through the fence with both the male and female Westie. Tux maintains his dignity and won’t go near the fence. How, you might, ask does one determine which of the two white dogs is the female? That’s easy. She has a dainty, lady-like bark, while the male has a deeper, louder, and in-your-face kind of a bark.

One day, while Grace and the Westies were exchanging nose bumps, I noticed that someone had been trying to dig out beneath the fence. We went around the neighborhood and found the Westies’ front door. We reported the attempted prison break and received many thanks. Tux was mortified that we’d reported the Westies’ escape attempts. He wasn’t too keen to return to the park the next day lest he hear the dreaded daschunds murmur “Snitch” at him.

It only took another day for both Tux and the Westies to forget that they’d even tried to escape. All returned to normal. Thank goodness. There’s nothing harder to face than Tux when he’s embarrassed by something I’ve done.

Lesson Learned

It would be nice if we humans could forget intended and unintended slights and embarrassments as easily as Tux. He’s one of the lucky beings who lives pretty much in the moment. He doesn’t seem to worry about the future and quickly forgets the past. Would that we could all live life like that.

Older Dog Wisdom: Tux 30 - Storms of Our Lives

A recent storm came upon us quickly. It seemed as if one minute the sun was shining and the next it was so dark it could have easily been twenty minutes after the sun set. Then the winds came up whipping the tree branches back and forth bending saplings nearly to the breaking point. Next, the skies opened up and deluged us with rain and small hail. All of this could be a tornado. I quickly turned on the television and, as quickly, lost service. Next, I pulled out my iPhone and started opening weather apps. 

The national weather apps were useless because their information was a half-hour old, which is usually not a problem, but it becomes a problem when dealing with a tornado that can change direction in a nanosecond. Closing those apps, I opened first one and then another and yet another of the apps put out by the local television stations. Not only was their information nearly as old as the national apps had been, but their sites are cover in advertisements making it hard to find the information I was so desperately seeking. I had no idea whether a tornado, like the F4 tornado that hit Joplin, MO and left over 100 people dead (making it the deadliest tornado in US history) and 1100 injured, was coming at me or this was only a severe thunderstorm.

While I was trying to find information about the weather, the thunder arrived. Both Tux and his sister, Grace, are afraid of thunder. It only took seconds for them to seek comfort in my lap. Grace, in particular, was affected by the noise. She shivered, her eyes got very big, and she hid her head between the chair and me. Tux, on the other hand, was putting on a brave face, but I noticed that he cringed whenever a clap came too close to the house.

As fast as the storm came upon us, it started moving away. It didn’t make it any less dangerous or any less scary, though. The rain continued for another hour or so, and the wind continued to blow. Two hours later the sun was out again. We had weathered yet another storm.

Lesson Learned

We all have storms in our lives. Relationships end, jobs are lost, loved ones pass away. Those storms can be devastating, they can be life changing, and they can be demoralizing. It is, however, how we react to them that is important. If we arise from the devastation, learn about ourselves from them, and then move on, we have grown and gotten stronger.

Tux has learned this lesson. He was scared of the noise, of my desperation to find out whether our lives were in danger, and of his usually brave sister's reaction to the storm. His reaction in the face of the storm was to whistle in the dark as it were. 

The storm passed and I learned from Tux that sometimes we all need to put on a brave face and whistle in the face of danger.

Older Dog Wisdom - Tux 29: Old Toys

Eleven years ago, when Tux was mere pup, I gave him his first toy - a blue and pink plush ball. During the last eleven years, he has kept that toy safe. He sleeps with it in his mouth, he carries it around like Linus’ security blankie, and has never torn out its squeaker. He has a dozen or more other toys - all of them plush - three hamburgers, a second ball, a hot dog, a fish, a rat (I’d throw that one out if only he’d lose complete interest in it), and, of course, the ball. 

His first ball is his go-to toy when he’s stressed or sad or just needing comfort. The day we were attacked in the park by the devil-dog, it was his ball he went looking for when we returned home, and which he kept with him for the rest of the day.

Don’t get me wrong, he loves all his toys. I gather them up at least once a week and put them into his toy box. Yes, he has a toy box. He’ll rummage through his toy box looking for just the right one to match his mood. Within a day or two, he has toys in every room of the house. He has a toy within easy reach every where he goes. Apparently, a boy never knows when a toy might be needed. 

He hates it when I wash his toys. His anxiety levels rise as he watches them disappear into the washer. I’ve stopped washing all of them at the same time. It was too stressful for him to be without a toy in his mouth. I’ve even stopped letting him see me putting his toys in the washer. I admit it - I sneak his toys into the wash usually in a washer bag. Then I have to wait until he’s out of the room to slip them into the dryer.

I toss the toys to him as I remove them from the dryer. I’m not sure whether he thinks he’s getting new toys or it takes time to realize that the now-clean toys are his old ones without the familiar scent on them. Regardless of whether they’re new or old, he’s a very happy boy. All is right in his world once more.

I was thinking the other day, as I watched Tux rummage through his toy box looking for his ball, that my old friends are like Tux’s old toys. While I love them all, one of them is very special. She knows me better than the rest, gives me comfort when I most need it, and is always there for me. 

Lesson Learned

Old friends, like old toys, are the best.

Older Dog Wisdom - Tux 28: Mama's Lessons

As Tux, Grace, and I rounded the bend of the park path, we came face to face with a gaggle of geese sunning themselves in the outfield of one of the baseball field. There must have been a dozen of the big birds resting there. One goose, apparently the designated perimeter guard, started waddling toward us. 

Tux was stunned. He’d never seen a creature as large as this one who didn’t have four feet. Sure, he knew what birds were. Hadn’t he chased Robins and Cardinals out of his yard for years? But these creatures? They couldn’t possibly be birds - they were way too large. How could they possibly get off the ground? I didn’t have the heart to remind him that he’d flown in a jet - twice - and it was much larger than any of these geese. He and the jet had managed to stay in the air for fifteen hours without a problem.

What did the intrepid hunter do next? Why he went into his three-point stance, of course. Then he began to stalk the guard goose, placing one foot ever so slowly in front of the other as he began his approach.

The goose, for his part, couldn’t believe the audacity of the Cocker Spaniel - intrepid hunter or no. He quacked once alerting his fellows that there was an intruder. Several goose heads swiveled in our direction.

Grace, on the other hand, simply sat down to watch the unfolding drama. By now, she’d seen her brother stalk a wadded up piece of paper, a fallen tree branch, three crazy daschunds, and even a drooling devil dog which had attacked us. She wasn’t sure how this would play out, but she knew it would be amusing.

I kept thinking of all the stories I’d heard about geese being used as watchdogs and attacking intruders of their turf. While the baseball field could hardly be called their turf, if possession is 99% of the law, we were on their turf. How was I going to get Tux and Grace out of harm’s way if the geese attacked? I had no answer to that question.

Luckily for all concerned, nature called. Tux lost his bad-dog attitude and look when he squatted to pee. Somehow a male dog squatting to pee just doesn’t send the right vibe to a militant goose.

The geese all took to the sky suddenly. Apparently, break was over and they needed to return to the business of flying northward. There was much flapping of wings and honking both of which startled Tux. He actually ducked as the guard goose flew over his head. I was most grateful that the geese didn’t have a call of nature. The image of 12 geese pooping on our heads wasn’t a pleasant one.

Lesson Learned

Before you decide to be a tough guy make sure you remember you mama’s lessons about using the bathroom before embarking on a journey.

Older Dog Wisdom: Tux 27 - Taking Action

Tux got another fan letter. Let the strutting around the 

house like a peacock begin. For a very cute older dog, he can be insufferable. One of the first things he did, after he stopped bouncing around doing his imitation of a happy dance, was to take Grace’s spot on the couch. Grace is his sister and rival for the position of Alpha Dog in the family. She immediately retaliated by climbing onto my chair with me - a place Tux claims as his own. She asked for pets. Despite not wanting to take sides in this ongoing battle between the two of them, what choice did I have? I gave her the pets she wanted.  She kept glancing over shoulder to ensure that he was watching. He was.

That was too much for Tux. He jumped down from the couch and headed our way. He, too, climbed into my lap. Grace shifted positions to make it harder for him to lie down. He did it anyway. Not only was he uncomfortable, but now so was I. I may have to buy a double recliner if this keeps up, I thought. They both settled in for a nap. While I usually keep a book nearby, on this day there was no book. I couldn’t very well get my laptop out - there wasn’t enough room for me, two Cocker Spaniels, and my laptop. Never did it occur to me to push either or both dogs off. Can we say spoiled Cocker Spaniels?

While I sat pondering what to do next, Grace jumped down and reclaimed her spot on the couch. Tux looked surprised. I continued to watch him and finally, several minutes later, I saw the light dawn. Grace had duped him. She had tricked him into giving up her spot on the couch. He’d been had - again. She has become a master at duping Tux. He’s not the brightest star in the array, but he usually catches on eventually. And he is so very cute and trusting while he ponders what just happened.

Lesson Learned

Watching Tux and Grace, I’ve learned to think about the consequences of my action before I take action. While the initial satisfaction of an action taken in haste may be worth it, more likely than not, the consequence of a rashly taken action taken during the heat of the moment, often turns out badly. Perhaps taking a few minutes to ponder the possible consequences of action might provide some perspective, show us what could go wrong. Who was it who said, “If something can go wrong, it will?” Tux can certainly attest to that - time and time again.