Blast from the past

Not much going on tonight in dog town, so I think I'm going to resurrect one of the funnier moments from our time with Chili around. Back when Britten and I were first dating, she came over to my house and she, Chili, and I were sitting on the couch. Her phone rang and, well... I won't ruin the surprise. I got the camera and got it on film. He's never done it before or since, guess he was feeling a bit crazy that day.





Then we started experimenting with different ringtones.



And for all you folks out there who say dogs shouldn't be allowed on the furniture, don't worry. He's not allowed up on the couch (the new one) anymore unless I put a dog blanket on, which only happens rarely.

The Chase

It always amuses me how different the dogs act when I'm here versus when Britten is here. When Britten lets them outside, Cozby always goes out first and turns around to start barking at Chili. All he wants to do is frolic with Chili, but Chili is generally confused by all the barking and hesitant to go outside. "Is he going to attack me? Either way, he's blocking the door."

But tonight, it was the other routine, the one they have when I'm home. Chili sits in front of the door and Cozby sits right behind him. When the door opens, they wait for me to let them go, then haul tail for the back fence. It's a race, though I'm not sure what for. It's as if neither wants the other to be in front. Cozby is the instigator. He will always make a beeline right for Chili, and scramble past him. I'm amazed. First that he doesn't gouge the deck with his nails. Secondly that he can catch Chili at all since his legs are about half the length.

Regardless of how long they're out there, the end result is always the same... They come back in and flop on their beds. It's apparently very tiring to be them. Times like that make me wish I was a dog.

"I'M BLACK"

In the morning, the dogs go outside at around 6:15 and hang out there until sometime later, depending on the weather. These days, it's still dark out until 7:00, so they're out there in the dark for a while. I imagine that Chili bumps into trees, fences, houses, Cozby, etc., and that Cozby watches out for strangers - he's a very good guard dog.

For the past few mornings, we've noticed that Chili has been barking in his unique way during these dark hours. His unique way of barking is a mix between a howl and a bark, I'll have to figure out a way to record it. Suffice it for now to say that it sounds really silly and not ferocious. And he doesn't do it that often. So repeatedly bark/howling in the morning is a bit odd. We've decided that it's his way of communicating with the darkness... "I'M BLACK, AND IT'S DARK OUTSIDE!" Or, it could be that he has the IQ of macaroni.

Waiting

When Britten is about to come home, be it from work or being out of town or wherever, I often leave the front door open. This leaves only the storm door between the dogs and the outside world - they can see through it! The way they deal with this new portal belies their personalities.

Cozby's sixth sense tells him that his mommy is approaching. He'll sit at the door, wagging his tail. If I move around, though, he dutifully returns to his bed until I've vacated the room.

Chili knows that there's something outside. Like air. And trees. And cars. And... So, he paces in circles near the door whining, pausing every once in a while to sit and gaze longingly at the world he's missing. I'm not sure that he knows until Britten opens the door that she might be approaching.

Regardless of their actions before she gets home, Britten always loves to see two dogs wagging their tails in the doorway when she arrives. Which is exactly what just happened, now it's time for dinner.

In your bed!!!

So, every time Britten comes back , there's a bit of a re-norming process. Chili tries to assert his dominance, and Cozby tries to ensure that nobody thinks he's dominant.

When I came out this morning, I lay myself down on the floor. Chili, of course, climbed on top of me and started to lick my face. After a bit, I pushed him off and invited Cozby over for some love. Chili kept pushing himself between us, herding Cozby away from me. And people wonder why I call him a turd.

A little bit later, Britten and I were lying on the couch and the dogs were in their beds. Actually, one of them was lying in his bed. Chili kept coming over and sticking his face in our faces, wagging his tail, butthead. "Chili, in your bed!" resulted in him sitting down right were he was and staring at us. Staring. It was a little creepy.

More than a little creepy.

The story of Cozby - Dave's version

Cozby came from a farm in southwest Virginia, sometime when Britten was in grad school. He's a golden retriever mixed with a corgi, as best we can tell. The result is he looks a bit like a golden that's been chopped off at the knees. Britten calls him a short-long. He's got one ear that's always up and one that's always down, which makes him pretty darn adorable. (I'm fairly certain I just lost some man points, but I think it's mitigated by the fact that I'm watching college basketball right now).

I think there are three things that I can point to as formative in Cozby's development. First, we think that sometime before Britten got him, he had a bad experience with a man, probably someone wearing a baseball cap. So he's not entirely keen on men at first.

Secondly, he spent alot of time with his mommy in her apartment in Charlottesville. As a result, while he may love many people and dogs, nothing compares to Britten. I know exactly how he feels.

Thirdly, he also grew up around Britten's parents. More importantly, he grew up around their dogs - they have pretty much always had two westies. Because of this, he thinks he's a westie, even though he's a 50 pound non-westie. He plays like them. Contrast that with Chili, who, when we were babysitting a westie once, spent most of the time following the dog around with his mouth open trying to figure out if he should eat it or play with it.

Cozby's favorite place in the world (besides whereever his mommy is) is in a coccoon of love. This is any spot that is just the size of his body, usually created by the space between a pair of human legs and a couch. Nothing makes his tail wag faster. Except his mommy.

Missing mommy

Britten is on her way home, after having been in NC for a couple of days. These times are always interesting situations for me and Cozby. It took a while for Cozby to warm up to me when Britten and I first started dating. I was careful to always refrain from wearing baseball caps (very reminiscent of Paul Anka from Gilmore Girls), and we now have a good relationship. But every time Britten leaves, or really any time I'm at home with just the dogs, he reverts a bit.

He lies on his bed and follows my every movement with his eyes - I don't think he sleeps the entire time. He also doesn't eat any rawhide chips, it's really kinda funny. I think for him, it's a combination of feeling like at any minute, I'm liable to decide to kill him, or he feels lost without his mommy. He's a big momma's boy, so I'm pretty sure it's the latter.

Last night and today, we had a breakthrough. He actually ate chips, and even tried to take one from Chili. Well, let's be honest, he sat on his bed staring at the chip in front of Chili until I got up and gave it to him. The only one that outright steals is Chili. Still, a milestone.

On the other hand, today he had a little bit of regression as well. I was in the bedroom and saw Cozby going in to the mud room to get some water. When I started back into the living room, he heard me and scurried out of the mud room, without taking a sip. I figured I had scared him, so I went into another room again, but he stayed firmly planted on his bed in the living room. I guess he decided that it wasn't worth the risk of getting caught again.

Of course, now both of them are in their usual nighttime positions: slugged out on their beds. It's understandable, they've had a very tiring day...it's tough to sleep for 12 solid hours. They'll perk up as soon as Britten gets back. Daddy is chopped liver (probably not the best metaphor, since Chili would gladly eat chopped liver).

We're so happy you're home!

Today, I went to a wrestling match and the dogs were crated for a long time. I left the house at around 1:00 and didn't return until around 9:30. When I let them out of their crates, they really showed me how much they missed me...

Cozby did a figure eight around my legs, ensuring maximum contact. Then, he pranced around and gave me his leg up routine. This is his version of bounding, which he can't really do because his legs are about six inches long. It's his unique way of showing utter joy.

Chili immediately ran past me to see if there had been any food particles that had materialized on the floor in the vicinity of the kitchen. I'm sure there's love in there somewhere, but he is truly driven first by his stomach, second by his heart, and a very distant third by his brain.

I've heard that dogs only have a three second short-term memory, so they can't really tell if you've been gone for five minutes or five hours. It's days like this that make that rumor seem a bit suspect. Just what I needed after a long, long day.

The story of Chili

Chili came to me as a Christmas present from a girl I was dating at the time. I came over to her house one night and there he was. Fresh from the SPCA, he was a little black puppy who still had the stitches from being neutered. The folks at the SPCA thought he was around 2 months old, but we've figured out that he was probably born sometime in June of 2004. He's part lab, part something else, part mayonnaise, and part bottomless pit. At four and a half, he still has that lack of body awareness that only a puppy has. He constantly runs into things (including Britten's head a couple of days ago). I used to worry that he might be hurting his head, giving himself a concussion or brain damage, with all the banging, but then I realized that he started out with the intelligence of a potato, so his intelligence could really only get better.

At times, I've called him Booger, Captain Idiot, Bubba, Black Dog, and of course Chili. He generally responds to none of these unless food is present.

He's an attention whore. Really, he just likes to be where the action is, not to necessarily get attention. Many a morning, I've had to tie my shoes with a snout and/or tongue in the middle of the shoelaces.

He likes to eat rawhide chips a little too fast. He'll swallow them well before they will actually go all the way down his throat, and they get lodged in the back of his mouth. This leads to either an immediate regurgitation (with lovely accompanying noises), or 45 minutes of licking his bed before then regurgitating the chip. It's one of his more lovable traits.

The beginning

Last night, Britten and I went to see "Marley and Me". We both cried harder than either of us had in a long time. It got me thinking what a great thing it was to have a written record of our best friends' lives. These furry things are with us for years, giving us all the love that they have, probably because we feed them, but maybe because they really are our companions. We share a bond with our dogs that is unique - master, pack leader, play pal, cuddler, walker, bud. Why should we not capture the moments we have with them?

This is the story of our two dogs, Chili and Cozby. A daily record of the anecdotes of our four legged family members.