The Ritual of Sharing

OK, so call us bad dog parents if you like, but we enjoy sharing our people food with Chili, just like we did with Ruby. The only thing is....Ruby was a seagull, and Chili....not so much. There’s kind of a ritual to sharing your food, you and your dog, hanging out together. You pick up one fry, dip it in ketchup and eat it yourself. Then you pick up another, dip it in ketchup and give it to the dog. Then there’s the complete look of disbelief you get from your dog when you forget to dip it in the ketchup. “Whoops, sorry, forgot.”

Whatever Brad ate, Ruby ate, even if she didn’t enjoy it. The sour face she would put on when she was given a pickle was priceless. She didn’t have to eat it, but she would. After all, her Daddy just ate one and whatever Daddy would eat, Ruby would eat. The only things she wouldn’t eat was lettuce and medication. We would give her a piece of hamburger on the bun with all the fixins. She would swish that thing around in her mouth, chew a bit, then spit the lettuce out. It would just fly right out. She would do the same thing if I put any pills in her food. She ate so fast I don’t know how she even knew something was in there, but there she was, frantically eating her meal and somehow out the pill would fly.

Chili would like to eat everything we eat, but she has a more refined palate and more things upset her belly. In the days when we would share with her she was still picky. She’s the put it in her mouth, spit it out, sniff it, pick it up again, spit it out, eyeball it, then maybe eat it kind of girl. Can you believe that she’s even done this with fresh raw bones? I’ve stood there amazed as she’s sniffed a nice big raw knuckle bone, then given it a few licks, walked away and turned her back on it. “You are a dog, right?” Yes, the mysteries of Chili.

A few months back when Chili was diagnosed with pancreatitis, we stopped sharing food with her. If she really did have it, then we didn’t want to be contributing to her getting sick. This was not an easy thing to do. She still looks at us with those big eyes, then her Dad looks at me with big eyes. “Can’t I give her some?” She knows which one of us is the weakest. The thing is, I want to give her something. I want to share with her. I don’t, but I want to. OK, she does get the odd thing, but we’re definitely more careful about what the odd thing is. Sometimes I’ll even get a few nuggets of her food and just give her a piece now and then while we’re snacking on something else. It’s not the same though. She knows.

Many of my animal memories from growing up involve food. We always had cats and we shared with them. Or they would just take it. I can’t count how many times I would be holding food and a cat paw would come out of nowhere, claws would sink into my hand, and then drag it over to the waiting cat who would just eat the food as if I didn’t matter. Then there was the ice cream truck that would always stop when Toke the Great Dane would run over. He’d be standing by the truck, then a hand would come out of the window with a huge soft serve ice cream on the cone and Toke would lick it up.

When you really look at it, they’re all rituals of some kind. The things that made us smile, or just the things that we lived with, like ninja cat paws, that we secretly loved. Enjoy them, they make great memories.

It's a Tough Life!

Poor little Chili has such a tough life. For one, here Momma is so mean. Oh yes, I am certainly one mean momma. The things I do to her sometimes, are unthinkable. I know she wonders why I’m so mean to her...why I do these terrible things to her. I can’t help it. I’m just that way. I’m her momma and that’s what momma’s do.

It starts innocently, I don’t want to tip her off. I grab a handful of towels and playfully ask Chili to follow me upstairs. I’m very sneaky. When we get there, I shut the bedroom door to ensure there is no escape. At this point, Chili knows something is up. I can see it in her eyes, the look of concern, and the crinkly head. She’s thinking, “No momma, NO, I don’t want to and I’ve worked so hard to be stanky!” I speak to her ever so sweetly, luring her into the chamber of torture. Ha, Ha, Ha, she has no choice but to follow. There’s nowhere else to go. I pull out the carefully chosen all natural mixture and step into the chamber. The torture apparatus is turned on. I take my time making sure the temperature is just right. Yes, I’m so mean. After all, Chili now has the perfect stank on that she’s worked very hard at. Day after day of building it to a point where it’s refined, then in steps her momma, to wreck everything.

I call her into the Chamber and close the door. Now the real torture begins. Chili must stand there and take it. I soak her down and put the all natural mixture all over her. Yes, a special mixture to make sure she doesn’t get dry skin. Ha, I’m so mean. Then the worst of the worst... the full body massage. Oh yes, she’s so tortured, just look into her eyes. I carefully and thoroughly rinse her down then the final step of the process. The towel of torture. Chili knows it’s all ending soon and starts to get antsy. Biting at the towel, shoving herself back and forth between my legs and hopping around as much as she can. Shaking and shaking to soak down her torturer. “Take that Momma!” Then the biggest insult of all, she gets a treat. How could I be so mean? Someone or something must pay for this.

Once her toes are dried, the chamber door is opened, but she can’t leave. She must wait for the signal that it’s OK. She’s already planning her attack. There’s no way she’s the only one who will be tortured today. Once she is released she heads straight out of the chamber in search of a victim. Who will it be? The unstuffed squirrel, no..... the wingless chicken, no...ahh the victim has been chosen, it’s the headless giraffe.

Chili pounces on her giraffe, grabs it with her mouth, and shakes it so hard it goes flying across the room. “Ha, so there giraffe.” Then she bounds down the stairs and zooms around the house looking for a bodycheck victim. Oh look, there’s daddy, perfect. He did allow momma to torture her so he shouldn’t get off easy. She bounds into her daddy, and stomps all over him. “So there, daddy, now you’re wet too!”

The life of Chili is a tough life. Baths, toe-nail clippings, and rules to follow. She only gets two meals a day and isn’t given human food because it upsets her belly. Who do mommy and daddy think they are? Not sharing their food and treats, it’s an unspeakable offense to such a sweet little girl. And toe-nail clipping, who ever thought that up? Ridiculous. Oh yes, Chili has a tough life.

Slobbered and Stomped

Not a day goes by that I’m not slobbered or stomped. I don’t think I know what it’s like to be polished any more. Shiny shoes are a thing of the past and if I washed my hands every time I touched the dog, my hands would be washed away by now. Then there are the slobber marks that seem to be permanently on my jeans but they just change their location. That’s the way it goes when you’re the mom of a little girl who is lovey, licky, and likes to mash dirty, slobbery toys into you.

When I’m out shopping and I see a cool pair of shoes or boots, I get all excited then I think to myself, “how easy will these be to clean once they’re licked and stomped?” Then I walk away. This just isn’t right, I should have her trained to at least not stomp on me any longer. I wish. Everyone has to have the mark of Chili or their life just isn’t as great as it could be. The thing is, it’s not that I like being slobbered and stomped, it’s just that she’s so damn cute doing it. It’s almost impossible to get mad at her and when you do, you regret that you did because those big brown eyes are staring at you like she just did you a favour and you didn’t appreciate it.

Playing with her means you’re going to be slobbered. It’s imperative that she bring her toy to you and mash it into you before she lets you take it. It’s a must, like some unwritten law. The dirtier the toy, the better the mashing. You don’t even have to be actively playing with her. You could be standing over the sink, doing the dishes, when suddenly you’re goosed with an unstuffed squirrel. She not exactly subtle and she doesn’t really care about boundaries. If mashing the toy in your ass gets your attention, then that’s what she’ll do. After all, she knows you want to play with her, she’s just giving you an excuse.

Of course there’s the dog hair. I admit to constantly hugging Chili. I can’t stop, she’s too irresistible. This explains why I’m always covered in dog hair. If you come over for dinner sometimes, stop reading. Yes, if you’ve eaten dinner here you’ve eaten Chili hair, likely. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been boiling water for spaghetti, looked into the pot, and saw dog hair. Of course, I pick them out, so I do try to cut down on the Chili hair intake, but you’re eating them. Live with it. I was eating lunch at work one day when I looked down and saw a hair on my plate. For a split second I was grossed out, then I realized it was a Chili hair that fell off me. Once I figured that out, I just picked it off.

Now if any of this was due to another human, I would not be impressed. Human hair, disgusting. Human slobber, gross. Being stomped by a human, that’s rude. Put them all together and that’s one person I want to knock out. But somehow, because it’s a dog, I put up with it and even like it sometimes. You really do learn to relax about things when you have a dog. I’m sure that applies to any type of animal. It’s a good thing, to relax. The other day Chili’s cousin, Rocky Rocks, was so excited to see me that he was jumping in and out of my truck. As he usually does, he dribbled, but this time he was on my seat. My reaction, oh well, give me a cloth to wipe it up, no worries. If that had’ve happened 3 ½ years ago, I would have lost my mind, seriously lost my mind. Ahhh progress.

A better state of mind, beaten into me....courtesy of Chili.

The Sounds of Spring

What a great weekend it’s been so far. We’ve been spending all of our time out in the yard just enjoying the warm sun and the sounds of spring. Yes, the chickadees chirping, the hummingbirds humming, the woodpeckers pecking, and the dog barking and charging. Oh the sounds of spring.

Every year we have to remind Chili that the sounds of spring are different than the sounds of winter. She always forgets and spends the first few times in the yard sniffing the air, standing on alert, barking, and charging when anyone goes by. It’s so enjoyable for everyone. Yes, that’s sarcasm. It’s not exactly fun, but we spend the time retraining her so we can enjoy the rest of the season. We could leave her in the house but we like having her with us and I’m pretty sure she likes being with us too so we all endure.

There she lies, all pretty and cute soaking up the sun. She looks so content when suddenly she springs up like a breaching shark and starts growling and sprinting across the yard. Luckily a sharp, “Chili, Here!”, stops the charge and brings her to my side whining, protesting and moaning like I just kept her from saving the world. Half the time we look around and can’t even figure out what she’s charging at. So, I keep her at my side and stay ¼ focused on what I’m doing and ¾ focused on Chili and every sound and movement around me. I’m good at knowing what will set her off so I quietly ask her to look at me when I hear different noises and when she looks away, I tell her, “No, no...look at me.” Even when I’m successful for half the day I can’t let my guard down. If she jumps up and charges just once, it takes a while to settle her down.

Then there’s the sound of children playing. Chili loves people of all ages but there’s something about the sound of children playing when she can’t see them that she simply can’t take. There are no issues when she sees them, she just glances and goes about her business. She’s been like this from the day we adopted her so I figure there’s something in that first 6 months of her life that she experienced that triggered this reaction. The mysteries of Chili.

Of all the things that set her off, the one thing that rarely gets her going, that I would fully expect would send her into a fit, is the sound of the neighbourhood dogs barking. There are a few barkers in the neighbourhood but for the most part, she ignores them. I always watch her when they start barking and the odd time when I can see she’s priming herself to bark too, I stop her before she gets going. I don’t need her to be the neighbourhood barking dog, I have enough to deal with.

So the first few outdoor days of spring aren’t exactly relaxing but we make the most of it and do what we can to acclimatize the Chill to relax and just enjoy the sun, and ignore the sounds. She’s committed to her cause but so are we and she may be one stubborn girl, but that one stubborn girl is up against her mom and dad who are just as stubborn, ask anyone. Two against one, you’d think that would give us the advantage....you’d think.

What I find interesting about it all is she doesn’t react to anything that is happening if it’s on our property. A car can pull into the driveway, someone can walk into the yard, kids can play, and all she thinks is, “Hey look, someone is here to visit me and play.” Then she gets all wiggly and her tail starts thumping. I don’t know....the mysteries of Chili.