Dog-gone it, it's my turn!

I am racing in the heat, and then I stop for a break and hang out my tongue. I get back up and sniff the grass, but I prefer it when I get a ride and can encounter the whole world, smells and all. I ride in a white bag sitting atop rolled-up towels.

My name is Zoey, and I am a very cute, very smart miniature dachshund. Hereís my stats: weight, 8.6 pounds; height, 2 hands; length, very, very long; age, 1 Ω years; cuteness factor, 10.

Shelley, the keeper of this blog, is letting me write this month. She and I blog on Shelleyís website, whatever it is all that tech stuff does. I just type.

I bet you donít believe that Iím typing, but Shelleyís brother rigged up a special dog-friendly keyboard with 1-inch keys that are in alphabetical order. Donít give me any of that QWERTY stuff. It was hard enough learning the ABCs and how to spell.

Shelley and I blog once a week. Weíre telling our story of how we met and bark about important subjects, like chasing birds, befriending feral cats and calling out to possible friends, human and dog alike.

Oh, the white bag, you ask. Shelley carries me in it when we go on walks and I donít feel like being on a leash. I let her know by taking a seat and looking around at beautiful nature. I like the bag for making me taller, plus itís nice to take a breather once in awhile. I am kind of squat and though the smells may be better at ground level, I like seeing†what's beyond the blades of grass or Shelleyís high heels. It is so busy with all the changes in smells and motions and noise; it reminds me of squirming all over my siblings before we parted ways.

(P.S. Shelley told me about her friend Heather's daughter Samantha, who has left us for greener pastures. Dog-gone it, I wanted her to play with me. I heard she is beautiful and kind and lovely and anyone like that is a friend of mine. I am sorry, Samantha,†your Mommy had to say goodbye to you before you got to experience all the world's smells and she got to see you become who you would become when you're very being was what made her want to sniff up so much love, she couldn't even keep†you in her heart, she had to let all that love flow into words and hugs and kisses, oh and so much, I can't even describe it. I'm just a dog, you know, and I don't understand love that big, but can anyone?)

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3 Responses to “Dog-gone it, it's my turn!”

  1. Helen Colella says:

    Sending friendly woofs to you, Zoey.
    You are quite compassionate for a puppy.
    Probably would have been a great friend to 'lil Samantha.

  2. Fay Ulanoff says:

    Wow Shelly!
    That was insiring

  3. Zoey, you sure is wise for one-and-a-half year-old! I'm sure Samantha would love all the wags you're giving her. Heather, too. I will be watching to see what else you "type" here!

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