Remember way back in the first year of SNL, when they had a fake commercial for Puppy Uppers? I think Jack has been sending off to get them by mail with a money order. He can't be using my credit card for Amazon or eBay. He doesn't even have a phone or computer, silly! But it sure seems like something is up with our favorite pup.
This afternoon, I went out for a brief walk. Just because. The temperature hovered around 70, the slant of the sunlight was so FALL, and it was almost time for Farmer H to come home. I figured if I fell down in the driveway, he would be there soon enough to put me out of my misery. One way or another.
First of all, let the record show that Jack and Juno LOOOOOOOVE cool weather. They get all hyped up and thump around the porch and tear through the front yard-field and generally act like a poor pooch who took two years to chew through the chain anchoring him to his doghouse on a patch of hardpan in the corner of the back yard. You know that kind of dash for freedom.
When I left for town earlier this morning, they both came running to see me off. Instead of going back to their respective lounging areas when I entered the garage, they both ran around to the edge of the driveway and sat down, watching me like I was grand marshal of the Daily 44 Oz Diet Coke Parade. Which I kind of am.
Jack came running when I got home, and fidgeted and grunted and squirmed with pleasure during our hug, then ravenously dove into the meager pile of cat kibble I gave him. I'm not sure where Juno was at that time, but she reunited with us when I came out at 4:15 for my walk.
Could somebody please explain to Jack what a WALK is? Or at least start a GoFundMe page to buy him some Doggie Downers? That little longfellow was at me like a torpedo after a U-boat. He was like a circus dog jumping on his trainer, doing flips. Except I'm not in a circus. Though some may see a resemblance to a U-boat. Jack was at me again and again. I know I don't walk fast, but he'd dash ahead, then turn and run straight at me and launch himself so that his nose poked me in the upper thigh. Sometimes he even hit lower belly. As you might imagine, my stride was somewhat disrupted.
When we got back to the garage, Jack ran under the carport and up the steps to wait by the roaster pan of cat kibble high above his head. I fooled him, though, and kept walking across the front yard, over to Shackytown. Jack caught on soon enough, and hit me before I got to the end of the house. Let the record show that I had to go even slower, because SOMEBODY had dug two holes into the lawn, down to bedrock, even though that's only about 4 inches.
I had no idea that dachshunds were this high-energy. A heeler, perhaps, since they are meant for nipping cattle. Maybe Jack was only trying to steer me away from leaving the property, back down the driveway. I'm really glad he didn't bite me on the nape of my neck and shake me like a badger.
This ol' guy would have let Mrs. Hillbilly Mom take her walk
I mean the one without a hat.