Well, it's our dog's birthday week.  She'll be 11 in a couple of days.  I thought, in honor of her birthday, I'd post her autobiography. 


I was born in Columbia, Mississippi to my mother, a registered dachshund, and my father, a Chihuahua who was just passing through town on business.  From what I understand, theirs was a steamy, yet brief, romance as my father left as soon as he heard my mother was expecting a litter.  He told her that he really wasn't cut out to be a family man.  He was just looking for another notch in his collar, I suppose.  And with that, he was gone.  The only thing he ever gave me?  His ears.  My mother did the best she could do raising us, 5 pups, alone.  But, after about 8 weeks, she knew she had to find other homes for us. 

I was taken in by my new family and relocated to another town in the spring of '05.  I believe Bush was in office then.  I didn't have any papers.  Didn't come from a fancy pet store.  But, my new family seemed to love me all the same.  My parents already had 2 two-legged kids, Blair, 11, and Carson, 5.  My new mother was a "dogs don't live in the house person" at the time that I moved there.  So, they had me a nice house inside the garage with warm, soft bedding.  I couldn't really complain about the accommodations. 

But, each night, she'd come out to check on me there in the garage and I'd look up at her with my sad, brown eyes.  I'd heard somewhere before that humans are suckers for those.  And I may or may not have exaggerated my shivering to garner her compassion.  "Ok," she said, "you can come in but only if someone is holding you."  Then, she started saying stuff like, "Ok, you can come in if you stay on the blanket."  Then it was, "Ok, you can come in only when we're home but no getting on the furniture."  And on and on, until now she says things like, "Sugar, scoot over....you're hogging the bed!"  I have to say that I've enjoyed living indoors in the climate controlled environment.  When the weather is really hot or really cold, my mind can't help but think about all the less fortunate yard dogs out there.  I've got no complaints with these people I call family....except when my father tries to buy generic Beggin' Strips.  I draw the line there.      

I've found that my life here is filled with many simple joys.  My most favorite among them is catching lizards.  Nothing brings quite as much fulfillment to my life as pursuing a lizard, grabbing it between my teeth, and mutilating it until he stops moving.  Then, I try to paw at it to revive it just long enough to torture it some more.  When it's not lizard season, I enjoy chasing flying insects, smelling tires, urinating around mailboxes, and killing baby birds who fall out of their nests.  I've gotten wind that most humans find the baby bird thing to be a deplorable act but I say, "carpe diem."  I also enjoy barking at the doorbell even if it is just coming from a Swiffer commercial.  You can never be too sure, you know.  I love a good game of tug of war with my blanket and am happy to fetch the ball for the humans but I have a two time limit.  After that, they can get it themselves.      

Like everyone else, I struggle with my own set of character flaws.  I do enjoy chasing joggers and, if I ever felt like it was warranted, I could do some real damage to their ankles on down.  Children on bicycles, golf carts, and 4-wheelers are all temptations which I find difficult to refuse.  I want to do what's right but running after the UPS man as he's on his way back to his brown truck, well, you'd have to be a saint to resist that?  I've seen children turn and go screaming and running the other way when they see me coming.  I don't know what they've heard but I don't like kids anyway, so it's fine.  I'd suggest you not come near my food bowl or my survival instincts will kick in and I'll look at you like my wolf ancestors standing over a fresh kill.  Some people say that I must have a case of short dog syndrome.  Well, when you're 7" tall, you do what you have to do to command respect.  Even biting the vet isn't out of the question.....and the vet's helper.  I was never indicted on those charges, though, as I pleaded self defense against the thermometer.  If you'd seen where they were going to stick that thing, you wouldn't have blamed me.  They're sick, sick people down there at that office and they deserved everything they got. 

If I had to name one life changing moment, it would be the day that I misjudged a tire while chasing a Honda and got tangled up with a Goodyear.  Luckily, I was fine but it gave me a new lease on life as I learned to try and appreciate every day.  You just never know when your luck might run out.   

I guess the one thing that I know for sure is I love my people.  My people list is short.  Very, very short.  It is comprised of the 4 humans who live at my house.  I would protect them from anything that would ever try to harm them.  If you mess with any of them, you'll have to deal with...........well, just ask the vet. 

When the humans get down in the floor with me and put their head next to mine, I feel loved.  When they hold me until the thunder stops, I feel secure.  When they come home from a long day, I feel complete again.  When they're around, everything is right in my world.  They take time to talk to me and treat me like I'm a feeling creature.  I hope I'll have many years left with them.  The years pass quickly, though, when they come in sevens.  But, when my life does come to the end, I will leave here knowing one thing for sure...... I was well-loved.   

Isn't that what all of God's creatures want? 

No matter how many legs we have. 

Happy Birthday, Sugar! 



Y'all have a great weekend, friends.