Little Buddy and Diverdoodle: A Dachsund By Any Other Name...

You knew it would only be a matter of time before we started quoting Shakespeare (“They’re booing Shakespeare”).

Couper and Godiva’s Gamma Mommy was in town last week and was confounded when Godiva’s Mommy said to Godiva, “Come on in Diverdoodle”. “What did you call her?” “Diverdoodle.” “How long have you been calling her that?”

We don’t even think about it, but we have been calling her that, among other things forever. Same with Couper. Somehow nicknames appear and evolve.

So, let’s look at our dogs’ various names:
Couper

Couper:
Origin: Coupe.
Originator: Couper’s Mommy
Story: We are Couper’s third family. In his second family, he was called Frank. That name was out, because Couper’s Mommy’s brother has a dachshund named Frankie. Calling the new dachshund Frank would be confusing and derivative. Couper’s first family called him Coupe, so, after much deliberation (and a few days of calling him, “Hey You”), Couper’s Mommy (not her name until after Couper was named by the way), decided we should add the “r” and call him Couper.

Coupe
Origin: Couper (Circular reference alert!!!)
Originator: Couper’s Mommy and Big Buddy
Story: Short for Couper, though not that much shorter.

Little Buddy
Origin: Not sure.
Originator: Big Buddy (not my name until I started calling Couper “Little Buddy”)
Story: I really do not know where Little Buddy came from. The Gilligan’s Island connotation (Skipper’s name for Gilligan for the uncultured) always kind of bothered me, so it wasn’t that (at least I didn’t call him “Lovey” - Mr. Howell’s name for Mrs. Howell, as if you did not know). I started calling Couper “Little Buddy” very early, so it was probably me desperately trying to confirm that we were friends; “Are you my Little Buddy?” Eventually, I would use Little Buddy as a name and I became Big Buddy (because I am taller and weigh more).

Little Bud (or Lil’ Bud)
Origin: Little Buddy (see above)
Originator: Big Buddy
Story: Nothing much here. Little Buddy is an absurd four syllables. Little Bud is three. Lil’ Bud is two. When it comes to syllables, three or two is much greater than four. Therefore, Little Bud is our most used moniker for Couper.

Little Buddy Biscuit
Origin: Little Buddy (see above) and Seabiscuit
Originator: Big Buddy
Story: After watching the movie Seabiscuit, I made the comment that the movie was fine, but it would be 100 times better if it was about a racing dachshund instead of a race horse (by the way, I routinely make the same statement about all movies; ET? better with a dachshund; Jaws? dachshund; Apollo 13? dachshund). I proposed Little Buddy for the lead and re-naming it “Little Buddy Biscuit”. Couper’s Gamma Buddy really took to this idea and still calls him “Little Buddy Biscuit” on occasion all these years later.

Couper Knute (pronounced Ka-nute)
Origin: Couper’s Great Granddaddy Mommy, Knute
Originator: Couper’s Mommy
Story: Couper is stubborn. Couper’s Mommy’s grandfather Knute was stubborn. As a tribute to stubbornness, Couper got a last name. For years Couper’s Mommy called him Couper Knute, but I had no idea why. I figured it was alliteration. As you will see, these names do not need to make any sense. Finally, one day out of the blue, she explained it to me. To this day, however, I have no idea why Knute (which to me is associated with Knute Rocknie - and pronounced “Nute”) is pronounced “Ka-Nute”. Regardless, ICouper Ka-Nute, sounds better than Couper Nute.

Cuepa (Pronounced Cue-pa)
Origin: Couper’s 3 year old human cousin Hanna’s pronunciation of Couper
Story: You would guess that Hanna is from Brooklyn or Boston, or someplace that eliminates the letter R from the end of words. Hanna is 7 now. I do not believe she has ever been east of the Mississippi. If she has, she could probably skip a rock on the Mississippi from there. But somehow, she came up with the ultimate East Coast pronunciation for Couper. As a native New Yorker, I am very jealous.

Killer

Origin: Couper like to bark

Originator: Couper's Gamma Mommy's neighbor

Story: When the neighbor of Couper's Gamma Mommy would see Couper, Couper would bark at her as he does with everyone who comes to the door. Amusing to the neighbor, she started calling him Killer when he was having his fit. For her, that name stuck.

Godiva

Godiva
Origin: Chocolate
Originator: Godiva’s Mommy
Story: Godiva’s Mommy (then - and still - named Couper’s Mommy) always wanted a female Chocolate Lab and wanted to call her Godiva. When we got Couper, and half a million dollars worth of dachshund paraphernalia, I put my foot down on buying a different breed of dog. Especially one as popular a lab, which likely has 5 times the paraphernalia as dachshunds (which translates to us buying $2.5M in merchandise). There was no way we could afford that. When we found the ad for dachshund puppies, there were two female choices. I’m not saying we selected a puppy based on her colors and a pre-chosen name, but Godiva was white, light brown, and dark brown (white chocolate, milk chocolate, and dark chocolate - though Godiva’s Mommy does not like that analogy). Her sister, our other choice that night, was grey and black. You do the math.

Godiver
Origin: Cuepa (see Couper’s section above)
Originator: Big Buddy
Story: Refusing to be outdone by a 5 year old Las Vegas native, I immediately added the East Coast R to a name ending with A. I got all my East Coast street cred back with this one.(My favorite TV show? Lore and Outta)

Diver
Origin: Godiver
Originator: Big Buddy
Story: Short for Godiver

Diveroo
Origin: Godiver shortened to Diver and Howard Cosell
Originator: Big Buddy
Story: Back in the mid 80’s Nightline had a special edition where they looked at the problems with college sports. Like a lot of Nightline special editions, nothing came of it. The same problems from 25 years ago are still problems. However, one of their guests was the one and only Howard Cosell. Remarking on the decline and fall of college athletics he said the following about then Notre Dame head basketball coach Digger Phelps: “and in South Bend, they are even booing the Diggeroo”. Now this line is great on like a thousand levels. But mostly because he took a person’s popular nickname, Digger (given name Richard), and upped that into a nickname that nobody else used, Diggeroo, to make himself sound like he was closer to Digger than you could ever be. Anyhow, for years after that, I enjoyed adding “roo” to people’s names. So, years later, when Godiva turned into Diver, it was inevitable that Diver turned into Diveroo.

Diverdoo
Origin: Diveroo and alliteration?
Originator: Big Buddy
Story: Not sure on this one. Maybe Diveroo needed more alliteration, so another d was added? One way or another, this turned out to be the name we use for her the most.

Diverdoodle
Origin: Diverdoo
Originator: Big Buddy
Story: As long as we are going to give our puppy girl a name that has almost no bearing to her actual name, might as well add an “odle” to it.

Diverdon’t
Origin: Diverdoo and Potty Issues
Originator: Big Buddy/Godiva’s Mommy
Story: When she poops and/or pees when we want her to, she is a Diverdoo. When she screws around looking for lizards or gets distracted by sound and does not pee or poop (which happens way more often than not), she is a Diverdon’t

Mischief
Origin: Godiva is full of it sometimes
Originator: Godiva’s Mommy
Story: When Godiva gets into trouble, her mommy tells her, “We should have called you mischief, because that is what you are”

Sprinkles
Origin: Godiva like to roll around in mesquite tree leaves
Originator: Big Buddy
Story: We have an artificial turf putting green in the back yard. Artificial turf sounds pretty maintenance free, but we have two mesquite trees that hang over the turf. Mesquite trees drop stuff 10 and a half months of the year, not the least of which are their little leaves. When Godiva goes outside, no matter how badly she need to go potty, she will find a patch of turf with mesquite leaves and roll around in them. When she gets up, the leaves stick to her body like sprinkles on ice cream. Therefore, Sprinkles.


I am sure there are more for both Couper and Godiva. As I said to start this post, way back when, we don’t even think about the names we use for them. Who knows what else we call Dinky and Farthead.

Couper Goes to Kindergarten - Homework Week 4

As we were doing homework this week, Couper continued a trend that has been driving me insane since we started this Kindergarten stuff. He listens to Couper’s Mommy, but only occasionally listens to his Big Buddy. He may not always do what Couper’s Mommy tells him, but he does at least give a glance before deciding that whatever he was doing is just fine, thank you. When Big Buddy barks a command (barks, get it?), Couper usually just goes about his business. As we are only supposed to call a command or his name once, that leaves me the options of whistling, or snapping my fingers, or stomping my foot. I look like the stereotyped construction worker when a hot babe walks by (Did this ever really happen? Did it ever actually work? Can it still happen now with harassment lawsuits? This has a Dateline NBC investigation written all over it).

I am glad that Couper listens to his Mommy; at least he is getting something from this class. However, I get very frustrated when he does not listen to me. A big part of the frustration comes from not knowing why he listens to me sometimes and not others. Is it the pitch of my voice? What he is doing at the moment? Where I am relative to him? What’s on TV (“What was Big Buddy saying??? I was paying attention to the latest about Brad and Angelina on ‘Extra’. I sure hope they adopt again. Why is Big Buddy whistling and stomping his foot? Does he need to go potty??? Does he think Angelina is hot??? Hey, there’s a Mr. Hiney!!! I should put it behind the stereo! That would be fun… ”)? So at least once a homework session I have a pity party. “Couper, you always listen to your mommy and never to me. You don’t like your Big Buddy anymore. I quit.”

This week, Couper’s Mommy finally had enough. She sat me down and spelled the situation out for me. It went something like this:

"Look, this is new for Couper. He is not used to hearing commands from you. You and he are playing buddies. You have taught him plenty. Think of all the games you two have made up. He is used to me giving him commands. I have been doing it since I got him. It is just going to take more practice coming from you."

It was well thought out, polite, and to the point. It should have been. She had four weeks to practice it. Couper’s Mommy has always been, well, the mommy. Big Buddy has always been, well, the buddy. And you thought these names were just noms de plume for this blog.

Couper has the good fortune of being the first dog I have ever had. How we got Couper, and why I never had a dog before him, is for future posts (like I have this all planned out or something). For the purposes of this post, let’s just say that I have always loved dogs and we lucked into the best dog in the whole wide world (I know what you are thinking, “Who is this pompous jerk who says his dog is the best in the whole wide world. My dog is the best in the whole wide world!” Well, my claim is in writing on the internet. The same internet that brings you football scores and naked pictures of “High School Musical” starlets (no link, sorry. Find it yourself). Your claim is in your mind. The same mind you erode with a case and a half of beer each weekend and which last week said to you, “Let’s watch this repeat of ‘Charles in Charge’. How bad could it be?” I rest my case).

If not the best in the whole wide world, Couper at the very least is a heck of a lot of fun. Couper loves to play and I am almost always happy to oblige him. Even when I am lying on the sofa half asleep, if he sticks a Mr. Hiney in my hand, I will throw it. Couper also loves attention and I have transferred my 38 years of not having a dog into attention to him. (Too bad he can’t read. He would love that he is getting 1000+ words written about him twice a week. To him writing this blog is just something that Big Buddy does between throwing a Mr. Hiney.) Couper’s Mommy calls us “two peas in a pod”. I hate peas. I had epic arguments over peas when I was a child. I refuse to eat peas as an adult. But she is absolutely right and I like when she says that.


So most of what I have taught him involves us playing. But just what have I taught him? And is any of it helping anything?

Catch
The first thing I did when I first met an 11 month old Couper four years ago was recoil at this cute little thing barking at me (hasn’t changed much, has he?). The second thing I did was get him a bowl of refrigerated RO water with ice cubes that he ignored. The third thing I did was go get a tennis ball to see if he would play. Third time’s a charm. I threw it, he chased it, and we became instant best buddies. He loved chasing the ball, but stunk at catching it. Yes, his mouth was a little too small for a tennis ball at that time, but his timing was all off and he was all over the place. Tens (hundreds?) of thousands of throws later, with various balls and toys, he has gotten really good at catching. Sometimes he makes really amazing catches. I wish catching were part of Kindergarten.

I think playing catch is good. It at least has bonded us and has led to other games (below). And so far, I have avoided arm surgery despite throwing more balls than Warren Spahn (You thought I might go blue there, didn’t you? Bad you!).

Not Bringing the Ball Back.
Couper has this strange habit of nudging around with the toy just thrown to him in the area where he catches up to it. He makes it look like he has no idea how to pick up the toy. I have this strange habit of being impatient and wanting to throw the toy again. Probably the fourth thing I did after meeting Couper was go retrieve the ball I threw. I quickly found out that he could not only pick up the ball, he could take off with it. So what he really wanted out of this situation was to play “Chase the Puppy”. Eventually he trained me to throw the ball, walk to where he and the ball were, and then either chase the puppy or pick up the ball and throw it again. Couper’s Mommy is fond of saying, “I remember when he used to bring the ball back, before you taught him this.” I don’t really remember him ever bringing it back, but I go along with it. I hope she doesn’t read this thing.

This is undoubtedly bad teaching. He is controlling me. However, maybe he wants to make sure that I get some exercise too.

3-46-3-46-hut-hut-hut
This is a variation of playing catch, but instead of picking it up the ball and throwing it, I do a three point stance over the ball like a football center and long “snap” it back between my legs (like for a punt). Before I snap the ball, I say “3-46-3-46-hut-hut-hut”, as if I am calling a play. The original point of the game was he would stand in front of me until I snapped the ball, and I would pretend to block as he whizzed right by me.

As time went on, he would jump “offsides” as I went into my “3-46” call. I would then pretend to be a referee calling offsides, complete with hand signals and the announcement to the crowd, “Offsides defense. Number 3. Five yard penalty. First Down!” Couper’s Mommy would groan, but Couper would anxiously wait for me to go get him and the ball. Over time, Couper wouldn’t even wait for me to call “3-46” and upon my doing my center stance, run to the spot where I usually snapped the ball, even if my hiney was pointed in an entirely different direction (the ball follows the hiney).

I guess this is good teaching. He would do something based on either my bending over the ball or calling “3-46…”. If he jumped early, there was a penalty for offsides (bad actions have bad consequences – 5 yards in this case). I have not figured out if running to the usual spot is better or worse than understanding the ball goes where the butt points. (I would love to tell you that “3-46” was some famous play like the Packer Power Sweep, but it is just the first two numbers that popped into my mind. It sounds like a solid football play though, doesn’t it?)

Joe Namath wins the Super Bowl
This is roughly the same deal as “3-46” except:

• I actually throw the ball overhand, like a football pass.
• We have to use Couper’s tennis ball football.
• In my “Howard Cosell for Puppies” voice, I yell, “Here goes Joe Namath to win the Super Bowl!”

Couper has learned to take off to the corner of the yard where the ball is thrown. The rule is if he catches the ball before it comes to a stop, he scores a touchdown and Joe Namath wins the Super Bowl. We have a big celebration. If it comes to a stop before he gets it, Joe Namath loses the Super Bowl. Both results are announced by “Howard Cosell for Puppies”.

A couple of things to note:

• Yes, I did play this game in my parent’s back yard when I was 7 (without the puppy).
• Yes, I am old enough to have seen Joe Namath win a Super Bowl (I was 3) and hear Howard Cosell call a game.
• No, I never grew up.
• My “Howard Cosell for Puppies” voice announces because a regular Howard Cosell voice might scare and confuse puppies. “Howard Cosell for Puppies” is essentially a cross between Howard Cosell and Mr. Rogers. Researchers at independent test labs worldwide have proven this combination of voices to be puppy friendly (please do not look this up).

I think this may be my best teaching game. Couper reacts to “Joe Namath to win the Super Bowl” by running to a selected spot. He learns a real life lesson about winning and losing. “Howard Cosell for Puppies” exults/ admonishes his win/loss; again, just like real life. Finally, he learns history; Joe Namath winning Super Bowl after Super Bowl (all on the last play) and Howard Cosell announcing them (please don’t look-up those “facts” either).

Do-dee-do-dee-do
In our old house, on the patio, we had stucco columns. On these columns, there were rounded ledges (they probably have an architectural name, but I am too lazy to look it up). The ledges were just tall enough that Couper on his hind legs could reach them. We found that we could hide toys on these ledges and when Couper would find them, he would make sure to knock them down (example right with Mr. Hiney). We took this activity to the next level with the “Do-dee-do-dee-do” game.

The game plays as follows: I would pick up a toy and start walking around the columns. At the same time I would start whistling a “casual song”. The song made it seem like I wasn’t really doing anything special, just casually walking around, whistling, like usual (actual time I have spent walking around whistling outside of this game: 0 seconds). Couper would follow me, all the while looking up on the column ledges to see if I put the toy there. At some point I would leave the toy on the ledge, but continue the walking and whistling. Couper would have to keep looking until he found the toy. He got very good at this, again proving he is smarter than his Big Buddy.

Why is this called the “Do-dee-do-dee-do” game? It isn’t. It is called the {whistle the song} game, but I have no audio to insert for “{whistled song}”. It kind of sounds like “do-dee-do-dee-do” and I had to type something. The song is essentially lifted from a tune played constantly in the toy store FAO Schwartz (the toy store in “Big”). When you walk in, you hear a song that goes: “Welcome to our world, welcome to our world, welcome to our world of toys”. If you have been in an FAO Schwartz for more than six seconds, you know exactly what I am describing. If you worked in an FAO Schwartz, you are doing 20 to life for aggravated assault/murder because you heard that song over and over and over throughout your shift (Sorry for reminding you of it. Have some more therapy. Does the warden know you are on the internet???). “Welcome to our World” is to FAO Schwartz what “It’s a Small World” is to Disneyland (This should be an official SAT analogy). So what better song to incorporate into a game of hiding Couper’s toys?

This was a good teaching game as well, I think. I was in charge. He was following. I was whistling a song that leads to heinous felonies. Sounds like good clean fun to me.

Havlicek Stole the Ball
This game starts out with me dribbling a tennis ball while humming “Sweet Georgia Brown” of Harlem Globetrotters fame. There are no similarities between my dribbling and Curley Neal’s or between my song and the actual song. But to Couper, that doesn’t matter. He tries to steal the ball. When he does, we completely shift basketball gears. In my “Howard Cosell for Puppies” voice, I shout, “Havlicek stole the ball!!! Havlicek stole the ball!!!” (a reference to a 1965 playoff game that I probably missed because I was spitting up formula). When I say, “The’re gonna get Havlicek!!!”, a full-fledged Chase the Puppy game is on.

We are going to count this game as good too. I am marginally in charge while dribbling the ball. Couper knows to steal the ball. We all learn about the Globetrotters, the 1965 Celtics, and that Howard Cosell announced every significant sporting event of the 1960s. Even when he wasn’t there. Howard wouldn’t have it any other way.

Wee Wee Woo
This game was born of necessity during Super Bowl XXXIX. I kind of wanted to watch the game. Couper kind of wanted to play. Going outside to play was not going to happen. No TVs outside. Couper was deeply into his tennis ball football only phase. It was the only toy he would play with. Watching TV and blindly chucking that toy across the room, with its strange bounces, was asking for disaster. So I needed a game that was closely contained so that the fine china was safe (paper plates can be fine china, it is all relative).

Wee Wee Woo works as follows (Feel free to try this at home with your little buddy. If you don’t have a little buddy, get one. I’ll wait):

• Sitting on a sofa, cross your feet. Keep the outside edge of both feet on the floor. Being left-handed, I cross my left foot in front of my right. (All game instructions from here on will assume that you are left-handed as well. If you are not, please become left-handed now. I’ll wait.)
• Take the toy ( the tennis ball football really is the best for this game) in your left hand and set it on your left knee.
• If you drop the ball to the right, down your left shin, yell “Wee”. Somewhere in this drop, Couper attempts to pounce on the ball. Usually while it is rolling down my leg, causing 12 pounds of force with claws to tear up my calf and/or foot.
• If you drop the ball to the left, down to the floor, yell “Woo”. This side is usually less painful. Be careful if anybody is sitting on the sofa to your left.
• Soon the little buddy will know the difference between “Wee” (attack your leg) and “Woo” (attack the person sitting to your left).

Amazingly, Couper took to this game. He brought the ball back every time for more. He was mesmerized by the ball sitting on my knee, trying to figure out if a “wee” or a “woo” was coming. So during important plays, it was OK to just leave the ball sitting there. In the end, I got to watch the Super Bowl (and many a sporting event since) and he got to play.

Summary: Educational: Yes. Human in charge: Yes. Painful: Yes. Bottom line: Good


So what have we learned?

• I actually have had some good influence in teaching and leading Couper through playing. I somehow need to transfer this to our Kindergarten training.
• I am using our dog as an excuse to play games I used to play in grade school.
• Howard Cosell impressions (even puppy-modified) never get old. If Rich Little were still alive, he would be doing “Howard Cosell for Puppies” on the Mike Douglas Show.
• Nothing significant in the world of sports has happened since 1970.