Happy Big Buddy's Day from the Poop!

Happy Big Buddy's Day from the Poop! Especially to those Big Buddies with two Little Buddies, one of which is a little screaming puppy who likes to wake up in the middle of the night and likes to bite everything. Or to those Big Buddies with an older Little Buddy who growls at his little sister, likes to bark at everything, and plays every waking minute of the day. But despite all that they are the luckiest Big Buddies in the whole wide world. Yes, a very happy Big Buddy's day to those Big Buddies!

What the heck happened to Memorial Day?!?

Actual mail from an actual reader. If it wasn’t could I do this?

Hey, knuckleheads! Whatever happened to “Happy Memorial Day From the Poop”? You’ve had all the other holidays. I waited all weekend for the go-ahead to have a happy Memorial Day and since it never came, I had a crappy Memorial Day. I mean how much effort is it to post that tired picture of Couper asleep with the beer toy and type, “Happy Memorial Day from the Poop”??? You wouldn’t even have to say something nice about the troops. I mean it’s not like we’re at war or anything. Oh, yeah, we are. Pinko Commie Imbeciles.

Rich Feder,
Fort Lee, NJ

Mr. Feder, for a guy from New Jersey, you sure do ask a lot of questions. You are right about us forgetting Memorial Day. A couple of weeks ago I was in the computer room, thinking about writing the Memorial Day post when Couper walked in to play. He had been sleeping all day, so I figured I had better give him some attention. I threw the Mr. Hiney a few times when he started coughing really bad. Then all of a sudden, he throws up all over the floor. And not just a regular throw up, but a three thrust throw up. It was disgusting. After getting a roll of paper towels, I looked down at the gooey pile of puke and what did I see? Two little stuffed turtle feet that Couper had chewed off a toy over a week and a half earlier. It had been sitting there in his stomach for two weeks and now it was sitting in a pile of vomit on the floor. It was gross! I thought I was gonna die! I looked at Couper and said, “Hey, Couper, what are you trying to do, make me sick or something?” Huh? What does this have to do with Memorial Day? Well it just goes to show you it’s always something. If it's not one thing, it's another. If you aren’t writing a blog post wishing everyone a happy Memorial Day, you are on the floor scooping up dog vomit containing two week old stuffed turtle feet with paper towels. It’s like my father, Big Big Buddy, always told me, “make sure you write your Memorial Day post early, because you never know what might come out of your dog while playing with his Mr. Hiney”

Happy belated Memorial Day from the Poop. You can always remember those who served in June too.

(Instead of the tired picture of Couper with the toy beer, here is a picture of Couper dropping a Mr. Hiney from the top of a beer cooler)
(And yes, Couper really did throw up two stuffed turtle feet.)

(Thanks to Dave and Gilda for the material)

(The word "actual" in the first sentence of this post actually mean "made up")

The Name Game

Up until we got Godiva, names at Couper’s house had been fairly simple. Couper’s Mommy decided upon getting Couper that she would be Mommy. For whatever reason, I started calling Couper, “Little Buddy”. I am not sure how that started, much less endured. Even I felt uncomfortable that “Little Buddy” is what Skipper nicknamed Gilligan on Gilligan’s Island. After calling Couper that 15,000 times, and not having seen Gilligan’s Island in years, the discomfort eventually wore off. So, there were two logical choices for me to be called: Beavis or Butthead. Oops, wrong story, I meant: Daddy or Big Buddy. I never quite understood why Couper’s Mommy wanted to be called “Mommy”. She was clearly not Couper’s birth mother. They aren’t even the same species. But it was what she wanted to be called so I never said anything about it. I went the other direction and evolved into Big Buddy. Couper’s Mommy and I were not living together at the time, so I was more like a buddy that Couper visited all the time. Couper and I were (and still are) playmates first. So Little Buddy had a Big Buddy. I call him Little Buddy most of the time and he really only knows me as Big Buddy (“Couper, go to Big Buddy”).

When we started talking about getting a girl puppy, Couper’s Mommy would talk about getting Couper a “girlfriend”. I had two problems with that. First, Couper is fixed, so he probably was not looking for a relationship. Secondly, I knew Couper’s Mommy would also be Mommy to the new puppy. Since we do not live in 1930’s Appalachia, it is socially unacceptable to be boyfriend and girlfriend and share a mommy. We had a little chat about that and decided that Couper would instead get a little sister.

So we did get a little sister and her name is Godiva. Our naming scheme fell into disarray.

Couper’s Mommy is still Mommy around the house. However, on the blog she is now Couper/Godiva’s Mommy, which is only fair to both Couper and Godiva. I thought about her being Couper’s Mommy if Couper messed up and Godiva’s Mommy if Godiva messed up, but not only is that confusing to you the reader, but inaccurate because as Couper/Godiva’s Mommy often points out to me, “When they mess up, they are your dogs.” Couper/Godiva’s Mommy is a bit much to type, and you may ask yourself, “why not just call her by her real name?”, but her actual name is much too long as well and the authorities are cluing into Google.

As for the dogs, Godiva is Godiva and Couper is Couper. However, the Little Buddy is now a Big Brother to his Little Sister. He is also the Little Buddy to his Big Buddy. Couper has also been through the years: Little Bud, Little Boo, Little Friend, and Little ‘Noop Dog. That is to say that he is “Little”. So if I say to him, “Go get your Little Sister”, he looks at me like, “Go get myself??? OK. Here I am. Done”. This is also difficult from a phonics perspective. After years of “Big B” being followed by “uddy”, saying “Big Brother”, especially at 2:30AM, is difficult. “Godiva, follow your Big Buddy, I mean Little Brother, I mean Big Brother”. The fact that Godiva is quite a bit smaller than Couper makes the modifier “Little” seem like it should apply to her in all names, but it can’t because it is Couper’s and as we have found out the last few weeks, Couper does not like giving up what is his. And no, Godiva does not yet have a sustained nickname although “Princess” and “Piranha” have come up a few times.

The biggest change is for Big Buddy. When I got home on Godiva’s first day at the house, Couper’s Mommy said to her, “Godiva, say ‘hi’ to your daddy”. I did a double take, looking for either a male dog or the milkman. The next couple of times Couper’s Mommy referenced “Daddy”, I realized, (1) I was daddy and (2) this was going to persist. We hadn’t talked of this beforehand, nor have we really talked about it since. I’m kind of taking it as “You will have responsibility in raising this puppy and not just be the good-time partner-in-crime while I do all the discipline; like with the last one!” It is Lifetime Movie 101. I haven’t complained. I realize I am much more part of the problem than the solution with Couper. He’s my first dog and gets the benefits of that. So I have to grow up and be Daddy to the second dog. As time goes on I less and less hear the hackneyed phrase “Who’s your daddy” in my head when I am called that. The most confused is Couper who will now hear from Couper’s Mommy, “Go get your daddy”. (Insert your own inappropriate joke here).

So the family is now: Couper/Godiva’s Mommy; Godiva, Little Sister; Couper, Little Buddy, Big Brother; Big Buddy, Couper/Godiva’s Daddy. But if you meet me on the street or here on the blog, I am still Big Buddy. Or Butthead.

Happy Mommy's Day From The Poop

The Poop would like to wish all Dachshund mommies a happy Mommy's Day. Make sure to have the Big Buddy of the house do all the dachshund chores today (and only today! Knowing that Couper/Godiva's Mommy may not read this until Wednesday, I feel pretty confident promising that.).


Couper and Godiva each gave me a little something to say to their mommy for Mommy's Day.

Couper: Thank you mommy for sticking with me all these years. I know I can be a handful sometimes, but without you, who knows where I would be. I know I growl at you sometimes, but only because I want you to stay with me all the time. You are the bestest mommy in the whole wide world!!! Happy Mommy's Day!!!

Godiva: Thanks for picking me out mommy. I like my new home! I like that you get up at 2:30 every night to take care of me. I hope you do that for me forever! Happy Mommy's day!!!

Well, that was mushy, but I guess we can make an exception for Mommy's Day.

A Buddy Weekend

(Editor's Note: This article was written a few weeks ago and purposely held as a tribute to Couper's Mommy on Mommy's Day. Since then, we unexpectedly got Godiva. Please do not worry that she is not in the article. She is fine, the article is old)

Couper’s Mommy took last Friday off and went jet-setting for the weekend, so for the first time in a long time, it was a Buddy Weekend at Couper’s house. It had been over a year since Couper’s Mommy went on an extended jet-set, so I envisioned she would come home to find us passed out on the floor amid empty beer cans, poker chips, and yummies while three TVs blared basketball, Baywatch, and the Dog Whisperer. In other words, we would be wiped out from having too much buddy fun. I guess I forgot what it is really like when Couper’s Mommy leaves.

Couper’s Mommy jetted-off on Thursday, so Couper and I would have to delay our weekend fun. On Thursday afternoon it was business as usual; I got home, we did our potties outside (well, Couper did), we had yummies, and I got changed. It was right then, that I first noticed the impact of Couper’s Mommy absence. I had to figure out dinner on my own. Three and a half hours later, after Couper and I had both eaten, Couper was starting to realize that his mommy wasn’t home. Couper is very particular and likes things to be just right; and his mommy being gone at this time of night was certainly not right. So he stacked two pillows on the sofa nearest the front door, laid down, and waited for her to come home; almost like a nervous father waiting for his teenage daughter to come home from a date. Barky under normal circumstances, when he is on-guard waiting for his mommy, anything, or nothing, will set him off.

The barking is not limited to his couch vigil. Essentially when Couper’s Mommy goes jet setting there is no sleeping that first night. When we went to bed, I could feel and hear Couper snarling every couple of seconds. When he heard night sounds, he went into all out barking. You can count on being woken up by barking at least twice the first night, and he delivered around midnight and 1:30AM. You can also pretty much count on a very early morning potty call, which is really an excuse to patrol the backyard for the scoundrels who must have taken his mommy (why else would she leave her wonderful puppy???). He executed this move around 3AM.

As the alarm went off early Friday morning, I begrudgingly got up; nothing unusual there. In the past couple of months we have had a pretty consistent weekday morning routine.

• Couper pops out of bed, finds a toy and starts playing with me as I am laboring out of bed. Couper’s Mommy heads toward the kitchen.
• Couper and I continue playing as I go potty (indoors). (This is one of Couper’s favorite places to play. I was warned not to let him get away with that. Too late.)
• I take him through the kitchen to the back door and let him out to go #1.
• He comes back in and his mommy gives him his breakfast as I go back to the bedroom to get ready for work.
• Couper’s Mommy takes him out to go #2.
• Couper comes back to play with me as I am getting out of the shower and getting dressed.
• Couper plays with me as I eat breakfast prepared by Couper’s Mommy.
• I leave for work.
• Couper’s Mommy takes him out to go #1, puts him in his kennel, and leaves for work.

We have this down to a science and essentially time our morning to it. However, last Friday morning, I realized that a crucial element of the plan was missing, Couper’s Mommy. Knowing that having Couper making his and my breakfast would be a disaster, I figured those jobs were mine. I could have let him out to go potty by himself, but that always turns into a bark-fest. Anyhow, he likes for somebody to go out with him, so that he gets the proper credit (a yummie) for having gone. Friday, I was that somebody for all potties. Couper has been very good about going in his kennel when we want him to, but he sure was not going to do that by himself. That task became mine as well.

Arriving home Friday night, I was exhausted. Couper and I played a little, had dinner, and went for a walk. We vegged on the sofa for a while watching TV, but never did get to much Buddy fun. Around 9PM, Couper decided that it was time for bed, which for him means that a human goes to bed with him. When his mommy is home, he often gets his wish and goes to bed at 9. As tired as I was, I had no intention of going to bed at 9PM on a Friday. When we were in the living room watching TV, Couper slept on my leg, and every 20 minutes would look up with tired puppy eyes saying, “Are we going to bed now, Big Buddy?!?” If I was in the computer room, he would nap on the couch (still keeping vigil) and every 20 minutes come in with the same tired-eyed look for me. Finally, the cutely pathetic nagging was too much, I gave in and we went to bed. At least this time he was too tired to bark in the middle of the night.

Saturday was a very lazy day. When Couper’s Mommy is gone, Couper is much less playful. He plays outside for a while, but really wants to be inside just in case his mommy comes to her senses and comes home. If he is not sleeping, he is either on-guard or mopey. He also likes to make sure that I am always in his sights. It is better yet if he can lie or sit on me to make sure that I don’t leave and get lost like his mommy must have. For a little dog who usually triples the energy in the room, he can suck all the energy out when things are not just right.

By the time Sunday morning rolled around, I had not said the word “mommy” in any context for 24 hours. If Couper hears a name and has any sense that person is arriving, he will do nothing but run from door to door barking. It is almost as if he is trying to signal, “This is where you are supposed to be mommy, in here!!! Just follow the ‘woof’!!!” So we were quietly outside going potty (Couper only), when the back door slid open and Couper’s Mommy, fresh from jetting-in, said, “Hi Little Buddy!” As Couper sprinted to greet her, I thought of my expectation of the moment vs. the reality. Instead of Couper and I passed out in a pile of our partying, we were awake, doing normal stuff, with a (relatively) clean house. Couper repeatedly jumped all over his mommy. He really missed her. I did too. The next time Couper’s Mommy goes jet-setting, I hope she takes us too.

Into The Ears of Babes

Between Couper/Godiva's Mommy's frantic Google searches for countries that do not allow dachshunds and their immigration policies, I was able to get a little computer time and found this article from How Stuff Works called "How many words do dogs know"

Sure, most dogs understand the basics --"fetch," "sit" and "stay." But if you have the motivation and patience, you will probably be able to teach your dog even more than 100 words. Stanley Coren, a psychologist who has performed a significant amount of research on the subject of dog intelligence, suggests that average trained dogs know about 160 words [source: Coren]. Some dogs even show a vocabulary as vast as a human toddler's.

We did a post earlier about words that Couper knows. Due to time constraints (a.k.a. pure laziness) it was far from comprehensive, but showed that we are well on our way to 100 words with Couper.

English knowledge has come into sharp contrast this last week with Godiva entering our lives. All of a sudden, it seems like Couper has a Masters Degree in English (minus the inevitable post graduate job selling coffee at Borders - hey, that's not a half bad idea, what does that pay anyhow?). It is suddenly amazing how many words Couper knows that Godiva doesn't. And it is not like Couper has been subscribing to the Merriam-Webster Word of the Day this last week.

Well, we think Godiva has learned her first word. I was hoping for two words actually, "inside/outside" - as in "let's go outside and go potty" and "good girl going potty, let's go inside and watch TV". I have been emphasizing the words as we go in or out. She no more knows those words than she knows "truculent" or "quixotic" (recent words of the day - as if I know what they mean either). And no, it does not seem that she knows potty, or pee-pee, or poopie, or hiney, though I am sure she will in no time. Nope, her first word is more primal than even those.

(Godiva sits in the living room doing whatever she is doing with her 0.6 second attention span)
Big Buddy: Godiva, want a yummie?
(Godiva races into the kitchen and sits down)

Yup, she is her big brother's little sister. Here's guessing the next word she learns is "Mr. Hiney".

Happy Sixo de Mayo From The Poop!

Happy Sixo de Mayo from the Poop! Anyone can celebrate Cinco de Mayo. It takes true Dachshund spirit to celebrate Sixo de Mayo.

In the name of responsiblility, we are not allowing Godiva to play with the Buddyweiser toy until she is 3.