Trying to get an exuberant bloodhound to wear a birthday hat for more than a second was more than we bargained for. With a cupcake bribe, she finally sat still.
Before she ate the cupcake, she ate the hat.
And this all came after we tried to fit her with a tiara. She thinks she’s a princess and sometimes we treat her that way.
She would have none of it, though. No matter how much we tried to get that tiara to stay on her head, all she wanted to do was get it off. She was writhing around, reaching with her paws and we finally gave up.
When it fell to the ground, she grabbed it in her mouth. That’s what she does. Everything goes in her mouth until she decides she doesn’t want it there anymore.
As I ripped the tiara out of her mouth, I noticed the letters in “Happy Birthday” were peeling off like kernels of corn and staying in her jowls. When she shook her head vociferously like a hound does, ears flapping loudly, the letters came flying out. Who knew a few letters from “happy birthday” could be rearranged to spell “rabid?” as they stuck to the floor, encased in bloodhound drool.
After playing this form of random canine scrabble, I was reminded to check her vaccination tag and confirmed with her vet’s office just to be sure. She was up to date.
She hasn’t been inoculated from silliness, though.
As everybody knows, a hound follows her nose more than anything else and that can get her into trouble.
One morning we got up before the sun as we normally do and headed out to the front yard. As soon as the door opened, I could smell a skunk. Had I not grabbed a stronger hold of the leash, one of two things would have happened and neither was good.
Daisy Duke wanted to find that skunk. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and her nose was all over the ground.
She was either going to break loose and run to who knows where or she was going to find that skunk and come back, maybe even bringing it with her.
I smelled trouble just in time and we headed back into the house. I was not in any mood to be de-skunking a dog. Fortunately, it wasn’t necessary.
Daisy Duke is finally calming down a bit. When we learned that a bloodhound remains a puppy for two years, we were hopeful this day would come.
These days, when she’s not running around like a maniac, she’ll sit next to us and allow us the privilege of petting her. When she is in the mood, and only then, she’ll lean in like she is genuinely enjoying the attention. When we stop, she’ll let us know it’s not time yet.
She’ll raise her paw and smack us, reminding us that petting time is not over. It’s not a gentle gesture, either. When she smacks, she smacks like she means business.
As Daisy Duke enters her third year, it’s easy for us to see why they count dog years the way they do. In two years, she has had 14 years worth of fun. She’s provided 14 years of adventures and at least that many years worth of trouble.
Like a typical 14-year-old, she talks back. Tell her to do something she doesn’t want to do and she’ll give you that look and offer a muffled bark that sounds like somebody mumbling under their breath.
We’ll look at her and sternly ask “What did you say?”
She’ll turn away and mumble even more.
Yes, she’s definitely a teenager.
Our girl is growing up.