This is the first of hopefully many posts by Millicent Braun, aka Millie – or Mildred, or Millimeter – or Terrorist. Millie will tell you about her everyday life. Millie is a pure bred black and tan mini-dachshund who has many crazy traits.
A Typical Day
It’s the morning of November 3, 2019.
“What? It’s already light outside! How can that be? I am not ready to get out of this nice warm blanket. Pretty soon one of my humans – Mother – as she calls herself – will be sitting in the chair, drinking some awful tasting liquid. I tried it once – it’s brown and bitter, and not at all to my liking. I would rather swipe her used Kleenex and lick it, then tear it apart. “
Millie has, for the most part, claimed Mother’s chair. She found a new fleece blanket on the back of the chair and claimed it as her own. The blanket is 54″ x 72″, far larger than one needed by a such a small dog, but Millie finds a way to wrap it around herself and burrow in, all set for a nap – day or night.
Mother soon arrives. Millie jumps out of the chair, finds a tennis ball, picks it up by the short fur-like fabric, and tosses it at Mother. Mother then throws the ball across the room. Millie has the ball in seconds, but does she bring it back to Mother? Nope.
“I need to get some attention from Father. He is always cooking me good meals.”
Millie runs to Father, who is sitting at his office desk, but she doesn’t put the ball down. She makes Father work to get it. Father then bounces the ball to Mother, who in turn throws the ball again. This process can go on for several minutes – and usually only stops when Millie won’t give the ball up.
“Oh, boy – Father is going outside! I love to look for chipmunks – and he’s letting me go outside, too.”
A half hour later, Millie and Father come back inside. Millie jumps in the chair and burrows under the blanket. Throwing the ball and going outside get repeated throughout the day.
It’s now evening. Millie is in the chair, napping again. Mother was knitting in the chair, but apparently there is not enough room to suit Millie – with the blanket and Millie and Mother. She will not stay in the chair. So Mother gives up the chair for a bit.
“Here she comes again, with her sticks that keep poking me and string that keeps tickling me. I don’t understand. It’s already dark outside. She should be going to bed for the night; that’s what I’m doing. I am not staying in this chair with those sticks. I’ll go over by Father and just look at him, maybe pretend to cry a little. It works every time. I bet he’ll make me a meal – pieces of hot dog or polish sausage. I don’t like the food they make for dogs – horrible tasting stuff. Or he will pick me up and ask for some kisses and hugs. Maybe an alligator mouth (mouth open wide). Alligator mouths are good for treats and meals. I think I’ll do that.”
“That worked perfectly. A few alligator mouths and a few hugs. Now he is getting me a meal. Here he comes – ah, hot dogs. But wait. He didn’t cut them up; he knows I can’t eat big pieces with my small teeth. I’ll just look sad and walk away.”
Father soon realizes that Millie is not eating and says “Do you need that cut up, my best girl?”
“Of course. Look at me. Do I look like I am eating?”
Father gets a knife and cuts up the hot dog.
“Ah, this is much better. Now it is time to go to bed. I’m just going to sit in front of that chair until Mother goes to bed. “
“Ahhhh . . . this blanket feels so good.”
Thanks for reading. I hope you return!