Snoopy Snippets ~ 5 ~

Looking back at the preceding chapters of these annals, I find myself guilty of an offence of which I’ve often accused the mainstream media – namely an excessive concentration on

Published 1st April 2024 By Tony Barnett
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Looking back at the preceding chapters of these annals, I find myself guilty of an offence of which I’ve often accused the mainstream media – namely an excessive concentration on negative stories. So, in an attempt to correct the imbalance, I’ll start this chapter by saying that, not only is Snoopy adorable, but he is the friendliest pup anyone could wish for. He loves everyone – admittedly a mixed blessing when his eagerness to meet people on our walks leaves me breathless – and in turn everyone remarks on his friendliness.

And, before he provides me with any less favourable material for this chapter, I must say that he continues to be a constant source of entertainment. Evidently thinking that a TV program I was watching was too serious, he not only distracted me, but reduced me to a paroxysm of laughter, by causing his crate – or what was left of it – to bounce around me, its propellant mysteriously invisible.

Snoopy resents any wild animal which has the gall to venture within his sight, or even earshot, and his resentment must be audible to half of Jenanter Drive. Usually it’s roos hopping through an adjacent property, or the reserve behind mine, but a close encounter with a goanna in my own garden could have had an unhappy ending were they not separated by the fence inside which Snoopy is confined.

However, he is fascinated by birds, and visually follows their flight patterns over or near my garden. Early one morning two king parrots perched on a gutter overlooking Snoopy’s fenced area, and stared down at him. Snoopy duly stared back up at them. I thought this visual contest might outlast my own fascination, but after several minutes Snoopy turned out to have a shorter attention span than the birds.

At the age of 4½ months, earlier than I expected, Snoopy cocked his leg for the first time. He chose a maple sapling for this favour, and made a beeline for it, with the same objective, on each subsequent walk… until it disappeared – evidently the victim of a lawnmower. Snoopy was very puzzled by its absence, and persisted in seeking it out for several more walks. Having finally given it up as a lost cause, he tried to compensate by cocking his leg on anything more than a few centimetres tall – often long after his bladder was empty. I can only assume that he was staking an early claim to the whole of Jenanter Drive.

Snoopy’s tastebuds are somewhat unusual. He carefully extracted every small piece of silverbeet from all other ingredients (including vegetables) in his dinner bowl, dropping them uneaten on the floor. Yet when I removed a slice of lemon from my drink, and thought I’d tease him by offering it to him before throwing it in the bin, he licked it with apparent enjoyment. And chlorine seems to be a real treat, as he won’t stop licking my legs and feet when I come home after a swim in the village pool.

In December I went to Brisbane for a week (to see the world’s first digital production of Wagner’s Ring Cycle), and Allan kindly stayed at my house to look after Snoopy. Regrettably, Snoopy repaid that kindness by driving Allan and his dogs mad. He wanted to play with Charlie, aged 12, and Honey, aged 9, all the time, and again they didn’t appreciate his attentions. At times Allan had to tether Snoopy to a table or chair leg, to keep him away from the older dogs. And Snoopy protested by completely abandoning his progress in house-training – five consecutive accident-free days before I left but not one while I was away – although he’d doubtless blame the wet weather as an excuse.

When Toby’s age prevented him jumping on to my lounges, I bought a ramp, but he wouldn’t have a bar of it. I thought it would justify its cost when I deemed Snoopy ready to be allowed on the lounges. Silly thought! While I was away Snoopy learnt to jump on and off the lounges without any assistance, and found doing so – alternating between the two –  a most enjoyable form of exercise until he grew tired, when he decided that they were a more comfortable place to sleep than what was left of his day bed.

In late December, when he was six months old, Snoopy was desexed. The vet’s discharge instructions assumed drowsiness, and included “Keep him inside for the next 24 hours… keep him quiet over the next week and try to discourage any jumping…(slow lead walking is acceptable)…Offer a small amount of food in the evening.”

The vet clearly hadn’t encountered a pup like Snoopy. Having slept during our drive home, he quickly made amends by attacking his toys with gusto, leaping on and off the lounges, wolfing his dinner, and generally behaving as if he’d endured nothing more than the customary prick, let alone a general anaesthetic, at the vets. The next morning, while I was having my breakfast, I became aware of his racing around, violently shaking something soft; it turned out to be my underpants, which he’d removed from the back of my bedroom chair. So I took him for a walk, to calm him down. Some hope! He pulled on the lead as if intent on breaking his record for a circuit of Jenanter Drive. Under the circumstances, I saw no point in administering the pain-killer prescribed by the vet.

I couldn’t help wondering if, by having Snoopy desexed, I’d done the canine world – or at least that of Miniature Dachshunds – a disfavour, by depriving it of such energetic genes.

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