Our Dog Buffy

byGwendolyn H. Jaffray

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Copyright © 2019 by Gwendolyn H. Jaffray

CC BY Gwendolyn H. Jaffray 4.0

This is according to Creative Commons terms at:http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/Copies may be freely distributed with this attribution.

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THAT'S "BUFFY"!

A little puppy - not yet called "Buffy"In a large warm hand made himself comfy Came home with us to a little blue kitchen To live on a very special diet of egg cartons, Friskies and kiss'en He grew to ten pounds of fun and obediencePartly cause he'd earned a green ribbon In dog school thru sheer expedience He heeled, he sat, and came when calledAnd stood quite still while he was judged over-all Now little white Buffy went outside alone Testing the grass as he roamed Sniffing, snuffing, and burrowing his nose Deciphering neighborhood messages Don't you know!

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Hearing a rustle, a sound or a noise He tensed, excited, and tingled with joy Then rushing and hopping - not seeing quite where He's completely beguiled when pheasants are Flushed into the air! Jumpy toads, treeing squirrels, Bob-bobbing rabbits keep him in a twirl This, Oh Joy! was his great delight! To think that he was keeping All things living in flight! When seeing children - He'd rush forth With wagging tail - and on dancing toes Lick laughing faces vainly hidden By arms in soft green grassy places Wiggling under tummies - both large and small

He'd finally manage to tease and kiss them all Then - there's still time - Shall we play Ball? Black button nose pushing beach ball across the

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grass Causing a Frensy! That's a fact! Reluctantly, the children must retrieve it at thelast From a tongue hanging, panting Buffy Who was fatigued - Alas! Then once again, little dog all alone

Squatting on the grass He leaves and waddleshome To drink and eat his fill and lounge all night But only till the early morning lightWhen once again Out He'd go To greet theworld And let it know THAT'S "BUFFY'!

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ONE OF A VERY SPECIAL KIND

Cats, cats, cats! You say you like cats?Well, we like dogs! That is, one particularlittle dog called "Buffy" - little dancing,prancing, wiggly, waggly bundle of charm!"Buffy" wasn't always his name but itbecame his out of necessity. "Puppy" camefirst for lack of an absolutely unique nameto fit his personality. But as time moved onand on, his step- grandfather insisted aproper name be chosen. After all, babiesaren't called "Baby" all their lives. So, everafter he was "Buffy".

"Buffy" matched his silky smooth haircoloring but certainly not his personality.

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All pedigrees (blue bloods of the dogkingdom) can trace their lineage back forgenerations and have registered papers toprove it. Registered papers, Buffy has none,Ah! but lineage, he had in good abundanceand it all happened like this. Once upon a time there were two littledogs named Romeo and Juliet. Romeo wasPekingese, Pomeranian, and Toy Poodle.Juliet was Toy Poodle and Pekingese. Theirromance blossomed into a charming littlesix pound dog called Cleopatra who wasenveloped in long flowing white hair with avery captivating walk. In spite of thisblessing, Juliet ran away with a blackCocker Spaniel resulting in the shockingappearance of "Goofy". Soon thereafterJuliet was banished to another home. Thusthe inevitable happened and Romeo andGoofy welcomed a new addition namedLucy. Lucy grew up to be a niceunpretentious, capable young dog but alas!

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her suitors were not many. So, as oftenhappens in such cases, arrangements weremade for a suitable match. The head deacon of the local church hada young, eligible bachelor, (I think youmight guess) named Peanuts. Peanuts wasof Pekingese and Chihuahua birth. Thus,Lucy left home and parents to settle intowedded bliss with Peanuts. In this happyhome on July 11th our Buffy was born, oneof three wee puppies - one black, one brownand one white - one of a very special kind! Our first visit to see Peanuts and Lucy'spuppies and to choose one, was when theywere only four weeks old. Just large enoughto fit into the palm of a man's hand and thatis just what Buffy did. A little ball of whitefluff wobbled across a kitchen table topright into the warm palm of a man's hand,curled up and went to sleep. There was nodoubt that he was our little dog, or who

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chose whom. Two weeks later, in the evening, whenwe just wanted to see him once again for aminute, he unexpectedly came home to staywith us in our little blue kitchen and a floorhurriedly covered with newspapers. His firstnight was something of a trauma, as itwould be for any baby taken away from itsmother so early in life. But in an effort tocompensate for this, bath towels were put inhis cardboard box and sandwiched betweenthem was a hot water bottle and a tickingclock. In a magazine article written aboutdogs, the expert assured readers that thiswould simulate the warmth of the motherdog and the beating of her heart, calmingthe hearts of puppies to contentment,security and sleep. YIP - Yip Yip - Yip! This absolutelyperfect solution found us fervently andcontinually "yipped" for. Up we'd jump,

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dash to the kitchen again and again in thevainest of attempts to comfort and settledown our new little puppy. Finally, 2 a.m.found us sitting on the kitchen floor whilethis little bundle of fluff revelled in the newfound joy of "playing ball". Enough isenough! A newspaper was rolled up into abig stick. A firm but gentle swat on the rearflank finally brought quiet, peace and sleepto all. Morning always comes too soon fornight owls and the unprepared. A newpuppy in the house and no food to feed him.Fortunately a mashed hard boiled eggseemed to fill the right little spottemporarily. But then what? Because wewanted to raise a healthy dog we decided ona commerical dog food. This, we reasoned,would provide a nutritionally well-balanceddiet rather than the steak and ice cream onethat Buffy's captivating Aunt Cleooccasionally managed to coax from her

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mistress with such unhappy results. Happy puppyhood days followed withmorning and evening walks around theblock, cardboard egg cartons to chew toshreds, knotted socks for tug of war,rawhide chips to teeth on, retrieving balls tobuild muscles and very occasionally, specialtreats such as stealing licks from an icecream cone and toasted marshmallowsbefore an open fire. Well, it always began as an open fire thatprogressed to the red hot coals that gave acozy dim glow to our darkened livingroom.There the three of us sat in front of theglowing coals with Bob holding a wire coathanger bent especially for toastingmarshmallows. Buffy and I eagerly awaitedour turns for those perfectly toastedmarshmallows. Delicious! They really weredelicious with their melted centers covereda crisp golden brown.

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Every time one was ready, Buffy's littletongue would lick his muzzle and his tailwould waggle in anticipation. Hismarshmallows, we quickly learned, had tobe given under strict supervision to avoidthe marshmallow whiskers and muzzle heloved to rub off on the rug, us, or anythingelse he was able to get near. Then after anhour or so of marshmallow enjoyment thecoals would die out and off we'd all go toour beds with visions of more and moremarshmallows dancing in our heads.

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STEALING A FEW When Buffy was several months old, hefound he had a liking for ice cream. Onevery hot summer day, it seemed like theonly cooling and comforting thing to do wasto walk to the "31 Flavors" ice cream storeand enjoy some wet, cold ice cream. Eventhough it was hot, Buffy and I followed theshade of trees to my desire. Boldly, wewalked into the nice air conditioned store. Itied Buffy's leash to the leg of a chair tellinghim to "sit", "stay" while I went to make mychoice of chocolate almond, double please! I took a few licks while kneeling to untieBuffy's leash from the chair leg andsuddenly, the ice cream got a few more

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unexpected licks from a well aimedstretched tongue. I was so surprised! I didn'tknow Buffy was so close. Well, I guessed Iwouldn't die if I continued to eat the icecream without wiping it off. Finally gettingthe leash untied and keeping the cone out ofreach, we started home. One signaled street corner had to becrossed. I picked Buffy up, carrying himunder my left arm, partly supported by myhip because I didn't want to run him acrossthe hot asphalt street. The hot asphalt mightburn his tender foot pads which dogs sweatthrough along with their tongues. Thensomehow, in setting him back down, thecone was again tipped to his advantage anda real good lick and slurp were enjoyed. Itreally hadn't been my intention to share thatice cream cone but I finally yielded a littlemore and willingly gave him the end of thecone containing the melted ice cream.Slurp, lick, love!

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Buffy was a real winner everywhere wewent, and he went everywhere with us.Everywhere included department and icecream stores, banks, job hunting, vacations,airplanes, picnics, walks, bike and boatrides, motels, beaches, etc. He was alwayswell behaved, friendly and good naturedwhich seemed to be what drew people tohim. Of course, when they came near he'dbreak rank and wiggle, waggle, just to sayhello. It was as though each person thoughtBuffy was especially attracted to them only.To tell the truth, there were times when Iwondered if he knew who his owners were.One little incident encouraged me thoughthat deep down in his little heart, he reallydid know. Some friends where going to takea picture of Bob and me sitting in our livingroom chairs. We were seated, posing whenBuffy strolled over and lay down betweenus, just a second before the picture wastaken. Even though he wasn't called, it was

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as though he knew he was part of our familyand should be included in the picture too. People offered to pay any price I wouldname for him, others stopped their cars justto watch him as he ran after us down thesidewalks, a little bundle of fluff, even onhands and knees people said, "I love you,Buffy", and strangest of all, Donald Duckspoke to him in his quacky voice. The manwho was the first voice of Donald Ducklived on the street east of us in Glendale,Calif. and one day as we were walking wewere honored to hear him speak in thatfamous voice to us. Another time when wetook a ten week vacation, Buffy was leftwith some friends. The husband definitelydid not like dogs, however, when we cameback for Buffy, he told us what an easy dogBuffy was to have around. Buffy hadn'tbarked and obeyed when he was told to stayon his mat and really fit into their lives verywell. For a moment I thought we might not

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get him back.

BUFFY'S LINEAGE ROMEO JULIET COCKER SPANIEL

CLEOPATRA GOOFY

LUCY PEANUTS

BUFFY

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Romeo was Pekinese, Pomeranian and Toy Poodle

Juliet was Pekinese and Poodle

Peanuts was Pekinese and Chihuahua.

So Buffy was Pekinese, Pomeranian,Poodle, black Cocker Spaniel, andCbihuahua - mostly Pekinese, but 1/4Chihuahua.

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TRAIN UP A WHAT? "Train up a child in the way he should goand when he is old, he will not depart fromit". Dogs and children all need training andschool is part of the answer. Most dogsshould start school anywhere from 6 monthson up. Since a undisciplined spoiled dog isas obnoxious as a spoiled undisciplinedchild we were determined to train Buffy sowe could enjoy, rather than endure him. A private Obedience School was found.Private, well..., we did pay a tuition fee. Ourapprehension mounted as the first eveningof school approached. Upon our arrival atclass we found that fifty cars, fifty plus

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adults and fifty excited dogs had convergedupon a local city park. Each dog had a slipchoke chain, a six-foot leather leash andwas to be trained by his or her owner underthe guidance of the school's trainer. Time for school to begin and after somepreliminary instructions we formed a largecircle, our dogs "on leash" by our left sides."Walk your dogs". Walk our dogs we did ina large round circle fifty times to accustomour dogs to walk beside us. In the followingweeks, we learned to give a quick snap andrelease on the slip choke chain if our dogpulled ahead, lagged behind, sniffed,crowded the handler, or barked.

The quick "snap and release" was essentialso the dog wouldn't choke or incur neckinjuries by a prolonged tightness on thechoke chain. It was to be a firm and gentletraining reminder in the teaching andlearning of correct and acceptable behavior.

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We also learned to always, but always, carrya shovel and paper bag in case our dogs hadan accident in public.* Praise your dogwhen he does what you are training him todo. Practice each day with your dog. Teachyour dog to come immediately when yousay "come". If he doesn't, put on the 6 footleash or a long strong line giving a quicksnap and uquickly pull him to you whenyou say "come". Praise your dog. Practice -practice - tell your dog to "stay" - "to liedown"- "to come" - "sit" and then practicewith him some more.

* Many states have leash laws that requireyou to clean up after your dog if they void inpublic. An easy way to take care of the problemis to simply carry plastic bags in your pocketsand when the time arises, place your handinside the plastic bag, pick up the droppings,invert the bag and knot it. Trash it when you gethome. (It's really important and really not thatinconvenient to show respect and appreciation

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for other people's and public property).

Did someone say "practice makes perfect"?Bob and I certainly were becomingperfect ......, but what about Buffy? Little Buffy, was the youngest andsmallest dog in the class. He strived hard toplease us, plus be accepted by his peers. Heworked very hard at it, so when the finalexam came we hoped he'd pass. Buffy wasto obey us as we obeyed the instructor'scommands and then he would get a certainnumber of points for his performance. Oneby one, owners and dogs went through thetest and finally, it was all over. First place ribbon - a beautiful Sheltie,then there was second place - - -, third place- - -, fourth, fifth, and sixth place - - -BUFFY JAFFRAY! Sixth place in a class offifty and the youngest in school! We

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certainly were happy and proud. Buffy hadgraduated with honors in the Novice Classand I guess we didn't do too bad either.** ** Dog Competitions, which are for pure-breddogs who are registered with the AmericanKennel Club (51 Madison Ave., New York,N.Y. 10010), have three categories:

1) "Dog Shows" with stress onConformation. Conformation judges howclosely a dog measures up to the "ideal" orofficial standards of the particular breed aspublished in the American Kennel Club's "TheComplete Dog Book".

2) "Field Trials" are working tests of a dogand a man as a team and to see if the dog stillhas the ability of its breed to perform the typeof work for which it was bred.

3) "Obedience Trials" also tests the man andthe dog but the dog is "on leash" and performsa prescribed set of exercises. The Novice-

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Companion Dog (C.D.); Open-Companion DogExcellent (C.D.X.); and Utility are the threedifferent levels of the Obedience Trials. TheNovice level includes six exercises: heel onleash, stand for examination, heel free, recall,long sit and long down. The Novice Class canbe entered by all breeds, spayed bitches,neutered dogs and dogs that would bedisqualified from the show ring under breedstandards. At licenced events, points are earnedtoward Championship titles or credit toardField or Obedience titles. Informal events donot earn points.

The American Kennel Club, a non-profitorganization founded in 1884, keeps a registryof recognized breeds, adopts and enforces rulesand regulations for Dog Shows, ObedienceTrials and Field Trials and maintains aReference Library that can be visited by thepublic.

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YOU CAN'T JUDGE A BOOK BYITS COVER

Buffy met several interesting dogs at dogschool. One was Oliver, a 60 pound, 22" tallOld English Sheepdog. The other wasClaudette, a Basset Hound. Oliver, that big shaggy dog, was just apuppy at heart and as we found out laterthese dogs are slower to mature. Theybenefit most from training at about 12months and Oliver would have been noexception. For at six months old he wouldalmost drag his owner across the park in hisyouthful enthusiasm. This was in spite ofhaving a slip choke chain and a strong wideleather leash on. His owner, a man, learned

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to wear leather gloves and hold on withboth hands to everyone's great amusementand wonderment at who was training who. As the classes progressed Oliveroccasionally rewarded his owner with a fewmoments of obedience which seemed asthough progress was really being made afterall. However, one week they missed alesson and of course, we all wondered why? It turned out that as Oliver was havinghis regular afternoon walk and was about ablock away from home, he suddenlybecame desperately ill and simply could notgo a step further. Oliver sat down. Hisowner commanded, tugged, pulled, andpulled some more. Oliver wouldn't budge!Tug, pull, tug, pull. Not a budge, not even alittle one. Reluctantly, Oliver was gatheredup, all 60 shaggy pounds of him, into hisowners arms and he staggered home to hisapartment. Once in the apartment, he put

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Oliver down, slumped into his chairthinking he would try to recuperate whilewatching some T.V. But, Oliver had otherideas. He was sick, sick, sick! He wantedsome tender loving care and he wanted itnow. So, climbing on his master's lap heinsisted on being held and comforted, theentire long, hot summer evening. Oliver's owner later confessed he justdidn't have the heart to tell Oliver he wasn'ta lap dog or that Oliver was suffocating himunder all that shaggy fur and moreimportantly, they were suppose to beattending the Dog School Obedienceclass!!! Then there was Claudette. Claudettewasn't naive and actually she was incrediblyshrewd in certain matters. "Certain matters"being ruling the roost, or, in other words,"being boss".

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Many times we observed Claudette'smistress training Claudette and just as manytimes I wondered how that pensive looking,slow moving and seemingly dumb dogcould ever be taught to obey. Obviously, shehad a hearing problem as she didn't seem tohear the commands and when she did, shemoved extremely slow, needing almostconstant praise and encouragement forperforming the smallest command. Shedidn't seem to know when to sit down, whento stand up, when to walk or heel or when toanything else for that matter. It wasunbelieveable! I felt so sorry for her. Poor,poor dog! Poor, poor mistress to choosesuch a dog. Then, one day after class Claudette'smistress and I were talking about her whensuddenly I couldn't believe my eyes.Claudette, that great faker, had scented andheard a dog bark on the other side of thepark. With a jerk on the leash she was free

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and running like a streak of lighting. Therewasn't a thing wrong with that dog! Herscent was good, her running ability wasfantastic and her hearing perfect. Later, in reading a little about BassetHounds, I found out how badly I had beenfooled. Basset Hounds, I learned, havesmooth coats and are long bodied, shortlegged dogs that stand 14" from the ground.("Bas" meaning low-set) Even though theyare low-set and have deliberate movements,they are never clumsy. They are noted forhaving the greatest scenting ability amongdogs and are intelligent, kindly and docile.Also they are very adept at playing dumband delight in out maneuvering you to gaintheir own way. They even pretend poorhearing when they don't want to obey.

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REFERENCE BOOKS ON DOGOBEDIENCE -

The Complete Dog Book - The AmericanKennel Club

The Complete OPEN Obedience Course -Blanche Saunders

The Complete Book of Dog Training andCare - J.J. McCoy

Simplified Dog Behaviour for Home, Car,and Street - Fred Otte

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ADVENTURE IN MOVING

One day when Buffy was about a yearand half old the big decision was made tomove to Michigan. With everything packed,we started our "ADVENTURE INMOVING". Buffy found a semi-comfortable spot on the floor boards of theU-Haul truck weathering the two thousandmile trip with patience and real stamina. Arriving in Michigan at the end of thecolorful Fall season and just before winter,we moved into a duplex during a light rain.Our new home was encircled by animmense green grassy area on the south,and the north side was nestled near a vacant

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field boardering a large fifty by one hundredfoot pond. Around the pond, trees weregrouped here and there and on the west endwas a natural area crowded with wild blackraspberry bushes. Into this area and under acanopy of crabapple trees, a small streamtrickled through a pipe under the dirt bridge,from the large pond. A field to the east,across the road, sported an old red barn withfour or five grazing horses and an applegreen farmhouse resting lazily under twolarge maple trees. We were encircled bycountry atmosphere. Our views in eachdirection were like paintings, calm andrestful, and yet, we were only fifteenminutes away from the hustle and bustle ofthe city malls. It was a perfect situation. Before renting the duplex, we assuredthe Landlord that Buffy was a trained andwell behaved dog. Since they had just losttheir dog, they were happy that we had adog and welcomed us. We felt happy too

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and fortunate to find a carpeted six monthold duplex where we were allowed to keepa dog. After everything was moved in, weneeded groceries, so we did what we hadalways done before. Buffy was put in thekitchen behind a square piece of woodpaneling which blocked the kitchen dooropening, exactly as we had done inCalifornia. A chair was put in front of thepaneling to steady it. This, a familiarsituation for him, should have given himsome feeling of security. To our great embarrassment, "security"was replaced with a determined effort to getout of that kitchen. When we arrived homethe proudest little dog greeted us at the frontdoor. He had chewed the molding off thedoorway, pushed the wood paneling awayand escaped what he must have thought wasan intolerable situation. Oh, he danced and

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pranced around as it to say "Aren't youproud of me? was able to get out". Aftersome discipline, we faced the unpleasanttask of telling our landlord. Graciously, heforgave us. The landlord/owner was also thebuilder so the damage was quickly repairedand all was well. Buffy had never beendestructive before and never was after that. There was one other vital thing we hadto teach Buffy and that was NOT to crossthe deep ditch, which paralleled the road,under any circumstances. It wasn't a mainstreet but many cars seemed to travel it.Being a teacher, Bob did the training. Hestood on the other side of the ditch next tothe road and called Buffy to him. Buffycame quickly and received a spanking. Bobput him back on the other side of the ditchand called him again. Buffy hesitated butcame. Another spanking. Again Buffy wasreturned to the other side of the ditch andcalled. No way. Buff wouldn't even move. I

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crossed the ditch and called. Same results,he wouldn't move. Smart dog! He got themessage. Since we couldn't verbally explainthe dangerous situation, we had to speak tohim physically.

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MAKING NEW FRIENDS

It was mid-morning and while I was stillsettling into our new home, the doorbellrang. I thought maybe a neighbor had comeover to welcome us. But no one was at thefront door. Then another ring, so I hurried tothe back door, opening it I found to mysurprise, two little girls under six years old."Can Buffy come out and play?" I looked atthem wondering if I had heard correctly."Can Buffy come out and play with us?"Oh, ah, yes, of course, I heard myselfsaying as though it was a perfectly normalthing but multiple thoughts were racingthrough my mind. Who were these littlegirls? How did they know Buffy's name?

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They talked about Buffy as if he were aperson. How funny to ask for a dog to comeout and play! I just had to laugh but then Iquickly peeked through the curtain to seethat "the playing" was going smoothly. Inabout fifteen minutes I called Buffy indoors,saying that was enough play for today. In the following years I got used to thatback doorbell ring, often twice a day ormore and finding two, three or four littlesmiling faces asking if Buffy could comeout and play. The children were alwaysamazed how well Buffy obeyed. They tookturns trying to make him obey theircommands, in which he often graciouslyindulged them, but really he thought itmuch more fun to wiggle under theirtummies and lick their faces. Giggles andmore giggles amid calls of "Here Buffy"kept him quite busy running from one to theother, teasing and heaping kisses on eachone. Always the perfect host and gentleman,

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he never showed favoritism but showeredhis wet licking attentions equally to all. Heliked the whole world and the whole worldseemed to love him. His friendliness and fun to be with musthave gotten around the neighborhood forone day there was another voice at our backdoor calling for him. "Meow, meow,meow". I looked through the lower part ofour door's glass storm window and therewas a blue eyed Siamese cat with his pawsup on the window. Buffy ran to the door andplanted his paws up on the inside of thewindow and began woof, woof, woofingback. It seemed a good three minutes thatthis little scenario went on. The cat refusedto go away or even get frightened onhearing a woof instead of a meow. So after afew more seconds of this eyeball to eyeballwoof, meow, woof, woof, meow routine, Iwondered whether I dared open the door ornot. Maybe, I thought, if I opened the door a

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tiny crack and let them touch noses, theywould realize they weren't the same kind.Well, Buffy squeeeezed through the doorand off went the Siamese and our "one of akind"! All I could think was, "Ohhh no!". Dashing out the door I found theSiamese sitting calmly in the center of thenice green grassy area casually cleaninghimself while Buffy ran around him incircles, wagging his tail and barking.Suddenly Buffy saw me and started runningtoward me to let me know what a lot of funhe was already having. He resisted comingtoo close though, so I wasn't able to quicklypick him up. So close but several feet fromme he turned, making a wild dash towardthe cat who was still licking and cleaninghimself. I hid my face and looked betweenmy fingers, wincing, because I knew thistime he would surely get a good scratch onhis nose. Buffy pounced on the cat and overthey rolled. Both bounced back on their

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feet. Then the cat ever so calmly sat downand started again to leisurely clean himself.Buffy barked, circled, backed up andrepeated his performance a couple moretimes. Amazingly, unbelievably, this strangeSiamese cat really seemed to be friendly,not retaliatory. Could he really love to beknocked down rolled over while trying togroom himself? However, then and everytime after that when the cat had enough, offhe'd run to climb the apple tree on the northside of the house near the pignut tree.Fortunately, Buffy never learned to climbtrees. Thus, I also got used to the meowing atour back door for Buffy to come out andplay. Those two played this way togethermany times until the cat's owners decidedthey didn't like seeing their declawed petcontinually knocked down and rolled overby Buffy, that rowdy!

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Bob taught Buffy many things, even togrowl, but somehow it seems he forgot toteach him to chase cats instead of play withthem. Secretly, I believe Buffy thinkssquirrels are cats - - he always chasessquirrels!

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INQUISITIVE

November always brought the first snowof the winter usually in time forThanksgiving. Winters in Michigan arecrisp, delightful, refreshing but never, nevercold! At least, that's what you must coaxyour mind into believing when you have alittle dog that needs walking each daythrough a field of snow, rain, or wind whichoften lowers the chill factor below zerodegrees. To avoid having to take Buffy out somany times each day, we got into the habitof letting him out alone just one more timeat night for about two minutes before

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bedtime. One night when the snow was onthe ground and it was icy cold and the chillfactor was working overtime, we let himoutside in spite of the sound ofsnowmobiles. Snowmobiles drove all around, back andforth over the field next to the pond, acrosspeople's back yards and anywhere theypleased. That was before the law was passedthat they had to stay on the snowmobilepaths next to the roads. One of ourneighbors told us they had hit a rabbit withtheir snowmobile one night in the field.They didn't see the white rabbit in time toswerve fast enough to miss it. Two minutes were over and the timerrang. I opened the kitchen door to call Buffyinto the house. Buff! Buffy! Buffy Come! Come Buffy,BUFFY COME!

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There was no response. Thinking heprobably couldn't hear above the noisysnowmobiles, I continued to call somemore. Suddenly, I became frantic, realizingI had been ca lling now for over tenminutes. Excitedly hollering at Bob forhelp, we both quickly pulled on our boots,coats, scarfs, gloves and caps and dashedout in the cold snowy night calling forBuffy. He wasn't anywhere near the house. Werushed to search around neighbors housesand by the road. Nothing. If he'd wanderedinto the field he could have been hit by oneof the many snowmobiles and if alive,couldn't get home. Or else it just was toolong a time and he was dead. Could weeven find him? I went back into the housequite dejected but Bob decided to continuelooking.

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After a very long while, the back dooropened and I thought "Here comes the badnews". Instead, there was a little snowcovered Buffy with bright and shiny eyes.He shook his fur and snow fleweverywhere. "Where was he? Where didyou find him?" Bob laughed. Buffy had somehow, in spite of thesnowmobiles, crossed the field and gonedown to the pond. The pond was lit up bybright flood lights and ice skaters weregliding gracefully all around. In one cornerof the ice a little Buffy was wiggly-waggingand skiddering to the delighted attention ofice skating admirers when found. If Buffyhad a middle name it would have to havebeen Inquisitive and that was one of thetimes we were so glad he was safe, that wejust couldn't scold him.

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BOB-BOBBING RABBITS

In mid-winter it seemed as though thewhole world was tucked securely under itswhite blanket. Here and there an eageranimal poked its head from under the coverin search of Spring. Others donned theirwinter coats and frolicked in its quietness,leaving only tell-tale foot prints which snowflakes gently covered, tucking the whiteblanket securely in again. Bob and Buffy often saw frolickingrabbits on their daily walks as they crossedthe dirt bridge piled high with snow at thewest end of the pond near the raspberrybush area. Each time Buffy would tensewith excitement but invariably the white

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rabbit could dash by him within a few feetand only after a second or two, too late,Buffy would catch the scent and actuallyhippty hop fervently after the vanishedrabbit. Of course, it was time for help and Bobbecame the sleuth who solved the mysteryof the vanishing rabbit as again and againthe rabbit was able to suddenly disappear. Itwas on a day when winter's blanket wasbeginning to be thrown back slightly inpreparation for its light spring one thatrevealed the tips of pipes stacked so neatlytogether. Again as before, the rabbitdisappeared and a bewildered, disappointedlittle dog hopped wildly about but not fortoo long. This time a little dog wascommanded to obediently sit by the end ofthe long pipes and "watch". A stick smartlyrang the metal pipes producing a whiterabbit right in front of Buffy's face. In allthe ensuing excitment, if you could believe

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it, that rabbit got away and Buffy wenthippty hopping wildly about as before. Eleven pounds isn't a lot of dog but onoccasion it could produce some spectacularand rewarding results. Spring brought theenjoyment of walks through wheat fieldsand tall grasses of various kinds. Pheasantswould feed and nest in these areas and ifyou carefully watched the tips of the grassesor wheat and saw it waving slightly youcould say "pheasant" and point a little dog'snose in the right direction. Tensing andexcited he would rush and hop, not knowingquite where, and inadvertently, flushpheasants in the air. This became one of hismany delights and slowly he developedsome his own techniques of finding andflushing out pheasants, then barking withjoy if he happened to succeed. Being a house pet, Buffy was notallowed to bark indoors so we had to find

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something that we could designate as "OK"to bark at. In addition to squirrels andpheasants, the culprits became horses andcows. These he would gayly bark at as weflew by the countryside in our white V.W.called Casper. Our rule was, he had to seethe animals before he could bark. He caughton too quickly, that is to us, for each timewe would say quietly to each other "There'ssome cows" or "There's some horses overthere", he would immediately sense whatwe'd said and bark without really seeingthem. This became very obvious because hewas looking and barking in the oppositedirection. So, we began ever so slyly topoke each other when we saw the culpritsand occasionally a prompt was given so allthe fun wouldn't be missed. Sometimes, heeven saw them first. Eventually at home we were prohibitedfrom walking in the field because theowners fenced it in for their horses but this

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only gave Buffy his very own close up ofhorses to bark at. At first Buffy's curiositycaused him to walk right under the fenceand up to the horses' hoofs to sniff and bark.The horses nervously pawed the earth.Suddenly the better part of wisdom causedus to try to hold him securely in our armswhile he vigorously pummelled ourstomachs with his hind legs as he barked atthem. No matter how many times we wentto see the horses, he would always getexcited and bark and the horses wouldalways come to the fence to look at the littlenoise maker. Buffy really didn't scare them.Probably it was because they didn'tunderstand a woof of what he was barking.

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DOUBLE EXPOSURE

Going home for Christmas andThanksgiving is almost as American asapple pie, no matter what age you are, and afive hour plane ride is much better than afive day automobile drive across country.However, transporting a dog years agoseemed to be very difficult unless you werewilling to send him as baggage. We werenot willing to do that especially sincereading an article in a Reader's Digest aboutthe many deaths of dogs transported in theluggage compartment of planes. At that time children under a certain agecould fly free and they weren't stuffed intoboxes with small air holes that must fit

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under a plane seat or go into the baggagecompartment where the jet noise and coldare intolerable. Of course, children don'tbite but they do whine, cry, hit, spill food,etc. and if you don't let the word around,they sometimes do bite! I've even heard ofone that had to wear a sign around his necksaying "Don't play with me, I bite". After many phone calls andarrangements we drove Casper, our car, toChicago and parked him in the airportparking lot for a cold winter week and somehard cold cash. While checking our luggagein, we found we were "bumped" from ouroriginal flight to another airline onto theirHawaiian flight. That sounded interesting.Our luggage was put aboard. Buffy wassealed in his box and we were getting ourassigned seating when Buffy wasrediscovered. "What's in the carrier box?" "Our dog,

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Buffy." "No, no, sorry. We do not allowdogs to fly in the cabins of the planes, onlyin the luggage compartment". "WHAT??" No amount of explaining that thesearrangements had especially been madebefore we left Grand Rapids and that wasthe only reason we drove the extra fivehours to the Chicago airport and werewilling to park our car for a week at theairport. The airline in Grand Rapids saidthat was the only way that we could takeBuffy with us in the cabin of the plane.However, this was a different airline sincewe had been bumped from the other flight.We wondered what to do and inexasperation, we demanded ou r luggagereturned to us. "Oh no, that's impossible. The luggage isalready in the hole of the plane." We said,"We demand our luggage back." They said,"No, its impossible to get it out of the plane

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now. After all, you're going to Los Angelesanyway, aren't you?" Our answer was,"We're trying to". Then we demanded ourluggage again for whatever good it mightdo. The man we were speaking to rushed offin a huff! It sure looked like our luggage wasgoing to have a nice sunny Thanksgiving inCalifornia without us. We didn't know whatto do next, so we thought we'd just sit alittle while, collect our thoughts andfeelings, and then we guessed, we'd retrieveCasper and go back home to Michigan. Onething we knew for certain was that weweren't going to fly to California with Buffyin the baggage compartment of the plane. Suddenly, surprise of surprises, the manwho so determinately said "NO" appearedagain. He was all smiles and graciously

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explained a phone call had been placedthrough to the President of the airlines inCalifornia and the official rule was - "thatone, only one dog was allowed in eachplane cabin". Hooray! At last we wereflying and with Buffy, the one dog allowedin our plane cabin! He was in his cardboardcarrier under the seat in front of us.Whimpering as we were gaining altitude,Bob and I tried to comfort him by wigglingour fingers through a couple of the tinyopenings. Buffy suckled my finger and wejust wondered how he would have managedin a noisy, crowded, cold baggagecompartment, not knowing where he was orwhat was happening, perhaps with otherluggage even blocking the airholes of hisbox. Since that time, Buffy has flown in aplane cabin several times. The last time wasagain for a holiday - Christmas. It also wasto California and we were scheduled for a

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night flight on the twenty third ofDecember. This time I was told I could flydirectly from Grand Rapids to Los Angeleswith Buffy in the cabin. The only hitch wasthat I must have a ten dollar healthcertificate from our veterinarian signifyingthat he was in good health. Bob was alreadyin California and we were anxious to spendthe holidays together. Our landlord taxied Buffy and me to theairport and accompanied us to the luggagecheck-in counter. I had Buffy's healthcertificate in my purse and Buffy in myarms and our landlord carried my one pieceof luggage. The luggage was checked inwithout any difficulty. This happened to bethe same airline as the one that we had hadthe "incident" with Buffy about severalyears earlier, but somehow, I wasn'tprepared for "No, absolutely No! The dogmust go in the luggage compartment". Thereasoning this time was that he was too

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large and couldn't stand up in the plasticcarrier, which the airline provided, when itwas closed. That was absolutely true.Whether he was in the cabin or the luggagecompartment, Buffy would have to lie downin the carrier the whole trip. I preferred tohave him with me in a warm, air controlledcabin rather than a cold, noisy baggagecompartment, confused, bewildered andfrightened. This time it really did look like it wasgoing to be a lonely holiday for our littlefamily - two parts in Michigan and one partin California! I was willing to stay inMichigan if Buffy couldn't be with me inthe cabin and it appeared that was the way itwould be. Our landlord was still with us andseemed to be contemplating the wholesituation. He was our new landlord since theduplex had recently been sold. He and hiswife were also living in the front part of theduplex as the previous owner had but, our

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new landlord was a salesman. In case youhadn't already guessed, "no" is not in asalesman's vocabulary. He simply stoodquietly, asking a few pertinent questionswhich finally provoked the clerk to say,after about fifteen minutes, "Well, put himin the carrier once more". The plastic carrier with its absorbent linerwas sitting on the counter as was Buffy.Verbally and in a quiet voice, I commandedBuffy to get into the carrier. He obedientlyclimbed in and stood still. Then I said,"Buffy lie down". Immediately, withoutbatting his little stubby blond eyelashes, helay down and immediately, the clerk closedthe carrier and fastened it shut. "OK", hesaid in a resigned voice, and gave me mytickets. Buffy's ten dollar health certificatewas never asked for. Once on the plane I found that my seatwas in the center section consisting of four

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seats. One of the middle ones was mine andI settled into it holding Buffy temporarilyon my lap till we would be ready to fly. Iwas talking soothingly into one of thecarrier holes while a young girl seated onmy right looked at me curiously. The twoseats on my left were being settled by twoother young girls and suddenly they said,"What's in the box?" "Woof" said the boxand I could almost see the little tail trying towiggle, waggle, but before I could answerthem the stewardess said, "Please fastenyour seat belts". Hurriedly, I tucked thecarrier under the seat in front of me. Five hours later we were circling theLAX airport in Los Angeles along withother planes hoping to land if the fog wouldallow it. We circled for an hour before thepilot came on the intercom and informed uswe didn't have enough gas to continuecircling the airport, but we did have enoughgas to go to Las Vegas, so we would

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proceed to Las Vegas and land there. It was2 a.m. when we arrived in Las Vegas. Buffyhad been in the carrier seven hours and Iwas quite anxious but didn't want to breakthe rules by opening and breaking the sealsto his carrier before we got off the plane.The girls on either side of me encouragedme to open the carrier anyway and outpopped Buffy, bright eyed and wigglywaggly amid Oh's and Ah's. Peoplegathered all around. Buffy was justbeginning to give a series of joyous woofswhen someone spotted the stewardess. Iquickly commanded him to lie down andshut the carrier lid again. The plane became very cold since themotors weren't on and finally an hour laterat 3 a.m., the stewardess said we could getoff the plane. To my surprise, we all had todescend a long flight of metal stairs to theground. The plane had landed on the farside of the airport away from the terminal

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and this was the only way to get off theplane. With high heels and a lively box tohold level, it was quite tricky. It was alsopainful. Before we had left Grand Rapids Ihad quickly taken Buffy for a last minutewalk and had slipped and fallen on the ice,bruising my left side and leg quite severely. Once off the plane the three girls adoptedBuffy and me and we all decided to share aroom together. It took another hour in a longline of people to get our luggage and checkinto the hotel. We finally landed on thetwenty first floor by 4 a.m. Since our plane to Los Angeles was toleave by 10 a.m. we all opted to talk, playwith Buffy and shower so we could catchthe bus to the airport at seven. We orderedbreakfast to be sent up to our room. It didn'tmake our departure time so we took theelevator down to the lobby to wait for theairport bus. Buffy was being carried now

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outside the carrier and before we boardedthe bus, he thought a little green area behindsome bushes looked inviting. At the airport we checked in and playedsome more with Buffy. A man came by andtook Buff's picture and I hoped desperatelythat it didn't have anything to do withairport security or the airline we were flyingwith. About eleven o'clock we were toldthat the fog had cleared enough in LosAngeles so that we could fly there. So onceagain Buffy was put back into the carrierand under the seat. We arrived at 12 noonon the twenty fourth of December in timefor a happy and Merry Christmas.

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A TREE'S A TREE, ESPECIALLYWHEN ITS A TELEPHONE POLE

Buffy's first acquaintance with squirrelscame on a cold winter day on a CollegeCampus in Wheaton, Illinois. We weretaking a walk along the snow cleared pathsleading from one building to another. Nextto one of the paths were some bare treeswith several small noisy brown thingsscurrying along the ground and up in thetrees. As we came closer, we found theywere squirrels. Buffy tried to catch up withthem to get acquainted and to sniff andwaggle, but the squirrels wouldn't have anypart of that sort of thing. They let it beknown right away they didn't like uscurtailing their ground activities and

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scolded us from their vantage points on theleaf barren trees. So in the Spring, Buffy was still a noviceand when he saw a squirrel he would justrun over to the tree and bark very excitedly.The squirrel would look down at him, snaphis tail back and forth and scold just asexcitedly. It became quite evident a little coachingto play this game more effectively andsatisfyingly was needed. So, Bob startedcoaching Buffy from the side lines - makinghim sit still on the back porch stepwhenever he saw a squirrel and "wait". Hisquiet voice would say "wait", "wait","wait". In the Spring, the squirrels would startrunning along the branches of the trees thatmade up the windbreak lining the field onthe north side of our duplex. They would be

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having a busy and delightful time running,jumping and chasing each other from limbto limb until they came to the last treewhich was a pignut tree. Then a decisionhad to be made - either they would go backdown the line of trees or run across the fiftyfoot expanse of lawn to the two telephonepoles next to and south of our duplex. Theestablished route became to run across thegreen expanse of lawn to the poles and upone of the poles if possible. But just before their cautious scamperacross the lawn is when the "wait", "wait","wait", had to take place to insure a goodchase. One squirrel would gingerly comedown the pignut tree and slowly start thetrek across the lawn. He would go a fourthof the way, a third of the way, then sit up onhis hind legs looking all around to see if theway was clear, and then very cautiouslyproceed to the half way point and a fractionmore and "Nowwww", shouted Bob. Buffy

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appeared as though he were shot out of acannon - ears laying back on his head andhis tail flying straight out flat - running withall his might toward the squirrel. Invariablythe squirrel would look forward and backand as a last resort, decide on a frantic dashfor one of the poles with Buffy in hot, hotpursuit. Of course, the squirrels always made it,but Buffy had the fun of the chase and alsokeeping them up those telephone poles,sometimes for hours. Buffy would gallantlyback away twenty feet or so, waiting till thesquirrel coyly decided to descend the pole,even to the point of letting the squirrel walkon the grass two or three feet away from thepoles. Then, Buffy would run barking andtree - Ah, I mean, telephone-pole thesquirrel again and again. The squirrels inclimbing the poles circled its circumferencein large circles till they reached the crossbar between the two poles where they

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would sit, tails twitching on one side andhead on the other scolding chi, chi, chi, chi,chi at a very satisfied little dog. After many attempts and multipletelephone polings, the squirrel would finallytry to come down the back side of one thepoles so Buffy couldn't see him. If he couldmake it all the way to the ground he wasable to run around the front of the duplex tothe large weeping willow tree next door,then to the apple tree, the pignut tree anddown the windbreak of trees safely home.Other times we just had to call Buffyindoors so the squirrel could come down.However, the harassment never seemed toomuch for the squirrels and the game wouldgo on day after day throughout the Spring,Summer and Fall.

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WHO'S AFRAID?

Cats run, most dogs hide, children cry,hiding under blankets, but Buffy and hispeople just sat on the back door steps andwatched with awe and wonder the summerelectrical storms. Crashes of lighting andthunder, dark rainy clouds lashing stingingrain on our faces or soft refreshing drizzlesas they hurridly passed by. Suddenly, the sun starts shining andeverything is sunny and bright again. Theearth is full of moist warmth. These areMichigan's summer days. Gardens aregrowing, wild berries are basking in the sunand people are busily vacationing after thelong, cold snowy winter.

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Buffy and Bob enjoyed their summerwalks as much as their winter ones,bringing back each time many differentsurprises such as wild blackberries to eatfresh or make into jam, shafts of wheat fordecorations or a very sandy, muddy haired,burr covered little dog. Many times I would go along with them.Sometimes we'd take our bikes. The littlewicker basket attached to the front of Bob'sbike was Buffy's own private seat as webiked along the sidewalks. This was usedwhen he was tired of running along side ofus. The sidewalks were all sloped at thestreet crossings so we didn't have to bump,bump, up or off the curbs. Often we peddledup to the library and maybe a little further toa small plaza for a frostie. Buffy now onlygot finger licks even though they sometimeshad lots of frostie on them.

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One time we took our bikes throughsome fields to a favorite wild blackberrypatch under some high power lines. Wewere happily eating and collecting berries,and quite unaware that dark clouds werestealthily darkening the blue sky. Before werealized it, it had started to drizzle then rain.Walking our bikes on the dirt path we werehustling to try and get back home but to noavail. The rain began coming down evenharder. We were near a small grove of treesand decided to stop under their leafyprotection. The clouds usually travelledfairly fast and we were certain the rainwouldn't last longer than ten or fifteenminutes. We could stay dry under the treesand then continue on home. The leaves of the trees were holding thewater nicely and we were staying fairly dry,when without warning, the leaves werepressured beyond their endurance. We weresoaked! It was as though someone had

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dropped the contents of a bucket of wateron each of us. Certainly there was no usestaying under the canopy of leaves now.Laughing, we sloshed our bikes through themud and rain toward home with Buffyriding in the wicker basket attached to Bob'sbike, soaked to his little pink skin. Our supposedly fifteen minute rain wasstill pouring when we arrived at our kitchendoor. Bob took the bikes around to thegarage. Buffy shook himself and sprayedwater all over under the cover of thebackdoor projection. Once inside we piledour soggy clothes on the kitchen floor andheaded for hot showers. Buffy, however,after a good toweling and rubbing wasbegging to go for another walk.

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MACKINAC ISLAND

It was a lovely sunny day in ea rlysummer when four of us decided to take atrip to Mackinac Island. The fourth reallydidn't have any say as that was Buffy, so offwe went in Casper, our trusty whiteVolkswagen. Stopping here and there alongthe way to take in the many views, wefinally arrived in Mackinaw City. Since nocars are allowed on the island we had to buytickets for a speedboat ride to get over to theIsland. Buffy and Bob sat right up in thefront of the boat where the spray and breezewas the strongest, enjoying it all the wayacross Lake Huron. Arriving at the island we hurried to get

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more tickets. This time for the horse drawnsurrey ride around the island. On the run webought a bag of the island's famous creamyfudge to snack on. You might say that Buffysnacked too as he licked the fudge from thechocolate fudgy fingers we held out forcleaning. Klippy klop, klippy klop, Buffyalternately sat, stood, pawed Bob's lap whilestraining to smell and see everything. Thelast stop was the Grand Hotel where wewalked around the colorful gardens.Another surrey had stopped to let people offso we climbed aboard to go back to the boatarea for our return trip to Mackinaw City. This boat wasn't just a speedboat. Thiswas a large double decker ferry boat. Therewasn't any spray or breeze in our faces aswe sat high up from the water on the deck.Maybe that was why Buffy suddenly lookedgreen. Bob jumped up, dashed to the rail

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holding Buffy over the side, finding we hada very seasick little dog. Really, reallyseasick! It took terra firma to put a littlestarch back in his spine. Even then, we lefthim at the motel with water, food, and hisbed nest while we went out to eat.Returning, we found him feeling somewhatbetter but still preferring his bed. Bymorning, however, he was thoroughlyrefreshed and ready for another adventure. Fort Michilimackinac was our adventureand history lesson. The original Fort wasbuilt in 1715 by the French but Britishforces occupied it from 1761 to 1781. It hadbeen rebuilt to show visitors how thesettlers had lived. Reconstructed buildingsincluded the priest's house, the guardhouse,block houses, barricks, storehouses, ablacksmith shop, a French church, a Britishtrader's house and vegetable gardens. Theyeven had wooden stocks for discipline.Buffy, with Bob's help, tried one out for

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size, looking for all the world like hethought it was an awfully big collar andwhat size dog would wear this anyway? Ofcourse, his feet didn't reach the groundwhich would have been more like hangingif Bob hadn't been holding him up. Funnylittle dog!

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A TALE OF A LONG TAIL

On a very hot summer July evening avery exciting and remarkable experiencebegan. Our basement stored many driedwatermellon, sunflower and wildflowerseeds for decorations and gerbil food.Lately, however, the watermellon andsunflower seeds seemed to be getting usedup rather rapidly. Perhaps, the gerbils wereenjoying too many treats through ourgenerosity and desire to enjoy theirscampering around their cage. Of course,we knew the wildflower seeds would falloff little by little as the decorations dried,but it seemed as though quite a few werefalling recently. Well, we thought, itsprobably because of the heat.

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Also because of the heat, the three of usbegan spending the evenings in thebasement, half of which was fixed up verycomfortably as a den. It had couches, a wallto wall outdoor rug, chairs and bookcasesfilled with books to enjoy. This particularevening Buffy jumped up, ran over to theuncarpeted half of the basement and startedan unusual sniffing and snuffing campaign.Idly watching him for a while, I finallyquietly climbed the stairs to turn thelightswitch on for that side of the basement.I motioned to Bob and he went over toBuffy to see what all the fuss was about.Something black streaked across thebasement floor. Oh no! It looked like ablack snake, humped and moving very fast.Could a snake move that fast? Where did itgo? Several times in the past there had been asnake around the outside of the house. It

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had hidden between the back porch stepsnext to the basement foundation whileshedding its skin. There also was still aremnant of a hole by the front porch wherea snake had had his home. Could it, would itbe, Nooo, it wasn't possible that one hadsomehow finally found a cozier home in ourbasement. Like it or not, the snake or "something"must have hid in some boards we hadstacked over by the wall. Carefully, Bobbegan removing the boards one by one byone, and Lo and Behold! he suddenlyuncovered one bright eyed, long tailed blackmouse and Zoom--- he was gone! We had to catch him! What to do? Ourfirst momentarily relief was to realize itwasn't a snake, and next that we hadn't beenover treating the gerbils with thediminishing supplies of seeds after all. Bobto the rescue! He barricaded the basement

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floor into sections with those stacked boardsthat were positively supposed to have beenmade into another bookcase two years ago.Then he started handing me boxes from thebarricaded areas but no little mouse wasanywhere to be found. That shrewd mousehad totally disappeared. It seemed thatwhile Buffy had been racing and sniffingaround trying to keep us posted on majormouse developments, and Bob was busilybuilding barricades and I was nervouslymoving boxes, the little mouse had justquietly slipped away. Well, he had to be somewhere in thebasement and if he wasn't found, he justmight bring his friends and relatives to feastsumptuously on our other stored foods ofnuts, rice and wheat. But since at thepresent he seemed to be enjoying thegerbil's seeds so much, perhaps he wentback over there again. No, nothing behindthe soap boxes or in the seed box or behind

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the laundry baskets. How about under thatnice jumbled-up hooked rug? That certainlywould be a good place to hide and eek!there he is - over your shoe Bob - Buffy gethim! Grab the wastebasket - get him, gethim! Hurry!! Quick, something to coverhim with. Try the wastebasket. He's underthe wastebasket. What'll we put him innow? He can't stay under the basket. Hekeeps jumping! Here's a empty glass gallonjuice bottle. Could we possibly get himthrough the small neck into the bottle? Somehow, willingly, the little mousecrept through a hole in the cardboard thatwas placed over the wastebasket openingand into the gallon juice bottle and became"quiet as a mouse". For a long time he satvery still, all of us looking at each other. Buffy had his little black nose pressedagainst the glass making little whimperingsounds before he finally decided to doze a

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bit. Bob tilted the bottle, causing the littlemouse to stretch out showing how long hewas and what delicate little fingers he had.The mouse sensed he was trapped and whenhe was again able, he huddled himself into asmall black ball, watching and waiting. Asmall piece of cheese dropped into thebottle finally became a irresistibletemptation. At first, he smelled it, butwouldn't touch or move toward it for aboutfive minutes. Then throwing caution to thewind, he devoured it, scratched his head,cleaned his delicate fingers, and very slowlymoved his head around while twitching hislong black whiskers. He then again cleanedhimself in general and with a newconfidence and boldness decided to jump tosee if he coul d get out of the bottle. To make a short tale out of a long tail,we showed the little mouse to our landlordwho was amused, his wife appalled andthen Buffy, Bob and I decided on a

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moonlight walk through the field and acrossthe road to let the little black mouse go free. To this day Buffy remembers the mouse.At various times we bait him by saying"mouse - mouse". These magic words causean excited whimpering and rushing aroundwhatever room we're in. He'll squeezehalfway under chairs and furniture in aneffort to find "the mouse". Sometimes weused to let him see, at a distance, thewooden mouse with the long leather tail andbarking and jumping he would try to get it. Then one Christmas, we succumbed andbought him his own mouse. It wasn't thereal one Bob always teasingly suggested,but a fake brown furry one with big ears anda long felt tail. Buffy took immediatepossession and guarded his mouse bygrowling and holding it tightly in his mouth.Often he would fiercely shake it by the earsand lose his hold and the mouse would go

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flying through the air. Then with a puzzledexpression on his face, he would rusharound to find his mouse. He always shookit wildly when he found it as thoughscolding it thoroughly. He became a changed little dog and ittook a while for him to allow us to play"mousey" with him. Finally, he was able togrudgingly bring the mouse to us and gentlyput it in our hands. Then if that wasn'tenough, we would squeeze the mouseslightly, wiggling its ears so it appeared tobe alive. Buffy would then bark in a highpitched excited voice and the chase throughthe house was on, ending in hiding themouse under a chair or on the coffee table.Where, oh where, could that mousey be?Dancing on his hind legs to see the top ofchairs and the coffee table or wigglingunder furniture he would eventually find hispet and cuddle him under his chest for awell earned snooze.

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A TIME TO GIVE AND A TIME TO

KEEP AWAY

Buffy, like all pets, had a multiple of petnames depending on the characteristicsbeing displayed at the moment or the moodof his owners. Most didn't make much senselike pumpkin-eater, pooky, honey bunny,sugar plum, etc., but "tiger" fit Buffy whenhe believed himself to be "so fierce". Besidehis mouse, there have been several otherthings that have provoked this "tiger"reaction. One other Christmas we were wonderingwhat to get Buffy and a turkey flavoredpressed bone seemed like a perfect choicefor an extra treat. Christmas finally arrived

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and we delightedly gave him his bone. Helooked and sniffed, then didn't pay anymore attention to it. That wasn't the kind ofappreciation we anticipated or expected, soBob teased him a little with the bonemaking a game of it. Then, Bob broke a little piece off andtossed it. Buffy ran after it and before herealized it, he had crushed it between histeeth getting the full flavor of turkey.Suddenly, he wanted that bone. After a littlemore play on our part and a suddendetermined desire on Buffy's part, we gavethe bone to him. From then on, it was his bone. No onedared come within two feet of him withoutgetting the growl treatment indicating "Thisis my bone, go away". However, his trainingdid triumph over his natural instincts and oncommand, but still growling, he came toBob. With another command of "Drop it" he

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very reluctantly released the bone into Bob'shand. He was a very good, obedient dog andafter some hugging and praise the bonebecame his, all his, and we stayed awaywhile he enjoyed his treat.

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FOREVER LEARNING

In order to attend a one week conference,when Buffy was very young, it was decidedhe should be left in a dog kennel. Thekennel we chose looked clean and theowner, a lady, was very nice showing us animmaculate kennel where each dog had itsown run for exercising. The best part wasthat they took each dog out occasionally togive the dog some personal loving attention.Very impressive! We were delightedknowing that Buffy would be so well takencare of while we were on our weekvacation. Returning in giddy confidence to collectour "one of a kind" we were totally shocked

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to find a blank eyed, confused little dog. Hedidn't even recognize us. When he finallydid, he let out a croak that sounded like abullfrog, confirming a magnificient case of"Kennel Cough". In all fairness, Kennel Cough really isn'ta kennel's fault. It is extremely contagious.Any dog could have been exposed justbefore being left at the kennel and thatwould have been enough to infect everydog. Sometimes medication helps andsometimes it doesn't. Buffy went to thedoctor for over a month but the coughfinally went away only in its own time.Nevertheless, we decided from that point onBuffy would only be boarded with family orclose friends or taken with us. With this lesson, we thought Buffywould be protected from avoidable healthproblems, but the truth was we had to learnagain. Years later when we were moving

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back to California to live, the three of uswere enjoying wandering through variousstates and decided to stop to see thebeautiful Carlsbad Caverns in New Mexico.The time was July and the weather was hot,so hot, that our first concern was to find aplace to stay, then eat and rest. Buffy stayedat the front desk with the lady who ownedthe motel while we went out to eat. She hada rule that animals could not stay alone inthe motel rooms. After we returned weenjoyed a nice swim cooling us off and thena well needed rest. The next day we decided to see theCarlsbad Caverns National Park and tookBuffy with us. Our discouraging discoverywas that no dogs were allowed in thecaverns. It was too hot to leave Buffy in thecar so we were missing our only time to seethe caverns. We couldn't resist lookingaround a little bit, noticing that a nursery forchildren was provided. That sure was nice.

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Bob nudged me and pointed to a sign nextto the nursery. It was a kennel. People wereleaving their dogs while touring the caverns.That certainly was a kind and thoughtfulprovision for tourists and we jumped at ouropportunity. Buffy was hurriedly admittedand we ran to get in on the tour which lastedalmost four hours. The Caverns were found by Abijah Longin 1903, became a National Monument in1923 and then in 1930, Congress voted tomake it a National Park. At present theFederal Government supervises the Cavernsmaking them available to people from everyland to enjoy. Our tour began by descending a long icystairway into the limestone caverns that hadbeen hollowed out by water which slowlyenlarged crevises and cracks. When thewater receded below the water table theCaverns became empty holes in the earth

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reaching their maximum size. Then mineraldeposits began from water seepingdownward from the surface. Each dropcontained a minute portion of limestone.Drops remaining on the ceiling where themoisture would evaporate, left a tiny ring oflimestone deposit. As these depositsaccumulated they formed stalactites(dripstone formations) which had the shapeof icicles. Drops of moisture dropping to thefloor of the caverns would producedripstone deposits known as stalagmites.Sometimes the stalactites and stalagmiteswould join together and make a solid pillar.The Caverns also contain other mineraldeposits as iron oxide which are responsiblefor the many different colors seen in manyplaces within the rooms of the Caverns. Water flowing over the surface mademasses which resembled ice and formed onthe floors of the rooms. One of the roomscall the "Big Room" is 100 feet high and

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200 feet across at the base and the "TwinDomes" stalagmites that are one of thelargest, are said to be more than 100 feethigh and 200 feet across at the base. It wasall so cold and magnificent! The longstairways, rooms filled with the dripstoneformations and the many colors! Whatwonderful things God has created forpeople to enjoy! It was a memorable andwonderful tour. It was time to pick Buffy up, who was sohappy to see us, and continue our drive toCalifornia. While intermittently splashingwater on Buff's tummy to keep him cool, wenoticed he was scratching himselfoccasionally but thought nothing of it.Finally out of the heat and back inCalifornia with several enjoyable daysbehind us, we noticed Buffy constantly andvigorously scratching. Looking casuallythrough his fur we found large fleas pluslarge angry runny red infected bites. Quite a

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bit of money later and large shaved bodyareas on his small pink body it dawned onus that the lovely kennel, that lovelyconvenient kennel, at the Carlsbad Cavernswas infected with the biggest, hungryistfleas imaginable. We really hoped we'dlearned our lesson this time.

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THE GREAT RUNAWAY

Some nine years later it was time toleave Michigan for good and move back toCalifornia. Our return to California was to ahot, hot summer and one especially warmevening we opened the outside doorshoping for a little breeze. Buffy sat on thethreshold of the front door enjoying thestreet activities of squirrels and passerbys.He always loved to look out the window atthe outdoor scenes. This first started whenhe was less than a year old and we put himon the desk top in the den to watch theCedar Waxwings eating the Pyrocanthaberries. They came in a flock and denudedthe bush in about an hour. It was quite asight. Later, in Michigan, to our surprise we

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returned home to find him sitting on thecoffee table next to the bay window lookingoutside. He looked so cute that we hated totell him this was a "No No". However, heseemed to understand as there neverappeared any telltale scratches on the woodor did we find him there again. Time had been passing and after a TVshow I looked around to see what Buffy wasdoing but he wasn't at his watching post.This didn't seem to be a problem as inMichigan he usually wandered around thehouse getting a drink of water, or sittingnext to us before returning to watch at thedoor. It was after another show that wenoticed that we really hadn't seen him forquite a while. It seemed to me I ought tofind out where he was, so wandering aroundthe house and then around the garden andfinally running to Bob, I excitedly said "Ican't find the dog anywhere".

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Since Buffy's hair was semi-long and hiscollar and dog tags seemed to always get alltangled together in his fur, we kept hisidentification in a little box instead ofaround his neck,* which at that momentmeant we seemed to have dog tags but nodog. In a strange neighborhood anythingcould happen to a little inexperienced dogwithout dog tags. The house was quicklylocked up and one of us was going to godown one group of streets and the other theother streets. Just then, Bob's parents cameand we told them we lost the dog. Theydecided to drive around another part of theneighborhood and see if they might findhim. Hoping, but not knowing if Buffy mightwander down to the busy main street severalblocks away, I turned toward that directionto be sure. A man walking his own dog on aleash hadn't seen a little white dog.Alternating running and then walking fast

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down several blocks I turned the corner ofthe next street and saw a women walking.Hurrying to catch up to her before she couldenter into a house, I suddenly saw Buffy inher arms and called "BUFFY". She turnedand said "Oh, is this your little dog? I foundhim wandering around and took him homebut my husband said I couldn't haveanymore animals since our last dog died. Iwas just going to go around theneighborhood to see if someone else wouldtake him and just finished trying to talk aman down the street into just keeping himovernight". Finally, with what seemed an eternity,she handed him over to me but not beforeBuffy gave her a couple growls whichsounded like he was trying to reassure mehe really hadn't wanted to stay with the lady.By this time the seekers had all assembledand verified that Buffy was truly our littledog and the great runaway adventurer had a

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happy ending. * In spite of long hair it is always in thebest interest and concern for your pets tohave some form of identification on them.People that find pets don't know the age,medicines, feeding habits or shots the doghas had or needs.

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LIVE AND LEARN

It was 3 a.m. and we were awakened byBuffy's excited huffing and puffing andfrantic running around in the house. Sleepywith sleep, we couldn't imagine what wasgoing on. Finally Buffy dashed back to ourbed barking, and THAT DID IT! It providedthe impetus needed for our under-the-housenocturnal visitor to honor us with thedistinguished title of "Most Fragrant Housein the Neighborhood". Buffy huddled closeto Bob, looking at him with questioningeyes as if to say "What Happened?" The following morning an inspection ofthe house located "What Happened". Allthree crawl holes were open and their

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screens down on the ground. Any animalwho was willing to make the slightest effortcould get underneath the house where a cooland luxurious den was available to sleepaway the daylight hours. (All houses builton a foundation rather than a cement slabhave crawl holes). What an unbearable week, especiallysince we had always been the ones tohurriedly close all car vents and windowswhen traveling if there was the slightest hintof a stripped pussycat anywhere around.Now we had a full dose of fragrance all toourselves and it crept into every nook andcranny taking its own sweet time todissipate. It seemed like it would lastforever. It also took the skunk what seemed likeforever to finally change his nightly routine.Perhaps it was because he had become soused to sleeping under the house during the

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day. This seemed likely since once beforethe odor of his fragrance was in the righthand corner of the livingroom. It was verystrong indoors and faint outdoors, thereforewe felt he had to be under the house. Beforemoving into the house it had been vacantfor over a month allowing ample time forany animal to stake a claim making it histerritory. So, for a while we were reapingrather frequently the skunk's fragrant wrathat being evicted from his nice cozy home. Our first effort was to place large plasticbuckets in front of the crawl holes but eachmorning they would be moved slightly andthe wooden frame screens behind themwere again on the ground. The skunk wasgoing in one crawl hole and out another.Urgency pressed upon us and one by onethe wooden frames were secured with wirescreening and hooks. Finally fresh air beganagain to prevail. Even then there wasevidence that the skunk had been around the

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house. Each night we carefully closed ourdriveway gates but the next morning therewould be a hole dug in the dirt next to thegates big enough so an animal could crawlunder and into the backyard. Some brickswere placed underneath that part of thegates and the holes filled with dirt. Successat last! Finally we had managed to changehis route and the direction of his fragrance. Many times after that Buffy still becameexcited when he heard or smelled a skunkoutside at night. Fortunately for us, he'salways been indoors and learned to refrainfrom loud barking. The little black dog nextdoor wasn't so lucky and needed two tomatobaths in one week to try and rid her of herencounters with the skunk. That was oneexperience that we were glad to avoidespecially since the little dog hid under thebedroom bed after being sprayed by theskunk.

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Many years have passed now sinceBuffy first crawled into Bob's warm handand went to sleep. His friendliness andenthusiasm always abounded even thoughhe sometimes didn't always hear usimmediately toward the end when wewhistled or called. He slept a lot more, butif there was a ball to chase, a party orfriends to greet, he'd be right there, littledancing, prancing, wiggly, waggly bundleof charm, but then, "THAT'S BUFFY".

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A Tribute To

"BUFFY"

who by the Grace of God

gave his owners and

those around him

much joy and happiness

through his sweet personality

and funny antics.

July 11, 1969 ------ October 28, 1986

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K-9 TIPS FOR SURROGATEPARENTS 1. TRAINING - All dogs need trainingand 6 months is a good time to start.Animals in the wild are trained by theirparents. Animals need to feel loved andsecure through consistent attitudes, praiseand touch. Never loose your temper orstrike out in anger. 2. Buy grooming tools such as nailclippers, files, shampoo, brushes at petstores. Don't use household sissors or otheritems on your dog. Keep his/her suppliesseparate. 3. Dogs are generally more calm anddocile after being exercise and that is agood time for grooming.

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4. NEVER EXERCISE YOUR DOG INTHE SUMMER HEAT. Early mornings or late evenings is the right time. If possible,change his/her drinking water every fewhours. 5. Dogs sweat through panting and thepads of their feet which is the only way theyexchange the hot air inside their bodies forcooler outside air. When the temperatureoutside the body is hotter than the dog'sown body temperature, it could result inheat exhaustion and death in just a fewminutes. 6. DON'T WALK YOUR DOG ON HOTSTREETS, sidewalks or beach sand whichcan burn and sting their pads. 7. NEVER LEAVE A PET IN A CARDURING THE DAY IN THE SUMMER,even if you park in the shade and leave thewindow slightly open.

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8. HOW TO COOL AN OVERHEATEDPET. (Heat exhaustion can be identified byexcessive panting with heaving sides or adeep red or purple tongue, blurry eyes anddizziness). Cool your pet fast by puttinghim in a hose shower or under a gardenhose and feed him ice cubes or ice cream. 9. DO NOT LET AN OVERHEATEDANIMAL DRINK AN UNLIMITEDAMOUNT OF WATER. The animal caneasily drink itself to death. 10. CHECK PADS for cuts and irritationsregularly, especially if your pet is bitinghis/her pads or limping. Carefully wash anddry pads and put an antiseptic on the woundto avoid the possiblity of infection. To helpprevent the uncomfortable buildup of snow,mud, and sand, etc., between your pet'sfootpads, clip excessive hair carefullyaround each pad.

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11. CHECK YOUR DOG'S NAILSEVERY MONTH. The nails should be justoff the ground. Either have the veterinariantrim them or have him show you how to doit. 12. DO NOT LET YOUR PET RIDEHEAD INTO THE WIND IN THE CAR asit can cause serious eye damage. 13. Avoid giving your pet chocolate as itcan make them very ill and sometimes evencause death.

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