What makes a Diva?

Hi all, Mabel here.

This is me, Mabel, wearing my Diva necklace/collar.

Anyway, a while back, someone asked the question, How can I be a Diva?
Well, some (like me!) are natural Divas. Others have to work hard to reach their full, Diva potential.
After much thought, I decided on these Top 10 Rules for Divas
1)You are a Diva. You deserve the best. Don't be afraid to ask for it/take it.
2) Be kind to everyone.  Not everyone can be a Diva. Divas are born, not created. Just because you had the supreme luck to be born a Diva doesn't give you the right to be mean to non - divas. 
3) You deserve success. Failure is not an option. Your name will be in lights, on the front page, in the headlines; you just have to be yourself and let others see/hear what a wonderful, fabulous Diva you are.
4) There are no secret or hidden Divas; there are only Divas who have not yet reached their full potential.
5) Your family loves you and wants you to succeed. Always remember this; even when it seems like they are jealous of your success or appear to be indifferent.
6) Your friends chose you. They are always willing to give you their full attention. After all, they want you to be the best Diva you can be.
7) Remember that not everyone understands what it's like to be a Diva. Sometimes your Mamas may make you take totally unnecessary training/classes.  Be gracious, but firm. "I do not need to take any more classes. You can't teach someone how to be a Diva."
8) Don't take "No" for an answer. It's just another test. Overcome it.
9) Never forget your sister. She might not be a Diva, but she helped make you the Diva you are today. You might even let her borrow your tiara (secretly, of course) to try on. 

10) You don't have to be a Proud Dachshund to be a Diva (although most <female> Dachshunds are natural Divas).

So, there they are. My top 10 rules on being a Diva.

Mabel Ann, Garden Diva

 Hi all, Mabel here. It is another warm, beautiful, sunny afternoon.As is my habit, every Spring when Mama #2 goes crazy and starts digging in the flowerbeds, I go outside with her and keep watch.I mean, someone has to keep an eye on her when she's acting crazy, right?

First, she digs up all the grass and dead plants. Then, she rakes and shovels and moves the dirt all over the place. She takes pots of plants and digs them up, then buries the plants in her flowerbed.
Absolutely crazy!

I worry about her every year when this behavior starts, but so far, the craziness is short lived; usually just a few weeks. While the craziness lasts, I, Mabel, get to lay out in the front yard and watch her. Because that is the job of the Garden Diva. 

 








<<<sigh>>>
It's tough work being a garden Diva.
Love,
Mabel

My Last (Ever!) Forced March

Hi all, Mabel here. I am finally home from a very long journey that Mama #2 forced us to take.
Horrifying.
I don't know what got into her. I mean, she was determined to load me, Harley and Maggie into her car and drive us miles from home to a strange place. Just to have a forced march.
I mean, what's the point? We can just step outside and march, right? Why drive somewhere to march?
Anyway.

 Mama #2 seemed so excited to have us with her, and kept saying things like, "you're really going to like this. You'll see so much neat stuff. It's a new place we can go walking {marching, she meant}. Finally she stopped the car, unbuckled us and let us out. We looked around, trying to figure out WHERE we were. This is what we saw: water falling off some rocks. Big Deal.

Next, she said something about, "look at the view, girls. Isn't that nice?"

Nice. I can see nice sitting on the couch looking at my food bowl at home. What's nice about water, rocks and trees? 

Next, she marched us up something she called a "hill." Then she marched us down the hill. Then up a hill and down a hill. We marched all around this bunch of water. Maggie said there were lots of great smells around, and I finally calmed down enough (or woke up enough) that I started to enjoy the new sights and smells. And Harley, well Harley was almost uncontrollable in her excitement at marching somewhere new. She ran here and there (as far as her neck rope would let her). She sniffed and smelled, sniffed and smelled.

Suddenly, she stopped. I mean she just stopped dead.

(She wasn't really dead, it's just an expression).

I looked and she'd just walked up to this:

Mama #4769 said it's called a "Prairie Dog." (Doesn't look like any kind of dog I ever saw). Anyway, right then and there, I was ready to go home. I mean, suddenly, these "Prairie Dogs" were everywhere. Mama #7467 had just marched us right into a bunch of other dog's territories! And theses dogs made weird noises; not barking but whistling! Pretty strange!

Maggie just kept looking around. She looked up and just stared. She glanced at me and said, "I've heard about by animals that run, but look at those; they look like they're frozen."

I looked up too and saw a bunch of frozen, strange looking creatures. Maggie was right, they looked like they were trying to run but they weren't moving!

That was it. I'd suffered through hills, rocks, water, strange dogs and now frozen animals. It was time for this Diva to plant her butt on the ground and refuse to go any further.

Mama #8942 tried to get me to move, but I refused. I'd seen and smelled enough strange things for one day (maybe for a few weeks). All I wanted now was my comfy couch and blanket. And Harley to snuggle with.

Mama #2 sighed, and carried me to our car (like I said, I planted my butt on the ground and refused to move. She had to carry me) She strapped and buckled us into our seats and away we went. 

I looked over at Maggie and Harley and they looked like they'd both passed out. Maggie hadn't even rolled down her window first like she always does when she's in the car. 

We finally got home. I ran inside and crawled up on my couch. Mama #1 was home, so I ratted out Mama #6322 and told exactly what she'd done.

Mama #1 gave us all chewy bones and tucked us in for a nap on our favorite comfy couch.

Harley and I passed out. Mama #9999 has finally gone too far with her stupid marches.

Personally, I think that this might be our last march. I mean, after seeing all the strange things we saw today, what else is there to see on a march?

I rest my case (and my body).

Good night all.
Love,
Mabel

The Diva goes swimming for the first time ever!

Hi all, this is me, Mabel. I just arrived at the swimming pool for my first hydrotherapy session.  I am checking out the pool before diving in.
I've never seen so much water in my whole life! I hope it's not too cold....
Both Mamas came with me today to my therapy session. We marched miles and miles just to get here (Mama #432 told me it was, "just around the corner." OK, around the corner and down how many houses?!). On the way, I decided my Diva self was tired of marching -- since I knew I had a long, hard workout ahead of me --- so I dragged my paws v-e-r-y slowly. Mama #432 made the wonderful (and correct) decision to carry me the rest of the way.
I was carried through the gates of the pool. 
Once inside the gates, I checked out the pool area. I decided it was not bad. The pool looks nice. The yard has lots of green, green grass, plenty of chairs, and even a nice looking house. 

When you are a famous Diva, like me, you have to watch out for the cameras. I always have to look my best for my dear, beloved fans. 

Yes. I've spotted the cameras.

OK, it's time to get this show on the road!

I am all dressed up and ready to go!

(Sorry, I don't look my best in Orange, but no one asked me what color I wanted).

Here I am in the water. Mama #1 suggested I stand on this narrow, narrow ledge in the water of the deep, deep pool. She said it'd let me get "acclimated" to the water.

 Mama #99999 just dropped me in. 

(OK, she did place me on this kinda safe ledge).

I'm still not sure I'm going to like this. The water looks very, very uh, very very, uh, scary.

Then, Mama # 4339 got into the pool with me! I was so happy to see her! She even gave her camera gadget to Mama #1 and trusted her to chronicle my story.

(Yes, I was totally amazed, but very very very happy Mama #4339 gave up her camera to be in the pool with me).

Next, while offering reassurances, Mama #4339 gently pulled me away from my ledge. 

I was so surprised! My paws began to move back and forth in the water entirely on their own! I was swimming! I knew how all along!!!

Aren't I a smart Diva?!

Mama # 432 (yes, I am beginning to like her more and more) held onto me and didn't let go until I, Mabel, confidently swam out of her arms. I'm sure she was amazed at how comfortable I felt in the water and how well I could swim (with absolutely NO lessons!)

This is me, Mabel, swimming! I am moving quickly, like the professional athlete I am. I've left Mama #2 far, far behind. I gracefully swim lap after lap in the big, long, deep deep pool. 
As you can see, I am having a wonderful time. Hydrotherapy is not bad at all! I could feel my back getting better and stronger every minute I spent swimming.

After several hours and many miles of swimming, Mama #1 told us it was time to get out of the pool. Mama #2 gently lift me out, removed my life vest, and started to dry me off with a big, soft, warm towel.
Suddenly, Mama #2 decided to take a picture.  
Guess what? Her cell phone just went swimming with us!
You should have seen the look on my gadget freak, Mama #2's face! I just had to laugh. Sorry Mama #2, you just lost your phone gadget!

This is me, Mabel, surveying my swimming pool. Now that I am a swimming pro, I think I'll bring my twin sister Harley with me next time. I can teach her how to swim.

(Please note: even after being in the pool and vigorously exercising for hours, I still look wonderful. I don't have a single fur out of place!)

Yes, the Mamas made me march home after my hours of exercising. As we slowly marched along, I sensed that both my Mamas were exhausted, even though I still felt full of energy.

(I've got to get them back into shape; perhaps by swimming?)

I picked up my paws and proudly marched home, dragging the Mamas behind me.

As I marched through our front door, I called out for Harley. I knew she'd be worried about me and how my therapy session went.

 I assured my beloved sister, that I was fine. Then I told her that I was taking HER swimming with me next time. Doesn't she look excited and happy? Just like me! 

(I am the twin on the left; the one who is glowing and who looks full of energy. Harley is the scared looking twin on the right).

Don't worry, Harley. I'd never let anything bad happen to you. You'll like swimming. And I have a beautiful orange vest for you to wear. I'll give it to you and then I'll help the Mamas pick out a new vest (in a color that I will look wonderful in, of course) for myself.

This is me, Mabel.

I went swimming tonight.

I began to strengthen my back and paws.

I am a natural athlete in the pool.

I am marvelous.

Now, I'm tired.

Good night.

Love y'all,

your Diva, 

Mabel.

Note from Mama #1: Mabel only swam for 20 minutes and she never left the small, shallow hot tub. Mama #2 was never more than an arm's length away. Mabel will try the pool next time. Our first pool therapy session was a success....even though we had to make Mabel leave her tiara at home. She really thought she could wear it in the pool.....

Adding insult to injury (a repost)

I am re-posting one of my old blog entries. It's an oldie, but a "goodie."

Tonight, I had to go on another forced march (Mama #2 calls them "walks").
After what seemed like hours of marching, we finally turned back towards home. As I slowly marched along, I smelled something delicious. I stopped to sniff, but Mama #2 kept on walking. I turned my head to take another whiff, and suddenly, I felt something slimy on my back paw. A nasty, sticky, slimy something.
Well, I stopped dead in my tracks and held my paw up in the air. (I wasn't really dead, it's just an expression). Mama #599 (number drop!) finally sensed my distress and stopped too. 
My sisters Maggie and Harley were no help at all; they just stood there, laughing at me in my distress and misery.


Mama #599 stared at me, then she tugged and tugged on my paw. After she tugged some of the nasty, slimy stuff off, she told me to keep on marching.

Gummy Paw

Miles and miles later, when we finally arrived at home, I didn't get my usual drink of water, treat or chewy bone. Instead, Mama #5990 marched me straight out to the back porch. Once I stepped out the back door, she trapped me with a head lock and put smelly, gunky stuff on my paw.

Peanut Butter Paw

It was nasty! Almost as nasty as the sticky stuff.
Then, while I was still in a head lock, she tugged at my paw. I glared at her, but she kept on tugging at my paw.
Finally, she let me go and I took off running. Free at last! And the nasty, sticky, slimy something was gone! And so was the smelly, gunky stuff!
Mom wanted me to stop and pose for photos, but I told her where to stick it. She is on my hit list tonight. She's no longer Mama #5990; now, she is Mama #50,129.
No more forced marches for me! I learned my lesson; there are nasty sticky things out there!

This is me, Mabel. Here is my long suffering look.

Free at last!

(NOTE from Mama #5012: Mabel stepped in chewing gum. I removed it with peanut butter. Yes, Mabel will go on another walk tomorrow. I'll bet she avoids stepping in chewing gum from now on).

The Truth About Princess School

Hi all, Mabel here. 

I'm sure everyone's been following my traumatic experiences at Princess School.

Shocking.

As you may remember, Mama #2 originally told me I was going to Obedience School. I told her no, I would only go to Diva or Princess School (Why in the world would I want to go to Obedience school?). 

Hmphh! I trusted Mama #2 to NOT send me to Obedience School. Untrustworthy Mama #89,999 really did send me to Obedience School!

All of those sessions where they told me to "Sit" they really meant for me to sit. On the floor. Not on a throne.

When they said "come," they meant that I should come to them, not them come to me! And "watch me" meant that I was supposed to watch them! Who'd have thought! I thought it meant for everyone to look at ME!

Anyway. 

Mama #89,999 sat me down (Sit, Mabel, Sit!) and explained to me that I am flunking out of Obedience School.

This is me, Mabel, contemplating the consequences of flunking Obedience School

Normally, I  wouldn't really care. But then, Mama # 653 told me that fans have asked about me (that's ME, Mabel the Diva Dachshund) making PERSONAL APPEARANCES as a Dog-lebrity!

Personal Appearances! The beginning of my life of fame and riches!

Mama #53 told me that I need to learn some self-discipline before making celebrity appearances and Obedience School would have helped me. 

If I'd taken it seriously.

So, I have a dilemma, do I ace my last Obedience class and pass with flying colors? Even if I still find the idea totally demeaning? 

Or do I go ahead and continue to blow it off, know that I could have passed if I really wanted to?

My identical twin sister, Harley, is doing very, very well in school. She loves it (even the dry, tasteless reward treats). She's going to graduate first in the class. She loves the discipline and the "Good Girl!" comments. 

This is my sister, Harley, basking in the glow of her Obedience School Success

I think I'll stay in the background this time, and let my beloved sister have her moment of fame. She'll love the recognition of being first in the class, especially if I flunk out.

I can't think of a better graduation gift to give my dear sister Harley.

Harley, I love you.

Now, Mama # 99999, I WANT MY TIARA!!

The Diva Marches Again / A Daring Rescue

Hi All, Mabel here. Sorry it's been so long since I blogged, but I've been very busy recovering from my injury. Now that I am beginning to feel better, I have time to write again.

 This is me, Mabel, following my doctor's orders to stay in my crate as much as possible. I even go in willingly, since I want my back to heal and I DO NOT want to have surgery. Besides, having my own private room is nice.
Anyway, my doctor said I could not go on ANY forced marches for the first few weeks after I hurt my back. (February 28th -- I will always remember that horrible day).
I didn't mind skipping the forced marches.
A little background: Mama #2 loves to march in the evenings. She drags me, Harley and Maggie with her. She likes to march fast, but I like to go v-e-r-y slowly, savoring the sights and smells. My sisters, of course, want to go fast as well, so I get blamed for making the marches last a long time.
Oh well.
Lately, I've had some nice, private pampering time with Mama #1 while Mama #2 drags my sisters around the neighborhood. I love our private time!
OK, I have to admit that soon I began to miss my marches around the neighborhood.
Shocking.
My house and yard had the same ol' smells every day. Same sights and sounds too.
So, when my doctor said I could march again, I was actually happy. Especially when he said I'd have to march slowly (YES!!) and only short distances (YES!). 

This is me, Mabel, snoozing with my sisters. I am the comfortable looking sister in the middle of the picture (just in case you can't tell us apart).

The next evening, I lined up for the forced march with my sisters. Mama #2 carefully put on my new comfy vest and adjusted it to fit my shapely figure. (Mama #2 doesn't use the neck ropes on us anymore, just vests that pull against our chests if we march too slowly ---- or go too fast).
We moved into formation and marched out the door. I marched very, very slowly and smelled all the wonderful smells I've missed. As I followed far behind my sisters, I noticed my sister cat, Agnes, following us. She likes to march but hides so Mama #2 won't see her. If Mama #2 sees her, she'll make us turn around and take Agnes straight home.
I don't understand why me, Harley and Maggie have to march, but Agnes has to go home.
Strange.

 This is Agnes, my cat sister. She's pretty small, even for a cat. Her fur color is camouflage; she can blend into bushes and not be seen.

Anyway, we boldly marched on. Past one house, two houses, three houses. I looked around and didn't see Agnes. I looked again. No Agnes. I stopped marching and sniffing and carefully looked again.
No Agnes.

Now, Agnes never goes home on her own. She's even marched all the way to the park with us several times. When she's ready to go home she just runs in front of Mama #2. Then we turn around and go straight home.

now, Agnes was missing. Something had happened to Agnes!
Horrifying!

Since I'd been sitting down for so long, Mama #2 asked me if I wanted to go home.

Yes, we have to find Agnes, I told her.

She didn't listen to me. About Agnes.

We turned to march home. I dropped my head and concentrated on marching. I was tired. I'd been locked in a crate for many, many weeks. I wasn't used to marching for miles and miles anymore.

Suddenly I stopped. I smelled Agnes. I looked around, and saw her. She looked funny, because she was twice her normal size. Her fur was standing straight out. She looked like a little puff ball.

I started laughing.

Maggie told me to shut up, "Agnes is in danger", she said. I quit laughing, straightened up and looked around. A few feet away from Agnes was a huge, mean, evil looking black cat.

This is not the cat that threatened Agnes. This is our cat sister, the Evil Cat Millie. She looks almost exactly like the mean evil cat who was about to kill Agnes.

I knew we had to act and we had to do something fast. But, do what? The mean evil cat growled at Agnes. Agnes just stood there, looking like a huge, wide-eyed ball of fur.

Suddenly, I knew what I had to do to save my cat sister.

I called to my sisters, "Follow me!" I started marching very quickly, pulling Mama #2 and my sisters with me. I marched right between Agnes and the mean, evil cat. I tried not to laugh when I saw that cat's face. I mean, the mean evil cat had thought he was going to scare and then chase a skinny little defenseless cat. He didn't know about her three wonderfully protective Pup sisters!

That cat took off. I mean, he ran. Fast.

Harley ran to Agnes and nosed her. Agnes appeared to Ok but very embarrassed by our interference. She disappeared into a nearby bush. We volunteered to go in after her (you never know what you might find in a bush!), but Mama #2 said I had to go home. She told me I looked tired.

OK. Maybe I was tired, but I still wanted to know if Agnes was OK.

We slowly started our march home. I heard a bush rustle and saw Agnes marching right behind us.

When we arrived home, Agnes dashed up, then strutted to the front door. 
Just like a cat. She was OK and had already forgotten her brush with death and our daring rescue.

This is Harley guarding Agnes from any other evil mean cats.

Harley and Maggie left to do more marching. I cuddled up to Mama #1 and told her how I rescued Agnes. She was impressed with my heroic actions that she gave me a chewy bone and covered me up with a blanket. I love being pampered by my Mama #1.

This is me, Mabel, standing on a street corner, searching for my lost sister, Agnes. I didn't know at the time that a mean, evil cat was planning to terrorize her.

I am so happy that I was able to save the day. Again.