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.

Harley's Having a Hard Time......

Hi all, Mabel here.

I am trying to help my sister deal with some massive anxiety. And Mama #2 is going a bit crazy too.
So, you ask, what's going on?
They're at it again.
The Frat Guys. Our Bad Neighbors.
We have some Good Neighbors, but we have one BAD neighborhood house. At least 6 pickups/SUV's live at this house. The residents have friends over most nights. (Nights, not evenings. The friends start arriving about 11 pm). There's usually 9 or 10 trucks/cars/SUV's parked at and around the house in the mornings. Harley lets everyone know every time a new car arrives, a door slams or a stranger walks across our yard.
One positive, the guys don't play loud music very often (usually just when they first drive up to the house -- and sit in their cars for awhile). But they do stand outside and talk and yell and scream and other stuff. And their guests leave smelly empty cans, bottles and cups that I need to investigate. (Mama #4609 does not like for me or my sisters to inspect or lick the cans, bottles or cups.
Harley doesn't like their behaviors at all. Mama #2 doesn't like it either. (Mama #1 says that she threw a few parties when she was younger, so this is payback. Her neighbors tolerated her, sooo.....).

Here are our neighbors sitting on the roof of their house.

Yes, they are sitting on the roof,  playing cards and listening to music.

The view of the rooftop lounge from my backyard. No doggy privacy when they are lounging on their roof.

The daily card playing and sunning on the roof of the house drives Harley NUTS! She can't bark enough at them - especially if they talk back to her.

And, if the comings and goings and roof sitting weren't enough, now there is a dog in their backyard.

Not all the time.

Just every few nights/days or so.

Harley is a Berserk-O pup.

She just can't stop barking (even when the pup is not over there), just in case there might be a dog that needs barking at.

Harley's music has lost its touch and is not calming her. The Thunder coat is not working.

She stays on full alert.

To help her calm down, the Mamas wrap Harley in a blanket or towel and hold her close for a few minutes. Next, they let her chew wildly on a rawhide stick. The best part of the treatment is that Harley will eventually relax and then sleep for hours. 

A Diva needs peace and quiet, and Harley needs to relax.

Harley hears a noise from our bad neighbors and begins to bark.

Harley snuggles with her toy for comfort.

This is me, Mabel, with my twin sister, Harley (She's on the right). I am trying to talk some reason and quiet into her, but she's still heading off to the fence. She just has to know what the neighbors are doing and tell them off.

So, you ask, what's the Diva's plan?

This Diva is out of plans. I am open for suggestions.

I think too many people live in that house, but they are always quiet (or gone) when the police arrive. The bursts of noise are over before any officer wanders by/arrives. 

Personally, I hope for lots and lots of strong winds, poring rains, blinding dust storms, and scorching temperatures that will make the guys go inside. And keep their pup inside too. 
(And I cannot go on forced marches when the weather is so horrible....).

Harley may not survive the summer (with her mind intact) if the bad neighbors continue on as they are.

There's only so much a sister can do....
Even a Diva sister.

Why Mama #1, Mama #2 and Mama #5012?

This is me, Mabel, contemplating life and such.

Hi All, Mabel here. Once again, I am writing to you from my favorite comfy couch.
One of my many, faithful, loyal fans asked the question, Who are Mama #1, Mama #2, and Mama #5012?

Good question! I haven't meant to confuse anyone; the numbers and the Mamas they go with are just second nature to me.

I suppose Mama #1 and Mama #2 have real names. I don't really care what their real names are; what really matters is how they treat me. (That does sound a little harsh; Let me state for the record that I really do love and adore my Mamas!).

If I'm fed, the person who feeds me is Mama #1. If she makes me go out in the rain (or snow) to do my business, then she quickly drops to Mama # 5012. 

If I'm taken on a forced march (or a "walk"), the Mama taking me is Mama # whatever number I'm feeling at the moment. Right now, a forced march Mama would be Mama #7120. (Thank goodness only one of my Mamas ever takes me on forced marches). 

High number = making me do things I don't like or want to do.

On the other paw, a Mama who gives me some delicious table scraps is Mama #1. Are you beginning to understand? Treating me well will get you called Mama #1. Treating me badly (in my diva opinion) will get you called Mama # 1000+.

Do I get to sleep under your magically warm blanket? Mama #1. Do I have to sleep on the cold, hard floor of the dog room? Mama #50,982.
Allow me to sneak into the cat's domain and eat cat food? Mama #1.

Low number = treating me nicely

If a Mama takes me to see my doctor when I'm feeling well (as opposed to sick), that's Mama #984. Did the doctor call me "overweight" or stick me with something sharp? Mama #7,421. (the bigger the wrong, the higher the number). Did my doctor give me dry, tasteless food to eat? Or huge pills to choke down?
Mama #10,003

I hope this helps you to understand the Mama #system.

This is me, Mabel, ready for a nap on my magically warm blanket on my favorite comfy couch.

For the record, I have two Mamas, one identical twin sister, one regular sister, three cat sisters (one is very evil) and one very special person,  Martha.

(The cats all belong to one Mama---the same Mama who takes me out marching every day; Mama #5510).
Mama #1 is almost always Mama #1. Mama #2 sometimes makes it as high as Mama #1b, but usually is Mama #2 or lower.
Love to all,
Your favorite Diva,
Mabel

My Origins, Part 2

OK. This is me, Mabel speaking. 
I'm back.
Let me tell you the rest of my story....
Anyway, I was talking about my plan to make my Mamas fall in love with my twin sister, Harley. The infamous John A. Puppy, still hadn't bothered to tell the Mamas about my twin. He just thought it'd be OK to separate us. Didn't he know you just can't separate twins? 
I don't know what I'd do without Harley. I don't know what Harley would do without me.
Anyway, I dragged Harley into every photo and, when I heard Mom #1 ask him over the telephone, who's that puppy who's always in the pictures with Mabel? I jumped on Harley out of pure excitement! My plan was working! They noticed her! They were falling in love with her too!
It took forever for the Moms to come to take me home. It was just a couple of weeks, but it sure seemed like forever. When my adoption day arrived, I was so excited! I made sure Harley stayed close by me, so I could coach her on what to do when the Mamas arrived.
When the doorbell rang and I got my first look at the Mamas, I thought I'd faint! They were just too perfect! John P. put me into my Mama #1's arms and she held me tight. No one else existed for me as I held my Mama tight and knew that I was is love. (of course, Mama #1 already loved me).
When I came back to my senses, I noticed Mama #2 talking to my step-sister, Lady Godiva (the names John P. gave us!). I nearly fell off Mama #1's lap. I caught Harley's eye and silently motioned for her to move into position and, YES!, Mama #2 picked her up.
Harley cuddled really hard, and we watched as Mama #2 fell in love with her.  John P. watched too, then suggested Mama #2 take Harley AND me both 'cuz we're twins!  Harley really worked every every cuteness lesson I'd taught her while I kept Mama #1 from noticing that she was about to take 2 puppies home. YES! The Diva got her way! Me and Harley were going to my forever home together! Mama #2 knew that you just can't separate twins. She knew that Harley HAD to come home with us.
Mama #1 came out from under my spell for a few seconds and realized Harley was going with us. I saw her heart melt as she gazed at Harley. Everything was going according to my plan.Mama #1 wouldn't say No to Harley now. I just had to get us in the car and the Mamas driving towards home.
So, I chewed on Mama #1's wristwatch. "Wow, look at the time! We've got to leave if we want to get home today." The Mamas put us in a CRATE and carried us out to the car. We settled into our crate. It was loaded with soft blankets and filled with chewy toys. Suddenly, I was very tired.  Being adopted is exhausting! Harley and I wrapped our paws around each other and went to sleep. We were together forever!

Here we are at our new home! We are so happy! 

On the drive home, I discovered that Mama #1 had chosen names for us, "Mable Ann" and "Harley Jean." Not bad. Definitely better than, "Miss Foxy" or "Lady Godiva."

I still had to let them know I was a Diva and needed special treatment. The Mamas appeared to be fairly smart (They chose me, didn't they?), so I knew it wouldn't take them long to figure my Diva-ness out.

It took forever to get to our new home, but the Mamas took turns sitting with us in the back seat of the car. We never had a chance to be lonely. Harley was a little scared by everything that had happened, but I kept telling her that all was going according to my plans.

We finally made it home very, very late that night. We didn't care what time it was! We were finally home! 

 When we were carried into our new house, we met Maggie (our sister dog) and OUR (Aunt) Martha! It was love at first sight. We didn't realize how important Maggie and OUR Martha would be in our lives. 

(You already know about Maggie. You'll hear more about our Martha later. She is throwing a week long slumber PARTY for us when the Mamas go on vacation!).

And that's how we came to live with the Mamas. 

Aren't I a super smart Diva for making the Mamas fall in love with me & my twin sister? Isn't Harley lucky that she get to spend all of her life with her wonderful twin sister? 

And, isn't Maggie lucky to have, not one, but two identical twin sisters to share her life and her home with?

We'll talk about the cats later....

My Origins, Part 1

Hi this is me, Mabel.
AKA Mabel Ann.
AKA  Mabel the Diva Dachshund   or   Mabel the Diva Dog.
I almost famous (but not rich --- yet) for writing this blog and for my Facebook page. Be glad that you got to know me before the fame went to my head.
Let me tell you a little bit about myself.

This is me, Mabel, posing for the camera.

I didn't always look this magnificent. I really did start out as a puppy. I was born in some little town in far away south Texas. There are several legends associated with my birth. My Mom #1 says they're not really legends, just that the man at my birthplace (John Adam Puppy) didn't know how the tell the truth. Mama #2 says it's because John P.  just couldn't remember who was who (I think they are legends; who could forget me?). So, who knows?  I may have been the firstborn (that was John P.'s first story) and was born on his brand new comforter. Then, as a newborn, crawled over and laid across his arm (Miraculous!). Or I may have been born not breathing and had to be helped a little bit (I think he lied on this one. I know I was born absolutely perfect!). Or I was the last one born and was a runt (we all KNOW that story is a LIE). Anyway, I was born 7 seconds before my twin sister, Harley, or maybe Harley was born 7 seconds before me? (John P.'s stories....) Hmm, Harley was probably born first, because I'm pretty sure I was right behind her, pushing her out into the world.

You see, I have to push Harley a lot.

This is me, Mabel - on the right, just in case you can't tell us apart - teaching Harley (on the left) how to patrol and secure our yard.

I made all the plans to get us adopted together. That John P. guy thought he could separate us (separate twins? No way!). He took pictures of me and put them on a website where Mama #1 saw me and fell in love. When she saw my pictures, she knew I was her Mabel Ann. She called and talked to John P. That was almost a disaster! John P. had some issues. Some really BIG issues, like major OCD---that's obsessive compulsive disorder. I mean he talked and talked and talked and talked and talked. The more he talked, the less Mom #1 talked to him. I was scared he was going to talk her out of adopting me. He told her so many rules and regulations about what she had to do with me; feed her this, don't let anyone else touch her for X months, Dachshunds are very special (she already knew!) and on and on. But Mama #1 hung in there because she really, really wanted me.

So, I was all set to be adopted. I just had to wait until John P. said I was old enough to rule my own house. I was so excited! But, I knew Harley had to come with me somehow.
John P., that crazy person, named me Miss Foxy. Yuk! What kind of name is that? I'm not a Fox, I'm a Dachshund! And he didn't name Harley at all! I thought that was really rude, naming me Miss Foxy and not naming my twin sister anything! So, we both answered to Miss Foxy. We were always together, especially when John P. took pictures of me to send to my new Mamas. (I found out there'd be TWO of them--and no more John P.). Two Mamas, two puppies. Perfect. I started to drag Harley into every picture. Whenever I could, I put my paw on her.

That's me, Mabel, on the right. I have my paw on Harley (she's curled up and not facing the camera). 

 My twin, Harley, was going to go with me to my new home. (No one else knew this yet, not even Harley, not even my new Moms). You see, they had to fall in love with Harley and not know it. So in every picture, it was me and Harley.
End of Part 1.
Stay tuned for Part 2, where I meet my Mamas for the first time, get Harley adopted, and make the long, long, long, journey home.

Maggie the Stinky Dog

Some of my very observant fans noticed that I was not wearing a collar the day I when I was hiding in a very thick bush in my yard.

This is me, Mabel, hiding deep within the bush in my backyard. You can see me if you look very, very closely.

Yes, I went for an entire day without my collar/ID. 

Why? 

My super smart, but snotty, big sister got into something very stinky.

This is my sister, Maggie. Some people think she looks a lot like me and Harley. Personally, I don't see the resemblance.

Yes, Maggie (the Perfect) came home from our forced march the other day and wandered out into our backyard (after she finished her chewy bone treat).

FYI, we do share our backyard with our 3 cat sisters. You can see them hiding in the background in some of our pictures. (This doesn't really belong in this story, but I wanted to show this horrible picture to everyone).

The evil cat Millie, trying to steal the spotlight from your Diva.

Anyway, Maggie started to patrol our backyard. She looked for unusual things, out of place things, and anything that didn't belong in our yard.

Maggie walked the fence and sniffed. She spoke to the dogs next door, and asked the if they'd seen anything she needed to know.

Once she finished her rounds, Maggie sniffed around for any unusual smells. Well, she found one unusual smell and it was very, very stinky.

You may know that some uncivilized dogs like to roll around in stinky stuff they find. And sometimes, a well-civilized, well behaved dog finds something so wonderfully stinky that they cannot control themselves; they just have to roll in that stinky stuff over and over.

Maggie rolled. In the stinky stuff.

Maggie, right after she rolled in the stinky stuff.

Well, Maggie wasn't thinking straight after she rolled, because she went inside and walked right by Mama #1. 

Mama #1 smelled the stinky Maggie and promptly called Mama #2. 

Mama #2 certified Maggie as "one stinky dog."

Harley and I were having a great time laughing at Maggie, since she thinks she is so perfect and now she was caught doing something very, very wrong (and stinky!).

Maggie was escorted straight into the bathtub, soaked with water and rubbed with white/brown sudsy stuff. After massive amounts of water were poured over her, she was allowed back into the house. 

She did smell much nicer.

Suddenly, Harley was grabbed and shoved into the bathtub. I knew I had to do something about this.

So I, Mabel, did what I had to do.

I promptly took myself somewhere safe, far away from the water and sudsy stuff.

I crawled under a blanket on my favorite comfy couch. 

Harley emerged from the bathroom, smelling very nice.

I had just settled into a nice sleep, because I knew 

1) I, Mabel, did not stink

2) I am still recovering from a back injury. I might be re-injured if I were forced into a bathtub with water and sudsy stuff.

(There's no picture to insert here because I already destroyed all the pictures of myself in the bathtub--with sudsy stuff all over me)

Didn't matter. I was pulled out from under my warm (formerly safe) blanket and unceremoniously watered down.

As soon as I got out of that bathtub and escaped the Mamas, I ran into my safe backyard and hid in the very thick bush. I stayed there all afternoon. I was safe. I had sunshine. No one found me until my bratty older sister found me late in the day. 

Yes, the same older sister who rolled in the stinky stuff and started this entire mess.

I did come back inside the house and forgave my Mamas for pouring water all over me. 

Well, maybe I didn't forgive them completely....

So, that's my story.

Love Y'all,

Your Favorite Diva,

Mabel