A Few More Old Friends

Again, this will be boring for most people.

Heidi, the Pennsylvania farm cat, who never quite adapted to the Texas climate:

Me and my friends used to call her the hippy-cat, for no actual reason. She was always a lady, except when she wasn't.

Schnehball:

He was always extremely skittish, unless he was in the garage, which was kind of his domain. It was always warmer than the rest of the house, but being a Texas cat, I think he preferred it that way.

Hammer and Ranger, my parents last two dogs:

My mother helped out a neighbor who was breeding wire-haired dachshunds, which were kind of uncommon in this country. I think my mother liked this partly because she'd had a wire-haired dachshund while growing up.

Hammer's the one in the back, looks kind of like a stretched out spaniel. He was always a bit nervous, stand-offish and quick to anger around people. He'd always walk around with a tennis ball in his mouth, pretty much all day long. He'd even sleep with it in his mouth. If he had to bark, he'd either drop it, bark, and pick it up again, or he'd bark around it.

If you tried to pull it out of his mouth, you'd discover that dachshunds, being badger hounds, have some serious musculature around their jaws. Along the same lines, they also bark about as loud as a dog three times their size.

He used to do this other thing where he'd sit at one end of the kitchen and wait for you to sit at the other end. Then he'd carefully set down the tennis ball. He'd give you a look, and eye up his shot. If he wasn't satisfied, he'd pick up the ball and set it down again. Then he'd knock it toward you with his nose, wait for you to throw it back to him, and then do it all over again. No one ever taught him this.

Ranger, the one in the front, was much friendlier. We used to call him Thumper, because of how he'd wag his tail and smack it against the ground. He'd hop up on the couch and sit next to you like a person, upright and leaning back against the back of the couch.

Here's another shot of him, waiting to attack a piece of rope he always liked to attack:

You could get into a good tug of war with him. Again, dachshunds are hunting dogs, and are stronger than you'd expect them to be just looking at them. You just about lift Ranger off the ground when he was clamped to that rope. Then he'd growl at you through clenched teeth, and you'd let him have the rope, and he'd shake it around for a while.

He also liked to tear up wrapping paper, which was always useful at Christmas time.

After Hammer died, Ranger carried one of his old tennis balls around for a while. He was good dog.