Dont Mince Words

You filled the void that was left by Tex – my first big dog adoption during the California housing crisis. Your rescue led to a Facebook contest to rename you (WTF Carla?) and Aunt Holli won with “Dixie” – naming you after a region like Tex with a play on the letter X.

You helped me recover from all the Sonos product launches and you taught me a walk on the beach and the toss of driftwood was the best escape. Your socialization skills needed great improvement, but they always made me laugh. (I have a hard time with Asian women in clanky heels too. And it’s hard to like men with trucker hats and beards.)

You may of been fearful of other dogs, but you always stopped to let the homeless and handicapped pet you on State Street. The kids at the illegal daycare next door loved perro grande. You loved the ladies and were cautiously optimistic about my male friends.

Your first road trip was to visit Marna V1.0. You quickly learned the central coast was a great escape. Like your predecessor, you patiently waited for us to hit our vineyards because we had treats for you on the backside. I feared our east coast relocation would upset you, but you were always eager for a “car-car”. You didn’t care as long as you were with me. I will never forget night two in Albuquerque when you jumped from one queen bed to the other, like a hyper ‘tween. The next morning, when you twinkle-toed through frost-covered grass, I worried you wouldn’t be able to handle Virginia weather.

Your move to Virginia was when you learned to give no fucks. You were middle-aged like me and you just wanted to take long walks and nap in the sun. Snow was fine, but cold rain sucked. You made great friends like Ellis, Dottie, Jewels, and Vulcan and had great admirers from afar like Stoney, Elvis, and Roxy. Your party skills expanded. Three was once a crowd, but eventually you learned you could handle a dozen drunk humans.

I will miss your call-and-response moans during my infrequent sexual encounters and I thank you for not jumping on the bed to save me mid-act. Your orthopedic bed will remain by mine as a reminder that a good mattress and good sleep are better than a night of bad sex.

I will miss your twist-and-fart moments when you looked to blame me for what clearly came out of your ass.

I will miss your log-sawing snoring which was like a wave machine to me and it always calmed me down.

I will think of you any time I’m in a meat section with 3” marrow bones or when I bake a sweet potato.

I will think of you when I turn on the TV and ask “what do you want to watch?”

I will think of you every time I’m in Jefferson Park. You have marked nearly every square inch of grass; therefore, your ashes will be spread there.

I hope you sleep sound, Dixie, for you will be missed. You hung in there for me and tried so hard, but eventually I knew it was time. I hope you find great friendship with Newman, Kramer, and Tex because I know they’d love you as much as I do.

Goodnight, sweet girl, goodnight.

Blurry, wagging tail.

There’s a strong possibility my shoulder will get dislocated soon. Dixie has discovered squirrels and I’m not sure a pinch collar will hold her back from the fierce chase she wants to have.

Dixie is a girlie girl dog. She was discovered on the mean streets of Long Beach, California during the housing crisis with pink nail polish on. More than likely, someone opened the door and let her go right before foreclosure. She was impounded, sterilized, and picked up by my rescue agency. You know the rest of the story.

When we lived in Santa Barbara, she saw a few ground squirrels on the cliffs at the beach, but they are like chipmunks on steriods. A month before we moved she saw her first squirrel.  Every day we passed that tree she’d stop and look up.  Up until this point, she liked her prey slow moving and her most notable captures were four possum and one skunk.  At the end of the day, she was a lady of leisure and liked the sofa more than outdoors.

Now we live in a neighborhood where there squirrel-to-tree ratio is bananas.  With the leaves off the trees, she sees everything.  She groans and whines to see the critters.  I now let her have one good run a day, if no one is around walking other dogs.  She chases them to the tree then circles it until she figures out they are not coming down to play with her.

Many people have worried that this southern California dog would not adjust to the east coast weather.  Neither freezing rain nor snow keeps her in the house. She has happily traded sunshine for squirrels.

The welcome to Virginia sign was a relief after traversing Tennessee.  While Virginia may be open for business, I hope Virginia also has jobs and single, emotionally evolved men over the age of consent.

Dixie and I travelled 2900 miles and everyone was right – as long as she was with me, she was fine.  She looked forward to hotel rooms.  In fact, in our last one, we had to get two queens instead of a king and she ran in and jumped from one bed to another like a four-year old.  Most of the time her dinner was served in the back seat at a rest area.  She didn’t care.  The car was home base and it was on the move.

I’m thankful I had warm weather for our trip.  The same areas we passed through now have ice and snow.  It was a journey I’ll never forget.  I’d like to thank my friends for digitally cheering me on and others for calling to ensure I was safe.  We did fine and now I know – Dixie is a traveller and I was a long-haul trucker in a another life.  Would I do it again?  No, driving long distance through three time zones is not romantic.

Once I got to my friend’s house in Richmond, she told me her dog had fleas.  I figured that out about three hours after my arrival when Dixie was rubbing her muzzle on the bed.  That evening I couldn’t sleep because Dixie was groaning and shaking her bed with the scratching.  I could feel the critters on me and running in my hair.  The next day, bombing and dipping occurred but there were still die hards around.  By Monday I was at the vet and discovered Dixie is allergic to fleas and the vet stated that the house had a severe infestation that was probably present since the summer.  A professional extermination was necessary.  Between that and an un-housebroken Yorkie,  I went home, gave my roommate notice and moved out two days later.

After 17 loads of de-flea laundry, dry cleaning, pills, baths, and sprays, I am now home.  Dixie and I are pest-free and happy.  NOW I’m open for business.