In response to Lennie's tag, here are 8 more Charlie facts:
Charlie likes the kitties, but he likes them best when they run, so he can pursue. Vigorously. Very vigorously. Pouncer and Jessie seem to like him back, but they do creep around slowly when Charlie's near.
C'mon... run!
Charlie insists on holding paws with his favorite humans and paws them until they comply.
Test of wills
Charlie rarely gives kisses, but in the right mood will snuzzle and smoosh. And to be brutally honest, sometimes teeth get involved too.
When Charlie's extremely happy to see someone he loves, he gets all squinty. The corners of his mouth go up, his eyes close, and his tail wags in high gear.
Squinty-dog
Sometimes we use treats to lure Charlie back inside. I've come to suspect that Charlie, on the flip side, sometimes uses going outside to score treats.
Charlie drools. A lot. I once planned to do a post (with Hammer's help) called "Gundogs DROOL!" but was told that it would be too oogy.
Mr. Drooly-head
Although Charlie is afraid of the babygate, he has no such fear of the car dog barrier. Its bars are bent and it's had to be seriously reinforced and, despite all my efforts, Charlie finds a way through it. Just call him Houdini.
Charlie was born in Elletsville, Indiana -- about 5 miles from Bloomington, where Lennie and Charlie's sister Sophie (and Aunt Karen) live.
Now that Charlie's best friend, Gabbie, has grown bigger and stronger than he, she is the Alpha. But they still have fun, and Charlie still manages to get a few good licks in. And of course a little encouragement never hurts!
Having been tagged by new friend, Techie, here are 8 Charlie factoids:
Charlie loves to eat. No, make that "LIVES to eat".
When I brush Charlie, he puts his jaws around my other wrist. And as long as I don't pull at his fur, he doesn't clamp down very hard. But the more it hurts him... the more it hurts me...
Charlie's favorite game in the house is "Chase Charlie" with the ball. I know it's time when he gets his ball and gives me "the look".
Even though he's 3, Charlie still gets the tucked-tail zoomies outside.
Charlie acts ferocious when he's inside and others are outside. The UPS delivery man, for example, is terrified of him.
Charlie can sing and insists that we do it together every night.
When he wants to go somewhere, Charlie never barks; instead, he paws at the door.
Charlie is afraid of the babygate. You can just lean it against a door and not worry about his coming through or over.
Now, tag, you're it! And go visit Techie and his cute new little sister, Izzy!
I'd kinda forgotten I even had a brother, and then he left a comment on my blog... and sent a picture... and... there he IS! That's HIM! THAT'S MY BRO!!
The last time I saw him, we called him Chief and me Bailey, and he looked like this:
He's in the blue collar; I'm snoozing next to him in red. We did a lot of snoozing in those days.
Sometimes we'd hang with our sister Sophie (in the pink collar on the left). She was always a real live wire -- No, seriously, no one could mix it up like Sophie! That's her chewing on... I think it's Jake! Thanks for stopping by, Bro, and come back again. We may be older, but we're still two wild and crazy guys!
Gabbie has become so much bigger and stronger than Charlie, that she easily strips the ball from him. Right out of his mouth. Consequently, he is having to learn to play smarter. And, seeing as how Indiana is the "Land of Basketball" and is where Charlie was born, he seems to have adopted some basketball moves - namely dribbling, picks, and spins.
The dribble is Charlie's tease -- he takes the "ball" (usually a Cuz) near Gabbie and briefly drops it and retrieves it. If he's lucky, it bounces and he catches it. In any case, it causes Gabbie to lunge for it.
Then there is the pick. A basketball "pick" is a screen -- one player plants himself in place and his teammate with the ball cuts past him so closely that a pursuer has to break off chase to avoid running into the (planted) player. I don't set a pick intentionally, Charlie just treats me as a permanent one. He grabs the ball and whooshes right past me, Gabbie hurtling after. To avoid running into me (which, fortunately, she does), she has to veer off. This gives him a little breathing room... for a little bit.
But, by far, Charlie's best go-to move is the spin. Ball in mouth, he pivots around her, blocking Gabbie with his body. This is almost always successful, almost always good for keeping Gabbie at bay awhile... at least until he gets dizzy.
“Each second we live is a new and unique moment of the universe, a moment that will never be again. And what do we teach our children? We teach them that two and two make four, and that Paris is the capital of France. When will we also teach them what they are?
We should say to each of them: Do you know what you are? You are a marvel. You are unique. In all the years that have passed, there has never been another child like you. Your legs, your arms, your clever fingers, the way you move. You may become a Shakespeare, a Michelangelo, a Beethoven. You have the capacity for anything. Yes, you are a marvel. And when you grow up can you then harm another who is, like you, a marvel?
You must work, we all must work, to make the world worthy of its children.”
As a puppy, Charlie was a truly devilish little angel. He was perfect in so many ways - never had accidents, never rarely chewed on anything in the house except his own toys and beds. Yet he had razor-sharp puppy teeth and reveled in using them... inside on toys and dog beds, outside on plants and sticks... and anytime on his people. And he had a stubborn streak that, when combined with those teeth, was formidable! "Charlie won't let himself be toweled dry? No problem, wet dog sounds fine with me. Charlie won't go any farther on his walk? Hey, guess we'll just sit here a while."
The only thing that got us through those early days (and, frankly, some of the later ones) was food. Any food, any time. Want dinner in peace? Time for a rawhide chew. Want to clip his nails? No problem with a helper to feed him tidbits. Want him back in the house? "Puppy treats! Come get a puppy treat!"
Now that he's growing up, Charlie is mellowing a bit. He'll allow himself to be toweled without chewing on the toweler. I can sometimes almost clip his nails myself. And he rarely tries to play doggy-rough with me anymore. But to get him back in the house... well, fortunately that "Puppy treats!" trick still works. Usually.
Happy Birthday, Charlie -- it's still fun working out who rules whom!
Charlie at 10 days
1 month old
2 months old
Charlie at 3 months
4 months
Catching treats at 5 months
6 months
Charlie at 1 year
Charlie at 2 years
Charlie on his 3rd birthday
Happy Birthday Big Guy! We love you!
And, p.s. Happy Birthday to Charlie's sister Sophie in Indiana, too!