What's so great about Uggie?

Google “Uggie the dog,” and you’ll be neck deep in videos, photos, biographies, unofficial fan clubs, a failed campaign to give him an Oscar, and gossip about Tom Selleck’s rejection of Hollywood’s latest canine cutie.

Yep, the ten-year-old Jack Russell Terrier and co-star of “The Artist” has officially become a STAR!

And who could argue? He’s adorable. He’s funny. He’s loyal. He does his own stunts. He saves the day. For goodness sake, he manages to tug at our heartstrings without a single (audible) bark. That is talent.

Still, all this Uggie mania got me to thinking. If Shadow lived with someone like Omar Von Muller and worked on his training twelve to fifteen hours a day… could he also be a star?

After all, he is pretty darn cute.

And super athletic. (Perhaps “War Horse” is a better comparison?)

 He knows how to work the camera.

He's already done some stunts.

He doesn't back down from a fight. (So long as it doesn't involve bunnies or cats...)

He's been resilient since his puppy days.

He's into yoga. (A must if he's gonna schmooze in Beverly Hills.)

He's a fan of excess. (Move over, Charlie Sheen.)

He's already trying to outdo Uggie’s performance in the breakfast table scene. (Bring it!)

 

He sings!

And he simply won't take "no" for an answer. (Diva in the making.)

With all this star quality, who needs a dog that can walk off-leash, pay attention long enough to finish a scene, or summon police to a fire?

Shadow's already got his paws full alerting me about the treacherous mailman and UPS delivery truck.

So what if, when I play dead, he comes over to sniff me and then shoves a bone in my limp hand? He makes up for that by forcing me to smile when life and work drive me occasionally insane.

Sure, I believe Shadow could play with the big shots if he really set his mind to it. But why would be want to? All those lights, crowds, interviews, exhausting publicity schedules, paparazzi. No thanks. 

The Shadow I know likes it simple. Food. Play. Sleep. Scratch.

And indulging his owners with the occasional cuddle :)

Someone's on the Naughty List...

I am often amazed by the ability dogs have to "just know" some things, even when us sensory-limited humans have tried extra hard to keep any clues hidden.

For example, how did Shadow know that beneath the Christmas tree... buried between little ceramic houses and amidst a bunch of other presents of the two-legged variety... was a brand new Kong dog toy just for him? Sure, the tag said "To Shadow," but... well, I'm not that crazy.

The Crime Scene

Just like a little kid on a quest to uncover all of Santa's secrets,  Shadow's suspicions began several days ago, when all the gifts sat in a pile on my desk, waiting to be wrapped. He couldn't see the Kong. And I can't imagine how he could have distinguished it from everything else by smell. But more than a few times I caught him staring anxiously up at the pile, wagging his tail, and whining.

But since we already unwrapped his big gift (a bed), I was not about to give in.  He had to have ONE gift Christmas morning. So this weekend, I  stole a few minutes to wrap the toy and place it under the tree with a nice little "To Shadow" tag.

(Click here to check out Shadow opening gifts on his first Christmas last year.)

Exhibit A

There it sat, untouched and peaceful for one whole day. But then... what did I hear just a few hours ago while typing away in my office? Rustling. Rustling like paper coming from the family room.

This is what my mind said: Shadow doesn't usually make noises like that. Shadow makes noises from chewing, bouncing his toys against the floor, and drinking water. But the presents would make that noise. Especially the tissue paper in the bags for my parents, but... no... no way. Shadow never EVER touches things that don't belong to him. He's good like that. He knows... but...


Slightly worried but certain that all would be fine, I walked into the room... and right in on the crime. There, in the middle of the floor with a tear and obvious signs of a struggle, was the gift. And there, a few feet further was Shadow... frozen and staring at me -- not with his usual tail wag, but with a look of "What? I didn't do it."

Ah, the joy of Christmas. Fun for kids and dogs alike!

The Remorseful (?) Culprit

Buttoning Up for Autumn

Two good things happened in the last month: My husband and I finished fencing in the back yard, and I landed a (fantastic!) literary agent. For each of these things, Shadow deserves some credit.

Shadow's quintessential look of confusion. I love it!

Here he is enjoying the autumn leaves, his newfound freedom, and his suddenly less anxious owners.

 

 

 

A Little Perspective

I used to think it was impossible to be morose around a frolicking, tail-wagging, quasi-smiling dog. As a writer and aspiring author, toeing the coast of my dreams and getting constantly walloped back by the system, I've learned that this isn't always the case.

While my furry companion sometimes likes to warm my feet with his paws, he hasn't yet learned to shield my problems. More likely, when all I want to do is lie in the sand and let the waves of self-defeat wash over me, Shadow forces me to stand up and take him for a walk, throw him a ball, or socialize myself while socializing him at the dog park. Rarely do I forget my troubles as a result, but my tunnel vision usually widens to remind me that every storm cloud has a brighter (though I won't go so far as to say silver) lining.

Maybe writers need dogs almost as much as they need ink. Thoughts?

Doggie Pacifier

I have a new favorite product. It hasn't quite overtaken the Furminator in terms of making my life easier, but it's definitely up there.

Thanks to a tip from a good friend and fellow dog owner, Shadow now has the canine version of an infant's pacifier (Alleluia!)

It's called the Petco Mammoth Bone (PetSmart carries a similar product as well), and it looks like Shadow killed an eight-foot turkey in the backyard and is slowly working on an early Thanksgiving dinner.

Especially because Shadow destroys stuffed toys in minutes, gets bored with toys he can't destroy, and whines for attention the moment he's bored (making it very difficult for me to work), this thing is a life saver.

I do have to limit his chewing time to avoid any possible indigestion (same as if you sucked on hard candies for three hours straight), but that actually helps retain his excitement for the next time. Could it be that Shadow finally has a toy he can't get enough of?

One can only hope. Either way, nothing beats seeing him jump around like it's Christmas morning every time I pull out the Mammoth Bone, and then scamper away to some corner of the yard with his treasure.

New Digs and a Fear Conquered

Three months? Has it really been three months? Boy, is my hair red ;)

But rather than brainstorming a list of excuses as to why you haven't had your Shadow fix since spring, why don't I just get to divvying some out?

The Shadow-meister took quite a big step this month, crossing state lines with the rest of his family and moving into a brand new home that (once fenced) will provide him with the outdoor space he's always deserved.

In typical kid fashion, the moving days were filled with sulking eyes and pulled back ears... but they didn't endure. Not only is Shadow now at peace with his new digs, he's got a new favorite spot... far away from where his "parents" are the majority of the time. (All he needs are some punk rock CDs and opposable thumbs so he can lock the door, we'll have a typical pre-teenager on our hands.)

Scaling these stairs was a tall order when Shadow first arrived.

But it wasn't all fun and new discoveries. Hands down, the hardest part of the transition was something I never expected would be even a blip on the radar: Stairs.

Our old house had them, and Shadow was fine. He's always been iffy at our in-laws, but those are open stairs. These new guys are completely enclosed. But did this make Shadow feel better? In the words I think he'd say if he could speak human, "Not a chance in hell, man."

We tried everything - physically helping him up one paw at a time, bribing him with toys and treats (even peanut butter!), giving him a running start, putting his food bowl at the top of the stairs - but nothing worked. For weeks, when bedtime rolled around, Shadow would tense up like a brick of ice with his back legs on the first floor and his front paws on the steps, and proceed to bark and whine until my husband ultimately carried him up like a toddler.

We read tons of forum posts and articles about this fear - not extremely rare in dogs. Some writers advised leaving him alone, suggesting he'd eventually just get lonely and come up. Others said to keep helping him past the fear. (The knee-jerk "just give him treats!" theory was dead in the water.)

When we finally decided to give the first theory a try, Shadow spent the entire night curled up at the base of the stairs while his bed waited a short climb away. That morning, I assumed he'd never conquer his fear. Still, we continued to help him - one paw at a time - once or twice a day.

THEN one fateful day while I was unpacking on the second floor, a furry grey figure came strolling in beside me as if he hadn't a care in the world. Used to having Shadow be my constant shadow in our old house, I didn't even realize what he'd done right away.

A couple weeks later, he races up and down the stairs like they're nothing but wrinkles in the floor.

Shadow discovers the view is sometimes worth the climb.

What's more... remember that new favorite spot I mentioned earlier? Second floor window. It's his lookout tower.

Next time you think you're having a bad day...

... just be happy no one's doing this to you: