Her intelligence is amazing, but her joie de vivre — joy in life — is even more so.
Most who stop by here know Penny’s story, but those who don’t may need a recap.
My mini-pin, for miniature pincher, was found wandering the streets, but was so determined to keep her freedom that she couldn’t be caught. Finally, armed police officers had to be called in to make an arrest, sort of. Since cute dog (I have always wanted a mini-pin) visited Your TIMES on her own, I asked if I could have her.
It should have been a clue when officers tossed little dog to me and said, emphatically, “We never want to see her again!”
Thus I totally ignored all the advice given to me by canine loving friends. It went something like, “No! No mini-pin! Bad, bad idea! They are crazy!”
Even the Internet was negative. All the mini-pin Internet sites warned, “Mini-pins need a lot of attention.”
Well, I found out that’s an understatement. Penny was fine as long as I was home. When I left she ate the drapes and all my potted plants, and then broke windows, apparently in an escape attempt. How a 10-pound dog can do that still mystifies me. She is just amazing.
After Penny escaped my whole family and I tried to catch her, to no avail. Finally I’d had it and told Penny she could just move on down the road.
She didn’t. She kept coming back. She kept coming back so often she was finally dubbed The Bad Penny. And since she kept coming back I decided the relationship between she and I was meant to be.
So I finally caught her, had her spayed (which solved many of Pen’s problems) and made a housedog out of her. She and I have been involved in a love fest ever since. It’s just downright amazing.
Pen loves to show her loyal-dog attitude by sitting next to me on the couch, continually gazing up into my eyes, while I either scratch her back or rub her belly. Belly rubs are required. She’s like a small child who wants to be hugged and given kisses. She now even knows the word kiss, and will take all she can get, although only from me.
But she’s still a mini-pin, and others were right. Mini-pins need a lot of attention. If they don’t get it they will eat your shoes.
Mini-pins don’t care about shoes because they never walk anywhere. They all go at a dead run, no matter where they are going. Penny runs to where she wants to be and pounces on her targets with a flying leap.
That behavior left me laughing so hard last week I had tears in my eyes and cramps in my laugh muscles.
I had just given Penny a bath and administered insect repellant. I went into the bathroom to put away bathing supplies. Penny followed, as any loyal dog will. But then she took her signature flying leap.
Penny’s target was the toilet, which she must have thought had a closed lid. It didn’t. Yes, my loving, loyal, freshly-bathed mini-pin took her flying leap right into the toilet bowl. She tried valiantly to avoid the splash down to no avail. I yelled, “Penny!,” and made a grab for her, but not in time. Thus my darling Penny took her second bath of the day, floundering in the water in the toilet bowl.
Once I had rescued her, and bathed myself, Penny got her third bath of the day — that is after I got control of my laughter.
Penny now checks the seat before she, the queen, leaps up on the porcelain throne. She’s simply amazing.
Penny has also wised up when it comes to escape routes. My darling Penny has figured out that by chewing here and there and by frantically digging at this and that, she can get through that broken window that hasn’t been fixed yet. It’s amazing what she can chew and dig through.
Oh, we don’t worry about Penny running off any more. We know she’ll always come back. But for her own safety I’d rather Penny stayed at home in the house while I’m away. Penny doesn’t agree.
Penny began her escape plans earlier this spring when I left, or abandoned her she must think, to mow my great outdoors, the yard. Apparently Penny got lonely. That’s when she began digging and chewing her way out of the great indoors. She has chewed and gnawed her way through big cardboard boxes, knocked over bookcases, climbed a child gate. Or, in other words, Penny intends for nothing to foil her escape.
Now, every day when I come home from work, the amazing Penny is waiting for me in the outdoors, and she gladly rejoins me in the indoors. Nothing stops her escape, not furniture, not baby gates, not the vacuum cleaner, not piles of box fans or boxes stuffed with heavy objects. Nothing works. That 10-pound dog can worm her way though anything, can knock down anything, can push aside anything, and, if all else fails, eat anything.
And Penny obeys only me when ordered back inside. She is amazing.
And that brings us to the problem of VACATION. Daughter always looks after my critters when I go to The Mouse House in Florida. Now VACATION looms. And daughter was looking nervous.
“Don’t worry,” I offered. “I’m going to board her at the vet’s.”
“Oh thank God!” Daughter exclaimed. “Oh thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”
Well golly. I hadn’t realized it was going to be that bad. My Bad Penny is certainly a handful, but she loves to give kisses with her nose. I’d actually considered buying Penny a ticket to my vacation too, wondering how I could spend a whole week without her, but I fear The Mouse House people wouldn’t take kindly to a flying, pouncing mini-pin. I personally believe she’d make a great animated feature film. She is so amazing. And I know that, when I come home, my amazing little dog will greet me with an amazing flying leap into my arms, and she’ll give me kisses too.
