The Revenge Of Norma Louise

This Week column.  December 27, 1989

One of the things I noticed about myself this week has me just a little worried.

I was wondering what if Tammy Faye Bakker was to have a child by Donald Trump.  The answer I came up with was Leona Helmsley.  Weird, huh?

Speaking of Lipstick Breath, consider this actual unrehearsed factual line of information from a national newspaper.  And I quote, “Tammy once prayed to God to resurrect her dog, Chi Chi, who died after eating Lima beans.”

Speaking of dogs, what do you think would happen if you crossed a basset hound with a woolly-bear caterpillar?

The answer is… the newest addition to my family.  Oh, the shame of it all.

Norma Louise waited until I was out of town On Assignment In A Foreign Land.  Two weeks gone and I come home to this.  Sure, she was lonely.  Maybe I haven’t been giving her all the attention she deserves or needs.  Hey, I’m just a guy.  But this, this is too much.

Her name is Daisy.  She’s a female miniature dachshund, born July 15th.  “A Cancerian,” Norma Louise quickly pointed out.

As far as I’m concerned, this is not a dog.  Rin Tin Tin, now that’s a dog.  Spuds McKenzie is a dog.  The Hounds of the Baskerville, those were dogs.

This is a living furry paperweight.

Let me tell you about Daisy.  Her motto is, I will chew no shoe before its time.  She likes to piddle near my writing desk.  (It seems everybody’s a critic.)

We found her at the Pew Wee Herman Kennels & School of Charm, where she was what they call a “special-needs” puppy.  I leave the room and she forgets who I am.  Her belly button is an outie, she has an overbite, and her tongue sticks out the side when her mouth is closed.  At five-and-a-half pounds, she’s maybe six (6) inches tall, a foot long, with a severe droop in the middle.

On the plus side, Daisy has very long ears, which I am told is a sign of beauty.  And big brown eyes.  Built like she is, I can’t decide if she’s pigeon-toed or bowlegged, but sometimes, when she’s scampering across the living room, her back end will try to pass her front.

“I like my dogs,” Norma Louise said in Daisy’s defense, “the way I like my men.”  I let it drop right there.

In times of stress, I sometimes head for the dictionary.  Appearing on the same page as dodo, the word dog is defined thus:  “A well-known domesticated carnivorous quadruped, closely allied to the wolf and the fox, noted for its sagacity, acute senses and great attachment to man.”

Excuse me, are we talking about the same animal, the same species?

That same reference tome describes dachshund as “a long-bodied, short-legged dog, with pendulous ears and short hair, black with yellow extremities.”  A bumblebee named Fido.

But that would be a dumb name for an insect, right?  Names are a very important element of the dog-owning experience.  Daisy, for example, is Norma Louise’s favorite name, the heroine of The Great Gatsby.

“Sacajawea seemed a bit cumbersome for such a tiny thing,” she said.

I never had a female dog.  I never wanted a female dog.  I had somehow deluded myself into thinking of dogs – man’s best friend – as entirely male.  So, they should have masculine monikers like Spike or Bruno or Rex or Earl.  Solid, substantial names.  Names that pack some woof.

Daisy.  It sounds like a name you give a dairy cow, a duck maybe, or a room freshener, even soap, for goodness’ sake.

This might strike you as unusual.  When I was a little boy, I had a dog named Mike.  I also had a little brother named Mike.  Nobody ever believes me about this.  Mike (the dog) came to us as an adult, so we couldn’t change his name.  Mike (my little brother) was just like part of the family, so we didn’t pressure him into changing his name.  Hard to train either one of them.  Always blaming the other.

But Daisy it is.  Even though I remain partial to the name Spot, of “Dick and Jane” fame.  Good book.

Of course, a pooch such as this can’t be eating your basic table scraps.  Nope.  We’re talking LICK YOUR CHOPS.

Listen to what you do get for $1.21 a can.  “Beef, liver, filtered well water, brown rice, corn, whole eggs, carrots, celery, onions, peas, cheese, dried kelp – I am not making this up – brewer’s yeast, sea salt, cane molasses, cold-pressed olive oil, lecithin, garlic powder, rose hips, rosemary, dulse, parsley” and seventeen (17) different vitamins and minerals.

Nothing’s too good for our baby girl.

I’ll try to say this as calmly and politely as possible.

I would rather have any type of dog in the world than a female miniature dachshund named Daisy and Norma Louise knew it.

“Pet quality.”  What does that mean exactly?  An animal you buy at Canine Liquidators.  BUY NOW.  WE WON’T BE KNOWINGLY UNDERSOLD.

But Norma Louise assures me I’ll learn to love this dog.  “You will learn to love this dog” is how she puts it.

To tell you the truth, I actually found myself talking to the darn animal.

I haven’t made a microwave joke in two days now.  Because Daisy and I have a deal.

She doesn’t piddle on my column again and I won’t let that thirty-five pound (35 lb.) Manx named Mondo in through the kitchen window.