Roxy is my current dog, and although I feel disloyal to all my other wonderful pets, I have to admit she’s probably my favourite. She’s not as obedient as Oliver, as loyal as Sweetie, as beautiful as Brandy, and thankfully not as mischievous as Titan or Simon. But she is adorable, bright and a real character. Her grasp of Human-speak continuously amazes me. And she’s very good at telling me, with expression, body language or verbalization, exactly what she wants – which is usually “Can we please play ball?”
Back in March of 2003, while we were all still mourning the loss of Oliver, I came across an ad for Chihuahua-Yorkie pups. My mother-in-law was kind enough to offer to buy us one. That’s how we came to own a teeny-tiny (barely one pound) little girl we named Roxy. She was just too precious for words.
Sweetie graciously welcomed her, even though for years to come, Roxy gave her payback by jumping all over her the way Sweetie used to torment Oliver.
I have literally hundreds of pictures of Roxy, and it’s hard to pick just a few, so I’m going to bombard you with lots, probably way too many. Sorry.
We quickly discovered that Roxy LOVED to fetch. Imagine a little scrap of a dog, weighing a couple of pounds, fetching and carrying a variety of balls, some as big as her. She also has quite the fetch stance, alertly watching and waiting, with one front paw up. We think she believes she’s a retriever. And she definitely has no idea how small she is.
Hiding under the couch with her ball because she’s not getting enough attention
Searching for her ball in the leaves
Taking a forced rest
Just a touch maniacal
Pouting because no one will play with her
Roxy’s various fetch stances
Even in the snow
After all that hard work, a snooze feels good. Especially in a puddle of sunshine, snuggling with a good friend or a cozy blanket.
“If you’re just going to sit there, how about a tummy rub?”
Reminiscent of my cat, Spooky, Roxy tends to get comfy in some unusual places.
And while she’s definitely a lapdog, she loves to be cradled in the crook of my arm, like a baby. She’ll also snuggle against my chest with her head tucked in close as I carry her if she’s tired. It’s so sweet.
Roxy is so entertaining and many a time she’s given us a real laugh. This laugh came at her expense, poor wee darling. She somehow got her hair tangled up in my spider plant and was too small to pull herself free so was stuck there until I noticed her.
She’s such a pretty little girl when she’s bathed and groomed.
And she rocks some glorious bedhead on occasion too.
My son and daughter-in-law have an adorable little chi named Daisy. I love this series of photos I took when Daisy was just a puppy. Notice how Roxy sits attentively, waiting for me to snap the picture while Daisy looks everywhere but at the camera. This went on and on. Finally Roxy says, “enough is enough, this dog is never going to pose nicely”, and she lies down right when Daisy looks at the camera.
Roxy and Daisy have grown to be great friends. Roxy even lets Daisy think she’s the boss.
Roxy didn’t think my sister’s dogs should be allowed on “her” couch.
An unhappy Roxy sporting a bandage from an IV after getting her teeth cleaned.
Roxy and Sweetie banished to the basement while there are workers in the house. So sad.
For entertainment at Christmas we embarrass our pets by dressing them up and making them pose for the camera.
Roxy is not a fan of little people. I don’t think she trusts them not to hurt her. She gets surprisingly excited to see our grandsons when they come over, then quickly grows jealous of the attention we pay them. But when a grandson was sick, Roxy stuck close by his side.
Roxy is so obsessed with her ball, we have to hide it in order to get some peace. We’re quite certain if we threw her ball off a cliff, she’d follow it over. Fetching might be her biggest obsession, but she has several other peculiar traits I find amusing.
She likes to sit on or hang off feet. Freaks people out.
She hates sports on TV. And she totally knows how to throw daggers if I cheer too loudly. She was less than impressed the one time we took her to my son’s football game.
She doesn’t think anyone except she and I should be able to sit on the couch. She gives my hubby the death eye if he dares to join me on the couch to watch TV. Then she’ll look at me, throw a dirty look at him, back at me again. She’ll eventually go over to the loveseat and pout if he doesn’t move. She might condescend to napping with someone on the couch, but more often I’ll get the “make him move” look.
In the spring Roxy can’t resist a good roll in the grass. She comes in smelling to high heaven and covered in yuck. Sometimes I have to bathe her daily. She really hates a bath so this is an ordeal for both of us.
She hates cats. And I mean detests them. It’s quite comical to see the way she puts the run on anything feline that dares to enter our yard. And amazing the way they all run from her. Only once did a cat refuse to leave. Poor Roxy didn’t know what to make of it, but she wisely stood at a distance while barking ferociously until I came to her rescue. The cat in this picture weighs eighteen pounds. Did I mention Roxy is weighs less than four?
She’s terrified of going up the stairs. Some stairs are okay, or at least she manages to find the courage to scramble up them, but with others, she’ll just sit there forever, squeaking and complaining until we give in and carry her up.
She won’t cross the street when we go for a walk. At every single corner I have to pick her up and carry her across. Then again, she’s not too partial to walking on a leash period, often planting four teeny paws and giving me the “I’m not moving and you can’t make me” look. And she’s right, I can’t make her. So I have to carry her for a bit, then she’s willing to try again. Thank goodness she doesn’t weigh twenty pounds.
Taking a wee break to smell the flowers
A couple of years back, the poor little peanut had to have all her teeth pulled except for two lower canines. Only seven years old and toothless. She and I were both a little traumatized by the ordeal.
Some very sad pictures taken right afterwards.
After I got over the shock (and the $900 vet bill), I thought maybe she’d put on some needed weight by eating canned food. But Roxy had other ideas. She didn’t like canned dog food. I mean really, what dog doesn’t like canned dog food??? Our other dog, Sweetie, certainly did, and mealtime took on its own particular hell as I tried to convince Roxy to eat, while standing guard so Sweetie wouldn’t gobble her food down. As her gums hardened, I was able to find very small dry dog food that Roxy enjoys and is able to eat without fear of choking.
Since losing her teeth, Roxy occasionally becomes that dog. You know the one, with the tongue hanging out the side of its mouth. Totally adorable or rather homely, depending on your perspective.
Bedhead AND the tongue, yikes!!
Having no teeth hasn’t hampered Roxy’s ball fetching abilities in the least. We’ve found some balls she can carry and to this day, we play fetch daily, both indoors and out.
Roxy might be the fussiest eater ever, but I firmly believe if she belonged to one of those little old ladies who shared everything they ate with their dog, she’d be a little porker. She loves people food, especially sweet treats, and she begs with the most endearing little face. I confess I’m guilty of breaking my “no people food for dogs” rule with her. But not often enough to make her fat or ill.
A toothless Roxy joins the other dogs begging for a treat. (All the dogs love my daughter-in-law)
This photo of Sweetie and Roxy was chosen to appear in a made-for-TV movie my son worked on. If you have the opportunity to watch “A Mother’s Nightmare” (coming soon), be sure to keep an eye out for my girls’ photo hanging in the vet’s office. (And my son’s name in the credits – three times) The little movie stars!!
Roxy is now nine years old. She has had a huge adjustment to make in the past few months, losing her best friend, Sweetie, and with me going back to work full-time. She’s lonely and craves attention, which we do our best to give her. I don’t think we’ll get another dog though. She’s so small, an eager puppy could easily hurt her and she gets jealous of the attention we give other small creatures, canine or otherwise. She’s always on my lap (even as I type this she’s lying across my lap) and I don’t want her to have to share me. So we’ll continue to spoil her rotten and take enjoyment from her quirky little personality for, hopefully, many years to come. I can’t possibly fathom not having her in my life. If Hubby has his way, she’ll be our last pet, but I’m not engaging in that conversation right now. We’ll see.