Heart condition aside, Zuni was a spunky seven year old when we first adopted her. Every day when I arrived home from work, she was at the top of the steps, wagging her tail so fervently that her entire butt went along for the ride.

After quickly verifying that it was me at the door, she’d hook a 180 and start trundling down the stairs, her butt still wagging away.  I was endlessly entertained by watching her go down the short flight of stairs, her back legs alternatively landing to the right or left side of her front legs, depending on what part of the wag her butt was on.

From the bottom of the stairs, she beelined to the snack cabinet for her afternoon treat. (OK, one of many afternoon treats.) Then, the real fun began!

Zuni was always so wound up when we got home that we’d typically get right down to some good playtime. And, somehow the game of “Ready-Set-Go!” was born.

We’d chase her over to her red couch (yes, that’s right, it was her red couch), where she’d jump up and get into play pose. After rough housing on the couch for a minute, Nick or I would say,

“Ready?”

Zuni froze in place.

“Set?”

She tensed up and looked at us in anticipation.

“GO!”

Like a shot, Zuni pushed off the back of the couch, dashing across the living room, down the hall, into the bedroom, and under the bed. We’d trot behind her into the bedroom and lay on the bed, where we could reach below to tickle her. Then, it began again.

“Ready,” you could almost feel her quiver under the bed. “Set?”

“Gooooo!”

Zuni tore out from under the bed, back down the hall, across the living room and up onto the couch, where she’d gracefully bounce off the back to turn around midair.

After a little more rough housing on the couch, the Ready-Set-Go game began again. Over the years, the number of round trips slowly dwindled and, near the end of our stay in the South End, the game ended altogether. But I always think back to those spry days and smile.

The Ready-Set-Go game also educated us on how easily Zuni embarrassed. For the first few months, the red couch was along an inner wall with the side facing the hallway. The Ready-Set-Go game began with Zuni leaping off the couch over one of the arms. The return trip saw Zuni race down the hall, into the living room, and then take a giant leap to clear the arm and land on the couch cushions.

Now, the couch sat on an oriental rug, the kind with fringe along the edge. (I hate that fringe..it’s never tidy and is impossible to clean. But, I stray…)

Zuni had completed a couple runs of the Ready-Set-Go game with Nick, and was currently under the bed. When Nick called her back, she came predictably running down the hallway.

This time, however, when Zuni tried to launch over the arm of the chair, her back feet pushed off of the fringe. Lacking traction, instead of neatly flying over the arm, she unceremoniously face-planted into the side of the couch. Luckily, the side of the couch was still pretty soft, and she bounced off with nothing injured but her pride.

Tail tucked, head bowed, she slunk away in embarrassment as we ungraciously laughed. It was a pose Zuni pulled out whenever she did anything she thought was below her stature. And, it never ceased to make us smile.

I’m terribly behind on my posts, but please still consider donating to my 2014 Boston Marathon fundraiser for the Animal Rescue League of Boston! There are still plenty of stories to tell!

Zuni standing near the carpet fringe that became her Ready-Set-Go game nemesis.

Even after the trip to Angell, Zuni’s incessant licking didn’t stop. (Oddly, her puppy brain didn’t link the vet visit to the licking, curious…) Her new favorite trick was to tuck in her chin and lick her chest, to the point she developed an irritated bald spot.

Thankfully, we were old hat at this licking thing by now! So, instead of dragging her to the vet, we creatively wrapped her torso in an ACE bandage. It stopped the licking, but she was definitely not a fan.

Even being old hat, as we were, it wasn’t long until yet another licking extravaganza landed Zuni at the vet. (Or, more accurately, put us in a panic, which landed her at the vet.) This time, she obsessed over one of her front legs to the point she’d given herself a hot spot that resembled a little cyst.

My first terrified thought was, “Ohmigod, she has skin cancer.” (I was really quite paranoid in those first few months. Seriously, if she fell asleep too deeply, I’d put a hand on her chest to make sure she was still breathing.) We calmed down just enough to take her to our normal vet in Belmont, instead of rushing her to Angell.

They looked at the spot, told us it didn’t seem cancerous, and recommended we keep an eye on it. Most importantly, Zuni must stop with the licking! Yeah, easier said than done.

Now, we chose this particular vet in Belmont simply because they were located directly on my drive to work. Zuni went there a few times, getting her special food and her echo cardiograms and her various medications.  But, Nick and I never became comfortable with them. They were very “by the book”, which wasn’t nearly good enough for our little fur-kid. Worse, they had zero bed-side manner.

The latter became very evident when they strapped the cone-of-shame around Zuni’s neck.

I can’t be sure, but I’d swear Zuni never wore a cone up to that point in time. At first, she refused to move with the hard plastic contraption around her head. I scooped her off the examination table to carry her into the front office.

In the lobby, I put her down while I paid, and then coaxed her out the front door. She promptly and unceremoniously rammed the edge of the cone directly into the door frame, ricocheting back into the office.

After regaining her composure, she treated me to a withering glare over her shoulder and refused to move an inch. I once again scooped her up and carried her to the car. Once out of sight of the vet, I immediately removed the cone.

At home, we realized just how futile the cone was, anyway. With Zuni’s long Dachshund body and freakishly long neck (not sure where that came from), she could twist around the cone and continue licking her leg without even a minor inconvenience.

Unless he got a cone sized for a German Sheppard, all it really did was piss her off. We clearly needed another solution to keep her from licking the spot.

We tried regular band-aids, but they wouldn’t stick. We tried super-stick band-aids, but those stuck too well. We ended up having to lube Zuni’s leg up with canola oil to remove the band-aid without taking off her fur. (A process she seemed to find mildly entertaining, if not tasty.)

Finally, we settled on gauze and ACE bandages. Zuni sometimes managed to wiggle out of them, but at least the time spent fighting the bandage kept her from licking the hot spot. Eventually, the spot went away, non-cancerous, after all.

Unlike the trip to Angell, the bandage made an impression. Zuni’s hot spots all healed, the hair on her chest grew back in, and she never had another vet visit resulting from licking, again.

Next up, Zuni’s trip to the Franklin Park golf course, much to the confusion of one particular golfer. Please, donate to my 2014 Boston Marathon fundraiser for the Animal Rescue League of Boston so you can read more! Every time the money raised goes up $100, I’ll add a new chapter to the Zuni’s Diaries. And, that one is next!

Zuni munching on a pig snout, her consolation prize for being wrapped in an ACE bandage.