Sauci the lightining fast Yorkie | Passing It On

By Bill Morton | Oct 30, 2014
William (Bill) Morton, Ed.D had a 30-year diversified career as a teacher, speech therapist, audiologist and administrator of special education. During that time he did much academic writing. He is a now published author who is currently writing memoirs of his life with his late wife, JoAnn Stevens, and of their designing and implementing Rotary educational programs in various parts of the world.

Sauci, my most lovable little Yorkie – weighing in at about four pounds – has been a most delightful, fun-filled partner in “life after Joey.”

Joey is my wife who recently passed on.

Returning home at any time, there is Sauci waiting impatiently, turning, turning, turning in circles, wanting to lick my hand.

I’ve come to think that dog licks are hello kisses.

Any time she gets excited, especially if I get out her pink leather leash, she will rapidly turn circles, both left and right.

She continues until I can catch her to clip the leash onto her collar. Then she strains forward, her little body attempting to run – a good form of exercise, I believe.

Her mission on any walk around the block, or in the park, is to sniff every inch of the ground, poke her nose in the grass, sniff around telephone poles, rocks and sign posts.

Sometimes she leaves her scent by lifting one leg partially to release a little trickle to say to other dogs, “OK, I’ve been here. I’m a cute little Yorkie female, and I would like to meet you.”

This is like doggie email or Facebook.

Real life meetings with other dogs, however, are a different story – she loses her aggressiveness and wants to hide behind my legs. Being small can be frightening.

She makes up for her small size in speed. Yorkshire terriers were bred to catch rats in fields and barns in England.

They are lightning fast, change directions instantly and have sharp teeth to catch their prey.

Since we don’t have rats in our house, I have substituted with small rubber squeaky toys.

Whenever I sit at the computer desk, here she comes, squeaking her toy, waiting, demanding, that I throw it somewhere – anywhere.

Our favorite place is down the carpeted stairway to the basement.

It is easy for her to run down at breakneck (Yorkie) speed to grab the toy and return at the same speed, squeaking the toy loudly.

When I ignore her, she drops the toy at my feet, and then stares at it as though it is alive and she is ready to pounce.

If I continue to ignore her, she barks her sharp high-pitched bark so that I cannot ignore her.

Then I reach down to pick it up, while her game is to snatch it before I can, and turn around in circles, squeaking all the while.

My strategy then, if she returns it to my feet, is to stomp on it, making it squeak several times, while she gets all the more excited anticipating my next move – to garb the toy and throw it down the stairwell again. After six or eight times she finally begins to slow down and just chews the toy, while lying down of course.

Then it is naptime on top of the leather couch, finally leaving me alone to write stories like this.

Her “real” name is Sauci II, as she was named for a Brazilian folk legend. The story is of a little one-legged, 2-foot-tall boy who wears a black hat and jumps around while smoking a pipe.

All of the children in Brazil know the story and use it to their advantage. When one of them walks into the house and leaves muddy tracks, and mama says, “Who walked in and got my floor all dirty?”

Children say, “I didn’t do it … Sauci, did!”



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