Man's Best Friend?

Throughout history the dog has always enjoyed the lofty title as “man’s best friend.”  Always glad to see his master, always ready to protect him, always faithful.  A friend no matter what.

Last summer we had dreamy visions of how a puppy would bring our family such enjoyment.  A cute little female yellow lab mix would be perfect.  Our family would give her plenty of attention, and she would be the faithful family dog for many years to come.  And we would all cry and be devastated when she was no longer with us.  With these ideal images in our heads, Yeller became part of our family.

It was hard for the kids to play with her at first because she would bite and chew on them.  But it was only the “puppy stage” we were sure.  We got chew toys and bones for her to chew on, but that didn’t seem to make much difference.  She will grow out of it we told ourselves, and the kids would just need to be firm with her.  It would be fine.

Soon the kids were too boring for her, and she set her sights on things like the dryer vent, a drain cover, siding, pipe insulation on the air conditioner, the grill brush, the grill cover, the swing, any toys left outside, or any random arms or legs that came close to her.  A child’s ear was once the target as well.  Putting hot sauce on the items worked for a little bit, but you can’t put hot sauce on a child’s arm.  Her chew toys she left alone.  I would give her bones, but those she would bury in the garden or flowerbed, then re-bury them over and over again so that no one would steal them.  These activities led to much sighing and exasperation on our part.  She would grow out of it we kept saying.  We would be able to train her, we were sure of it.  It would be worth it.

Yeller is now one year old, and looks just like a miniature version of a yellow lab.  Except she is missing the brains.  About twice a week I tell my wife that the time has come for us to give up on her, and admit that she (Yeller) is just plain stupid. Mercy has prevailed so far, and she has stayed here despite my threats.

My wife’s grandma gave us a beautiful rose bush; and after much debate and head scratching about where to put it, we planted it in the backyard, close to the deck. One morning, I looked out the back door and asked her if she had decided to move the rose bush. She assured me that she had not moved it from the designated spot. The spot was dug up as if someone had used a shovel to remove the bush.  I decided to investigate.  My theory was that Yeller had dug it up, dragged it out into the yard, and left it somewhere.  I expected to find the bush lying around after Yeller discovered the thorny qualities of the bush. A quick scan of the premises did not show any rose bush lying around.  Surely it would be behind the playhouse, or under the deck where Yeller likes to cool off on the hot summer days.  Nothing.  I did find a couple of small leaves in the grass close to where she had dragged the bush out of the flowerbed.  The plastic tag describing the missing plant lay there too as evidence of foul play.  After walking through the yard searching diligently, I found the story.  What I found was about a foot in length with half of it being the root. Yeller had eaten the rose bush. The whole thing. Flowers, thorns, leaves, branches, everything.  Except the tag and the root.

The snack had not been without sacrifice. The right side of her mouth had a large area of dried blood. It was of little consolation. I stuck the remaining root/branch through her collar, so she could think about it for a while.  With the seemingly small quantity of brain in her head, I doubt the stick in her collar did much good.

I still hold on to the hope that Yeller will eventually respond to our efforts of training her.  She will grow out of it.  I am sure that she will become “man’s best friend.”  Or maybe it will be like the old saying, “With friends like this, who needs enemies?”

Goodbye, For Now

I hate goodbyes. Mostly when I have too much time to think about them. With too much time, I start getting sentimental and reflective, and it puts me in a melancholy mood for a while. Quick and unexpected are the best goodbyes for me. No thinking, just goodbye. And that is why I don’t understand my urge to write this goodbye post. I have never said this goodbye before. Maybe the heat of the summer is getting to me, or I am just being sentimental again.

I am saying my goodbyes to Summer. It has been nice to have you around, but I know that you need to go away soon.

We tend to cram August full with activities, so much so that it is October before we realize that summer is over. August is the “Do All The Things That You Were Going To Do All Summer But Have Not Taken The Time Yet” month. Do some camping, go to the zoo, finish the outdoor projects that were started in April, go fishing, grill, go to the fair, have a cookout, and all the other similar things. We have done lots of these things this summer, yet with August here, we feel the need to maximize the short time of summer that we have left.

So my sentimental, reflective side takes over in a review of the summer. We added more animals to our “farm” this year. In April we brought home some fuzzy little chicks (all pullets we were told). Over the months, they have grown into full grown chickens. There was a time when their pen had some places where they could get out. The kids became quite skilled in chasing them down, catching them, and getting them back into their pen. One of the chickens has developed a different body type, and has started crowing in the morning. We are assuming that the feed store gave us a rooster, and that we do not have a cross dressing pullet. So the chickens have added action to our place, in addition to the rabbits who continue to reproduce each month without fail. So far, the record longevity for the baby rabbits has been 1 week. There is always next month. And the kids have enjoyed the animals. All except taking care of them of course. That is now officially Dad’s job. Just like I figured. Once the chickens start laying eggs, they may gather them for a week or so before it is solely my job again. I have never thought of chickens as pets, but the kids enjoy them. They have gone as far as giving them rides on the baby swing. And the chickens don’t seem to mind too much.

Memorial Day weekend we went camping with some friends. The most eventful night was when one of the kids fell out through the side of the camper in the middle of the night. Thankfully there were no injuries.

And then there is the garden project. After my experience with container gardening, I decided to build a raised bed garden this year. I got a late start, but my resolve was strong. I built the bed and filled it with dirt, compost, cow manure, and potting soil. I would give my plants the best possible chance of survival. I planted tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, carrots, lettuce, and spinach. I carefully watered and fertilized the bare dirt with dreams of giant vegetables by the bushels. Reality came by and crashed into my dreams. I pulled one of the tomato plants due to its lack of interest. I have one carrot, and two lettuce plants. The pepper plants were pulled as well after most of their leaves fell off. The cucumbers and the rest of the tomatoes have made up the empty spaces. One of the tomato plants has gone out of control. It has grown over the top of its cage and spread its vines over all the other tomato plants. It is the ruler of the garden, the conqueror of the cages. So I have had mixed results. The lettuce, spinach, and carrots were doomed when the neighbor’s cats decided to use the area as a litter box. I still don’t know what the problem was with the pepper plants. I have bought a product to spread over the garden to keep the cats out. We will see how the fall planting of lettuce turns out.

As the heat of summer burns out, the final camping trip is planned, the cookouts are done, and the last burnt hot dog is eaten, football season will distract us long enough to let winter slip right in. And then is when we fondly remember those 90º scorchers, that day at the zoo, the swinging chicken, the times with friends, the daylight until 9:30, the grilled fare, the ferris wheel ride, a picnic in the park. And my heart will be a little sad. So Summer, leave if you must, but return as quickly as you can, and stay a little longer next time.

Pets

Baseball has the Steroid Era. The earth has the Ice Age. American muscle cars defined the auto industry in the late 60’s to early 70’s. The list is endless. Families have “stages” as well. It seems that our family has entered the “Pet Era.”

This era dawned anew in July with the arrival of three kittens – Rocky, Whiskers, and Pete. Rocky, being the adventurous one, decided the neighbor’s porch is a wonderful place to hang out. His influential personality soon convinced his siblings to join him in his daring escapades. It paid off for them, since the neighbors fell in love with them, let them into their house (along with their 15 cats), fed them, and gave them a warm place to sleep. We tried our best to woo them back, but to no avail. Our outdoor accommodations were no contest to the personal suite they had access to.

In September the rabbits arrived. Two of them, one black, one gray. Two females (we hope). The greatest thing ever (since the kittens). We did better with the accommodations this time. We set up the cage, and I built a nice box for them, as well as a frame to hold their dishes. Excitement was running high. They were well fed and cared for. For about two days. Now our daughter and I have a daily exchange that goes something like this:

Me: “Did you feed the rabbits today?”

She: “No. There were too many ladybugs outside and my boots are muddy.” (or similar excuses/variations)

Me: “I’ll go out with you now.”

She: “Well, I need to brush my baby’s hair, and it is cold outside.” (or similar excuses/variations)

She: “You can just go feed them without me.”

After 5-10 minutes of discussion, we go out and feed them.

Once it starts snowing and getting really cold, this will become a half hour process I am afraid. And I will do it myself.

Maybe the neighbors would like a couple of rabbits?

Maybe several chickens would be nice pets for us…or a pet rock.

Of Dogs...and Cats

I like dogs. I have owned dogs most of my life. Currently, we do not have a dog, since in the winter, Misty died very suddenly and unexpectedly. She was replaced a month ago…with three little kittens. This is due to the lack of testosterone at our house. I have the lone male vote in the house against four female votes. That is a subject in itself…

I don’t mind the kittens right now, in fact, they are enjoyable to watch. They are very playful and chase each other all over the place. I do not enjoy the neighbor’s cats, who have discovered the food bowl and have decided that the deck would be a wonderful place to hang out. Of their twenty plus cats, about five are developing this habit. I guess I need to be happy that not all of them have adopted the deck as home.

I like dogs…most of the time. This past weekend, we spent three nights camping at a state park. I could not believe the throng of canines that came along as well. Just in the campsites around ours were an American Bulldog, three Pugs, two Australian Shepherds, two Beagles, and the smallest 7 week old puppy I have ever seen. We routinely saw two Great Danes (think small horses) being walked, as well as a German Shepherd that required two full-sized humans to control it. I would estimate that of the 300 campsites, about half of them had a dog(s) along.

I like dogs…most of the time. I do not like Beagles that go crazy every time another dog goes by (especially during the night), which turns out to be quite often, when there are limited places to walk a dog. Actually, I don't really like Beagles at all.

It was suggested that we go around the campground during the night and loose all the dogs, just to see what happens.

I still like dogs, and someday, we will have another one, if only to keep the cats at bay.