A Break From The Monotany

Bunny here, with my tail wagging after a most exciting walk.

It's been really hot here.  They've been saying on the news that it's too hot for anybody to go outside.  Even at night it's been hot enough to put blisters on your pads.  On top of that, it's been rainy and we've had some terrible thunderstorms.  This makes for great snuggling with Mom time, but it's not so good for a girl to stretch her legs.

Finally yesterday, it was a nice, decent summer day.  Mom called Dad and told him it would be a good night to go for a hike and he agreed.  So, we got our stuff all packed up and headed to Farmdale Park.

You'll notice that I'm sporting my new backpack.  Mom and Dad both had backpacks, too.  Dad said that everybody had to carry their share.  Mom carried bug spray, a towel, my long line, my harness (just in case), and her flip flops.  Dad carried the cameras, a first aid kit, a flashlight, a long line for Blueberry, and some water for him and Mom.  I wagged my tail and asked him why Blueberry didn't  have a backpack and what I was supposed to carry. 

Dad:  It's about time you started carrying your own poop!

Me:  What?!  I carry it, inside my tummy, until it's time for YOU to carry it!

Dad:  Not anymore, Puppy Girl!

Me:  MOM!  Did you hear that?  There's no way I am pooping on the trail!  I refuse to carry that stuff!  It's disgusting!  No way am I carrying Blueberry's, either!

Mom:  He's just kidding!  You're carrying a water bowl and two small bottles of water for you and Blue.  We'd appreciate it if you'd refrain from pooping on the trail, though.  Nobody wants to carry your poop!

Me: Whew!  I'll think about it, Mom, but I can't promise anything!  Actually, I'm so relieved, I feel like I could make a run to the powder room right now.

Well, after that little bit of joviality on Dad's part, we got our gear and got into the van.  Before we knew it, we were at the park.  I hopped out and headed out on the trail.  As we were walking along, it occurred to me that everbody expects us dogs to pick up our poop, but horses can just leave big piles of it all over the trails.  I think that's a bit unfair, although horse poop is fun to roll in, according to Blueberry.  Alas, I digress. 

We walked out on the trail until we got to the creek.  Because of all the rains recently, the creek was up pretty high.  Mom and Dad said we weren't going to go across it tonight.  It was really muddy on the main trail, too, and so Mom took a side trail.  Soon, we were at a spot where we could get down to the water. 

Mom and I carefully made our way down the hill.  Then it was time for Dad and Blueberry to come.  Blue found a dead duck in the grass and she had to go and have a snifftigation.  She should be on the CSI team, I tell you.  Well, Dad pulled her along and told her to leave it.  The next thing we knew, Dad slid in the mud, fell down and got all muddy.  Blueberry was quite surprised by the whole turn of events.  Mom asked if he was okay, and he was.  She picked up Blueberry's leash and waited for him to be able to get up.  I think if he'd just let her sniff that duck, and perhaps have a good roll in it, then karma wouldn't have given him that little push down the hill, but that is simply speculation on my part.

Anyroo, I had a nice dip in the cool creek water.  Mom put my long line on me and I went as far as I wanted to go.  Blueberry even joined me.  It was tons of fun and a nice way to spend the evening.  After that, we walked back to the van and headed home.  I think I'm going to sleep better tonight than I have all week!

The Lonely Turdlet

If you are a dog owner, you have probably accepted the fact that I am about to impart. If you're not a dog owner, this may or may not shock you.  It's one of the few ugly facts of dog ownership that we often would rather not think about or discuss, however, it does exist.  If you are at all squeamish about discussions of poop, this blog post may not be for you.  I wish that I could say that the names have been changed to protect the innocent, but nobody would believe that.  Sometimes, dogs do things with poop that gross us humans out, for whatever reasons they have. 

The simple truth is that dogs and people have a love/hate relationship with poop.  If you are in a hurry to go somewhere, it's a guarantee that your dog will have to make endless circles and sniff every viable blade of grass before deciding to make a deposit.  If it is cold outside, your dog will will make you walk all the way to the outside edge of town, ensuring you will lose a toe or finger to frostbite, before finally lightening their load.  Those things are bearable, however, and really, just a minor inconvenience that you have to endure when you share your life with dogs.  We've all experienced these things from time to time, I'm sure.

Now that it's getting colder outside, my husband has been taking the hounds outside to the turn out pen and coming back inside to get their breakfast ready, leaving them to take care of their business in privacy and saving himself from the brisk mornings.  That's not unusual for many people, I suspect.  It does lead into what happened the other morning however. 

I may have mentioned before that Lilac is a master thief.  Not only is she quite accomplished at thievery, she is shameless about it as well.  Part of why she's so successful at it is because she has mastered the maneuver of picking things up on the sly while also keeping a completely nonchalant face.  She is also extremely quick, especially for a dog of fourteen years old.  Few people who meet her would guess that she is that old.  The fact that she is adept at thievery is important to the rest of the story.

My husband often wakes up and takes the dogs out before I get up in the morning, more often than usual lately since Lilac seems to feel that we should all be up a good hour before the crack of dawn.  Most mornings I sleep through this, or at least doze through it until the alarm clock goes off.  The other morning, however, I was woken by a rather high-pitched scream from my husband.  I sat up in bed and called out, asking if he was okay.  I should mention that my husband is not prone to screaming, he's generally very calm in almost all situations unless he's laughing over somethng he finds funny.  In true husband fashion, he didn't reply, but I heard grumbling and stomping coming from the kitchen.  I took the grumbling to mean that it was probably nothing serious and crawled back under the blankets. 

When I got up a short time later, I asked my husband what had transpired.  He glowered at me and snorted.  I knew then that something good had happened and that I was probably lucky that he had to deal with it instead of me.  No doubt that would have made it much less humorous for me.

Husband:  She's your dog!

Me:  Who?  What happened?

Husband:  Lilac!  You won't believe it!

Me:  I'm never going to get the chance, apparently...

Husband:  She snuck a turd inside!

Me:  What?!  You mean she didn't want to go outside in the cold?  Where did she go?  Did you get it all cleaned up?

Husband:  No, she went outside!

Me:  (confused)  Well, then...

Husband:  She scooped up a turdlet in her mouth and dropped it in the kitchen!  Right at my feet!

Me:  (lost somewhere between horror over a turd in the house brought inside with the dog's mouth and amusement over the thought of my husband screaming over the turd on the floor)  You didn't see it in her mouth outside?  How did she get it all the way into the house?

Husband:  (disgruntled)  No, I didn't see it in her mouth!  She was just standing there waiting to come in the house.  Blueberry and Bunny were dancing around and I had to watch them!  She just carried it in and dropped it in the floor before walking into the living room!

Me:  That is gross!

Husband:  No kidding!

Lilac of course was comfortably sleeping on her bed, blissfully unaware.  Well, I hope she was!  She did have a Mona Lisa smile on her lips, and I could have sworn I saw an ear twitch.  Why she decided to bring it back into the house escapes me.  I have a few theories, but I'd really rather not ponder them.  I hope it was just that she likes to keep us on our toes and wondering about what she could be up to.  Sometimes living here is like living in the Bermuda Triangle.