THE BUD SAGA - PART 10

It was something to see all those hopeful and smiling faces as they marched into the stadium, proudly carrying the flags of the country they represent. You could feel the excitement, and I loved watching them. It is one of the only times that strife between peoples can be forgotten for a few minutes – those young men and women are there for sport, after hours and years of working hard to claim their places. Politics and war should have no place in the Olympics.

One thing I questioned about the program was K.D. Lang singing Cohen’s song “Hallelujah”. Lang has a terrific voice, and Cohen is a great Canadian song-writer, but have you ever listened to the lyrics of that tune? I’ve always found them totally depressing; hinting at giving up, losing hope. Who chose that piece, and why? Cohen has written far better things, and Lang’s voice can do justice to whatever you give her to sing.
The lyrics of Garou’s presentation were more fitting, even if he did sing slightly out of tune.

All in all, it was great to watch; a terrific light show, the participation of our native peoples, the minute of silence for a fellow-athlete who fell to his death while training that very morning. Kudos to the organizers!

I’m still working on those financial statements, so will post the next chapter of the Bud Saga, and get back to them.

YOU WANT ME TO BABY-SIT WHAT??? - The cage

The chain obviously not a deterrent, the next morning I left the pit loose in the house with the other dogs. I was expecting more damage on his part, and he was true to form. This time the basket used to carry and store the fireplace logs was demolished, pieces of woven bamboo and wood spread every which way. Corners of two window sills were jagged with teeth marks, and a part of one window frame had been torn down; half of it was lying on the floor, nails sticking out here and there.

When I finished the cleaning, I brought the borrowed cage in from the car and set it up between the two damaged windows. It was a good size, large enough for the pit, but any moving around inside would be limited. I studied it uneasily. I was somewhat claustrophobic myself. Small spaces made me nervous. I didn’t envy Bud, who would be spending from ten to twelve hours in there each day. If I could find a way to get him into it.

Later I pondered the problem as we did our usual thing…me in the rocker, Bud annoying the labs, my constant yelling at him to settle down, and his paying little or no attention. When I opened a bag of Cheeto’s, one of my favourite snacks, the dogs perked up at the sound. “Treat?” I asked them. Tails wagging they gathered around, Bud pushing his way to the front. Fearing he would jump up, I quickly threw a handful away from me. He chased after them, gobbled them down, then turned to look for more.

“No!” I told him. “You’ve had yours!” I gave some to the labs. They gently took the treat from my hand, and sat waiting patiently, but the pit bounded back and forth, trying to get at the bag. “Sit!” I made the motion with my hand as I spoke. He stopped to look at me, his body quivering in anticipation.

“SIT!” I spoke louder. He sat. He stood back up. He sat again. I waited a second, then, wanting to keep all of my fingers, I sent another handful his way. While he was busy grabbing them from the floor, I hurriedly fed more to the labs and put the bag away. Aha, I’ve found the carrot on the stick.

It worked like a charm. The next morning, with a water bowl and blanket already installed in the cage, I called Bud, rattling the Cheeto’s bag. I tossed some into the cage and he dove in after them. I slammed and latched the door. He didn’t look up until the treat was devoured. When he turned and discovered that he couldn’t go any further, he glanced at me for a second, then put his nose down to sniff at the water and blanket. Oddly, I was feeling guilty when I made my exit. Well, you brought it on yourself, you little Sh*t.

Someone invited me for supper, but I refused. All day my mind had been troubled by fleeting pictures of the pit stuck in the cage, my only consolation being that the house, for once, would be intact on my arrival. During the ninety minute commute back to the bush, I worried about his reaction when released. I’d leave on my long, thick winter coat to open the latch, I decided, and wear the sturdy work gloves used to carry in the wood. The heavy clothing should afford some protection if he were to bite.

He watched me as I walked to the cage. He was standing so still, but I could see tremors rippling under his skin. I pulled on the gloves, steeling myself, then opened the latch. He lunged. I snatched his choker and held on. Eighty pounds of pure muscle was twisting and turning and trying to escape as I struggled to pull him towards the door leading outside. It was all I could do to get him onto the gallery. He kept pulling, but I managed to snap the choker onto the chain, my hands sore from the effort. Back in the house, I leaned against the wall, catching my breath. Thankfully tomorrow was Saturday. I would have a two day respite before having to go through that again!

There was a frantic element to the pit’s pestering that evening. He was literally bouncing off the walls, racing at the labs, jumping up and over the furniture, driving both them and myself crazy. Guessing it was a result of being caged for so many hours, I tried to keep my scolding to a minimum, promising myself that I would take him outside and let him run freely for the next two days. I kept the promise, and by late Sunday his attitude was more relaxed.

The next week we fell into a routine. Each morning Bud would follow the Cheeto’s into the cage, apparently forgetting what would happen next. Each night I would drive back, all the way dreading the ordeal of opening the cage door and having to wrestle him outside. His antics were getting wilder and wilder...he just would NOT stop…and I felt like a shrew with my incessant screaming at him, which he mostly ignored anyway. Now it was Friday, and I was looking forward to my friend’s call to tell me he was on his way home, this in spite of my having to prepare him for the state of his house.

But first, the weekend. And what a weekend it was!

(To be cont’d)


I look out my window and see the sun is still here. It’s such a beautiful day. That makes it difficult to stay inside and work. It’s easier when at the office; lack of windows there means I can’t see outside, so there’s no temptation. Maybe I’ll cheat…a little….

Enjoy your day, folks! Share your SMILES – they cost nothing, and not only do they warm the heart of the recipient, but warm your own heart too. It’s a win-win situation!

Luv from the Bush in Quebec