THE BUD SAGA - PART 16

I was right – the wood was 30$/cord MORE expensive than in the spring. Fortunately, I only need 3 cords to finish the winter. Even more fortunate is that the farmer who sold it to me was a gem – he and his wife came to deliver, exactly on time, and the wood is much better and the cut is varied; small starter pieces, burning pieces, and all-nighters for stoking. He is making me a good deal for the 20 cords I’ll buy at the beginning of spring too. Everything happens for a reason – if I had not run out before the end of winter, I’d have ordered from the former dude who sells for more per cord, with poorer quality.

I also got another little surprise, not so pleasant. My water pipes in the apartment downstairs sprung a leak. That had to be fixed immediately, no matter the cost, so Leo is here today with pieces and he & Heinz will attempt to do the job. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that the bill won’t be too high. So the pay cheque was received on Thursday, and I just waved ‘bye-bye’ as it flew right by me. Ah, well – you can’t win ‘em all.

I have some groceries to pick up, and want to stop in to see how my brother is doing, so am leaving you with the next chapter of my Bud Saga.

YOU WANT ME TO BABY-SIT WHAT??? - A new beginning.

I stared at the empty cage. It stood there, a blatant accusation, its emptiness the result of my incompetence. During the frantic drive to the bush, I’d rejected the nagging fear that I was too late. There was no denying it now.

Slowly I walked over and sank down onto the couch….Bud’s couch….the guilt overwhelming. My face was buried in my hands, and I think I was mumbling “I’m sorry” for the third time when I heard a noise. I looked up. I waited, holding my breath. Silence. Was my desperate mind playing tricks on me?

“Woof!” That sounded like Beef’s “Let-me-in, please” bark! I jumped off the couch and went quickly to the patio doors. Nothing. But I was sure I had heard…..

”Woof!” It came from behind me. I swung around. Of course! Helen always shut them in the basement. I ran to open that door, and the labs came swirling around me, their greeting more exuberant than usual. I knelt and hugged them gratefully, at the same time trying to peer past them to see below. I knew it even before my eyes confirmed it. The pit wasn’t there.

Not sure how long they had been shut in, I slid open the patio door, and both labs hurried outside. The phone rang. It was my son.

“For someone who promised to be careful, I see you got there in record time.” Then without the sarcasm, “I finally reached them on the cell phone. They’re on the way back from the vet’s now. They should be at the house in another fifteen minutes.”

I closed my eyes, swallowing hard. So it was over.

My son’s voice was worried when he spoke again. “You gonna be okay, mom? You sure you want to stay there?”

I took a deep breath. “Yeh, I guess….” I swallowed again. I had to ring off before he could notice my state. “Look, I need to check on the labs.” His reluctance was evident, but he told me to call if anything, then hung up.

Fifteen minutes, my son had said. Panic again. Before facing them, I needed some alone time. I grabbed the flashlight, opened the door and hurried out to join the labs. Beef and Ben would show no censure for the outcome of my selfish, scatterbrained actions, but would welcome my company, and that was exactly what I needed right then.

The light snow danced in the torch beam as we traced our regular path through the trees. If only we could turn off pain like we do a light, I grieved. And my misery is nowhere near to what my friend will feel when he hears what’s happened to his favourite dog. His ‘baby’.

My eyes were tearing, and after I stumbled the second time, I turned back. We stopped at the top of the hill, the one where the pit spent hours romping with his pieces of ice. As we stood there in silence, headlights swept through the trees above us. Helen and my comrade were back.

I stored the flashlight in my coat pocket, then sat down on the edge, my legs stretched straight out in front. “This one’s for you, little Sh*t,” I murmured, and shoved off with my hands. Down I flew on the seat of my pants, the tears flowing freely now, their path warm on my cold cheeks. I could hear the labs barking and ploughing their way down with me, and we all ended up in a heap at the bottom. I lay there for a moment, then pushed them away so that I could rise, trying to pull the light from my pocket. I had it in my hand, and had just managed to get to my feet when, WHAM! One of dogs hit the back of my knees so solidly that I rolled, head-over-teakettle, the flashlight flying into the great black yonder.

“Hey!” I yelled, and was not quite standing when BANG! Down I went again. I was covered in snow, and totally confused. I had never known the labs to play this rough! On my hands and knees, I lifted my head to look around carefully. That didn’t do much good…it was so dark, but I spotted something…I sensed the motion, and had already ducked before it nailed me. The hit wasn’t square on, so I was able to keep my balance.

“HEY!” I yelled again, scrambling to my feet. I heard laughing. I recognized my comrade’s voice. The flashlight beam came on, shining right into my eyes. I put my arm up as a shield, and, after a couple of seconds, he lowered it. He was still laughing as he asked, “You seem to be in one piece. Are you okay?”

“Besides feeling like a snowman, you mean?” I asked tightly. “And what was that all about? Why’d you knock me down?”

“Not guilty!” he said, still chuckling. “I guess the pit was giving you pay-back for his cage time. Plays pretty hard, doesn’t the little bugger? He heard the barking and came out of the car like a bullet, then disappeared over here. Next thing I know I see the flashlight go flying…with you right behind it!”

My heart leapt as I struggled to understand. Had I heard him right? “The pit? Bud, you mean?”

“Of course, Bud. Why?” When I didn’t answer, he directed the light onto my face again. I guess my eyes told him what I was feeling.

“Oh damn!” he swore softly.” When your son called, I should have told him Bud was with us. Without the cone, he had chewed all the bandage off his paw. We couldn’t get an appointment until late and even then we waited for a good while…” He stopped, then came to put his arm around my shoulders. Once again, the lump in my throat was keeping me silent. “Hey, sorry. You were thinking that we’d had him put down, weren’t you? I can imagine how upset you’ve been.” He tugged on me gently. “Let’s go in and get you warmed up.”

Later, sitting around the fire and sipping hot chocolate, the three of us planned how to improve the situation. Helen was happy I was staying on, more for her son’s sake than anything else, of course, but she insisted on her willingness to help however she could. It was decided that she would stop by and let the dogs out for a bit each day while I was at work. I would make arrangements with the office for shorter hours, so the dogs would get exercise in the evenings too. A tired pit is a happy pit. Adamant about no longer using the hateful cage, I asked my comrade to dismantle and take it with him.

Remembering the dog-lover lady’s suggestion, I rolled a newspaper up tightly, waited for Bud to make a move on one of the labs, then said his name, simultaneously striking the paper smartly on the table. It worked! Startled, he stopped, then slunk back to the couch, watching me from the corner of his eye. We toasted that small success, affectionately dubbing the flimsy discipline tool the “Budwhacker”.

When they left (the cage with them), I sat in the rocker, the labs by my feet, and the pit sleeping on the couch. I studied him, reflecting on the tumultuous events I had lived since Helen’s first call for help. I wasn’t kidding myself….the pit’s behaviour had not changed…but maybe with my new attitude, Helen’s help, and the ‘Budwhacker,’ we would have an easier time of it. I got up to prepare for bed. Bud, ever alert, lifted his head. Remembering my promise, I slowly put my hand out, let him sniff at it first, then rubbed the back of his neck just behind his newly installed cone. A similar touch would get an immediate tail-wag from the labs, but not the pit. He was still, then lowered his head between his paws when I removed my hand. A buzzing fly would get more reaction!

The next few weeks were relatively quiet, compared to what I’d already been through. The cone around Bud’s neck kept him from chewing anything, and he couldn’t really make his teasing of the labs count, although that didn’t stop him from trying. Helen letting them out to run around each day helped drain some of his excessive energy. The ‘Budwhacker’ was doing its job. Every time I needed to wield it to make him listen, he would cringe and move back to the couch. One night I forgot it on the rocker when I went to bed. The next morning, little pieces of newspaper covered the floor. Bud, his expression inscrutable, sat on the couch, his head high. He had destroyed his enemy. Smiling at his innocence, I picked up the Gazette and fashioned a successor, then slapped it down on the table to test it (well, okay…I admit I wanted to show the pit he had lost this round). Bud immediately lay down, his head between his paws, and his eyes averted.

Ah….victory was sweet! But short-lived.

(To be cont’d)

The sun is shining out there today, but if the Weather Network is right, we’re in for lots of snow this coming week. The Demons are back! Contrary to some, I like the little fellows, as long as they leave by the end of March. In the meantime, Canadian winters offer spectacular scenery out here in the bush. I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.

Have a nice weekend, friends. Mine hast been costly so far, but SMILES are free, so I’ll send you as many as you want!

Luv from the Bush in Quebec