THE BUD SAGA - PART 17

In spite of this pesky cold, which seems to have taken residence in my body for ages now, I have slept well for the past three nights. Happy as a pig in mud, I am! Ask any insomniac how it feels to get a good, long sleep, and the answer will be the same. Glorious!! We don’t question it; we just thoroughly enjoy it when it happens.

I had a chance to stop in and see the bro, Bird, yesterday afternoon. Fran was there too, and we chatted for an hour or so. Bird was actually looking pretty good, in spite of his weight loss. Fran had attacked his ‘junk room’ (what a job that must have been!!), and his bedroom; now both places looked neat and tidy. That, alone, can make one feel better.

The guys fixed the water problem in no time at all yesterday, without cost involved, so that was a bonus. It did, however, put off the laundry duties until today. I also have some office work to catch up on, so will be heading to the city shortly. I don’t want to get back home too late, so will leave you with the next chapter of the Bud Saga, and be on my way.

YOU WANT ME TO BABY-SIT WHAT??? - the referee stint

It was a Saturday morning when Bud’s cone was removed. The vet proclaimed his paw to be nicely healed, and we headed back to the house, Bud chained securely to the safety belt in the back seat of the car. The smell didn’t shock me this time. I was expecting it, so had prepared with blanket, a plastic sheet, and newspaper. I also had the ‘Budwhacker’ riding shotgun. I pulled over and the pit stayed out of the way while I cleaned up, stuffing everything in a plastic bag. He ignored my repeated “Bad dog!” until I accompanied one of them with a smack on the seat. He immediately lay down, pretending he would behave. Like that will fool me, you little Sh*t?

It was a beautiful day, spring tantalizing us with her subsequent arrival, and the dogs and I had been outside for two or more hours. I was using a spade to make drains for the melting snow, the labs were nosing around in the garden, and Bud was busy digging stones out of the ground.

I really don’t know what happened – I imagine that Ben picked up a stone that Bud was wanting. Suddenly they were fighting! Ben was a meaner opponent than the complacent Beef but, once again, the pit didn't back down. My yelling at them to stop fell on deaf ears. We were too far from the water pails, so I took the only option available. I started swinging at them with the shovel, keeping at arm’s length to avoid danger, and screaming their names to STOP!

They each took a couple of good whacks before breaking it off. Still hollering at the top of my lungs, I brandished the tool first at one, then at the other to make them back away and stay apart. I pointed to the house and Ben, the heat of the battle over, obediently limped in that direction. The pit just moved further down the garden, then sat to lick his wounds, shaking his head briskly every other minute.

Upset and trembling, I followed Ben inside and assessed his condition. He had a cut under his eye, and his leg was torn open just above his back left paw. I brushed the mud from his shoulder, checking to see if I’d damaged him with the shovel, but I couldn’t tell. I called the vet, put Ben in the car, then went to check Bud. He wouldn’t let me come near, but I finally coaxed him into the house. He had difficulty climbing the gallery stairs, though I could see nothing on his legs. His ear was torn and bleeding, but not profusely. After lapping up some water from the pail, he hopped up onto the couch and lay down, panting heavily. I didn’t want to risk taking them both in the car at the same time. It would be a relay visit, I decided, and Ben would go first.

How do you explain to a professional animal caregiver that you can’t keep your dogs from fighting? I sure in hell don’t know, so I bluffed it. A bone, I said….I think a dumb neighbour threw them a bone, and they got into it. I didn’t tell her I had stopped it with the shovel because, thankfully, she didn’t ask.

Ben’s leg needed stitches, the eye wound was superficial, and the x-ray showed nothing on his shoulder other than bruising. The worst damage was done to my friend’s running bill, which was starting to add up significantly. Maybe my babysitting services were going to cost him more than he’d bargained for!

When we got back, the pit was showing no further sign of injury, other than the slit in his ear, and that was not dangerous. Good, I don’t have to go back there! This time it was with Ben’s food I mixed the medication. I watched them both closely, but it was routine as usual. Neither of them showed a grudge…it was like nothing had ever happened.

The next day Bud wouldn’t get off the couch, even for food. He could hardly stand up. The vet did ‘emergency only’ on Sundays, so I doled out aspirins and waited until early Monday morning. Calling the office to warn them of my absence, I threw a blanket over the pit and, slightly apprehensive, picked him up to carry him to the car. He didn’t protest. In fact, his being so quiet is what freaked me out. This was not good.

After the examination, a young male vet gave me the prognosis. It was infection, and needed to be treated not only with medication in pill form, but also with an antibiotic ointment, which was to be rubbed on the wound.

“What wound?” I asked. I had checked Bud’s legs, but hadn’t found any. I can still see that young man’s face, his mouth working like he had an itchy nose but was too courteous to scratch.

“Uhm…here.” And he put his hand up between the pit’s back legs. I looked at him in stunned disbelief.

“You gotta be kidding!” I gasped. His mouth was working faster than ever. The bugger was trying to keep from laughing aloud!!

“He has been bit on the penis, and now it’s infected,” he said. “Uhm…you need to treat the wound with this ointment twice a day.”

I looked from him to the dog, then back again. I was aghast, and I’m sure the distaste showed on my face. The vet's expression turned serious.

“It has to be done. If not, the infection will progress, and it could severely damage the dog.” He lifted Bud off the stainless table, then turned to hand me the tube of ointment, not daring to look me in the face. I stared at him, but any comment running through my mind at that moment was kept to myself. I was far too polite to tell the young man where to go, and what to do when he got there.

I’ll gloss over this part of the story, except to say that I did stop at the pharmacy before leaving town and bought some rubber gloves. If it’s unpleasant, you bite the bullet and get it done. By the third day, all I had to do was tap the pit on his hind quarters with my finger and say “Bud, assume position!” He would quite willingly turn his back and stand quietly until the procedure was completed. And, I swear, that damned dog would turn and grin at me before walking away!

I received a rare phone call from my friend during the week. After listening to my complaints about the pit, midway through which he said “It seems you just love to hate Bud!”, he got a real kick when I told him about the treatment. I think I made his day. He was still laughing as he hung up the phone.

Spring had arrived. I bought and installed a doghouse, so most days I could leave Bud tied outside to a long chain while I was away. He didn’t like it much, but was able to move around, and with the warmer weather, the dogs and I spent more time outdoors in the evenings.

Although not best friends, and I still had the impression that Bud regarded me as his caretaker only, we managed to co-exist without too much fuss. He was reasonably obedient, but didn’t lose that ‘in-you-face’ attitude. I watched him carefully with the labs, and would step in with the ‘Budwhacker’ whenever the play got too intense. The last thing I wanted was another dogfight.

But the next attack would not be directed towards the labs. The pit still considered himself to be head dog, and I was the only member of the pack to constantly challenge his authority. His next target would be me.

(To be cont’d)

I don’t know what your weather is like right now, but the Demons are dancing here. Snow has been falling for a few hours now – just small flakes – but already the ground is covered with a fresh, new blanket. One can barely see my mountain through the haze. Winter is back, and I’m wondering if I should do the trek to the office or not. Even if the traffic is lighter, the road conditions will surely make everything slower. I’ll have to think on this one.

In the meantime, sending you wishes for a happy day, a big SMILE, and reminding you to spread it around. Catch you tomorrow!

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.