THE BUD SAGA - PART 18

I’m sure it has happened to each of us at one time or another; be it in a crowded theatre during a show, standing in the line at the bank, in a church or funeral home…. or anywhere you are attempting to be quiet and dignified. Someone (usually whoever is with you) says or does something that strikes your funny bone, and you start to laugh, or in my case, giggle. Then you can’t stop. No matter how hard you try to come back to serious, or how many people turn around to stare at you, the sounds bubble up and out, and keep coming. Hiding your face, closing your eyes, trying to think of something else, holding your breath to subdue the noise…nothing works. You’ll probably end up snorting and, clutching your stomach and, at a certain age, you may have to tightly cross your legs too!
And what a blissful feeling, both physical and mental, when you finally come back to earth. Nothing beats a good fit of laughing!

There were at least twenty of us crowded into the doctor’s waiting room. It was a hodgepodge of ages and nationalities, as is often the case for busy specialists who are located downtown in the city. Some of us were flipping through month-old magazines; some seemed to be dozing; others just sat patiently – and all of us, no doubt, wishing we could be somewhere else. Beside me was an elderly couple chatting quietly in Italian. Even without hearing the words, and at the risk of generalizing, anyone could have recognized their culture. Both were short, well endowed, and typically dressed; he somewhat flashy in shirt, pants and polished dark shoes, her wearing the longish black dress with a cardigan the same colour, black stockings and shoes, thick hair streaked with grey wrapped up in a bun, and those long, manicured, bright fingernails.

I can’t speak their language, so don’t know what he said to her. She started to laugh…and couldn’t stop. She did her best to conceal it, but no one could ignore it. Tears began streaming down her face, she was bent over nearly double, attempting to hide behind her hand, then behind the magazine she was holding. Her shoulders were jiggling, and she would gasp for air, manage to stop for a second, take one glance at him, and away she’s go again. He was asking her “What? What did I say?”, but it was evident she couldn’t answer him. He looked at me, shrugging his shoulders, lifting his hands in a gesture of helplessness, by now a grin splitting his face too. Her mirth was contagious. More than one person looked over and smiled. Some of us, me included, started to laugh out loud with her. When she finally staggered to her feet, a handkerchief dabbing at her eyes and mumbling about finding bathroom, more than one of us were fumbling in a pocket looking for tissue. I loved every minute of it!

I apologize for not posting yesterday – I just couldn’t find the time. Kilroy doesn’t like being left in the lurch, I know, so here’s the next chapter of my Bud Saga.

YOU WANT ME TO BABY-SIT WHAT??? – The challenge

High season at the office thwarted my good intentions to shorten work hours and spend more time exercising the dogs. From mid-March right through April, each employee was required to do overtime. Tax season was always busy. It didn’t help that the company was attempting to cut costs by hiring less staff, and to increase profits by acquiring more clients. Those of us in permanent positions paid the price.

There was also the extra time consumed by commuting to and from the city which, on any given day, could increase from one hour to three. Rush hour was to be avoided if at all possible, but lately it seemed that it started much earlier, and just never seemed to end.

Then there was the constant rain. Spring had teased us for a couple of weeks, only to disappoint us with day after day of sunless, grey skies and chill, damp weather. Even the dogs, when put out alone, would be right back at the patio door, dripping wet, barking to come in. There were often thunder storms. The labs would cringe with each roll, trembling and huddling as close as they could to my feet. I’m sure they would have crawled up onto my knees if they’d been allowed, they were that frightened. Bud, on the other hand, became hyper-active. He raced around continually, jumping over furniture, always into something, driving both myself and the labs to distraction.

Boredom, the lack of exercise, the weather and work fatigue, and probably the electricity in the air, plus the pit’s determination to assert his head dog status – it all contributed to high stress levels in each of us. Looking back, I can see how our confrontation was inevitable.

The cracks of lightning and the drum of thunder echoed loudly in the mountain bush that night. It was already late when I got back from the city, tired and hungry and uptight, only to find that hydro had once again went off. There would be no hot meal or warm bath to soothe the day’s hectic activity. The dogs were high strung, the labs right behind me with every step, so that I couldn’t turn around without nearly tripping on one or the other of them. The pit was bouncing around, harassing the already nervous labs, or grabbing whatever was at eye level - cushions, dishtowels, anything, then running like mad with it through the house. His size and strength were such that, whenever he hit or sideswiped some object, it would go flying. My scoldings, and even threats with the ‘Budwhacker’, were having little success in calming him down. I was at my wit’s end, and had counted to ten so many times it was beginning to sound like a chant.

Bud got on Ben’s case big time. When the snarling started to get serious, I interfered, ‘Budwhacker’ in hand. I hollered at both of them to GO LIE DOWN! Ben immediately slipped off to the corner to flop onto the floor, and Beef, although not involved, did the same. The pit paid no attention at all. He didn’t even look at me. He went after Ben again. When I yelled a second time, he bounded away and up over the couch, then, in a flash, jumped back over it again, heading full pin for Beef this time. I’d had it!

“STOP! NOW!” I bellowed, and went after him, wielding the ‘Budwacker’ like an axe in the air. He turned towards me, stood his ground solidly, the bull-stance before the crouch. His lips went back over his teeth, and he began to growl…..a low rumbling that increased in volume in sheer seconds. Taken aback, I stopped, gaping at him. He was serious, and we both knew it. That dead stare met mine, the challenge heavy in the air. At that precise moment, it was do or die.

(To be cont’d)

Gotta go – the demons have done their trick, and the traffic will be slow this morning. Have a good day, y’all! Wear that SMILE, and if you get a chance to laugh your head off, don’t miss it!

Luv from the bush in Quebec