THE BUD SAGA - PART 19

Beautiful! As much as snow is an inconvenience for many, when one is standing at my window this morning looking out at my mountain, the demons can be forgiven. The scene is awesome. Of course, it would be even more so is one could stay inside and admire it all day…which is not the case. It’s out to brave the traffic we go, some of us having to shovel and clean the car before attempting to ram through the banks the plough left right in the driveway entrance. The joys of winter are slightly tempered by the extra effort needed to get to where we need to be, LOL! Gotta love Canadian winters!!

We have finally had a breakthrough in the Healthcare market. Yesterday we scheduled the first of our nurses. Because much care is used when screening our candidates, the inevitable result is that their work is appreciated, and that means being called back, which is exactly what happened. We received 5 more requests before the end of the day. The ball is rolling.

I need to be on my way, so here is the next chapter in the Bud Saga.

YOU WANT ME TO BABY-SIT WHAT??? – Leader of the Pack

I can’t even describe how I felt exactly. Many emotions went jet-streaming through my body. Astonishment? For a heartbeat. Fear? Certainly. But the predominant wave that washed over me was insult, immediately replaced by anger. An overwhelming, white, cold, very still, very dangerous type of anger. How DARE he?!!! Then I lost it.

It started out softly “You little SHIT!!” but the last word came out a high pitched roar! I’m sure he was as surprised as I was when I attacked him And I do mean attack!

It happened so fast….one moment I was standing there, the next I was on him, the ‘Budwacker’ swinging into his face. He snarled and lashed out at it, catching it in his powerful jaws, but he’d reacted too late. My other hand was already wrapped around his choker collar, and I pulled up hard! With strength I didn’t even know I possessed, I lifted him so high that his feet were off the floor. I was still smacking him wildly about the head with the torn residue of newspaper, each slap accompanied by a screeched ‘How DARE you?!’ He turned and twisted, struggling to get his head back around, trying to escape, until the snarling gave way to gasps for air. I kept him up and away from me, then half-carried, half-dragged him to the patio door. In spite of his choking, he fought me every step of the way. Hauling him off the floor again, I violently shoved the sliding door open and threw him outside, landing him a swift kick on the butt to help him along. I was wearing those dollar-store slippers, so the action hurt me more than it did him, and I was limping when I went to sit down on the couch after slamming the door closed. I was swearing loudly, shouting through the glass at him, releasing all the pent-up frustration of having endured his attitude for those many weeks. The labs, totally awed by such a scene, cowered as if to sink out of sight.

Shaking from both anger and the exertion, I stood up, limped around the room, sat down, over and over again, constantly giving him a piece of my mind. He stayed sitting outside the door, watching me, the rain pouring down on him, thunder and lightning playing out behind him. And he was going to stay there. No way was he coming back in the house!

It took me at least two hours to control my emotions. The pit had not moved, and I could see he was trembling. His short fur was poor protection against the cold, wet rain, and I suspected that the force of the storm, and it was a bad one, was scaring him, but I didn’t care. Like a petulant child, I sat on his couch, knowing that he could see me there. Every now and then I would look out at him and give him the finger….the universal ‘bird’ sign….and taunt him that he wasn’t so smart now, huh? And a few other choice phrases that I won’t put into print. I made a point of caressing the labs and telling them they were good dogs, knowing that Bud was still watching. All very churlish, I know, and if anyone could have seen my antics, shadowy in the candlelight, they may have found it somewhat disturbing.

I finally relented when he started to whine, then began those short, single yelps he had used in the cage. I made him wait a little longer, letting him watch as I rolled up ‘Budwacker the Third’. I had it in my hand when I slid the door open, and motioned him inside. He entered slowly, his head down, and his tail between his legs….nearly. Keeping me in view, he trotted over to the couch, but didn’t jump up. Instead, he turned to look at me, waiting. Whoa, what’s this? He’s asking permission?

He was soaking wet, but I had a point to prove, both to Bud and to myself. “Get up there and lie down. Now!” He obeyed immediately, and lay there quietly for the rest of the evening, licking the water from his fur, glancing at me warily every time I moved. I ignored him, determined that he know I was serious. There could only be one master in this house.

I was exhausted when I crawled into bed, and expected to fall to sleep immediately. Instead, memories came unbidden to keep me awake. I was a child on the farm, and had received a ‘lickin’ from my grandmother for something I had done. Each time that it happened (all of them well-deserved….I was a brat), my grandmother would come to my bedroom when the house was quiet. She would sit beside me and explain why the punishment had been meted, then hug me and assure me that she still loved me, that now we had turned the page, that everything was okay.

I don’t believe in coincidence – there was a reason for suddenly remembering this particular scene. I reluctantly got out of bed and went downstairs. I could hardly see in the dark, but knew Bud was watching my approach. I walked over to the couch and sat beside him, then reached casually out to fondle his ears. I talked to him softly, repeating the same words I had been told so many years ago, all the time stroking him gently. He sighed audibly, then lowered his head, his nose touching my knee. I leaned back into the sofa cushions. This was good.

For the first time, there was no revenge pooh on the floor the next morning. I awoke, stiff from having fallen to sleep half sitting, half-lying, on the couch. Bud was curled up beside me, his head warm on my hip. When I moved, he looked up at me and yawned. I had to smile; his expression reminded me so much of a groggy child.

In a perfect world, Bud and I would now be insta-friends, there would be no more contest between us, and no further use for the ‘Budwacker’. But Bud was his own dog, and although both our attitudes had changed enough to make a lot of progress, it didn’t happen overnight. It took a lot of work. The website had said obedience training was a “must” for pits, and it was true. However, I could tell that I was no longer just the babysitter….there was an element of respect there now. Although he would never be as obedient and as compliant as the labs, he at least paid attention and, most of the time, would go along with what I wanted. Happily, the revenge poohs became a thing of the past.

On my part, I began to see his qualities, which far outnumbered his faults. When I started to show him love, he returned it with everything in his huge heart. The night after our episode, at my request, he came to join the labs and myself by the fire. He stood leaning against me with all his weight as I scratched behind his ears, then offered me his thanks with a lick on the hand. Then, being Bud, he forced his way in closer, pushing Beef aside. He had to be nearer to me than the other dogs….the prime spot would now be his.

From that night on, he would greet my arrival by grabbing a mat (any mat!) and shaking it, while prancing around like a trotter. It was his way of saying he was happy to see me. When we took our walks, he would follow along with us for a little while, then return to doing his own thing, chasing stones up and down the hill, keeping an eye on our whereabouts so that he could join us when he felt like it.

Since the ‘intruder’ event (who, by the way, never dared come back!), Bud had not shown aggressive behaviour to anyone else. He didn’t have to. Most people, whether they knew him or not, would stay in the car and honk the horn for me to come outside before opening the car door. Just the sight of him, with that dead stare, was imposing enough. However, once visitors met him, they would admire his tenacity, and be amused by his antics with the stones and his energetic play. Because I was not going out in the city hardly at all anymore, friends and family would often come to spend the weekend – what’s better than escaping to the country during the balmy summer days? Many evenings were spent outside around a campfire, and the dogs enjoyed it as much as we humans did.

The months went by. My friend would call whenever he got the chance, and I would update him on his beloved dogs, and the developing closeness with his mother, Helen. He still did not have a definite date for his arrival, so was comforted to hear that I had settled in, things were going well, and that Bud and I were finally friends. There were subtle insinuations of ‘I told you so’ in his comments, although he never dared to come right out and say it.

The crisp fall weather had arrived, and we were back to me rocking in front of the fire, this time surrounded by three dogs instead of just two. Bud had forsaken his couch, preferring instead to sit leaning against me or with his head heavy on my feet. Some nights I would turn up the CD of Ozzy or AC/DC, and the four of us would dance around the room. The dogs loved it! I rarely watched television, but when I did, Bud would stretch out on the couch with me, with Ben on the floor right under us, and the comical Beef sitting his butt on the edge of the sofa, much as a person would do. It was a warm and peaceful existence. We were a family now, and each of us flourished within it.

It was the third month of winter when my friend phoned to say he was coming back. He would arrive in four days, and asked me if I could pick him up at the station.

“Of course! This is great! I’ll be there!” I hung up and turned to the dogs. “Your master’s coming home! Hey, guys, he’s coming home!” They caught the excitement in my voice and started to jump around me, tails wagging. Bud grabbed up a mat and shook it wildly. It was celebration time. Or was it? My friend’s arrival would mean my moving back to the city.

I sat down as realization hit me hard. I had come to regard this place as my home. I felt as if the trees, the rolling mountain, even the muddy garden were part of me now. And the dogs….

My heart caught in my throat. The thought of leaving them was almost too much to bear. I looked at them - Big Beef, the way he thanked me after eating by rubbing his huge head against me like a cat, his amusing position when he’d sit his butt on the couch, and his barking and hopping up and down, front legs stiff, as he encouraged Ben to find the stick in games of ‘Fetch’. Then Ben, the most obedient and intelligent dog I have ever known – he who should have worked with the police, because he was so quick to grasp what was wanted, and could find anything – he who noticed and would bark at anything new, be it a person, or an object moved from it’s usual place in the yard to another location. And Bud – especially Bud. As much as I had hated him, I now loved him dearly. Not coming home to him each night was unthinkable.

Sensing that something was not right, the labs came to me, shoving their heads under my hands, offering their comfort. Noticing their actions, Bud dropped his mat, pranced over to us, and rammed his head under my arm, clamouring for attention. I tried to hug them all to me at the same time, burying my face in the fur of first one, then the other. It didn’t dry my tears, nor change the facts. This was not my home, and we would no longer be a family. We had four days, then I would be leaving. It was breaking my heart.

I took a deep breath. Okay – unpleasant – bite the bullet. I needed to prepare for my friend’s arrival, and for my departure, both physically (it was unbelievable how much stuff one can gather in few months….there’d be a lot of packing to do) and even more so, emotionally. I hugged the dogs to me again. This is not going to be easy

But fickle Lady Fate was at it again, and even as I struggled to stabilize my emotions, events were taking place that would send them hurtling through the roof.

(To be cont’d)

Yep, there’s more, but we’re nearing the end of this story. Looks like I’ll have to hunt around for something else to write about, LOL.

Have a good day, folks. Whether you like the snow or not, try not to think of its inconvenience. Instead, take the time to look around and admire at least its beauty; it will surely make you SMILE.

Luv from the Bush in Quebec