THE BUD SAGA - PART 8

What about this beautiful weather, eh? In this area we’ve had a good dose of vitamin D for the past week. The demons must be visiting further south – wreaking havoc on our neighbours in the USA. Being only February, I have no doubt but that they will soon return in full force. In the meantime – on profite du beau temps!

I don’t know what is wrong, but I am no longer able to comment on Kilroy’s posts. It’s not the end of the world – I just send him an e-mail, but it is frustrating having to hop back and forth. I commented on someone else’s blog this morning, and it works. Why? Beats me. I’ve sent a message to the Blog-site support, but no word from them yet.

As usual, I’m on the run again this morning, so here’s the next chapter of the Bud Saga:

YOU WANT ME TO BABY-SIT WHAT??? - Round number one

I shifted the groceries to my other arm as I unlocked the door. The latch was no sooner freed than the dogs came bolting outside and down the steps, the pit in the lead. The bag went flying and I grabbed the gallery railing in an attempt to stay on my feet. I stood there in shock, hanging on, looking first towards the fleeing dogs, then down at the groceries. Most of them were now on the ground, with an egg carton half-in, half-out of the crumpled bag.

What in hell…?? I pushed the door wider. PHEW! The stink was excruciating! I pulled my scarf over mouth and nose as I tentatively stepped inside. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing - piles of pooh on the floor, and garbage strewn from one end of the room to the other. The metal container, now empty, was on its side, the top torn off, teeth marks evident all around its rim. The water pails had been upset, and the run off had formed miniature ponds, with paw prints tracking from those over the carpet and onto the couch. There were more prints originating from stepping in a puddle of discarded tomato sauce, and it appeared as if the used coffee filter had been grabbed and shaken, the sticky grains spread far and wide. And the smell!! My heart sank. It would take hours to clean up, and I was already tired after the day’s work. That damned dog!!!

It did take hours… at least three of them. It was cold outside, and the labs have webbed feet, so couldn’t be left outside too long. Neither had they eaten, and it was late. I glanced up and saw them standing patiently at the patio door. I went to let them in, and stared at the pit as he, with total nonchalance, walked over and climbed onto the couch.

“It was you, you little Sh*t!” He stared back at me. The labs, hearing my tone of voice, immediately lay down, eyes averted. I knew they were not to blame. I filled their bowls from the food bag and set them down. Ben and Beef, aware of my mood, waited to be invited, but the pit jumped off the couch and came running over as if nothing had happened. His rat tail was wagging briskly as he dug in. He thinks I’m here just to serve him!

In spite of the lateness of the hour, I decided to call Helen; I needed to know how to handle this. She wasn’t much help. The dogs had not been left alone very often, she told me, but had done no damage before my arrival. She warned me that the water heater and pipe room had no door so, in view of the way Bud was acting, I’d better not shut him in the basement.

“If he tears something up in there, it will be more trouble than just cleaning up”, she said. What? JUST cleaning up??? Then she added “He’s never acted like this before. Maybe that dog doesn’t like you.”

“Doesn’t like me, huh? Well, the feeling is mutual!” I definitely had to terminate this conversation. If not, every rude thing going through my mind at that moment would be said aloud.

The turmoil was not over. Bud had no sooner finished eating than he began to tease the labs. He pranced over to them, nipping, worrying, pulling at one cushion then the other, standing bull-like right in their faces and barking sharply….anything to get them going. Both labs tried ignoring him, then growling a warning, even snapping at him, but he persisted, dancing just out of reach when he felt they were getting too upset. At any other time I may have found his antics amusing. Tonight, as irritated and tired as I was, his games were just downright annoying. I lost count of how many times I told him to “Stop that!” or “Go lie down, you little Sh*t”. At first he didn’t even look at me when I spoke, then, as my voice got louder, he threw me a quick “Did I hear a noise?” glance, and continued the harassment. Finally I stood up and started towards him. Seeing me approach, he scooted around the couch, then peered at me from the opposite corner, staying well out of reach. I knew I’d never be able to catch him. Besides, what would I do if I did? I was still wary of confronting a pit-bull.

He stayed there until I went back to sit down, then immediately returned to bothering the labs. I gave up. Leaning back in the rocker, I closed my eyes, willing myself to block out the commotion. A chain, I thought. Tomorrow I would buy a chain and tie him to something whenever I would leave the house. Or maybe I could borrow a heated doghouse and he could live outside…forever!

I was already expecting some kind of a mess when I arrived at the house the next evening, the bag under my arm containing a slew of cleaning products and a new chain. I had taken care to put the garbage can out of reach, but obviously could not do the same with the water pails. Once again, the dogs scrambled past me as soon as I opened the door. The labs’ cushions had been demolished…there were small pieces of foam and shredded material everywhere and, of course, the inevitable pile of pooh. Surprisingly, the water pail was still standing, but this time the toilet paper roll had been ripped to bits, as was the towel and bathmat I had put by the tub. Then I noticed the couch. The whole side of it had been torn open, right down to the wooden supports, the material and wadding lying in clumps around it. I could feel the rage building up inside. This was no longer mere inconvenience. Replacing a couch would be expensive.

I strode over to the open door “Ben! Beef! You little Sh*t! Get back in here!” The labs came toward me, hesitantly but obediently. The pit was nowhere to be seen. “Bud! Come on, Bud! Food, food, food!” Still no sign of him. The labs were already inside. I slammed the door shut. Let him bloody freeze!

The cleaning was not so arduous as the night before – foam is easier to remove than tomato paste. The hour or so of work helped to dissipate my anger – slightly – but not my consternation over the couch. I found an old blanket and draped it to hide the damage. That dog was certainly going to be chained tomorrow! And where was he? I tried calling him again but there was no response. I was going to have to look for him.

Taking the labs with me, flashlight in hand, I trudged through snow for another hour, calling, whistling, calling again. Still no Bud. Finally, exhausted and worried, I turned to make our way back to the house. I didn’t see him until I climbed the steps. He was sitting by the door watching us. Relief vied with fury. Fists clenched, I took a deep breath, and slowly counted to ten. It was all I could do not to put my boot to his butt when he turned his back to follow the labs inside.

After gobbling his food, Bud trotted over to the labs who were stretched out by my feet near the fire. He was looking for trouble again, I just knew it! “Go lie down, you little Sh*t! You’ve done enough already!” It came out as a screech, and the pit stopped to face me. I pointed to the couch. “Get over there! GO LIE DOWN NOW!!!” The moment was tense as we held each other’s gaze, then he turned and headed in the direction I pointed. I slowly released my breath.

I should have known. There was no way Bud was going to allow me to think I had won this round. When he reached the couch, he turned to look at me, lifted his leg, and deliberately began to pee.

(To be cont’d)

Wishing you all a good day, and I’m sure just the sun alone is bringing a SMILE to your face. Don’t forget to share!

Luv from the Bush in Quebec