I admit it. I am one of those people who become a roaring, excited, jumping fool when the NHL is blaring from the TV. It is, in fact, about the only time the set is turned on in my house.
Because of my work hours, I usually catch the first period of the weekday games on the car radio. Anyone stuck in traffic beside me on the auto route can probably hear the gleeful “Whoop-whoop-whoop!!!”, windows closed or not, when my team scores; or the heartfelt, loud, obnoxious swearing (in the typical Quebecois male fashion) if my team screws up. Hockey, and the love for it, turns me into a different person. It’s the Jekyll & Hyde syndrome. When the Canadiens win, I float around in pleasant euphoria until the next game. If they lose, I tend to be grumpy until the sting of defeat wears off.
Hockey has been part of my life for as long as I can remember. As a child I would strap on a pair of second-hand, 2-sizes-too-large boy’s skates (over many layers of socks) and join the lads on the bumpy river ice for a pick-up game. If there were not enough real hockey sticks to go around, we would fashion substitutes with broken tree branches, use a suitable piece of ice as a puck, and play until it was too dark to see.
In my teen years, I spent hours and hours shivering beside outdoor rinks or in arenas, cheering on boyfriends (or potential crushes) night after night during the long winter months.
In spite of being teased and/or frowned upon by the male population at the time, the first female hockey league in our area was instigated by myself and a couple of like-minded friends. Most of us were now young, married ladies and, at the beginning, I believe our husbands tolerated our activity only because they were afraid of what they wouldn’t ‘get’ if they didn’t, LOL!
I played in that league for 15 years, and still have close buddies who were first introduced through the various teams. I also have enemies; we did the full play, and fights did happen. Some ladies, unfortunately, couldn’t leave hard feelings on the ice.
I can remember one fight in particular, mostly because of the referee. He was an acquaintance of ours, and well aware of my husband’s renown jealousy. I was playing defense and had frustrated the scoring attempts of our opponents once too many, I guess, because their star winger took a swing at me with her stick. This resulted in the gloves coming off and a tussle. Of course we ignored the shrill, repeated whistles from the officials – it was too far gone for that. I finally managed to get her down and was on top of her, both of us still swinging the best we could. The ref is supposed to separate us once we hit the ice, and he made a couple of useless attempts to grab our arms before realizing that he would have to bodily pick me up to get me off her. He also knew that my husband was standing watching the game and, not wanting to get into trouble, turned and yelled frantically “Where am I supposed to grab her??” Hilarious!! He ended up yanking me off by pulling on my ankles while one of the linesmen held the other player down by her shoulders. That ref is now a business partner of mine, and we still laugh about the event whenever it comes up in conversation.
Canada’s Olympic teams, the men, but especially the women, did us proud this year. And if the girls celebrated a little too wildly for the taste of the stuffed shirts, too bad! The energy and heart that goes into such a fast paced game merits the reward of letting ‘it all hang out’ when you win. If I’d have been there, you can be sure I’d be right in the middle of it – and I doubt very much that I would apologize for it either.
Come to think of it, maybe that’s why the lady is one of those who look the other way whenever we meet, even after all this time. Oops.
My Canadiens won Thursday night, and I’m looking forward to watching them do the same tonight, so if my SMILE got any bigger it would become an outright giggle!! Sending it your way………..
Luv from the Bush in Quebec.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Saturday, March 6, 2010
WINDING DOWN THE WEEK
Another gorgeous day – the Dunany Demons have taken a leave of absence it seems, much to our delight. I’m not at all sorry that the phone woke me this morning at 5:45 AM, although I was slightly grumpy at the time. It isn’t my turn to be on call this weekend, but there was a transportation problem in our health care division, so my plans to sleep in were rudely interrupted. The problem has been resolved, I’ve had my coffee while reading Kilroy’s blog, and the sun is shining out there….how could anyone stay in bad humour?
This week was a busy period, with all of us putting in long hours, but yesterday’s agenda was the perfect way to wrap it up. First, it was Yoshiko’s birthday and, as we do for each employee, the staff took her out for lunch, then we allocated a few minutes in the afternoon to cut and share her birthday cake. There is an awesome pastry shop just down the street from our office. They make a wicked Black Forest cake, which was Yo’s choice for her celebration; one can actually FEEL the pounds piling onto the hips with each melt-in-the-mouth bite! AH…the perfect sin!
And it didn’t stop there. I was invited to Dawna & Malcolm’s house for supper, and managed to leave the office early enough to show up at a decent hour. A few glasses of red wine with cheese, a helping of delicious chicken cacciatore (I cleaned my plate), followed by creamy cheesecake with fresh strawberries and chocolate glaze…and thank Heaven for stretch jeans! (LOL - I wonder how many readers are heading for their fridge right now?)
Dawna is a long-time friend; we met during our first year of high school and shared the fun experience of those crazy adolescent years. We don’t get together often enough, but when it does happen, it is thoroughly enjoyable, and exactly what I needed to wind down. One can’t put a price on relaxing with friends, easy conversation, a tasty meal…the best description would be that it is the real ‘chicken soup for the soul’. Dawna & Malcolm gave me a healthy, and most welcome, dose of it last night.
Tomorrow Yoshiko and I are to go shopping at IKEA. It’s her long promised birthday present from the mom-in-law. Shopping is on my list of pet aversions, but I actually like this particular store, and it will be nice to spend some time with Yo outside the work area. Once again, it is something I don’t do often enough anymore…and I better not start on THAT list, LOL!
My mountain beckons; the weather is far too nice to sit in here, so off I go, folks. I’m sure many of you feel the same way. If you see a distinguished, elderly gentleman pedaling by on a vélo, it is probably Kilroy who has succumbed to temptation, so give him a huge, warm SMILE for me!
Hasta la proxima vez!
Luv from the Bush in Quebec.
This week was a busy period, with all of us putting in long hours, but yesterday’s agenda was the perfect way to wrap it up. First, it was Yoshiko’s birthday and, as we do for each employee, the staff took her out for lunch, then we allocated a few minutes in the afternoon to cut and share her birthday cake. There is an awesome pastry shop just down the street from our office. They make a wicked Black Forest cake, which was Yo’s choice for her celebration; one can actually FEEL the pounds piling onto the hips with each melt-in-the-mouth bite! AH…the perfect sin!
And it didn’t stop there. I was invited to Dawna & Malcolm’s house for supper, and managed to leave the office early enough to show up at a decent hour. A few glasses of red wine with cheese, a helping of delicious chicken cacciatore (I cleaned my plate), followed by creamy cheesecake with fresh strawberries and chocolate glaze…and thank Heaven for stretch jeans! (LOL - I wonder how many readers are heading for their fridge right now?)
Dawna is a long-time friend; we met during our first year of high school and shared the fun experience of those crazy adolescent years. We don’t get together often enough, but when it does happen, it is thoroughly enjoyable, and exactly what I needed to wind down. One can’t put a price on relaxing with friends, easy conversation, a tasty meal…the best description would be that it is the real ‘chicken soup for the soul’. Dawna & Malcolm gave me a healthy, and most welcome, dose of it last night.
Tomorrow Yoshiko and I are to go shopping at IKEA. It’s her long promised birthday present from the mom-in-law. Shopping is on my list of pet aversions, but I actually like this particular store, and it will be nice to spend some time with Yo outside the work area. Once again, it is something I don’t do often enough anymore…and I better not start on THAT list, LOL!
My mountain beckons; the weather is far too nice to sit in here, so off I go, folks. I’m sure many of you feel the same way. If you see a distinguished, elderly gentleman pedaling by on a vélo, it is probably Kilroy who has succumbed to temptation, so give him a huge, warm SMILE for me!
Hasta la proxima vez!
Luv from the Bush in Quebec.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
WANTING TO PLAY HOOKY
What a sight greeted my eyes when I lifted my head off my pillow this morning! There was a wide strip of deep, pinkish-red right across the sky, cushioning the tops of my tall, green fir trees. A wonderful view to start off a new day. I was smiling before my feet hit the floor. It’s also a dangerous thing…it brings thoughts of playing hooky to my mind. How nice it would be to stay around the house today and walk outside with the doggies; maybe take a few scoots down the hill on my toboggan; or polish off a bottle of red wine while the three of us dance around a fire outdoors!! Bud, the oldest pit, is actually a pretty good dancer – he goes round and round and round in one place, like a ballet dancer, and never loses his footing. Grump, the youngest one, is as awkward as his mistress. He bangs into everything, trips over his own feet, has no rhythm at all, but, again like his mistress, he doesn’t mind acting the fool and grins all the way through the ordeal, LOL!
That is not going to happen; at least, not today. Our healthcare part of the agency has opened up rapidly, and requires that everyone pitch in and helps. We spent the weekend contacting and booking nurses and aid workers; driving them back and forth to the job (one of the services we offer); signing contracts, giving out timesheets…all this while keeping one eye on the Canada/USA Olympic hockey game! And what a game it was, eh?? I very abruptly and rudely (sorry!) cut one of the employees off just as Crosby scored his goal. It was for her own good – I’m sure my screams of joy would have pierced her ears right through the telephone!
Anyway, as I was saying, there is no way to take a day off at the moment. I’ll have to settle for a walk outside after lunch, and the doggies will be sitting in the garage waiting patiently until I get home. Bah! Humbug!
I was looking for Kilroy’s blog this morning…not there?? He very kindly did some translation for me last week, but if it’s going to interfere with his writing, I’ll have to rethink asking for his help again, LOL. (A joke, my friend).
Now I’ve run out of time – so off I go to conquer the world. Have a good day, everyone. Get outside if you can – it’s sunny and beautiful and one can nearly hear the robins sing! I’m sure it will make you SMILE!!
Luv from the Bush in Quebec.
That is not going to happen; at least, not today. Our healthcare part of the agency has opened up rapidly, and requires that everyone pitch in and helps. We spent the weekend contacting and booking nurses and aid workers; driving them back and forth to the job (one of the services we offer); signing contracts, giving out timesheets…all this while keeping one eye on the Canada/USA Olympic hockey game! And what a game it was, eh?? I very abruptly and rudely (sorry!) cut one of the employees off just as Crosby scored his goal. It was for her own good – I’m sure my screams of joy would have pierced her ears right through the telephone!
Anyway, as I was saying, there is no way to take a day off at the moment. I’ll have to settle for a walk outside after lunch, and the doggies will be sitting in the garage waiting patiently until I get home. Bah! Humbug!
I was looking for Kilroy’s blog this morning…not there?? He very kindly did some translation for me last week, but if it’s going to interfere with his writing, I’ll have to rethink asking for his help again, LOL. (A joke, my friend).
Now I’ve run out of time – so off I go to conquer the world. Have a good day, everyone. Get outside if you can – it’s sunny and beautiful and one can nearly hear the robins sing! I’m sure it will make you SMILE!!
Luv from the Bush in Quebec.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
THE BUD SAGA - PART 20
Whoops - I thought this had posted this morning. Sorry about that!
I guess I don't have to tell anyone the result of the Olympic men's hockey game?? What fantastic fun to watch...especially since we ended up with the gold!
Now I'm going to check out the closing ceremonies!
Original post:
Last night I was sitting in front of my home computer reading about the huge earthquake in Chile, reflecting on being fortunate as to live here instead of there….and it happened. It sounded like a huge truck rolling inside the house. It couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds, but it seemed to go on and on. Not being used to that kind of thing, our first instinct is not to duck and run outside, but rather to sit and listen, wonder and wait.
I should have seen it coming – the dogs had been acting nervous, wanting outside, then immediately back in again. I suspected there were deer wandering around outside, and the last thing I imagined was an earthquake. It’s such a rare occurrence here, although I can remember the animals reacting the same way when we had earth tremors a couple of years back.
Hummm…interesting that it happened just when I was thinking about it. Maybe I should think about having a visit from Brad Pitt, or George Clooney….LOL!
What with the storm causing havoc with electric power (read: “the absence of”), the fascinating moments of the Olympics, and our working extra hours for the tax season, I have been unable to post for a couple of days. I’m on my way back to the office now, and want to get home in time to watch the Canada/USA hockey game for gold, so will post this chapter of my Bud Saga, and be on my way.
YOU WANT ME TO BABY-SIT WHAT??? - The End!
My friend had called on a Thursday night, which meant that I would have to take Monday off work if I was to keep my promise to pick him up. It was easier than I thought. My mood was not the best at the office on Friday. I was mentally counting off the days until doom – I’d be leaving the dogs and the bush. My boss remarked that I was oddly out of sorts, and asked me if I was feeling okay. Bingo!
“No,” I replied. “I think I’m coming down with something. There’s a flu going around.…” And so the stage was set. After all, it wasn’t a total lie. Maybe heartache wasn’t a valid reason for missing work, but I really didn’t feel okay.
The dogs and I spent the weekend roaming the bush, me nostalgic, them innocently gleeful for the time outdoors. The walks were only interrupted by the packing of my personal stuff that had accumulated during my stay. I had four boxes ready, and was slowly filling my backpack and the two suitcases, leaving them lying open on the floor upstairs, putting in clothes as I took them out of the dryer, or as I picked them up here and there around the house.
My mom, who had been a frequent weekend guest, called on Sunday night. I spent some time on the phone with her, but her attempts to comfort me failed. When we finally hung up, I realized that Bud had pulled his disappearing act again. I found him upstairs – surrounded by most of my clothes that he had dragged out of the cases onto the floor. Was he trying to tell me something? Nothing was chewed except one of my dollar-store slippers, which he still held between his paws when accosted. It was the one I’d been wearing when I’d booted his butt outside during our confrontation. Okay, I guess that’s understandable. Instead of getting on his case, I walked over, took it away, and hugged him. He was overjoyed with the cuddling....and probably now associated destroying a slipper with good behaviour. Well, it wouldn't be mine he’d be chewing in the future. My friend would just have to deal with it.
I called in sick on Monday, and was at the station when my friend arrived. He looked exhausted. He tried to make conversation during the drive to the house, but I could see it was an effort. I cut him off
“Hey, man,” I said quietly. “Just leave it. You’ll be home shortly….you can have a sleep….and we’ll chat later.” He visibly relaxed, and said nothing more until we pulled into the lane and stepped out of the car. Bud was in the window, looking out at us with his dead stare. My friend saw him, and stopped in his tracks.
”Maybe you had better go in first,” he said pensively. “Bud might not remember me.”
I couldn't help it – it was payback time. “Aw, go on. You’ll learn to love him again. Just give him a chance!” He caught my innuendo, and laughed, but still shoved me gently ahead of him when we opened the door. Bud came quickly to us, his eyes fixed all the while on my friend. There was no wag to his tail when he pushed past me to sniff at the newcomer. We waited. It took a minute, then the pit’s demeanour changed.
Don’t let anyone tell you that a dog has no memory. It’s NOT true. The gentle words, “Hey. Budinski....you miss me?” was like a shot of adrenaline for Bud! If you have ever seen an ecstatic dog, this was one! He was all over my friend, excitement in his every move. Ben and Beef, recognizing the master’s voice, had come running too, and pure bedlam followed. My friend let it go on for a few minutes, then he spoke.
“Enough. Quiet down, now.” He didn’t raise his voice. The dogs, even Bud, immediately went to lie down in their places. I stared at them, especially at the pit. In spite of us liking each other now, I still had to talk strongly to that darned mutt to get him to listen to me! And here he was, perfectly obedient!
“You little Sh*t!” It came out involuntarily. “How come you don’t listen to me like that?” Using my attention as an excuse to get up, Bud pranced over to me, fawning his apology. The hypocrite!
My friend stood smiling at our interaction for a moment, then turned to take his bags into his bedroom. Giving Bud a last insulted “Humph!” I pointed to the couch, and the little Sh*t actually did what he was told. I heard the shower come on, and I busied myself preparing a hot meal.
It was only later when we were installed by the fire, coffees in hand and the labs at our feet, that my friend asked me if I was in a hurry to return to the city.
“If you could stay on for a bit, I’d appreciate it,” he told me.
“How much of a bit are we talking about?” I asked. He held my gaze long enough to make me uncomfortable before answering.
“Maybe forever. I think that’d be good. If it’s okay with you.” What?? Speechless, I stared back at him. I guess my expression made him realize how blunt his words had been.
“Right. That didn’t come out so good. Look, I know we’ve tried this before, and it didn’t work out. But things have changed. I’d like to have another go at it.” Stunned, I sat and listened as he told me how long he had been thinking about this, how he could tell I already loved the place and the dogs, and how certain he was that I was the only person he would want around on a permanent basis, how he wanted me to stay. I was silent, my mind in turmoil, as I listened to his words.
My friend knew me well – it was time to leave me alone. He stood up, told me to take my time making my decision, then bent to kiss the top of my head before going to bed.
I’m really not sure how much longer I sat there motionless by the fire. I do know that at one point I got up, poured my cold coffee down the sink, and opened a beer. I can remember counting the cans to see if there were enough of them in the fridge to get me drunk. I’ve heard people suggest ‘sleeping on it’ when there is a decision to be made. Maybe, except I can’t sleep when my emotions are at their peak. I returned to the rocker.
My friend’s character was not run-of-the-mill. It takes a certain type of person to be able to do the work he did – and that type was not easy to live with. One minute he would be there, the next he would be gone, and no explanation would be forthcoming on his return. He had settled down for awhile, trying a normal routine, buying the house and the dogs, but obviously was back in the field or my ‘babysitting’ would not have been necessary. However, there was no question about his loyalty, or his charm. We were very close, even more so after the short period during which we had been intimate. That part of our relationship had ended by mutual agreement a couple of years ago, and I had moved to the city, only coming back for the occasional weekend stay. We would, however, speak on the phone nearly everyday. Ours was a typical case of ‘can’t live with you, can’t live without you’.
Suddenly the beer went flying out of my hand. I hadn’t heard Bud’s approach, so wasn’t prepared for him ramming his big head under my arm. He would do it often when wanting attention, and it never failed to catch me by surprise. I didn’t scold him this time. Instead I grabbed and hugged him close, burying my face in his warm neck. He twisted and licked at my ear. The labs, wanting in on the action, got up, vying for their share of petting. I gathered them around me, embracing each in turn. I don’t have to lose them…nor leave this place. I can stay if I want to.
Did I want to? Was I ready to change my life again? I knew I loved my friend, and that some of the time we would get along great. But when we didn’t, it would be hell. Both our attitudes would need more than a little change if it was to work, and I wasn’t sure either of us would be willing, or able, to accept the fact. I had heard of people staying together because of children, but because of dogs? The thought made me smile. I still hadn’t decided, but cuddling them had relaxed me, and had eased my mind enough so that I got up and headed for bed. I would try the ‘sleeping on it’.
I hadn’t been in bed long when I heard a creak on the stairs. Who was coming up here? I waited, watching the corner. He peeked around at me. Strange – he’s not done that before.
“Come here, Bud.” He wasn’t prancing as usual either, but came to me with his head down, his tail only wagging slightly. A picture of a dog in misery, definitely not the cocky pit. He licked my hand before getting as close to me as he could, then stood there quietly, his weight heavy against my arm, as I stroked him with the other hand.
Who knows what a dog is thinking? I could only deduce that his master coming home meant, for him, that I would be leaving, and he was doing his best to show me that he didn’t want me to go. Probably I used his actions as an excuse to make the decision that I had wanted to make all along.
I leaned over and kissed the top of his head, much as his master had done to me. “Okay, you win,” I whispered. “I’ll stick around. I’ll even stop calling you a little Sh*t. I like Budinski better. How’s that? You good with that?”
The lick on my ear told me he was. Emotions at peace, we both settled down for sleep. Tomorrow would start a new chapter in our lives, and we would face it together. Me and the ‘scary’ pit-bull.
The End
Epilogue
We’re still living in the bush, and wouldn't want to be anywhere else. Bud, though more mature, hasn’t lost his ‘in-you-face’ attitude, and continues to amaze visitors with his tenacity for chasing rocks or ice up and down the hill. Ben is still with us too, and we do our best to make things easier for him, because he can no longer move around like he once did. Our walks are shorter.
I lost my lovely old Beef three years ago, and cried for days after burying him beside the path we had strolled together.
There has been a new arrival – a young pit we called “Grumpy”, and this time I knew what kind of training was needed. The result? He is one of the sweetest and most unimposing dogs I have ever met. Obviously my perception of the breed has changed drastically, as does that of anyone meeting my dogs. Pit-bulls are like any other animal or child – they give back whatever they have been given, be it love, or be it anger. Vets, or any connoisseur of animals will agree - the master makes the dog.
To soothe my uncertainty that things would work out, my friend sold the house to me. It is now my own home. The basement has been renovated and contains his attractive, complete apartment, so we can share the house, and the dogs, but each has our own space. And we’re still the best of friends. Him – the dogs – and me.
***********************************************************************************
I should add a second epilogue. Ben died after this story was written, and is now buried beside Beef here on my land. And, as I mentioned in a former post, the star of this piece, my Bud, has been diagnosed with cancer. He is still holding up. He does sleep more, but enjoys the extra spoiling by his mistress. We’re taking it day by day.
Gotta run! Hoping your weekend is a good one, and sending you a huge SMILE!!
Luv from the Bush in Quebec.
I guess I don't have to tell anyone the result of the Olympic men's hockey game?? What fantastic fun to watch...especially since we ended up with the gold!
Now I'm going to check out the closing ceremonies!
Original post:
Last night I was sitting in front of my home computer reading about the huge earthquake in Chile, reflecting on being fortunate as to live here instead of there….and it happened. It sounded like a huge truck rolling inside the house. It couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds, but it seemed to go on and on. Not being used to that kind of thing, our first instinct is not to duck and run outside, but rather to sit and listen, wonder and wait.
I should have seen it coming – the dogs had been acting nervous, wanting outside, then immediately back in again. I suspected there were deer wandering around outside, and the last thing I imagined was an earthquake. It’s such a rare occurrence here, although I can remember the animals reacting the same way when we had earth tremors a couple of years back.
Hummm…interesting that it happened just when I was thinking about it. Maybe I should think about having a visit from Brad Pitt, or George Clooney….LOL!
What with the storm causing havoc with electric power (read: “the absence of”), the fascinating moments of the Olympics, and our working extra hours for the tax season, I have been unable to post for a couple of days. I’m on my way back to the office now, and want to get home in time to watch the Canada/USA hockey game for gold, so will post this chapter of my Bud Saga, and be on my way.
YOU WANT ME TO BABY-SIT WHAT??? - The End!
My friend had called on a Thursday night, which meant that I would have to take Monday off work if I was to keep my promise to pick him up. It was easier than I thought. My mood was not the best at the office on Friday. I was mentally counting off the days until doom – I’d be leaving the dogs and the bush. My boss remarked that I was oddly out of sorts, and asked me if I was feeling okay. Bingo!
“No,” I replied. “I think I’m coming down with something. There’s a flu going around.…” And so the stage was set. After all, it wasn’t a total lie. Maybe heartache wasn’t a valid reason for missing work, but I really didn’t feel okay.
The dogs and I spent the weekend roaming the bush, me nostalgic, them innocently gleeful for the time outdoors. The walks were only interrupted by the packing of my personal stuff that had accumulated during my stay. I had four boxes ready, and was slowly filling my backpack and the two suitcases, leaving them lying open on the floor upstairs, putting in clothes as I took them out of the dryer, or as I picked them up here and there around the house.
My mom, who had been a frequent weekend guest, called on Sunday night. I spent some time on the phone with her, but her attempts to comfort me failed. When we finally hung up, I realized that Bud had pulled his disappearing act again. I found him upstairs – surrounded by most of my clothes that he had dragged out of the cases onto the floor. Was he trying to tell me something? Nothing was chewed except one of my dollar-store slippers, which he still held between his paws when accosted. It was the one I’d been wearing when I’d booted his butt outside during our confrontation. Okay, I guess that’s understandable. Instead of getting on his case, I walked over, took it away, and hugged him. He was overjoyed with the cuddling....and probably now associated destroying a slipper with good behaviour. Well, it wouldn't be mine he’d be chewing in the future. My friend would just have to deal with it.
I called in sick on Monday, and was at the station when my friend arrived. He looked exhausted. He tried to make conversation during the drive to the house, but I could see it was an effort. I cut him off
“Hey, man,” I said quietly. “Just leave it. You’ll be home shortly….you can have a sleep….and we’ll chat later.” He visibly relaxed, and said nothing more until we pulled into the lane and stepped out of the car. Bud was in the window, looking out at us with his dead stare. My friend saw him, and stopped in his tracks.
”Maybe you had better go in first,” he said pensively. “Bud might not remember me.”
I couldn't help it – it was payback time. “Aw, go on. You’ll learn to love him again. Just give him a chance!” He caught my innuendo, and laughed, but still shoved me gently ahead of him when we opened the door. Bud came quickly to us, his eyes fixed all the while on my friend. There was no wag to his tail when he pushed past me to sniff at the newcomer. We waited. It took a minute, then the pit’s demeanour changed.
Don’t let anyone tell you that a dog has no memory. It’s NOT true. The gentle words, “Hey. Budinski....you miss me?” was like a shot of adrenaline for Bud! If you have ever seen an ecstatic dog, this was one! He was all over my friend, excitement in his every move. Ben and Beef, recognizing the master’s voice, had come running too, and pure bedlam followed. My friend let it go on for a few minutes, then he spoke.
“Enough. Quiet down, now.” He didn’t raise his voice. The dogs, even Bud, immediately went to lie down in their places. I stared at them, especially at the pit. In spite of us liking each other now, I still had to talk strongly to that darned mutt to get him to listen to me! And here he was, perfectly obedient!
“You little Sh*t!” It came out involuntarily. “How come you don’t listen to me like that?” Using my attention as an excuse to get up, Bud pranced over to me, fawning his apology. The hypocrite!
My friend stood smiling at our interaction for a moment, then turned to take his bags into his bedroom. Giving Bud a last insulted “Humph!” I pointed to the couch, and the little Sh*t actually did what he was told. I heard the shower come on, and I busied myself preparing a hot meal.
It was only later when we were installed by the fire, coffees in hand and the labs at our feet, that my friend asked me if I was in a hurry to return to the city.
“If you could stay on for a bit, I’d appreciate it,” he told me.
“How much of a bit are we talking about?” I asked. He held my gaze long enough to make me uncomfortable before answering.
“Maybe forever. I think that’d be good. If it’s okay with you.” What?? Speechless, I stared back at him. I guess my expression made him realize how blunt his words had been.
“Right. That didn’t come out so good. Look, I know we’ve tried this before, and it didn’t work out. But things have changed. I’d like to have another go at it.” Stunned, I sat and listened as he told me how long he had been thinking about this, how he could tell I already loved the place and the dogs, and how certain he was that I was the only person he would want around on a permanent basis, how he wanted me to stay. I was silent, my mind in turmoil, as I listened to his words.
My friend knew me well – it was time to leave me alone. He stood up, told me to take my time making my decision, then bent to kiss the top of my head before going to bed.
I’m really not sure how much longer I sat there motionless by the fire. I do know that at one point I got up, poured my cold coffee down the sink, and opened a beer. I can remember counting the cans to see if there were enough of them in the fridge to get me drunk. I’ve heard people suggest ‘sleeping on it’ when there is a decision to be made. Maybe, except I can’t sleep when my emotions are at their peak. I returned to the rocker.
My friend’s character was not run-of-the-mill. It takes a certain type of person to be able to do the work he did – and that type was not easy to live with. One minute he would be there, the next he would be gone, and no explanation would be forthcoming on his return. He had settled down for awhile, trying a normal routine, buying the house and the dogs, but obviously was back in the field or my ‘babysitting’ would not have been necessary. However, there was no question about his loyalty, or his charm. We were very close, even more so after the short period during which we had been intimate. That part of our relationship had ended by mutual agreement a couple of years ago, and I had moved to the city, only coming back for the occasional weekend stay. We would, however, speak on the phone nearly everyday. Ours was a typical case of ‘can’t live with you, can’t live without you’.
Suddenly the beer went flying out of my hand. I hadn’t heard Bud’s approach, so wasn’t prepared for him ramming his big head under my arm. He would do it often when wanting attention, and it never failed to catch me by surprise. I didn’t scold him this time. Instead I grabbed and hugged him close, burying my face in his warm neck. He twisted and licked at my ear. The labs, wanting in on the action, got up, vying for their share of petting. I gathered them around me, embracing each in turn. I don’t have to lose them…nor leave this place. I can stay if I want to.
Did I want to? Was I ready to change my life again? I knew I loved my friend, and that some of the time we would get along great. But when we didn’t, it would be hell. Both our attitudes would need more than a little change if it was to work, and I wasn’t sure either of us would be willing, or able, to accept the fact. I had heard of people staying together because of children, but because of dogs? The thought made me smile. I still hadn’t decided, but cuddling them had relaxed me, and had eased my mind enough so that I got up and headed for bed. I would try the ‘sleeping on it’.
I hadn’t been in bed long when I heard a creak on the stairs. Who was coming up here? I waited, watching the corner. He peeked around at me. Strange – he’s not done that before.
“Come here, Bud.” He wasn’t prancing as usual either, but came to me with his head down, his tail only wagging slightly. A picture of a dog in misery, definitely not the cocky pit. He licked my hand before getting as close to me as he could, then stood there quietly, his weight heavy against my arm, as I stroked him with the other hand.
Who knows what a dog is thinking? I could only deduce that his master coming home meant, for him, that I would be leaving, and he was doing his best to show me that he didn’t want me to go. Probably I used his actions as an excuse to make the decision that I had wanted to make all along.
I leaned over and kissed the top of his head, much as his master had done to me. “Okay, you win,” I whispered. “I’ll stick around. I’ll even stop calling you a little Sh*t. I like Budinski better. How’s that? You good with that?”
The lick on my ear told me he was. Emotions at peace, we both settled down for sleep. Tomorrow would start a new chapter in our lives, and we would face it together. Me and the ‘scary’ pit-bull.
The End
Epilogue
We’re still living in the bush, and wouldn't want to be anywhere else. Bud, though more mature, hasn’t lost his ‘in-you-face’ attitude, and continues to amaze visitors with his tenacity for chasing rocks or ice up and down the hill. Ben is still with us too, and we do our best to make things easier for him, because he can no longer move around like he once did. Our walks are shorter.
I lost my lovely old Beef three years ago, and cried for days after burying him beside the path we had strolled together.
There has been a new arrival – a young pit we called “Grumpy”, and this time I knew what kind of training was needed. The result? He is one of the sweetest and most unimposing dogs I have ever met. Obviously my perception of the breed has changed drastically, as does that of anyone meeting my dogs. Pit-bulls are like any other animal or child – they give back whatever they have been given, be it love, or be it anger. Vets, or any connoisseur of animals will agree - the master makes the dog.
To soothe my uncertainty that things would work out, my friend sold the house to me. It is now my own home. The basement has been renovated and contains his attractive, complete apartment, so we can share the house, and the dogs, but each has our own space. And we’re still the best of friends. Him – the dogs – and me.
***********************************************************************************
I should add a second epilogue. Ben died after this story was written, and is now buried beside Beef here on my land. And, as I mentioned in a former post, the star of this piece, my Bud, has been diagnosed with cancer. He is still holding up. He does sleep more, but enjoys the extra spoiling by his mistress. We’re taking it day by day.
Gotta run! Hoping your weekend is a good one, and sending you a huge SMILE!!
Luv from the Bush in Quebec.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
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
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
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
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
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
Sunday, February 21, 2010
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.
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.
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