Another gorgeous day. The past week, with all its balmy temperatures and bright sunshine, has spoiled us. It is hinting at spring - and will make it difficult to revert back to the winter’s real face when it returns, because that WILL happen. Be aware - the demons are just fooling with us. In the meantime, one can’t help but enjoy the present weather. It’s a nice interlude.
It is also the time of year when people in the accounting profession are very involved in work. Other than to tell you that Bud seems to be in great shape and is showing no signs of getting worse, my only subject of conversation is all about the office – a most boring subject unless you are part of it. I will be working from home today. Hopefully, without the many distractions and interruptions, I can complete a set of financial statements that are long overdue.
In the meantime, because of my lack of stimulating conversation, I’ll make up for it with the next chapter of the Bud Saga.
YOU WANT ME TO BABY-SIT WHAT??? - A Solution
The only word I can use to describe how I felt when Bud peed on the couch is flabbergasted. His whole attitude was total insolence!
“You little…why you little…” I sputtered! I jumped out of my chair and he took off around the couch, staying just far enough away to be out of reach. He knew too that I couldn’t catch him. He was taunting me, as he did with the labs. Okay, breathe through you nose…count to ten…
Still counting, I pulled out the rug shampoo, donned gloves and cleaned up with wet rags and paper towels. The dogs watched in silence. I was seething, and they all felt it. Only when I returned to the rocker did the pit saunter over and climb up onto the couch, keeping an eye on me all the while. Right then I didn’t want him in my sight, so I turned away and started to rock. One of the labs sighed before putting his head down between his paws…relieved that the storm was abating?
The next morning I tied Bud outside as usual. This time, however, I kept hold of him when I brought him in. Knowing that it was dangerous to leave a dog attached with a choker while unattended, I linked the new chain to his second collar, one made of stout leather. The other end of the chain was looped and fastened around three thick, wooden stair rails. I had moved everything out of his reach except a pail of water and a couple of pieces of newspaper. Hopefully he would use them for his dump, but I wasn’t counting on it. Still, the little Sh*t was restricted to a small area. His revenge pooh and water would be the only mess to clean up tonight.
One should never underestimate a pit-bull.
When I unlocked the door that evening, no dogs came racing past me. Apprehensive, I entered the house. Ben and Beef, fearing reprisal, were cringing by the rocker. The pit was sitting in the middle of the floor, tongue lolling, surrounded by splinters of mangled wood, and without his leather collar. He was looking at me calmly. Incredulous, I saw that only one of the railings had survived, and the collar was still hanging off the chain, but torn in two. The corners of the four first steps were missing. They had been chewed through the carpet and into the wood itself. What stopped my heart was the sight of my friend’s thousand dollar boom box. The speakers were ripped in half, and the side of the box was in pieces. It was ruined. Because I had thought Bud unable to roam, the garbage can, still without its lid, had not been put away. There hadn’t been much in it, and compared to the rest, that mess was minimal.
None of the dogs moved an inch during my survey. I turned to the labs. They looked as devastated as I felt, and they were such good dogs. “Come here, guys. Out.” I spoke softly. They got up, tails wagging gratefully, and came towards the door. The pit trotted over and joined them. Forcing self control, I took hold of his choker, then, once outside, quickly snapped him to the gallery chain. There would be no hour-long search tonight. And if you hang yourself off there, too damned bad!
I closed the door and buried my face in my hands. This couldn’t go on! I wasn’t sure I would be sane at the end of the week, let alone a second one! I didn’t even want to imagine what the house would look like by then. Well, not much you can do about it tonight.
When the cleanup was finished, I let the dogs in and fed them. Bud went into his routine of harassing the labs, laying off only when I yelled at him, and then only for a few minutes before starting again. The growling, the snarls, the barking…it was becoming background noise. I was lamenting this fact over the phone to a comrade who had called to see how I was doing. He knew what was going on, as did most of my work colleagues.
It had become the story of the hour in the lunchroom. Those who didn’t hear it there would stop into my office during the day to get the latest episode of the “Bud Saga”. Unfortunately, they also regaled me with their own frightening tales of pit-bulls, most of it hearsay, which didn’t help my situation at all. Only one woman, a dedicated dog-lover, offered a different view. She told me how her dad had rescued a mistreated pit from its cruel master. “My dad treated it with love, and swears it’s now the best dog he’s ever had. Remember, it’s the master who makes the dog.”
“Not in this case,” I answered. “My friend is a dog person, like your dad, but this pit is a real terror!”
She smiled knowingly. “But now your friend is not there. You have become the master."
Right. Except the pit doesn’t know that. And I didn’t even like the dog, let alone show him love. I couldn’t remember petting him once since I’d met him. I preferred my hands attached to my arms.
Now the guy on the phone was giving similar advice with a different twist. “Pits have to know you’re the boss, and it takes them awhile…or a two by four. They’re awfully hard-headed.” One of his ex-girlfriends had owned one, and it had not been a good experience. This guy wasn’t a pit-bull fan.
“But what am I going to do?” I wailed. “He’s tearing down the house! And I can’t stay here and watch him all day. I have to work.”
“That’s why I called,” he answered. “I’ve got a cage big enough for him. You can borrow it if you want. That way he won’t be loose in the house.”
Yes! Finally a solution!
I made plans to meet him and pick up the cage the following night. Hanging up the phone, I yelled at the pit who was still bugging a growling Ben. “Go lie down!” He looked at me, and waited. Were we going to play chase again?
“Ben. Beef. Come, guys.” I headed for my rocker and the labs followed. Somehow I knew that the pit would leave them alone as long as they were lying by me. I was right. Realizing that his quarry was gone, Bud resigned himself to his habitual place on the couch. He sat watching us. I stared back at him.
“You, my little Sh*t, are going to be caged!” I sneered. “No more games for you!!” No reaction. Not even an ear twitched. He sat there panting, his gaze steady.
Suddenly I was filled with trepidation. Maybe a cage was the answer, but how was I ever going to get him into it? He wasn’t going to like the thing, that was certain. The thought that followed was even more worrisome. How will he react when I let him out?
I glanced back at him. Anything I would do that was not to his liking I was sure to pay for. This cage idea, necessity or not, was going to cost me. What I didn’t realize at the time was that Bud would pay the cost too. We were about to learn a lesson, and not without pain.
(To be cont’d)
Now I’ll get back to work, but not before wishing you all a great day, and sending you a SMILE, hoping you’ll send it on!
Luv from the Bush in Quebec.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Thursday, February 11, 2010
THE BUD SAGA - PART 8
What about this beautiful weather, eh? In this area we’ve had a good dose of vitamin D for the past week. The demons must be visiting further south – wreaking havoc on our neighbours in the USA. Being only February, I have no doubt but that they will soon return in full force. In the meantime – on profite du beau temps!
I don’t know what is wrong, but I am no longer able to comment on Kilroy’s posts. It’s not the end of the world – I just send him an e-mail, but it is frustrating having to hop back and forth. I commented on someone else’s blog this morning, and it works. Why? Beats me. I’ve sent a message to the Blog-site support, but no word from them yet.
As usual, I’m on the run again this morning, so here’s the next chapter of the Bud Saga:
YOU WANT ME TO BABY-SIT WHAT??? - Round number one
I shifted the groceries to my other arm as I unlocked the door. The latch was no sooner freed than the dogs came bolting outside and down the steps, the pit in the lead. The bag went flying and I grabbed the gallery railing in an attempt to stay on my feet. I stood there in shock, hanging on, looking first towards the fleeing dogs, then down at the groceries. Most of them were now on the ground, with an egg carton half-in, half-out of the crumpled bag.
What in hell…?? I pushed the door wider. PHEW! The stink was excruciating! I pulled my scarf over mouth and nose as I tentatively stepped inside. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing - piles of pooh on the floor, and garbage strewn from one end of the room to the other. The metal container, now empty, was on its side, the top torn off, teeth marks evident all around its rim. The water pails had been upset, and the run off had formed miniature ponds, with paw prints tracking from those over the carpet and onto the couch. There were more prints originating from stepping in a puddle of discarded tomato sauce, and it appeared as if the used coffee filter had been grabbed and shaken, the sticky grains spread far and wide. And the smell!! My heart sank. It would take hours to clean up, and I was already tired after the day’s work. That damned dog!!!
It did take hours… at least three of them. It was cold outside, and the labs have webbed feet, so couldn’t be left outside too long. Neither had they eaten, and it was late. I glanced up and saw them standing patiently at the patio door. I went to let them in, and stared at the pit as he, with total nonchalance, walked over and climbed onto the couch.
“It was you, you little Sh*t!” He stared back at me. The labs, hearing my tone of voice, immediately lay down, eyes averted. I knew they were not to blame. I filled their bowls from the food bag and set them down. Ben and Beef, aware of my mood, waited to be invited, but the pit jumped off the couch and came running over as if nothing had happened. His rat tail was wagging briskly as he dug in. He thinks I’m here just to serve him!
In spite of the lateness of the hour, I decided to call Helen; I needed to know how to handle this. She wasn’t much help. The dogs had not been left alone very often, she told me, but had done no damage before my arrival. She warned me that the water heater and pipe room had no door so, in view of the way Bud was acting, I’d better not shut him in the basement.
“If he tears something up in there, it will be more trouble than just cleaning up”, she said. What? JUST cleaning up??? Then she added “He’s never acted like this before. Maybe that dog doesn’t like you.”
“Doesn’t like me, huh? Well, the feeling is mutual!” I definitely had to terminate this conversation. If not, every rude thing going through my mind at that moment would be said aloud.
The turmoil was not over. Bud had no sooner finished eating than he began to tease the labs. He pranced over to them, nipping, worrying, pulling at one cushion then the other, standing bull-like right in their faces and barking sharply….anything to get them going. Both labs tried ignoring him, then growling a warning, even snapping at him, but he persisted, dancing just out of reach when he felt they were getting too upset. At any other time I may have found his antics amusing. Tonight, as irritated and tired as I was, his games were just downright annoying. I lost count of how many times I told him to “Stop that!” or “Go lie down, you little Sh*t”. At first he didn’t even look at me when I spoke, then, as my voice got louder, he threw me a quick “Did I hear a noise?” glance, and continued the harassment. Finally I stood up and started towards him. Seeing me approach, he scooted around the couch, then peered at me from the opposite corner, staying well out of reach. I knew I’d never be able to catch him. Besides, what would I do if I did? I was still wary of confronting a pit-bull.
He stayed there until I went back to sit down, then immediately returned to bothering the labs. I gave up. Leaning back in the rocker, I closed my eyes, willing myself to block out the commotion. A chain, I thought. Tomorrow I would buy a chain and tie him to something whenever I would leave the house. Or maybe I could borrow a heated doghouse and he could live outside…forever!
I was already expecting some kind of a mess when I arrived at the house the next evening, the bag under my arm containing a slew of cleaning products and a new chain. I had taken care to put the garbage can out of reach, but obviously could not do the same with the water pails. Once again, the dogs scrambled past me as soon as I opened the door. The labs’ cushions had been demolished…there were small pieces of foam and shredded material everywhere and, of course, the inevitable pile of pooh. Surprisingly, the water pail was still standing, but this time the toilet paper roll had been ripped to bits, as was the towel and bathmat I had put by the tub. Then I noticed the couch. The whole side of it had been torn open, right down to the wooden supports, the material and wadding lying in clumps around it. I could feel the rage building up inside. This was no longer mere inconvenience. Replacing a couch would be expensive.
I strode over to the open door “Ben! Beef! You little Sh*t! Get back in here!” The labs came toward me, hesitantly but obediently. The pit was nowhere to be seen. “Bud! Come on, Bud! Food, food, food!” Still no sign of him. The labs were already inside. I slammed the door shut. Let him bloody freeze!
The cleaning was not so arduous as the night before – foam is easier to remove than tomato paste. The hour or so of work helped to dissipate my anger – slightly – but not my consternation over the couch. I found an old blanket and draped it to hide the damage. That dog was certainly going to be chained tomorrow! And where was he? I tried calling him again but there was no response. I was going to have to look for him.
Taking the labs with me, flashlight in hand, I trudged through snow for another hour, calling, whistling, calling again. Still no Bud. Finally, exhausted and worried, I turned to make our way back to the house. I didn’t see him until I climbed the steps. He was sitting by the door watching us. Relief vied with fury. Fists clenched, I took a deep breath, and slowly counted to ten. It was all I could do not to put my boot to his butt when he turned his back to follow the labs inside.
After gobbling his food, Bud trotted over to the labs who were stretched out by my feet near the fire. He was looking for trouble again, I just knew it! “Go lie down, you little Sh*t! You’ve done enough already!” It came out as a screech, and the pit stopped to face me. I pointed to the couch. “Get over there! GO LIE DOWN NOW!!!” The moment was tense as we held each other’s gaze, then he turned and headed in the direction I pointed. I slowly released my breath.
I should have known. There was no way Bud was going to allow me to think I had won this round. When he reached the couch, he turned to look at me, lifted his leg, and deliberately began to pee.
(To be cont’d)
Wishing you all a good day, and I’m sure just the sun alone is bringing a SMILE to your face. Don’t forget to share!
Luv from the Bush in Quebec
I don’t know what is wrong, but I am no longer able to comment on Kilroy’s posts. It’s not the end of the world – I just send him an e-mail, but it is frustrating having to hop back and forth. I commented on someone else’s blog this morning, and it works. Why? Beats me. I’ve sent a message to the Blog-site support, but no word from them yet.
As usual, I’m on the run again this morning, so here’s the next chapter of the Bud Saga:
YOU WANT ME TO BABY-SIT WHAT??? - Round number one
I shifted the groceries to my other arm as I unlocked the door. The latch was no sooner freed than the dogs came bolting outside and down the steps, the pit in the lead. The bag went flying and I grabbed the gallery railing in an attempt to stay on my feet. I stood there in shock, hanging on, looking first towards the fleeing dogs, then down at the groceries. Most of them were now on the ground, with an egg carton half-in, half-out of the crumpled bag.
What in hell…?? I pushed the door wider. PHEW! The stink was excruciating! I pulled my scarf over mouth and nose as I tentatively stepped inside. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing - piles of pooh on the floor, and garbage strewn from one end of the room to the other. The metal container, now empty, was on its side, the top torn off, teeth marks evident all around its rim. The water pails had been upset, and the run off had formed miniature ponds, with paw prints tracking from those over the carpet and onto the couch. There were more prints originating from stepping in a puddle of discarded tomato sauce, and it appeared as if the used coffee filter had been grabbed and shaken, the sticky grains spread far and wide. And the smell!! My heart sank. It would take hours to clean up, and I was already tired after the day’s work. That damned dog!!!
It did take hours… at least three of them. It was cold outside, and the labs have webbed feet, so couldn’t be left outside too long. Neither had they eaten, and it was late. I glanced up and saw them standing patiently at the patio door. I went to let them in, and stared at the pit as he, with total nonchalance, walked over and climbed onto the couch.
“It was you, you little Sh*t!” He stared back at me. The labs, hearing my tone of voice, immediately lay down, eyes averted. I knew they were not to blame. I filled their bowls from the food bag and set them down. Ben and Beef, aware of my mood, waited to be invited, but the pit jumped off the couch and came running over as if nothing had happened. His rat tail was wagging briskly as he dug in. He thinks I’m here just to serve him!
In spite of the lateness of the hour, I decided to call Helen; I needed to know how to handle this. She wasn’t much help. The dogs had not been left alone very often, she told me, but had done no damage before my arrival. She warned me that the water heater and pipe room had no door so, in view of the way Bud was acting, I’d better not shut him in the basement.
“If he tears something up in there, it will be more trouble than just cleaning up”, she said. What? JUST cleaning up??? Then she added “He’s never acted like this before. Maybe that dog doesn’t like you.”
“Doesn’t like me, huh? Well, the feeling is mutual!” I definitely had to terminate this conversation. If not, every rude thing going through my mind at that moment would be said aloud.
The turmoil was not over. Bud had no sooner finished eating than he began to tease the labs. He pranced over to them, nipping, worrying, pulling at one cushion then the other, standing bull-like right in their faces and barking sharply….anything to get them going. Both labs tried ignoring him, then growling a warning, even snapping at him, but he persisted, dancing just out of reach when he felt they were getting too upset. At any other time I may have found his antics amusing. Tonight, as irritated and tired as I was, his games were just downright annoying. I lost count of how many times I told him to “Stop that!” or “Go lie down, you little Sh*t”. At first he didn’t even look at me when I spoke, then, as my voice got louder, he threw me a quick “Did I hear a noise?” glance, and continued the harassment. Finally I stood up and started towards him. Seeing me approach, he scooted around the couch, then peered at me from the opposite corner, staying well out of reach. I knew I’d never be able to catch him. Besides, what would I do if I did? I was still wary of confronting a pit-bull.
He stayed there until I went back to sit down, then immediately returned to bothering the labs. I gave up. Leaning back in the rocker, I closed my eyes, willing myself to block out the commotion. A chain, I thought. Tomorrow I would buy a chain and tie him to something whenever I would leave the house. Or maybe I could borrow a heated doghouse and he could live outside…forever!
I was already expecting some kind of a mess when I arrived at the house the next evening, the bag under my arm containing a slew of cleaning products and a new chain. I had taken care to put the garbage can out of reach, but obviously could not do the same with the water pails. Once again, the dogs scrambled past me as soon as I opened the door. The labs’ cushions had been demolished…there were small pieces of foam and shredded material everywhere and, of course, the inevitable pile of pooh. Surprisingly, the water pail was still standing, but this time the toilet paper roll had been ripped to bits, as was the towel and bathmat I had put by the tub. Then I noticed the couch. The whole side of it had been torn open, right down to the wooden supports, the material and wadding lying in clumps around it. I could feel the rage building up inside. This was no longer mere inconvenience. Replacing a couch would be expensive.
I strode over to the open door “Ben! Beef! You little Sh*t! Get back in here!” The labs came toward me, hesitantly but obediently. The pit was nowhere to be seen. “Bud! Come on, Bud! Food, food, food!” Still no sign of him. The labs were already inside. I slammed the door shut. Let him bloody freeze!
The cleaning was not so arduous as the night before – foam is easier to remove than tomato paste. The hour or so of work helped to dissipate my anger – slightly – but not my consternation over the couch. I found an old blanket and draped it to hide the damage. That dog was certainly going to be chained tomorrow! And where was he? I tried calling him again but there was no response. I was going to have to look for him.
Taking the labs with me, flashlight in hand, I trudged through snow for another hour, calling, whistling, calling again. Still no Bud. Finally, exhausted and worried, I turned to make our way back to the house. I didn’t see him until I climbed the steps. He was sitting by the door watching us. Relief vied with fury. Fists clenched, I took a deep breath, and slowly counted to ten. It was all I could do not to put my boot to his butt when he turned his back to follow the labs inside.
After gobbling his food, Bud trotted over to the labs who were stretched out by my feet near the fire. He was looking for trouble again, I just knew it! “Go lie down, you little Sh*t! You’ve done enough already!” It came out as a screech, and the pit stopped to face me. I pointed to the couch. “Get over there! GO LIE DOWN NOW!!!” The moment was tense as we held each other’s gaze, then he turned and headed in the direction I pointed. I slowly released my breath.
I should have known. There was no way Bud was going to allow me to think I had won this round. When he reached the couch, he turned to look at me, lifted his leg, and deliberately began to pee.
(To be cont’d)
Wishing you all a good day, and I’m sure just the sun alone is bringing a SMILE to your face. Don’t forget to share!
Luv from the Bush in Quebec
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
THE BUD SAGA - PART 7
I can’t complain – I’ve had more than one night in a row of long sleeps which, for me, is a rare occurrence. Yesterday I was kicked out of Paradise by Murphy. I arrived home only around 10 PM. It was a late return from the city, then I stopped off to see my niece, Julie, to wish her Happy Birthday. I was only there for about 30 minutes, and was ready for bed by the time I got home. Sleep happened for one whole hour, then Murphy rudely disappeared, and there was no more until 6 AM this morning, when it was time to get up!!
I was planning on going to the office later today anyway. My truck has a shimmy, and I’m not sure if it’s snow or ice in the tires, or something else. It is the something else that worries me, so my intentions were to stop at the garage before going to the office. Guess it will be on the way home, because I am late, late, late. I’m waiting on a fax now, and as soon as it arrives, I’m off to the city.
Here’s the next chapter of the Bud Saga.
YOU WANT ME TO BABY-SIT WHAT??? - And it begins...
It was far too early for a beer buzz, weekend or not. I decided to take advantage of the sun shining in these wide open spaces. I lived downtown in a huge city where walking consists of negotiating slushy sidewalks, tall buildings and many other jostling bodies. Strolling on this property in virgin snow was going to be a delight! The dogs joyfully accompanied me - the pit, of course, pushing past us to get out first. I hesitated about leaving him loose, then remembered my friend telling me he would be okay as long as he wasn’t alone.
We spent most of the weekend outdoors, with Ben and Beef close by my side as I wandered around, admiring the beauty of the place. The pit ignored us, except to look up occasionally when he heard Beef’s barking during our games of ‘fetch’. He amused himself by using his nose to push huge pieces of broken ice along the ground to the edge of the hill, send it over and down, fly recklessly after it, grab it in his mouth, then prance back up the hill to repeat his manoeuvre, rearing his head like a horse. He did it over and over again. He took a spill during one of the chases downhill and rolled, ending up on his back. I laughed loudly as I watched him wriggle frantically before succeeding the scramble to his feet. When upright, he lifted his head to stare at me for a good ten seconds, then turned back to his game. Ouch, I thought. The little Sh*t doesn’t like being laughed at!
The evenings were spent rocking lazily by the fire, the labs at my feet and the pit watching me from the couch. Only on Sunday did I suddenly find the absence of noise disturbing. I was missing my ‘gang’, and decided to call and tell them where I was. The short conversation did the trick. I was smiling as I hung up the phone, but the smile disappeared when I saw that the pit had sneaked down to join the labs on the floor. He was lying right in front of the rocking chair. I would have to step over him if I wanted to sit there again. I thought about it for a moment. Nope. I wasn’t going to push my luck. I told myself an early night was what I needed before the long drive to work the next day.
In the morning I woke to another smelly, revenge dump on the floor, but I at least didn’t step in it this time. I told Bud he was a bad dog, though not too loudly. He paid no attention. Neither did he make a fuss when I tied him outside while I cleaned up his mess.
Before leaving for work, I shut the three dogs in the house, then checked that the fireplace door was closed tight and that there was lots of water within their reach. It’s not too bad, I mused as I drove into the city. Granted, I had to get up much earlier, and I would be arriving at the house a lot later. On the plus side, recent changes in the office had made my job extremely hectic. Quiet nights in the bush would afford down-time that I wouldn't get at the city apartment I shared with my son and his two buddies. The pit was only a dog, after all. I couldn’t picture us becoming friends, but as for his ignoring me, I saw no problem enduring his attitude for the short time we’d be living together. I’ll just ignore you too, you little Sh*t! Let’s see how you like that!
Did Bud hear me? Some people swear that animals are telepathic. When I arrived back at the house late that evening, I was prone to agree. Bud made sure that ignoring him was NOT an option. It was ‘au contraire’…which in French means ‘the opposite’. As of that night, he would consume my every thought and be the subject of all my conversations. The reign of terror had begun, and it was anything but quiet.
That’s it for today, folks. Have a good one, enjoy the sunshine if you have it wherever you are, and keep wearing those SMILES!
Luv from the Bush in Quebec
I was planning on going to the office later today anyway. My truck has a shimmy, and I’m not sure if it’s snow or ice in the tires, or something else. It is the something else that worries me, so my intentions were to stop at the garage before going to the office. Guess it will be on the way home, because I am late, late, late. I’m waiting on a fax now, and as soon as it arrives, I’m off to the city.
Here’s the next chapter of the Bud Saga.
YOU WANT ME TO BABY-SIT WHAT??? - And it begins...
It was far too early for a beer buzz, weekend or not. I decided to take advantage of the sun shining in these wide open spaces. I lived downtown in a huge city where walking consists of negotiating slushy sidewalks, tall buildings and many other jostling bodies. Strolling on this property in virgin snow was going to be a delight! The dogs joyfully accompanied me - the pit, of course, pushing past us to get out first. I hesitated about leaving him loose, then remembered my friend telling me he would be okay as long as he wasn’t alone.
We spent most of the weekend outdoors, with Ben and Beef close by my side as I wandered around, admiring the beauty of the place. The pit ignored us, except to look up occasionally when he heard Beef’s barking during our games of ‘fetch’. He amused himself by using his nose to push huge pieces of broken ice along the ground to the edge of the hill, send it over and down, fly recklessly after it, grab it in his mouth, then prance back up the hill to repeat his manoeuvre, rearing his head like a horse. He did it over and over again. He took a spill during one of the chases downhill and rolled, ending up on his back. I laughed loudly as I watched him wriggle frantically before succeeding the scramble to his feet. When upright, he lifted his head to stare at me for a good ten seconds, then turned back to his game. Ouch, I thought. The little Sh*t doesn’t like being laughed at!
The evenings were spent rocking lazily by the fire, the labs at my feet and the pit watching me from the couch. Only on Sunday did I suddenly find the absence of noise disturbing. I was missing my ‘gang’, and decided to call and tell them where I was. The short conversation did the trick. I was smiling as I hung up the phone, but the smile disappeared when I saw that the pit had sneaked down to join the labs on the floor. He was lying right in front of the rocking chair. I would have to step over him if I wanted to sit there again. I thought about it for a moment. Nope. I wasn’t going to push my luck. I told myself an early night was what I needed before the long drive to work the next day.
In the morning I woke to another smelly, revenge dump on the floor, but I at least didn’t step in it this time. I told Bud he was a bad dog, though not too loudly. He paid no attention. Neither did he make a fuss when I tied him outside while I cleaned up his mess.
Before leaving for work, I shut the three dogs in the house, then checked that the fireplace door was closed tight and that there was lots of water within their reach. It’s not too bad, I mused as I drove into the city. Granted, I had to get up much earlier, and I would be arriving at the house a lot later. On the plus side, recent changes in the office had made my job extremely hectic. Quiet nights in the bush would afford down-time that I wouldn't get at the city apartment I shared with my son and his two buddies. The pit was only a dog, after all. I couldn’t picture us becoming friends, but as for his ignoring me, I saw no problem enduring his attitude for the short time we’d be living together. I’ll just ignore you too, you little Sh*t! Let’s see how you like that!
Did Bud hear me? Some people swear that animals are telepathic. When I arrived back at the house late that evening, I was prone to agree. Bud made sure that ignoring him was NOT an option. It was ‘au contraire’…which in French means ‘the opposite’. As of that night, he would consume my every thought and be the subject of all my conversations. The reign of terror had begun, and it was anything but quiet.
That’s it for today, folks. Have a good one, enjoy the sunshine if you have it wherever you are, and keep wearing those SMILES!
Luv from the Bush in Quebec
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
THE BUD SAGA - PART 6
The sun has been a regular visitor here since the beginning of February, most welcome after the rainy, sunless month of January. It is colder, of course, but not bone chilling. We Canucks are used to putting on layers of clothes before venturing outside in the winter – it goes with the territory.
Personally, I like more snow than this. We haven’t had near as much as last year, it seems. My mountain is so awesome with a blanket of white. Right now it still has the grey, November look; the one in between the loss of autumn colours, and December’s first thick snowfall. It’s still beautiful; but a different kind – the ‘preparing to sleep’ look. It’s not the eye-catching splendour I’m used to seeing during this season.
Yoshiko was still on Japan time yesterday, poor thing. What a way to start back to work – sitting for hours; listening to a lady drone on about income tax programs! There was an electrical problem at the office (read – a jumped breaker, no power, no telephone system, no computers…), so I had to cut the training short and rush back there. On the way, I dropped poor Yo off at her home to help catch up to the time change. It always takes a week or two after her return for her to get back into the Western flow.
Without more ado, here is the next chapter of the Bus Saga.
YOU WANT ME TO BABY-SIT WHAT??? - the result of the event
In the front of the house, the lane swings right for about ten feet, then joins the narrow gravel side road halfway down a long, curved hill. While in the curve, visibility is non-existent, so on the top of the hill there is a warning sign indicating a hidden entrance in the turn. Most of the regulars take little notice, and more than one driver, when surprised by an oncoming car, has swerved into the house lane to avoid ending up in the steep ditches on either side.
The triangular corner where the lane and road joins is lined with thick, young evergreens. Still running as hard as I could, Ben and Beef close behind me, I caught only glimpses of black metal through the branches. It meant the vehicle was in deep. I could hear a voice screaming a stream of obscenities in French. I’m nearly fluent in the language, but the words that registered were 'maudit chien'. Translated it meant 'damned dog'.
Oh no! Then it was Bud.
We finally got around the trees, and I spotted a man standing in the snow bank, leaning over the back end of the black truck. He was looking at something in front of his rear wheel.
“Monsieur!“ I gasped... I was bent over slightly, holding my side. It had cramped from either the run or the cold air…or just maybe my heart had tumbled down that far. He straightened up and turned towards me.
“Ah, Madame,” he answered, speaking French, “Have you got a telephone? I need to call a towing.” I nodded, still barely able to catch my breath.
“The dog?” I gulped. He frowned at me.
“What?”
Still hanging onto my aching side, I choked out as loud as I could. “The dog! I heard you swear at the damned dog! Where’s the damned dog?!”
He stared at me for a moment, seemed taken aback by my tone, then pointed down the hill. “He’s there…in the ditch.”
I swallowed hard. “Did you hit him?”
“Bien oui! So he’s in the ditch and me too, I’m in the ditch. I couldn’t miss him!” It was a mixture of gesticulation and swearing. “The stupid dog... he’s stopped right here in the middle of the road. It’s slippery, you see? And now I need a towing. Where’s your telephone, Madame?”
My heart sank lower with each word. The truck was a heavy-duty model. How could the pit ever survive?
I had to know. I motioned for the labs to sit and stay in the lane, then reluctantly walked past the driver and started down the hill.
“Hey, where are you going?” he called after me. “I need the telephone!”
I suddenly disliked this dude immensely. “I’m going to see for the dog!” I yelled over my shoulder, and I kept walking.
“Well, he’s gonna need towing too. You tell him I’m not paying for his towing. It’s his fault! Yep, that’s it! You tell him he’s gotta pay my towing for sure. You tell him that!”
What??
I stopped, turned to face him again. “What did you just say?”
“That damned dog is going to pay my towing! That’s what I just said!”
Then it all happened at once. I heard more swearing, this time from down the hill. I whirled back around to see another man struggling through the snow. Because of its position, I had not noticed the small white car deeply embedded in the ditch further down on the opposite side of the road. At the same instant, I heard the truck driver exclaim nervously, “Is that a pit bull, that?” I swivelled again, and there was Bud trotting down the hill towards us. The little Sh*t was alive!
I swung from giddy relief (Bud’s not hurt!) to confusion (but the dude said he’d hit a dog) to comprehension (of course, he’s French!) within a space of ten seconds. In Quebec, the word 'dog' is used for the four legged animal, or more often can be an alternate term for a dirty deed, or even more often to describe a person who has done the dirty deed. In this case, it seemed that the 'maudit chien' was the driver of the white car - who was now standing by my side. He had stopped short when he saw the pit.
I came to my senses. We were all in danger if a car came sliding around that curve. Bud stood still, fixing his gaze on one man, then the other, and didn’t move when I reached him. I tentatively slipped my finger through the loop on his choker collar.
“I’ll bring the dogs in and call somebody to help you guys.” Then I called “Ben! Beef!” and tugged Bud’s collar gently. Seeing the labs stand up, Bud came along with no resistance.
My legs were still trembling as we all ran up the stairs and into the house. I found the number, contacted the tow-truck, then grabbed a beer from the fridge and put most of it away in one swallow. The labs were on their cushions, and the pit once again staring at me from the couch. I stood, studying him closely.
“That was all your fault, you little Sh*t,” I told him. “Look at me! A nervous wreck. I thought I’d get to relax out here! It’s only 11:30 AM and I’m already into beer. And damned near exhausted!! All because of you!”
No reaction... That dead stare, I could feel myself getting upset….the ‘delayed reaction’ thing.
“And I hope he does make you pay for the towing, you little Sh*t!” I stopped when I realized what I’d said. Okay and how childish was that?
To be truthful, I mused, some progress had been made. He did let me grab his collar out there, and he didn’t try to attack the unknown men, and he did follow us back and into house without coaxing. I turned my back to him, wandered over to one of the huge windows and looked out over the mountain bush. It was cold, but the sun glittered on the snow and the legion of trees. Just the scenery alone was worth staying the two weeks, and I had Ben and Beef for company. They were great dogs. My habitual optimism suggested that, with a little effort, and a lot of caution, I could probably get along with the pit too.
In the days to come I was to learn how very naive was that conclusion, and how totally unprepared I was to deal with a dominant pit-bull.
(To be cont’d)
I must admit I had a lot of fun writing this story. It brought back many, many memories – not all of them good, LOL. In answer to yesterday’s comment, Kilroy, friends & family reading on this blog, of course, knew that Bud would come out okay. The readers on the writing site did NOT know, however, and I wanted to make sure they would come back to find out what had happened.
Wishing you all a good day – sending you my cyber SMILE – and hasta manana!
Luv from the Bush in Quebec
Personally, I like more snow than this. We haven’t had near as much as last year, it seems. My mountain is so awesome with a blanket of white. Right now it still has the grey, November look; the one in between the loss of autumn colours, and December’s first thick snowfall. It’s still beautiful; but a different kind – the ‘preparing to sleep’ look. It’s not the eye-catching splendour I’m used to seeing during this season.
Yoshiko was still on Japan time yesterday, poor thing. What a way to start back to work – sitting for hours; listening to a lady drone on about income tax programs! There was an electrical problem at the office (read – a jumped breaker, no power, no telephone system, no computers…), so I had to cut the training short and rush back there. On the way, I dropped poor Yo off at her home to help catch up to the time change. It always takes a week or two after her return for her to get back into the Western flow.
Without more ado, here is the next chapter of the Bus Saga.
YOU WANT ME TO BABY-SIT WHAT??? - the result of the event
In the front of the house, the lane swings right for about ten feet, then joins the narrow gravel side road halfway down a long, curved hill. While in the curve, visibility is non-existent, so on the top of the hill there is a warning sign indicating a hidden entrance in the turn. Most of the regulars take little notice, and more than one driver, when surprised by an oncoming car, has swerved into the house lane to avoid ending up in the steep ditches on either side.
The triangular corner where the lane and road joins is lined with thick, young evergreens. Still running as hard as I could, Ben and Beef close behind me, I caught only glimpses of black metal through the branches. It meant the vehicle was in deep. I could hear a voice screaming a stream of obscenities in French. I’m nearly fluent in the language, but the words that registered were 'maudit chien'. Translated it meant 'damned dog'.
Oh no! Then it was Bud.
We finally got around the trees, and I spotted a man standing in the snow bank, leaning over the back end of the black truck. He was looking at something in front of his rear wheel.
“Monsieur!“ I gasped... I was bent over slightly, holding my side. It had cramped from either the run or the cold air…or just maybe my heart had tumbled down that far. He straightened up and turned towards me.
“Ah, Madame,” he answered, speaking French, “Have you got a telephone? I need to call a towing.” I nodded, still barely able to catch my breath.
“The dog?” I gulped. He frowned at me.
“What?”
Still hanging onto my aching side, I choked out as loud as I could. “The dog! I heard you swear at the damned dog! Where’s the damned dog?!”
He stared at me for a moment, seemed taken aback by my tone, then pointed down the hill. “He’s there…in the ditch.”
I swallowed hard. “Did you hit him?”
“Bien oui! So he’s in the ditch and me too, I’m in the ditch. I couldn’t miss him!” It was a mixture of gesticulation and swearing. “The stupid dog... he’s stopped right here in the middle of the road. It’s slippery, you see? And now I need a towing. Where’s your telephone, Madame?”
My heart sank lower with each word. The truck was a heavy-duty model. How could the pit ever survive?
I had to know. I motioned for the labs to sit and stay in the lane, then reluctantly walked past the driver and started down the hill.
“Hey, where are you going?” he called after me. “I need the telephone!”
I suddenly disliked this dude immensely. “I’m going to see for the dog!” I yelled over my shoulder, and I kept walking.
“Well, he’s gonna need towing too. You tell him I’m not paying for his towing. It’s his fault! Yep, that’s it! You tell him he’s gotta pay my towing for sure. You tell him that!”
What??
I stopped, turned to face him again. “What did you just say?”
“That damned dog is going to pay my towing! That’s what I just said!”
Then it all happened at once. I heard more swearing, this time from down the hill. I whirled back around to see another man struggling through the snow. Because of its position, I had not noticed the small white car deeply embedded in the ditch further down on the opposite side of the road. At the same instant, I heard the truck driver exclaim nervously, “Is that a pit bull, that?” I swivelled again, and there was Bud trotting down the hill towards us. The little Sh*t was alive!
I swung from giddy relief (Bud’s not hurt!) to confusion (but the dude said he’d hit a dog) to comprehension (of course, he’s French!) within a space of ten seconds. In Quebec, the word 'dog' is used for the four legged animal, or more often can be an alternate term for a dirty deed, or even more often to describe a person who has done the dirty deed. In this case, it seemed that the 'maudit chien' was the driver of the white car - who was now standing by my side. He had stopped short when he saw the pit.
I came to my senses. We were all in danger if a car came sliding around that curve. Bud stood still, fixing his gaze on one man, then the other, and didn’t move when I reached him. I tentatively slipped my finger through the loop on his choker collar.
“I’ll bring the dogs in and call somebody to help you guys.” Then I called “Ben! Beef!” and tugged Bud’s collar gently. Seeing the labs stand up, Bud came along with no resistance.
My legs were still trembling as we all ran up the stairs and into the house. I found the number, contacted the tow-truck, then grabbed a beer from the fridge and put most of it away in one swallow. The labs were on their cushions, and the pit once again staring at me from the couch. I stood, studying him closely.
“That was all your fault, you little Sh*t,” I told him. “Look at me! A nervous wreck. I thought I’d get to relax out here! It’s only 11:30 AM and I’m already into beer. And damned near exhausted!! All because of you!”
No reaction... That dead stare, I could feel myself getting upset….the ‘delayed reaction’ thing.
“And I hope he does make you pay for the towing, you little Sh*t!” I stopped when I realized what I’d said. Okay and how childish was that?
To be truthful, I mused, some progress had been made. He did let me grab his collar out there, and he didn’t try to attack the unknown men, and he did follow us back and into house without coaxing. I turned my back to him, wandered over to one of the huge windows and looked out over the mountain bush. It was cold, but the sun glittered on the snow and the legion of trees. Just the scenery alone was worth staying the two weeks, and I had Ben and Beef for company. They were great dogs. My habitual optimism suggested that, with a little effort, and a lot of caution, I could probably get along with the pit too.
In the days to come I was to learn how very naive was that conclusion, and how totally unprepared I was to deal with a dominant pit-bull.
(To be cont’d)
I must admit I had a lot of fun writing this story. It brought back many, many memories – not all of them good, LOL. In answer to yesterday’s comment, Kilroy, friends & family reading on this blog, of course, knew that Bud would come out okay. The readers on the writing site did NOT know, however, and I wanted to make sure they would come back to find out what had happened.
Wishing you all a good day – sending you my cyber SMILE – and hasta manana!
Luv from the Bush in Quebec
Monday, February 8, 2010
Early to bed, early to rise…..and I’m too sleepy to remember the rest.
I’m kidding. I’ve already had my first cup of coffee while reading Kilroy’s blog; then his comments on my own. In answer to your question, my friend, I don’t know why no-one else leaves a note. I know Karen reads, as does my daughter, but Shan’s system won’t allow it. Her employer has her behind a huge firewall because she uses her computer to work from home. Comments are always appreciated, of course, and I look forward to reading yours – it makes the writing feel worthwhile.
I need to leave for the office very soon to beat most of the rush hour. There is some urgent work to be done, then I’m to pick up Yoshiko and we’ll be joining most of the office staff for a day of training on the new Income tax program. It’s a full-day thing and, although I enjoy learning, I’m wondering if this tired old brain will be able to pay attention for so many hours at a time – plus I’ll be thinking about all the work waiting for us when we get back to the office tomorrow.. Ugh!
Here’s chapter 5 of the Bud Saga:
YOU WANT ME TO BABY-SIT WHAT??? - The event
“And how’s it going now? Did you clean up the mess you made on my floor?”
I wasn’t laughing. “Listen, my soon-to-be-EX-friend,” I answered. “I’m NOT amused!”
“Aw, come on. I’m only teasing you. It was probably Bud. He’s prone to doing the revenge thing. He’ll be peeved ‘cause I disappeared on him.”
“Really?” Sarcasm dripped from my voice. “And how long am I expected to put up with this?”
“I’ll know more in a couple of weeks. And I wanted to tell you….”
He continued, first apologizing for the last minute contact, then expressing his gratitude for my being there for his beloved dogs. He explained that his mother, Helen, would take care of all the expenses during my stay. If I needed anything I was to get in touch with her. He had a running bill with the veterinarian if, God forbid, the need arose. There was a bowl in the cupboard above the stove with money to purchase dog food, the brand, the feeding times, a summary of the idiosyncrasies of each dog. ”Bud likes cuddling. I sleep with him often on the couch. He bugs the older two, but they ignore him mostly, like a couple of grandfathers would a brat kid.” He finished by promising that he would compensate me for anything else on his return, and then added a warning.
“There’s a chain on the gallery. Bud hasn’t learned to stay in the yard. Maybe you better tie him up when you put him out alone. Don’t want him running around loose. He’s not road-savvy yet, and anyway, people tend to think the worst of pits. Somebody might take a shot at him.”
“That would be terrible!” Sarcasm again. He heard it. While he was answering, I was peering out the window, searching guiltily. Where was that little Sh*t anyway?
“Hey,” he said softly. “He’s a good dog. I’ll admit he’s high strung, but remember he’s still a puppy. Pits mature later…about two years old.” His voice was pleading now. “I really love that dog. He’s one of the best breeds I’ve ever had. The reason I wanted you to be there is because I’m sure you are the only one who will treat him right. I know how you are with Ben and Beef. You’ll learn to love Bud too. Give him a chance.”
Damn! He knew exactly how to grab me. I was the champion at giving chances, and I often paid for it in spades. However, it never seemed to dampen my optimism. Until I was proven wrong, I tended to give the benefit of doubt.
“Okay,” I grudgingly agreed. After all, two weeks was not the end of the world. Maybe I’d look into borrowing hockey pads….that should thwart any aggressive signs from the little Sh*t.
“How do I get in touch with you if I need to?” I jotted down the number he gave me, somewhat nonplussed when he added that it was for emergency only. I would not be able to reach him immediately if or when I called.
“It may take a day or two before I can reach a phone to call you back.” In the meantime, Helen lived only 20 minutes from the house. she was the stand-in. And she’s afraid of the pit, I thought silently.
As I hung up the phone I heard Beef‘s short bark. He and Ben were sitting patiently by the patio door, waiting to be let in. The pit wasn’t with them. I slid the door open and stuck my head outside. He was nowhere to be seen. Oh no!
“Where are you, you little Sh*t?” I yelled. Nothing. I walked onto the gallery, hugging myself, trying to keep warm in the winter’s bitter chill.
“Bud? Come here, Bud!” I yelled louder. Still no sign. A sinking feeling. Trying not to panic.
“Wait here,” I ordered the labs. They wagged their tails in unison, looking up at me expectantly. I rushed inside, grabbed my coat and pulled on boots and mittens. Talk about conflicting feelings! On one hand, the two week stay would be a lark if I only had Ben and Beef to handle and, after all, it was a belated warning I had been given. At the same time, I knew deep inside that I would never forgive myself if something happened to the pit while I was responsible for him, my friend’s reaction aside.
I hurried back out, slid the door closed, then motioned to the labs. “Come on, guys. Let’s go find him.”
They happily followed me down the gallery steps. After scanning the back property, all the time calling his name loudly, we made our way around the side of the house towards the front road. We still couldn’t see past the corner when I heard the loud blare of a horn, then the sound of a heavy vehicle skidding on the snow. The thud of it hitting the snow bank resounded clearly. My heart thumping wildly, I began to run.
(To be cont’d)
I’m off and running. Have a good day, y’all. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you to SMILE, but I will anyway. I just like the word, LOL!
Luv from the Bush in Quebec
I’m kidding. I’ve already had my first cup of coffee while reading Kilroy’s blog; then his comments on my own. In answer to your question, my friend, I don’t know why no-one else leaves a note. I know Karen reads, as does my daughter, but Shan’s system won’t allow it. Her employer has her behind a huge firewall because she uses her computer to work from home. Comments are always appreciated, of course, and I look forward to reading yours – it makes the writing feel worthwhile.
I need to leave for the office very soon to beat most of the rush hour. There is some urgent work to be done, then I’m to pick up Yoshiko and we’ll be joining most of the office staff for a day of training on the new Income tax program. It’s a full-day thing and, although I enjoy learning, I’m wondering if this tired old brain will be able to pay attention for so many hours at a time – plus I’ll be thinking about all the work waiting for us when we get back to the office tomorrow.. Ugh!
Here’s chapter 5 of the Bud Saga:
YOU WANT ME TO BABY-SIT WHAT??? - The event
“And how’s it going now? Did you clean up the mess you made on my floor?”
I wasn’t laughing. “Listen, my soon-to-be-EX-friend,” I answered. “I’m NOT amused!”
“Aw, come on. I’m only teasing you. It was probably Bud. He’s prone to doing the revenge thing. He’ll be peeved ‘cause I disappeared on him.”
“Really?” Sarcasm dripped from my voice. “And how long am I expected to put up with this?”
“I’ll know more in a couple of weeks. And I wanted to tell you….”
He continued, first apologizing for the last minute contact, then expressing his gratitude for my being there for his beloved dogs. He explained that his mother, Helen, would take care of all the expenses during my stay. If I needed anything I was to get in touch with her. He had a running bill with the veterinarian if, God forbid, the need arose. There was a bowl in the cupboard above the stove with money to purchase dog food, the brand, the feeding times, a summary of the idiosyncrasies of each dog. ”Bud likes cuddling. I sleep with him often on the couch. He bugs the older two, but they ignore him mostly, like a couple of grandfathers would a brat kid.” He finished by promising that he would compensate me for anything else on his return, and then added a warning.
“There’s a chain on the gallery. Bud hasn’t learned to stay in the yard. Maybe you better tie him up when you put him out alone. Don’t want him running around loose. He’s not road-savvy yet, and anyway, people tend to think the worst of pits. Somebody might take a shot at him.”
“That would be terrible!” Sarcasm again. He heard it. While he was answering, I was peering out the window, searching guiltily. Where was that little Sh*t anyway?
“Hey,” he said softly. “He’s a good dog. I’ll admit he’s high strung, but remember he’s still a puppy. Pits mature later…about two years old.” His voice was pleading now. “I really love that dog. He’s one of the best breeds I’ve ever had. The reason I wanted you to be there is because I’m sure you are the only one who will treat him right. I know how you are with Ben and Beef. You’ll learn to love Bud too. Give him a chance.”
Damn! He knew exactly how to grab me. I was the champion at giving chances, and I often paid for it in spades. However, it never seemed to dampen my optimism. Until I was proven wrong, I tended to give the benefit of doubt.
“Okay,” I grudgingly agreed. After all, two weeks was not the end of the world. Maybe I’d look into borrowing hockey pads….that should thwart any aggressive signs from the little Sh*t.
“How do I get in touch with you if I need to?” I jotted down the number he gave me, somewhat nonplussed when he added that it was for emergency only. I would not be able to reach him immediately if or when I called.
“It may take a day or two before I can reach a phone to call you back.” In the meantime, Helen lived only 20 minutes from the house. she was the stand-in. And she’s afraid of the pit, I thought silently.
As I hung up the phone I heard Beef‘s short bark. He and Ben were sitting patiently by the patio door, waiting to be let in. The pit wasn’t with them. I slid the door open and stuck my head outside. He was nowhere to be seen. Oh no!
“Where are you, you little Sh*t?” I yelled. Nothing. I walked onto the gallery, hugging myself, trying to keep warm in the winter’s bitter chill.
“Bud? Come here, Bud!” I yelled louder. Still no sign. A sinking feeling. Trying not to panic.
“Wait here,” I ordered the labs. They wagged their tails in unison, looking up at me expectantly. I rushed inside, grabbed my coat and pulled on boots and mittens. Talk about conflicting feelings! On one hand, the two week stay would be a lark if I only had Ben and Beef to handle and, after all, it was a belated warning I had been given. At the same time, I knew deep inside that I would never forgive myself if something happened to the pit while I was responsible for him, my friend’s reaction aside.
I hurried back out, slid the door closed, then motioned to the labs. “Come on, guys. Let’s go find him.”
They happily followed me down the gallery steps. After scanning the back property, all the time calling his name loudly, we made our way around the side of the house towards the front road. We still couldn’t see past the corner when I heard the loud blare of a horn, then the sound of a heavy vehicle skidding on the snow. The thud of it hitting the snow bank resounded clearly. My heart thumping wildly, I began to run.
(To be cont’d)
I’m off and running. Have a good day, y’all. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you to SMILE, but I will anyway. I just like the word, LOL!
Luv from the Bush in Quebec
Sunday, February 7, 2010
THE BUD SAGA - PART 4
When my children were little, I loved to rock them to sleep. It was one of the things I missed most when each of them got too old to clamber onto my knee, put chubby arms around my neck and nestle tiny heads on my shoulder. Last night, my 2 year old grandson didn’t want to go to bed at the allotted hour, so we put on his pyjamas, and M’mère carried him to the rocking chair. Although he snuggled up and fell to sleep nearly immediately, it was much later when I carried him back upstairs. His older brother, who is 5, was allowed to stay on the couch with me, hugging close, until he, too, sound asleep, was carried to bed. Their mom nodded understanding when she got home and I told her about it. “The occasion was there,” she agreed, “you needed to use it.” It was a mother’s smile she gave me; she understood exactly what I was feeling.
I didn’t get home until late, and I watched the sun’s first rays touch my mountain before shutting my eyes; it was noon before I woke. Half the day is gone, and a beautiful day it is too, so I’ll post my 4th chapter of the Bud Saga, and then get my butt outdoors. Here we go.
Some more of YOU WANT ME TO BABY-SIT WHAT???
Zombie is me when I first wake up. Upon opening my eyes the next morning, the first thing I saw was a clock sitting on a bedside table. It read 8:15. But it wasn’t my clock, and it wasn’t my table. Where was I?
It took a couple of seconds to get my bearings, and by that time the phone rang again. Its shrill had wakened me.
I stumbled out of bed and grabbed my dressing gown, struggling to pull it on, simultaneously inserting my feet into flip-flops, alias slippers. I had succeeded with one, but the other kept avoiding my foot. I was pushing it along ahead of me, still trying to manoeuvre the toe-hold into place, when OWYEE! Pain, massive pain. My left shin had connected solidly with the chair barrier at the top of the stairs. Moaning, I tried to rub it numb as I watched the culprit go sliding down. It stopped to lodge halfway, once again blocking my path.
Briiing! The phone.
I limped down as quickly as I could, grabbed the darned chair, and continued my wavering descent. I was feeling my way, because the seat obstructed my vision. I didn’t see, only felt, the squish when I put my foot on the level floor. Just the texture alone, even in my stupor, would have told me what it was. The awful smell confirmed the fact.
Briiing!
“Yyyuck!” I looked down with disgust. It was oozing over the toes of my right foot... And the stink! I held my breath, dropping the chair to hold my nose as I gingerly slipped out of the flip-flop. It stuck there. That type of footwear is not pooh protective! Both sides of my foot were covered with the stuff.
Briiing!
How many swear words can one utter when hobbling over a ten foot space, hardly able to put weight on the left leg, and trying not to soil the wall-to-wall carpet with the right one?
Briing!
I grabbed up the receiver. “What?!” I growled in exasperation.
“Hey, it’s me. How are you doing?” I recognized the cheery voice of my friend.
“How am I doing?" I asked incredulously. “How am I doing?” I repeated. “You xxxxx!! I’m stuck out here in the middle of the bush, with a pit that scares the sh*t outta me, and I just stepped in a whopping load of it at the bottom of the stairs… and I’m spreading it all over the frigging carpet, and…”
“Whoa, whoa,” he exclaimed. “Did you just say you sh*t at the bottom of my stairs and now you’re dragging it all over my carpet?”
“What??? Not me, you idiot!” I was yelling now, then I sensed movement behind me. Turning I saw the pit staring at me, his ears pricked in high alert. He wasn’t sitting; he was standing on the couch. I lowered my voice. “It was your damned dog.” I said through gritted teeth, keeping a watchful eye on the pit. “And…”
He interrupted me. “My dog stepped in your sh*t and is dragging it over my carpet??” His voice was strangled. Was he laughing?
“Okay, look here,” I sputtered, but he cut in again.
“Guess you haven’t had your coffee yet. I’ll let you wake up. Call you back in an hour or so.” Then the dial tone. I stared at the receiver in my hand. He had to be kidding!
Another movement caught my attention. I turned to see the pit climbing down off the couch, and the labs getting up from their cushions, wagging their tails slowly. At the same time the smell overwhelmed me.
I glared at the three of them.
“Okay, which one of you guys did that?” I asked accusingly, pointing at the pile of pooh where my flip flop was still encased. The tails went down, and the labs ducked their heads, both pictures of abject guilt. Not so the pit. He stood there looking at me, tongue lolling from his mouth, his attitude not in the least contrite. A 'don’t give a damn' stance if I’d ever seen one. Somehow I knew exactly who had left me the gift on the floor, but in my present state, I didn’t have the energy to press the matter.
“Okay, everybody out!” I limped towards the door. The labs hurried towards me, tails wagging again. The pit came running up behind us, then bullied his way past them to exit first. Once outside he turned, and I gasped as he lunged at Ben, the youngest lab, aiming for his face as Ben tried to follow. “Hey!” I yelled. The pit backed off and Ben, ignoring him, kept going. Beef was next, and was nearly out before the pit repeated the act on him too. Beef stopped abruptly, and his hind end caught the door, sending it flying back. I wasn’t holding it tightly, so the only thing that kept it from hitting my face was my big toe. The one on the sh**ty foot.
My scream of pain startled both dogs. The pit jerked his head up to look at me, and Beef quickly scurried the rest of the way out. I was feeling faint, but still managed enough strength to slam the door. The wham resounded loudly in the silent house. I leaned my face against the cold wood, waiting for the pain to abate. There was little time for that luxury. If I didn’t get rid of the stink in here I was going to gag. Walking the best I could, I crossed the room to throw open the windows. It was already cold ...I had forgotten to stoke the wood fire properly the night before… so more outside air wouldn’t make much of a difference, I reasoned. Okay, find paper towels, and a plastic bag. But first, wash the foot with the throbbing toe. Ugh!
I finished the cleaning, had coaxed another fire to life, and was finally sipping my first cup of coffee before I noticed that the pit was sitting at the patio door watching me. Had he been there the whole time? My mental state at the moment suggested to me that he was finding my misery highly amusing. I stared back at him.
“This is all your fault, you little Sh*t!” I could swear he smiled as he turned his back and trotted off the gallery. The phone began to ring.
(to be cont’d)
I hope your enjoying the story, but even more that you are enjoying your day. Each one is a gift, they say, and I agree. Sending you SMILES – I’ll catch yours if it comes my way.
Luv from the Bush in Quebec
I didn’t get home until late, and I watched the sun’s first rays touch my mountain before shutting my eyes; it was noon before I woke. Half the day is gone, and a beautiful day it is too, so I’ll post my 4th chapter of the Bud Saga, and then get my butt outdoors. Here we go.
Some more of YOU WANT ME TO BABY-SIT WHAT???
Zombie is me when I first wake up. Upon opening my eyes the next morning, the first thing I saw was a clock sitting on a bedside table. It read 8:15. But it wasn’t my clock, and it wasn’t my table. Where was I?
It took a couple of seconds to get my bearings, and by that time the phone rang again. Its shrill had wakened me.
I stumbled out of bed and grabbed my dressing gown, struggling to pull it on, simultaneously inserting my feet into flip-flops, alias slippers. I had succeeded with one, but the other kept avoiding my foot. I was pushing it along ahead of me, still trying to manoeuvre the toe-hold into place, when OWYEE! Pain, massive pain. My left shin had connected solidly with the chair barrier at the top of the stairs. Moaning, I tried to rub it numb as I watched the culprit go sliding down. It stopped to lodge halfway, once again blocking my path.
Briiing! The phone.
I limped down as quickly as I could, grabbed the darned chair, and continued my wavering descent. I was feeling my way, because the seat obstructed my vision. I didn’t see, only felt, the squish when I put my foot on the level floor. Just the texture alone, even in my stupor, would have told me what it was. The awful smell confirmed the fact.
Briiing!
“Yyyuck!” I looked down with disgust. It was oozing over the toes of my right foot... And the stink! I held my breath, dropping the chair to hold my nose as I gingerly slipped out of the flip-flop. It stuck there. That type of footwear is not pooh protective! Both sides of my foot were covered with the stuff.
Briiing!
How many swear words can one utter when hobbling over a ten foot space, hardly able to put weight on the left leg, and trying not to soil the wall-to-wall carpet with the right one?
Briing!
I grabbed up the receiver. “What?!” I growled in exasperation.
“Hey, it’s me. How are you doing?” I recognized the cheery voice of my friend.
“How am I doing?" I asked incredulously. “How am I doing?” I repeated. “You xxxxx!! I’m stuck out here in the middle of the bush, with a pit that scares the sh*t outta me, and I just stepped in a whopping load of it at the bottom of the stairs… and I’m spreading it all over the frigging carpet, and…”
“Whoa, whoa,” he exclaimed. “Did you just say you sh*t at the bottom of my stairs and now you’re dragging it all over my carpet?”
“What??? Not me, you idiot!” I was yelling now, then I sensed movement behind me. Turning I saw the pit staring at me, his ears pricked in high alert. He wasn’t sitting; he was standing on the couch. I lowered my voice. “It was your damned dog.” I said through gritted teeth, keeping a watchful eye on the pit. “And…”
He interrupted me. “My dog stepped in your sh*t and is dragging it over my carpet??” His voice was strangled. Was he laughing?
“Okay, look here,” I sputtered, but he cut in again.
“Guess you haven’t had your coffee yet. I’ll let you wake up. Call you back in an hour or so.” Then the dial tone. I stared at the receiver in my hand. He had to be kidding!
Another movement caught my attention. I turned to see the pit climbing down off the couch, and the labs getting up from their cushions, wagging their tails slowly. At the same time the smell overwhelmed me.
I glared at the three of them.
“Okay, which one of you guys did that?” I asked accusingly, pointing at the pile of pooh where my flip flop was still encased. The tails went down, and the labs ducked their heads, both pictures of abject guilt. Not so the pit. He stood there looking at me, tongue lolling from his mouth, his attitude not in the least contrite. A 'don’t give a damn' stance if I’d ever seen one. Somehow I knew exactly who had left me the gift on the floor, but in my present state, I didn’t have the energy to press the matter.
“Okay, everybody out!” I limped towards the door. The labs hurried towards me, tails wagging again. The pit came running up behind us, then bullied his way past them to exit first. Once outside he turned, and I gasped as he lunged at Ben, the youngest lab, aiming for his face as Ben tried to follow. “Hey!” I yelled. The pit backed off and Ben, ignoring him, kept going. Beef was next, and was nearly out before the pit repeated the act on him too. Beef stopped abruptly, and his hind end caught the door, sending it flying back. I wasn’t holding it tightly, so the only thing that kept it from hitting my face was my big toe. The one on the sh**ty foot.
My scream of pain startled both dogs. The pit jerked his head up to look at me, and Beef quickly scurried the rest of the way out. I was feeling faint, but still managed enough strength to slam the door. The wham resounded loudly in the silent house. I leaned my face against the cold wood, waiting for the pain to abate. There was little time for that luxury. If I didn’t get rid of the stink in here I was going to gag. Walking the best I could, I crossed the room to throw open the windows. It was already cold ...I had forgotten to stoke the wood fire properly the night before… so more outside air wouldn’t make much of a difference, I reasoned. Okay, find paper towels, and a plastic bag. But first, wash the foot with the throbbing toe. Ugh!
I finished the cleaning, had coaxed another fire to life, and was finally sipping my first cup of coffee before I noticed that the pit was sitting at the patio door watching me. Had he been there the whole time? My mental state at the moment suggested to me that he was finding my misery highly amusing. I stared back at him.
“This is all your fault, you little Sh*t!” I could swear he smiled as he turned his back and trotted off the gallery. The phone began to ring.
(to be cont’d)
I hope your enjoying the story, but even more that you are enjoying your day. Each one is a gift, they say, and I agree. Sending you SMILES – I’ll catch yours if it comes my way.
Luv from the Bush in Quebec
Saturday, February 6, 2010
THE BUD SAGA - PART 3
My smile is all over my face this morning! The first reason is the hours of sleep I got last night – to bed at midnight and stayed in the arms of Murphy until 10 AM this morning! Wow! That in itself is an achievement. Then I wake up to fresh coffee (Heinz sneaked upstairs quietly and prepared it); the sun is out there and the view is magnificent; the Canadiens game is televised at 13:30 this afternoon; and the cherry on the sundae? I’m babysitting my two little rug rats (there will soon be three!!) right after the game.
But wait! There’s more. Yoshiko is already on the flight bound for home and will be landing at the airport around 2:30 this afternoon. Shan is in Quebec city with friends, attending both a minor hockey tournament and the renown Carnival. I’m pretty sure the older grandchildren are on the ski hills. Oh my, but life is good!
And here is the third chapter of my Bud Saga.
YOU WANT ME TO BABY-SIT WHAT??? - Part 3
I closed the door, watching the dogs from the corner of my eye. There were large cushions on the floor, and the labs trotted over to them, turned around a couple of times, then flopped down. The pit immediately jumped up onto the couch, and settled himself smack in the middle of it. Staking his territory? I was pretty sure their master did not allow them on the furniture.
“Are you supposed to be up there?” I asked him. No reaction, other than fixing me with that stare. I considered my options…. leave him there and let my friend deal with it whenever he returned? Or force the pit to get down and join the other dogs?
“Hey!” I used a louder tone. “Get down!” The stare never wavered...then he sighed and lowered his head between his front paws.
Okay, I guess that meant we were going with the first option. I consoled myself by noting that there were only two cushions on the floor .…maybe he was used to being on the couch. And I wouldn’t be sitting there anyway. I liked the rocking chair by the fire better, didn’t I? Thus, unwittingly, I set the stage for my stay. There can be only one lead dog in a pack...one boss….and I had just handed that role to the pit.
The rest of the evening was uneventful, other than my being aware that each time I moved the pit would lift his head and watch me. But then, so did the two labs, so I quelled the uneasiness by telling myself it was normal. Their master worked from home, so they were used to having him with them constantly. Suddenly, he was gone, they were completely alone for a few days, and now a semi-stranger was wandering around in here. Of course they were confused and, like good dogs, watchful.
It was not late when I prepared for bed. My early morning, the long day at work, the excitement from the latest events, and now the total silence in the house...it caused me to nod sleepily in front of the fire. I decided I'd feel safer upstairs in the bedroom.
It was a Swiss chalet type of construction, and there was no door separating this bedroom from the rest of the house. Feeling silly while doing it, I carefully stuck a chair into the opening at the top of the stairs. The pit could probably jump over it quite easily. Still, I thought, it's better than nothing.
I was cuddled up in bed and, somewhere between the awake and the dream state, I remembered the name. Bud. Yep, that was it - the three B’s….Beef, Ben and Bud.
Little did I know that I would hardly ever call him that. As of the next day he would baptized “you little S**t!”. Tomorrow, we would start the war.
(to be cont’d)
I have some work to be done before the hockey game starts, so now wish you a happy, sunny day, wherever you are. Sending you my SMILE - hope you'll share yours too!
Luv from the Bush in Quebec
But wait! There’s more. Yoshiko is already on the flight bound for home and will be landing at the airport around 2:30 this afternoon. Shan is in Quebec city with friends, attending both a minor hockey tournament and the renown Carnival. I’m pretty sure the older grandchildren are on the ski hills. Oh my, but life is good!
And here is the third chapter of my Bud Saga.
YOU WANT ME TO BABY-SIT WHAT??? - Part 3
I closed the door, watching the dogs from the corner of my eye. There were large cushions on the floor, and the labs trotted over to them, turned around a couple of times, then flopped down. The pit immediately jumped up onto the couch, and settled himself smack in the middle of it. Staking his territory? I was pretty sure their master did not allow them on the furniture.
“Are you supposed to be up there?” I asked him. No reaction, other than fixing me with that stare. I considered my options…. leave him there and let my friend deal with it whenever he returned? Or force the pit to get down and join the other dogs?
“Hey!” I used a louder tone. “Get down!” The stare never wavered...then he sighed and lowered his head between his front paws.
Okay, I guess that meant we were going with the first option. I consoled myself by noting that there were only two cushions on the floor .…maybe he was used to being on the couch. And I wouldn’t be sitting there anyway. I liked the rocking chair by the fire better, didn’t I? Thus, unwittingly, I set the stage for my stay. There can be only one lead dog in a pack...one boss….and I had just handed that role to the pit.
The rest of the evening was uneventful, other than my being aware that each time I moved the pit would lift his head and watch me. But then, so did the two labs, so I quelled the uneasiness by telling myself it was normal. Their master worked from home, so they were used to having him with them constantly. Suddenly, he was gone, they were completely alone for a few days, and now a semi-stranger was wandering around in here. Of course they were confused and, like good dogs, watchful.
It was not late when I prepared for bed. My early morning, the long day at work, the excitement from the latest events, and now the total silence in the house...it caused me to nod sleepily in front of the fire. I decided I'd feel safer upstairs in the bedroom.
It was a Swiss chalet type of construction, and there was no door separating this bedroom from the rest of the house. Feeling silly while doing it, I carefully stuck a chair into the opening at the top of the stairs. The pit could probably jump over it quite easily. Still, I thought, it's better than nothing.
I was cuddled up in bed and, somewhere between the awake and the dream state, I remembered the name. Bud. Yep, that was it - the three B’s….Beef, Ben and Bud.
Little did I know that I would hardly ever call him that. As of the next day he would baptized “you little S**t!”. Tomorrow, we would start the war.
(to be cont’d)
I have some work to be done before the hockey game starts, so now wish you a happy, sunny day, wherever you are. Sending you my SMILE - hope you'll share yours too!
Luv from the Bush in Quebec
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