Beauty and the Beast

I took Abby on our typical walk while it was still light outside.  She wore her hot pink American Apparel hoodie that had a rip in the sleeve and I was too lazy to put a different one on her for the sake of appearances.  I grabbed two doggy bags for the journey.  Several feet from our front door, Abby squatted to do her business and I figured that I would pick it up later.  We made it to the sidewalk and on the border of our property and the neighbor's, she squatted once more.  This time, I dutifully picked it up.  Since our walk had just begun, I didn't want to carry the bag with me.  I eyed my mailbox and dragged Abby toward it, hiding the bag in the tall weeds on the back side of the post.  I turned around to continue the walk and was met with resistance:  Abby was once more in the squatting position.  I had no idea how one slender dog could store so much poo inside.  Not risking the chance of a fourth maneuver, I decided to handle it later and dragged her down the walkway toward the library.  There were cars in the parking lot but no one was outside as we walked by the front doors.  At the tennis courts, I could discern the out of town accents from the players on the courts as they took in the beautiful Spring weather.  We returned to the library which is where I saw him.  

This wasn't the first time I noticed the glorious specimen of a male.  On many evenings as I walked around town with Abby, we passed each other on opposite sides of the street, never once meeting.  Oh, he was 100% English of this I was certain. He was black with a beautiful thick white mane and a perfectly centered white streak from his head to his nose. What a glorious English Shepherd and he sat rigid and obedient next to his owner on the library bench.  He refused to make eye contact with us.  Abby pined for him, pulled toward him.  I tried to use the bushes as camouflage and avoid all contact but she protested with loud whines.  I heaved forward dragging my country dog with the off center white stripe, raggedy pink hoodie hiding her itchy spots and thin coat that was slowly growing back.  I struggled with my Pretty Woman while the Richard Gere of dogs ignored her.  She was my Molly Ringwald in Pretty in Pink.  The dog from the wrong side of the tracks who was drawn to the posh stud from the right family. "Oh look at that dog!" shouted a group across the street.  They pointed to the Lion King who seemed to sit just a tiny bit taller.  "And there's another one!" cried another person and pointed to Abby as I pulled her down the street.  

My cheeks felt hot and were probably the same color as her hoodie.  I retrieved my hidden treasure bag from the mail box, took care of the piles left behind by Abby and immediately ordered another hoodie from American Apparel in hot pink.  I had one article of clothing that was about to be retired. The next time we met, Oh Beautiful One, Abby would be the Beauty and not the Beast.

Deaf But Not Dumb

For a dog born with fantastic hearing, Chase did not take his hearing loss with grace.  By the time we noticed the loss, it was mostly gone.  The high pitched dog whistle did not help, yelling louder did nothing and eventually I was grateful for the extensive dog training that he had gone through when he was a puppy which combined hand signals with voice commands.  

At first, Chase was quite distressed by the change in hearing.  He would snooze in the kitchen while I cooked, the smells of our Blue Apron meal gently lulling him.  If I left the room, he would bark until I returned and invited him to follow with a quick hand motion.  He would easily startle, especially if he did not see someone approach him.  He would see the other dogs bark at the front door and join in, often barking in the wrong direction.  It took months, maybe even a year, but we finally worked out a routine.  

Our dog sitter was also hearing impaired and when we first met her, she asked for a demonstration of the hand commands that Chase understood.  We felt relieved to find a dog person that had a deeper understanding of a lack of hearing.

I think Chase could read lips.  He certainly understood when I said "No" which was more often than I would prefer.  I also believed he could "hear himself" in his own head.  He didn't whine lowly anymore working himself louder and louder.  He instead started with a loud bark that only increased in volume and intensity.  I couldn't tell him to use his inside voice any longer but he did understand the "palm up" in his direction. 

My favorite time of day was when I returned home after work.  Abby greeted me at the deck gate and Charlie was close behind.  They could hear my car as it entered the neighborhood, perhaps even further away.  Chase, however, slumbered away in his crate that had a custom memory foam mattress.  I left the kitchen door open and waited for the smell of fresh air to drift into the house to wake him gently. He was just as stubborn without hearing as he was when he had it.  If he didn't want to obey, he refused to make eye contact with me.  In his mind, no hand signal, no need to comply.  Just like the old days.

Cautionary Tails and Tales

It was dark when I decided to take Abby for her walk.  This presented challenges as I only had two pockets in my jacket.  I needed several dog bags because Abby was legendary for the "triple play" bowel movement and I had no intentions of repeating the "pretend to clean up after her" move.  I also wanted to carry my cell phone and a flashlight.  We set off, unsuccessfully sneaking out of the house while Chase and Charlie protested loudly at the front windows.  

Abby walked obediently beside me with just the occasional light tug to sniff a few spots along the way.  I eyed her hoodie and wondered if she would allow me to shove a few dog bags into the pocket on the back of it.  We followed our normal route:  Down the sidewalk, across the street, through the library parking lot, across the front of the library and out the side of that parking lot.  Before I crossed the next street I eyed the tennis courts which was my typical path, or the small wooded path and picnic area which was usually reserved for last, after I circled the courts.  

I opted to go through the woods first, crossing the aging wooden bridge because I could see a lot of people playing tennis on the well-lit courts and I reasoned that they could help should I scream.  You know, from any murderers lurking behind the trees.  Or in the bathrooms...I picked up our pace and decided a nice jog was in order.  Abby and I were through the woods, over the bridge and past the bathrooms in record time.  Slowing the pace, I walked around the tennis courts and tried to interest Abby in a stray yellow ball.  While this was Charlie's favorite activity, Abby seemed unimpressed.  

Ball abandoned, we headed up the sidewalk-less street and into the side of the library parking lot.  As I reached the first sidewalk, an older SUV careened into the empty lot and parked at an angle next to a utility building.  I could see the face of a small child peering out the passenger seat window.  A couple of people jumped out of the vehicle.  Abby tensed and planted her four paws on the sidewalk, pulling back from me and staring at them.  I was sure they were up to no good.  Maybe getting rid of a body?  I needed to reach the front of the library where I knew there was a security camera.  I dragged Abby who was now growling.  It took some effort:  lunge and drag, chastise the dog, repeat.  Finally I was in front of the camera.  Good.  The moment was documented, just in case.  I managed to pull Abby across the street to the opposite sidewalk.  I heard car doors slam and the vehicle quickly left, driving in the opposite direction.  Relieved, I allowed Abby to stare at the red taillights until they disappeared from view.  We headed back to the house where Chase and Charlie waited on the deck to protest as soon as we were spotted.  Safely back in the house I vowed to cut back on the true-crime podcasts as I passed out treats to my three-pack.