Oh Deer!

Small town country living has it's advantages.  The half grocery store half hardware store has friendly employees and no wait at the check out counter.  The post office is so tiny, only one customer can fit in the lobby.  Everyone else just mingles and chats by the post office boxes and no one is a stranger.  

But when someone hits a deer on the back country roads, the cleanup crew consists of scavenger birds.  Abby was getting older and it was harder for her to hear but there was nothing wrong with her nose.  In the winter, she was roaming freely in the front yard.  It was night time and she usually stuck close to the house.  I went outside to get her and noticed she was intently gnawing on something.  It was a leg bone.  I was horrified and pulled her by the collar.  Too dark to tell if it was an animal leg or a human leg, we returned to the safety of the house.  Fresh on my mind was the discovery of the missing body of a man just one mile down the road.  The discovery happened because the property owner's dog carried back a piece of leg bone.  I may have an active imagination but this time my uneasiness was based on pure fact.

The next morning, I went outside to inspect the leg still laying on our front lawn.  There was a hoof attached to it.  This meant that Abby went across the street and slightly down the road to drag back her unexpected treat.  This also meant that her digestive system and the deer leg were going to have a battle in a couple of days and I was going to have a lot to clean up.

At the start of summer, we discovered a dead deer in the front part of our woods.  As the temperatures rose, the buzzards gathered.  At the end of the weekend, only a skeleton remained.  Many weeks later, the Englishman decided to let Abby out on a nighttime adventure.  When she returned, I knew that a bath was going to be the first chore the next day.  While I bathed her, multiple packages were delivered to the front door.  When I opened the door to bring the packages inside, I saw a deer leg on the front door.  Mortified of what the delivery driver thought of us, I asked my husband about the bone.  He told me it belonged to Abby.  She brought it back the night before after coating herself in "eau de dead deer".  I was not looking forward to the upcoming days of her grumbling tummy and my clean up duties.

As if on cue, Sunday night, after the Englishman left for a business trip, the fun began.  After a special diet for several days and many snarky comments made by me, I dearly hope the late night solo escapades were over for good.

Cornered

We have a lot of dog art.  My mom has painted portraits of our original group of dogs.  My dad created a picture of Chase using a wood burning technique.  We’ve purchased art from galleries that feature dogs or contain dogs.  For the last few years I’ve whined and begged and stomped my foot at my mom who still has yet to produce a painting of our English Shepherd, Abby. 

When we moved last year to our new house, we discovered that we had a lot of pictures to hang.  Over the months, we began choosing walls and framing prints and worked our way through rooms and boxes of our pictures.  I carefully pulled the bubble wrap from a picture we purchased in the Lake District in 2012, called “Cornered” by Jeff Sudders.  I was drawn to it because of the spray painted marks on the sheep.  They were in a corner of the pasture, held captive by a black and white English Shepherd.  

I pointed out the "Abby Dog" to my husband and smiled at the thought of purchasing a painting with her in it before I ever loved her.

Puppy Le Pew

I woke to the smell of poo.  Charlie slumbered in his dog bed, his head dangling over the cushioned edge and hot morning breath drifted directly into my face.  I carefully lifted him to reveal the small treasure below that had escaped during the night.  "Gross!" I told him as I carried him outside to see if he needed to relieve himself in another way.  He did.

As I was ready to leave for work, I carried him downstairs to my parent's house.  Mom had just returned from her morning walk with Abby and Dolly.  Abby was especially energetic and attempted to greet me with cold nose kisses.  "You were right", Mom declared.  I was confused and it clearly showed on my face.  "The dead animal tail at the top of the road," she continued.  "It was a skunk tail.  It smelled when I picked it up."

I looked at her ungloved hands and asked where she left the tail.

"Oh, I don't have it anymore.  Abby jumped up and snatched it right out of my hands."  Mom threw her hands up as if to demonstrate what had happened.  "She ate it."

My dog that had been kissing me just ate a skunk tail.  I must have looked ill and Mom added, "I did try to get it from her but she clenched her teeth so tightly that I couldn't, so she ate it."  Mom decided that something was wrong with my dog's behavior.

I called my husband to share my morning woes.  In the afternoon, there was a flower delivery to my office.  The card read "Just Because Wieners, Skunks and Mom".

Loch Ness Llama

You know you are in small-town America when there’s a Dollar General that is your one-stop shop for everything from groceries to tools.  I picked up a few pool floats including one in the style of a llama.  It was a hot southern afternoon and I worked up a sweat getting it inflated but as I slid the ring over my head and floated in the cool, clear water my efforts seemed worth it.

Abby didn’t enjoy the water.  The only time I attempted to coax her into a pool, I was left with claw marks on my arms and a dog that clearly couldn’t swim.  She acquiesced to watching me from the pool’s edge.  I floated, arms wrapped around the llama’s neck.  I suddenly became aware of low growls.  Abby was at attention, staring at the pool creature.  She would come closer and then dart away with a half bark.  I kicked my legs to navigate near the edge and Abby ran out of the pool area and up to the top deck of the house.  She peered through the wrought iron bars, keeping watch over this creature from the deep.

The Dog Bowl Part II

I have been trying to dispose of two Papasan chairs for years.  The first attempt was in 2016.    They were already faded but Charlie adored the chairs.  I thought about getting new cushions from Pier One but they went out of business during the pandemic and I was out of options.  

In preparation for our move, we packed many items and moved them to our storage unit in town.  This included the two Papasan chairs.  The Englishboy listed them for sale and someone was interested in the chairs but never came to buy them.  I was at work when my mother and sister emptied the storage unit months later.  I arrived at my new house to see the chairs displayed on my back porch.  I told my mother to donate them to the Goodwill as soon as possible.  But then Abby started sleeping in the chairs.  She curled up during the day for naps in the sunshine and she was there at night on guard outside my bedroom door.  

Me: 0 Papasan Chairs: 2 for the win.

Guilt Trip

We tried to sneak out of the house with just Charlie.  Things were going as planned.  Chase was sound asleep in the bedroom.  Abby was on the back deck.  I grabbed a leash and The Englishman had Charlie tucked under his arm.  Hand on the door to the garage, I felt a tail brush against my leg.  A large and bushy tail.  A wagging tail.  Abby's tail.  

I put the leash on her and took her on a driveway walk:  up and down the driveway we ran several times.  On one of the trips back, I noticed Chase was in the yard.  The Englishman placed Charlie in the back of the Jeep and herded Chase into the house.  I started to go back into the garage but Abby dug her feet in and pulled toward the Jeep.  I tugged, she tugged.  I handed the leash to The Englishman and told him to put her in the house.  She tugged toward the Jeep one time and he helped her onto the backseat.  Our daytrip to the parents' house had one more passenger.  A very guilty looking passenger that kept Charlie quite warm on the 2 hour drive.

Abby loved the freedom of South Carolina and was able to run through the woods quite freely.  She was also willfully disobedient when we called for her to return.  On this trip the problem was solved when a friend arrived with his new puppy.  All it took was for me to hold the puppy, covering him with coos and kisses and Abby was once again my shadow dog.  

The return trip to Georgia was an easy repeat of the morning.  Charlie snuggled with Abby and when we arrived, Chase was dreaming lazily on his dog bed in the living room.

"A sly piece of good luck, which nobody knows of is delightful." Publilius Syrus

Close to the Bone

The English boy helped me set up the Halloween decorations at the beginning of October.  All of the skeletons came back out of the closet for the season.  Because the work began much later in the day, it was dark before we finished.

The next morning, I put Abby on her leash for her morning walk from the front door to the end of the driveway.  Dawn had yet to break and a slight mist was clinging to the autumn grass.  Abby sniffed and snorted as she searched for the perfect spot.  Suddenly she froze.  A low growl began in her throat.  I searched the yard and street for the intruder:  deer?  rabbit?  jogger?  the evil cat from next door?  I saw nothing but Abby crouched and pulled me slowly across the yard toward the skeletons carrying a body bag.  As she stealthily approached, I was still doubtful that she thought these were the front yard intruders.  She cautiously touched her nose to a femur and rapidly jumped back as if bitten by a rattlesnake.  

It took a few days to convince Abby that there was no danger, but make no bones about it, these skeletons looked real enough to this guard dog of ours.

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.

Old Dog, New Tricks

It was ten o'clock at night and the Englishman was already in bed.  I had just settled in for an episode of American Horror Story when I heard a knock on the front door.  I quickly muted the television and listened intently.  Another quick but distinct knock came again.  I looked behind me and could clearly see Chase sleeping soundly on the couch.  He was the only door knocker in the house.  Charlie was at my feet and didn't react to the knock.  I crept from my chair to the fire place which shielded me from view of the two large windows on either side of the front door.  I had a decision to make:  lunge to the right and into the dining room where I had left my concealed weapon or dive to the left and into my bedroom in order to wake the Englishman and have him take care of things.  I knew that if I woke him and it was nothing, I would be subjected to his version of the night at parties and family gatherings for years to come.  Another loud knock could be heard on the door.

I took a deep breath and gracefully used my limited gymnastics skills to enter the dining room with cat-like stealth.  Weapon in hand, I recalled episodes of Charlie's Angels and Law and Order: SVU and peeked bravely around the corner where I glimpsed a fluffy black tail in the window.  A dog tail.  Abby's tail.  Relieved, I opened the door and praised her.  She pranced into the house, panting heavily.  Abby must have exited the house via the dog door and returned via the front door.  I pondered over how long she had been gone, where she went and what she did to cause her to drink the entire dog bowl of water.  I returned to finish my program and hoped that the only person she terrified on this dark and spooky night was me.

Dear Abby

Thank you for reminding me to keep my kitchen counters clear of things.  Even if I believe it is out of reach, nothing is ever out of your grasp.  Including a wicker basket of twenty fresh eggs.  I appreciate that you made sure no trace of egg remained and I learned so much about what happens when a dog consumes twenty raw eggs.  I also learned that I was not the first person to use a search engine when their dog ate twenty raw eggs.  Some ate more.

Thank you for helping me each morning with my upper body workout.  I sure wish you would tell me why you are reluctant to do your morning business in the backyard but my arms are becoming quite sculpted by carrying sixty pounds down two flights of deck stairs at 6:00 AM.  I am certain that this also is a great conversation starter for the neighbors.

Thank you for protecting me from every vehicle that passes us as we walk on the sidewalk in town.  I cannot imagine how I ever managed to walk in my town without the added benefit of your snarling and lunging.  It’s probably best that it’s hotter now and we restrict our walks to night.  You, know, like midnight.

Thank you for enjoying Charlie’s old toys, especially the ones that he had forgotten.  Of course he is interested now and the two of you seem to have such a great time tearing them to bits.

Thank you for being tall enough that you check to make sure I’m still alive if I haven’t roused from my sleep.  Weekends aren’t for sleeping in after all and you are so sweet for making sure I don’t miss any part of the day.

Thank you for encouraging me to pay attention to you.  I love the wet toys you gently place in my lap and when you steal my blanket, well that just helps me to get up faster, right?

Thank you for insisting that you are a family member and not a dog.  You absolutely should sit on the couch or chair even when we remove the cushions.

Thank you for your joy at bath time which is twice weekly for you due to your romping and rolling in the yard (after I carry you down).  I’m not sure if my favorite part of this routine is the dragging you down the hallway, the lifting you and attempts at fitting you through the bathroom door as you spread all four legs as wide as possible, or the heavy leaning you do once in the tub which inevitably gives me a bath, too.

Thank you for chewing up a Duracell battery last night.   Double A to be exact.  And we learned something.  You aren’t the first dog to do this.  So I washed your mouth out, checked that tongue and you got a nice bowl of milk.

Thank you for teaching the duck and chickens that there are dangers lurking in the yard.  It’s important that they stay vigilant and not become too relaxed.  It’s always better to stay at home, isn’t it?

Thank you for catching the flies that get trapped in the house.  It’s been such a very long time since we had a dog help out with fly catching and I do enjoy watching your efforts.

Thank you for keeping the squirrels out of the yard and ultimately out of the bird feeders.  I really do believe that one day you will catch that squirrel.  You are a flash of black and white across a great expanse of green.

Thank you for enjoying endless amounts of tennis ball tossing.  You are the only dog I have ever had that brings the ball back to me, placing it just so in my hand.

Thank you for catching my elbow and bumping it upward with your head.  I once had a black and white dog who did that to me and I miss him terribly. 

Thank you for being a dog that can be content to lie at my feet while I watch a movie.  I knew you felt at home the night you turned around the requisite three times with your favorite shark toy in your mouth and as you plopped down on the dog bed, a sigh was heard above the volume of the television.