Seasons Change

 

We have had heartache over the past couple of years.  The original four-pack of Molly, George, Chase and Charlie will forever hold a special place in our hearts.  Abby has gained beautiful silver streaks on her face and she is the new, self-appointed leader of a four-pack that deserves new posts.

Chase + Puddles

Chase has had many cat friends in his life but none has inspired him like Puddles.  

The Englishboy returned to Georgia with two cats:  Puddles and Mr. Kitty.  Puddles was a beautiful, petite special needs cat with a form of dwarfism and down’s syndrome.  Each morning, Chase peered through the gate to the downstairs area, and waited for Puddles to greet him. 

When we returned from work, we could see evidence of dried dog drool at the closed door.  Chase had lingered on the carpet runner for the occasional cat paw to slide beneath the door through the day.  

When the cats were permitted to visit, with Abby safely banned from the house, Puddles would search for Chase and he would follow her everywhere like a lovesick puppy.  And one evening, after watching this, I realized that the two companions truly formed the essence of my blog’s name:  Chasing Puddles.

18

In the summer of 2015, I was at home, sick and cuddled up in front of the TV with Chase.  He was 12 and 1/2 years old and I began to wonder how much longer we would be together.  I grabbed my phone and conducted a search on the lifespan of an English Setter.  I gasped when I saw the answer.  "You are already past your expiration date!" I declared and hugged my dog a little tighter.  I wasn't ready to let go.

I was reminded several times about Brandy, the English Setter in my life for a couple of years when I lived outside of Charleston.  She far surpassed the statistics that were flashing on my phone.  

Life continued and milestones were reached.  Each Christmas, I would catch Chase gazing trance-like at the lights and ornaments of the tree or sleeping sweetly in front of the fireplace.  Each January 28th was a birthday celebration of yet another year.  And we all slowed down just a little bit.  Walks became shorter.  Squirrels no longer held his attention but this dog sure could tell time.  Meals were required promptly at 6:30AM and 6PM.  Bedtime was 10PM sharp and he enjoyed his heating pad. 

I don't know why he has exceeded all expectations but I am grateful every day.  When I began this journey with him in 2003, he was five weeks old.  I hoped to give him a long and happy life and I believe that my goal was accomplished.  I'm lucky to have loved him nearly his whole life...18 and counting.

The Dog Knows

Dogs know when they look ridiculous.

When I was a teenager, my mom took our very fluffy Keeshond to the groomer for a summer shave.  The resulting look was a lion head with leg warmers.  He hid for days.

I tried many costumes on Chase.  He cheerfully wore them in the house, sheltered from the judgement of strangers.  He had a tuxedo, a wizard hat, bunny ears and red, glittery devil horns.  My vacation to Key West happened to occur during their annual Fantasy Fest.  All the glitter and gaudiness was out in full force.  I thought it was a perfect moment to debut the devil horns.  Chase allowed me to put them on his head.  He obediently followed me out the door and down the brick pathway, lined with privacy fencing to the street.  Upon reaching the street, he violently tossed his head back and forth until he was free of the horns.  Undeterred, I put them back on his head and began dragging him toward Duval Street.  Chase tossed the horns again, pressed a paw on the top to secure them in place and ripped them to shreds.  Bits of red material and white fluff littered the street.  I have never made him wear another costume.  Ever.  

"They say the smart dog obeys but the smarter dog knows when to disobey".  Amy Hempel

Shoe Show

Wooden floors and a really old dog do not make the best companions.  Over the years, Chase's back legs became weaker and if he lost his footing, down he went with the back legs splayed.  Oftentimes he was left swimming across the planks until he reached a bit of carpet where he could pull himself back up.  We turned to Amazon.com and purchased dog shoes in varying sizes and styles.  We tried hard shoes and soft shoes and rubber coated slipper socks with Velcro straps. And for a short while, the shoes worked.  He only needed them on his back legs as his front legs still had strength.  Chase needed to wear the shoes all the time.  Dog feet are not meant for shoes that are based on human designs.  The shoes did not allow enough air flow and they kept his feet in a position that was not natural.  Fur would rub away from his ankles.  The lack of airflow seemed to promote nail growth and when removed, they were quite stinky.  The Englishman claimed that Chase had "rabbit hutch" feet.

We added carpet runners throughout the house and removed the shoes.  Then we added no-slip material under the carpet runners.  Shortly the dog was shoe-less and made his way through the house via a carpet runner maze.  This was not a solution.  We needed a shoe made from a breathable non-slip material.  The Englishman suggested we try the non-slip carpet pad material.

Carpet pads were pricey.  We found that the non-slip shelf and drawer liners were more economical and worked just as well under the carpet runners.  So The Englishman cut a trial pair in the shape of tube socks and I stitched them on my old Kenmore sewing machine.  We used Velcro cable ties to hold up his new brown socks.

It was a brilliant idea to put the non-slip material on Chase so that he had it wherever he went.  His feet no longer smelled and the design allowed enough room that his feet were able to have natural movement.  Each pair lasted about a week and took just a couple of minutes to sew.  The garish mixture of carpet runners were rolled up and stored.  Once again, my 17-year old setter could outrun and outsmart me in the house as he trotted around in his functional no-slip socks.  

The Cloak of Invisibility

Chase is a white dog and easily spotted in the yard on any dark night.  He is quite aware of this handicap.  If he doesn’t want to come in when called, he freezes, hoping he won’t be spotted.  He also knows the phrase “I can SEE you!” which then convinces him that he will be in more trouble if he doesn’t comply with the earlier command calling him in.

At the beginning of the year, The Englishman and I were in American Apparel and discovered, to our delight, a selection of dog shirts and hoodies.  I purchased a classic sweatshirt complete with the single pocket and zip up front for Chase.  It was a perfect fit and he refused to allow us to remove it for five days.  Warmer weather soon arrived and the hoodie was stored until the cold returned.

Summer turned into fall, bringing endless rain.  I dressed Charlie and Molly in new turtleneck sweaters and zipped Chase into his hoodie.  It was his super hero outfit.  It allowed him to spend longer periods of time in the yard, protected from the stinging rain and wind.  He lounged near the fire, perfectly bundled in the soft, black fleece.  He slept in the hoodie, swaddled in its’ warmth.  He would not allow anyone to remove his hoodie and one night I discovered why.

Chase followed me outside into the inky dark to check on the ducks and chickens.  I had a flashlight that dimly lit a small area in front of me.  Chase poked and sniffed near the edge of the driveway.  I whistled and assumed he would follow me.  Ever-obedient, Chase had disappeared when I returned less than a minute later.  I peered into the dark but could see nothing.  My dog had used his main super power:  The Cloak of Invisibility.  I whistled into the night.  Nothing.  I called for him, pleaded with him and offered treats.  Silence greeted me.  I returned to the house and gathered several more flashlights.  

I scanned the front yard and the street.  I imagined the lost dog posters and the embarrassment of adding “last seen wearing a black American Apparel Hoodie” to the description.  I could hear the whispers of the neighbors: who puts clothing on a dog?  I had just turned back, defeated and planning to seek assistance from The Englishman when I heard galloping clicks from the street.  Out of the darkness came a slice of white fur racing down the driveway.  Chase  dodged me and ducked quickly into the house through his dog door.  Panting heavily, he lapped the water in his bowl as The Englishman and I searched the American Apparel website for a new hoodie…in white.

All Paws on the Poop Deck

It was a hot summer and it rained frequently. For the first time in years, Georgia was not experiencing a drought. The grass and weeds were healthy, green and tall. Very tall. Tall grass was not a problem for Chase. He trampled it, rolled on it and used it as camouflage to remain invisible as he stalked birds. The height of the grass proved daunting for Charlie, George and Molly who had considerably shorter legs. None wished to venture into the backyard jungle to do their daily doggy business.

The three vertically challenged canines solved their dilemma simply by lifting a leg to my potted plants on the back deck. Even Molly, the sole female of the bunch, lifted her leg in solidarity. Determined to end this rotten behavior, I armed myself with a bottle of non-environmentally friendly bleach and a hose. I blasted all traces of residue away from the upper deck as the three dogs scrambled out of the reach of the spray to the lower deck. I approached the railing and peered below. To my dismay, that area had been utilized as the “poop deck”. I could feel my blood boil as I raised the hose and blasted the lower deck clean. The dogs jumped into the grassy jungle for safety and I continued on my mission for cleanliness. They scurried to the back stairs and were now peering down at me from above.

I stomped up the stairs and led all three as far into the yard as possible where I ordered them to go to the bathroom. I was fully aware of the ridiculous scene and prayed that the neighbors weren’t watching. As I surveyed the yard, I spied the small green dog pool discarded beneath a tree. I gingerly gave it a tug and shrieked as a brilliant blue and green salamander slithered into the undergrowth. I looked around for my pack to rescue me but they were back on the poop deck. I dragged the pool to the lower deck and filled it with water. It was large enough to prevent any additional squatting in that area and provided a great summer activity for sixteen hot paws. Molly, George and Charlie pushed their way into the pool and splashed around in the cool water while Chase continued to roll through the weeds.

Still unconvinced, I hoped for the best and prepared for the worst. I placed the hose within my reach and decided I would blast away any future bad behavior. Completely pooped, I retreated into the house with my dog entourage and called it a day.

Dogs CAN Look Up!

Early on a Saturday morning, Chase took me for a walk. While I am quite aware that this sentence should be arranged differently, this was the truth of the matter. We had just started up the gravel driveway with Chase tugging me along as I stumbled in my appropriate three-inch sparkly sandals. I heard a “whoosh” sound. I ignored it, thinking that one of the neighbors must be playing with a new power tool. Our walk paused for a moment while Chase sniffed at something that caught his attention. I heard the “whoosh” again and then a man’s voice called out, “Hello! Good Morning!”

I froze. In a panic, I scanned the woods around me for axe murderers and psychopaths. The voice was alarmingly close and I peered through the trees trying to find the source. Another “whoosh” filled the air and a cat came careening down the driveway and disappeared under my car. As I was beginning to feel like I was the naïve star of a bad horror movie, I could hear the man laughing. I was sure he was laughing at me and I was filled with a mix of anger and dread as I still couldn’t locate the voice.

I heard another “whoosh” and noticed that Chase had frozen in place and was now staring at something above him. I followed my dog’s gaze and was amazed to see a bright yellow hot air balloon carrying a man in its basket. The man was still laughing and my dog, who was out taking me for a walk that morning had taught me a lesson: sometimes you have to look up!