Heart Like a Dog

The Good, the Bad, and the Oh My God of living with dogs!

Monkey See…..Day Two Hundred, Twenty Six

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I admit, when Delilah first came to us she was much wilder/crazy/spontaneous than she is now.  I had hopes that over time, Sampson’s behaviors would impress themselves on her.  While some of her exuberance still remains she has learned something from Sampson.

You see….we have a ritual in our house that Sampson started.

When we come home from work, or anytime we have been parted for any length of time, you must pay homage to the king.  If you don’t immediately approach him, then he gets a toy and lays there playing with it and he waits for you.

 

As you approach him, the tail starts.  Thump. Thump. Thump.  He smiles and then you rub; for what seems like hours but in reality is only about 5 minutes.

When you stop rubbing if he isn’t satisfied, he rolls over.

Honestly he’s so cute, that you rub some more.

And yes, this is the trait that Delilah has picked up.

She will often times greet you at the door with a toy in her mouth.

Or she grabs a toy and postures…

Lately the cat has begun this greeting ritual.

Thankfully he doesn’t bring a toy and wait for you to pet him, but he is very persistent.

In fact, he just about insists that you pet him.

Monkey see….

The Dog Takes the …Mouse?….Day One Hundred, Eighty Four

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When I was a kid we sang this song called “The Farmer in the Dell,” I’m sure you know the song.  The Farmer takes a wife, the wife takes a child…etc and on down the line until the cat takes the rat/mouse (depending on who’s singing it.)

We had an instance in our house, where the dog took the mouse. 

UM yeah, you read that right.  The dog took the mouse.

Ollie (our daughter Lynn’s cat) caught a mouse in the house.  Lynn is a big animal lover.  She wanted to save the mouse from the double paws and gnashing teeth of death, so she took the mouse away from the cat.  On her way out of the house, she decided to show Mike (yes, she named the mouse) to my mother. 

As mother, Sampson and Ollie gathered around,  Lynn opened her hands to expose the mouse;  Mike mustering all the courage his little mouse heart had, decided he would rather take his chances in the wilds of Stone Manor, than in Lynn’s hands and made a break for it.  He put his little paws together and with perfect form, dived out of Lynn’s hands.  Sampson being ever the opportunist and very good at catching things mid-air snagged the mouse.  There stood Sampson, mouse tail hanging out of his mouth, jaws clamped shut.

Lynn grabbed a hold of Sampson and tried to open his mouth, but Sampson wouldn’t give up his prize.  Lynn had her arms wrapped around Sampson’s neck begging and pleading with him to give her the mouse.  Nope, not happening.  Finally mother remembered the command and shouted “Drop it!”

Sampson dropped the mouse and Mike made a run for the safe haven under the couch.

Lynn was in a panic!  Ollie was on the hunt for the mouse and Sampson was prepared to eat the mouse, then Delilah decided she wanted a piece of the action.  So now Lynn had a cat, two dogs and a mouse all congregated in the same area.  Throw my mother into the mix and you have the closest idea of chaos you can possibly imagine.

Leaving mother to keep an eye on the mouse under the couch, Lynn took Ollie and locked him in her bedroom; then she let Sampson and Delilah outside and finally (don’t ask me how) caught the mouse and removed him to the great outdoors.

Regretfully, despite all Lynn’s attempts to save Mike; it wasn’t meant to be, apparently his injuries,  whether from Ollie or Sampson were too severe and he died on the side of the driveway.

R.I.P. Mike.

Have you seen a mouse?

Caw, Caw, Caw said the Crow…Day One Hundred, Seventy Three

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The detriment to sleeping with your windows open is the dogs hear the birds, then the dogs bark and want to go out to chase the birds.  So began my peaceful Sunday morning.  The day started at 6:20 with Delilah barking and rushing from the room;  because of some really noisy crows.

“Caw, caw, caw.”

I got up put the dogs outside, shut the bedroom door and went back to bed.  Alas sleep evaded me.  So I got up.

Upon walking into the living room I was greeted by the thump, thump, thump of Sampson’s tail whacking against the couch.  Delilah came inside as soon as she heard me, thinking since I’m up, I would be willing to feed them breakfast before 7:00 am.  I have a strict policy and won’t feed them before the allotted time, if I do then she starts her antics even earlier the next day.

7:00 am rolled around  and Chet and I started the feeding frenzy process; (damn those birds were really noisy this morning) amidst the symphony of animal noises, I noticed something was missing.

“Where’s Bob?”  I asked Chet.

So began the great Bob hunt.  The great Bob hunt was similar to hunting for Easter Eggs, except Bob isn’t round, or dyed or hard-boiled.

We searched the entire house, looking in closets and under beds; no Bob.  We looked at each other in wonder, could he have gotten outside?  How could that have happened?  He can’t push the screen door open and neither one of us let him out.  We walked outside into the back yard.

“Boy those crows are noisy today” I said.

“I think I’ll check out the front.”

I went inside and out onto the little front balcony.

“Bob,”  “Bob,”  I called.

“Caw, caw, caw” said the big black crow sitting in the tree. (Would that damn crow shut the eff up?)

Chet came along the side of the house from the back.

“Did you find him?”  I asked.

“No.” “Bob, Bob!”

“Bob” we called in unison.

“Caw, caw, caw” said the crow.

I said, “Why won’t that bird shut up”?

Chet’s response, “Maybe he’s found Bob.”

I’m beginning to hit panic mode at this point, and I’m hanging over the rail calling for Bob, then I hear it.  The faintest, most pitiful “Meow.”

“I hear him!” I scream, “Chet he’s over here somewhere.”

“Caw, caw, caw,” the fucking crow said.

Chet walked towards me, we are both looking frantically for Bob.  ” Bob”  “Bob” we call.

“Caw, caw, caw” said the crow.

“Will you shut up!” I scream at the crow.

Chet picked up a rock and pitched it at the damn bird.   He flew off.

Too bad neither one of us spoke crow.  The crow was saying, “Hey there’s a cat in the tree.”  “There’s a cat in the tree.” “Can anyone hear me, there’s a cat in the tree!” “A cat, a cat I say a cat’s in the tree.” (Now the crow sounds like Foghorn Leghorn.)

Holy Shit!  The cat was in the tree!  Does the fire department really come out and  get the cat out of the tree?

Chet said, “I think I can climb the tree.”

Then Chet realized, he was still wearing his slippers.

“I think I better go put some sneakers on.  Oh and I will need a backpack or something to put him in to carry him down.”

Good idea I thought.  Plus I figured I should have my cell phone just in case I need to call 911 because Chet fell off the ladder getting Bob out of the tree.  We both went inside, put our sneakers on and grabbed a backpack.  We went back outside and Bob was gone!

“Bob” we called, and called, and called.  No Bob.  We looked and looked and couldn’t find him.

“What could have happened to him?”  I asked.  “Do you think a hawk got him?”

“I don’t think a hawk could see him there.” Chet replied.

“But where could he have gone?”

“I don’t know, but I can’t worry about this right now.”  said Chet, and he went in the house.

We sat on the couch and I wondered, how am I going to tell my daughter we lost her cat?  What could have happened to him, then I pictured what the birds do to their prey in order to eat them.  I imagined Bob, broken and bloody lying in a field somewhere; birds poking him.  I felt sick to my stomach,  I turned to ask Chet a question and I realized, Chet was gone.

I looked out back and there he was, so Delilah and I went out.

“Have you seen him?”  I asked.

“No,” was the response.

“Bob, Bob”  I called again.

Then all of a sudden, there was a flurry in the bushes, Delilah had routed Bob, tail puffed up out of the bushes and into another tree!

“Can you get her out of here?”  Chet demanded.

I brought Delilah into the house and I brought Bob’s breakfast out.

“Come on buddy” Chet coaxed and Bob made his way haphazardly down the tree and into Chet’s arms.

Once Bob was safely in the house we decided he needed to have his collar on, we still need to get a tag with his name and our phone number on it; but in the meantime Bob can get use to wearing a collar.

We still have no idea how Bob got outside.  We don’t think he is large enough to push the screen door open himself; we know neither one of us let him out.  So the only other option is that Bob laid in wait for one of the dogs to open the door and snuck out.

OR someone opened the door deliberately and let him out.

“Pssst….Hey Bob”

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