Two
of the kids went away, and they gave me the honor and excitement
of taking care of their puppies. It became pretty apparent we
needed a diary.
Day
one, part one
They’ve
already forgotten about mommy and daddy. All it took was a chew
stick, one treat from the “Bob’s visiting, went shopping, brought
home a few things” bag of mystery and the promise of a slice of
cheese later.
Not
that I was trying to bribe them for loyalty, but they could have
taken me for more. A lot more.
Day
one, part two
Frosty
paws.
This
is not a product endorsement. (Unless the folks from Frosty Paws
would like to talk. If so, Frosty Paws people you’re terrific,
send me an e-mail.)
One
Frosty Paw each, and we get a few minutes of eerie silence. (Can
you imagine a perfect, absolute silence, except for a dog licking
ice cream? If so, you get it.)
Day
one, part three
Two
hours into the first overnight and we are establishing rules.
By a 2 to 1 vote, the “no plastic seagulls allowed in the bed”
rule passed.
It
was a tricky vote. I had to wait until Moose had the seagull and
Kona wanted it before calling for it.
Day
two, part one
I
can’t prove anything yet, but I think there are plans developing
for stealing my pillows. They woke me up three times last night.
One of them leads me out of the room and the other lingers on
the bed for a bit before joining us. The one moving slowly, well,
I’d swear they were looking at the pillow and open spots on the
bedroom floor.
Day
two, part two
Cows.
Our
next-door neighbors are cows.
But
not just any cows.
You
know how we get those behind-the-scenes at the movies moments
where they show how they create some unusual animal sounds?
“Oh,
we used a lion, grizzly bear and a peacock to make the unique
roar.”
“We
wanted something built on an elephant vibe. So, we took three
elephants, overlapped them and then muffled the sound slightly.
Added in a tiger and a goose, but it was slightly off. So the
finishing touch, the one that really gave it a haunting background,
was including a blue whale.”
Right?
Well,
these cows sound familiar. Definitely cows. But something doesn’t
sound exactly right. It’s kind of warped into something you would
expect from cows at Jurassic Park.
Cows.
Day
three, part one
Kids
have chickens. I don’t know if the dogs like the chickens, hate
the chickens, or are jealous of the attention the chickens get.
I
definitely know they are not happy when I make the daily egg run.
On
the other hand, they don’t seem to like the mail run either, so
this might involve more research.
Day
three, part two
The
cows are wandering in their field. Today they’ve sought out some
shade. I’ll give them credit, it is hot outside.
Still,
cows.
A
few years ago, Terry proposed a cow experiment. It was during
the happy cows milk campaign. She wanted to throw a soccer ball
into a field of cows and see if they’d play with it.
No
soccer ball today, but the Jurassic Cows are staking their case
for a place in the upcoming movie release.
Day
three, part three
They
know where the treats are.
This
news is not new. Anyone with a dog in the house will tell you
the dog knows where the treats are. Before the kids left the dogs
were coming in from outside with me and heading immediately to
a specific spot on the floor to sit down. A specific spot right
next to the cabinet with the treats.
They
knew then.
But
tonight, they turned it fully against me. Tonight, they directed
me to their treat of choice.
Over
90-degrees out today. And even though they had the comfort of
air conditioning inside, when we came in from a short run of time
outside, they didn’t sit down in front of the treat cabinet. They
went to the fridge and sat down next to it. The same fridge with
Frosty Paws in the freezer.
They
have spoken. (And I listened.)
Day
four, part one
Cows.
Day
four, part two
There’s
something out by the far back corner of the yard.
No
clue what.
But
when I open the back door, almost every time it is on… the race
to the fence, the perfectly still pose, the stare into the distance…
and I don’t see it.
I’d
like to see some deer dash off into the brush. Maybe a rabbit
taking off. Even a stray cow could at least provide an answer.
But
there’s that fear. The idea that maybe the dogs are racing toward
an encounter with a skunk. Something I’d like to avoid, and might
even check out ahead of opening the door if I just knew what it
was.
Day
four, part three
Overall,
I don’t love chickens.
That
isn’t a complaint about chickens in general. It’s built on very
specific ideas.
The
experience of walking across a yard, innocent and happy, only
to have a zealous rooster build up speed and spur the back of
your legs. That’ll turn you off chickens.
The
thrill of tossing feed by hand while chickens peck at your fingers.
That’s another.
The
types of thrills that give you a wide range of thoughts involving
alternative uses of your tennis racket.
I
don’t particularly love chickens.
Day
five, part one
Random
moment apparently starting the day…
You
just ate.
Seriously,
you ate when you woke me up at 5:30. It’s 7 and you’ve woken
me up again. Do you think I forgot?
I’m
not falling for it. I’ll give you a treat in a little bit, but
you can stop it. I’m not buying… oh…
Water
bowl is empty.
Oops.
Day
six, a lesson
Kona
takes her toys outside.
First
few times you see it, you think about stopping her. Keep the toys
inside.
Back
on day two, she showed up in the living room with a big candy
corn. I have no clue where it came from. Never saw it before.
Doors were closed throughout the house limiting her ability to
move around (and thus limiting the places I might have seen it
and where it could have been hidden). This was a new toy.
It
appeared late in the morning. By early afternoon it was in the
backyard.
Even
when you don’t mow the lawn, it’s hard not to spot a big piece
of rubbery white and yellow and orange plastic. And in the yard
it sat from day two on.
Until
today.
Today,
she brought it back inside.
And
that’s the lesson. That’s our conclusion.
Sometimes
it’s hard to let things go. But when you treat them right and
pay attention, they always come back home.