Adventures in puppysitting

 

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.

 

If you have any comments or questions, please e-mail me at Bob@inmybackpack.com