So here in my little town, Winter has not reared its head yet. Autumn is in full swing and the trees certainly seem to think it should be colder than it is. Yet days have still been warm, nights cooler, but not the freezing, -25F temps that can hit at this time of the year. (“Polar Express” is not a train that takes you to see Santa here.)
So as if to mock our fortunate postponement of cold, my dogs have decided to go nuts on me.
First, the inside “Queen” dog grabbed my cheeseburger off the coffee table and dragged it down to the floor. She then proceeded to open the wrapper quite neatly and eat the cheeseburger, while I was feeding her two brothers. (The lowly peasant dogs that live outside.) I was impressed. It literally looked like she had opened it with human hands. No tearing of the wrapper, no licking of the grease and she even left the blob of cheese on the wrapper to make it look like a “mysterious human” did it.
Perhaps she was thinking I was going to think I already ate it? This is the dog that watches sunsets while contemplating the mystery of life…
“Punishing” this dog consisted of a few stern words, rattling of the cheeseburger wrapper and a tiny slap on her rump. She then immediately falls to pieces and cops to it. In training dogs and young humans, one never seeks to take revenge, only to correct the behavior. With this dog, it does not take much. She’s usually very well behaved, but every once in a while she blows a fuse.
So with that incident over, life was supposed to get back to normal. Sunny days, cool nights, life is good in a Northern Town.
Enter the baseball patched dog.
Baseball is colored just like a baseball. He’s white with tan patches. Looks just like a used baseball- and twice as smart.
In reality, he is highly intelligent, but he uses that intelligence for trouble- just like some humans I know. It does not help that he is neurotic either… This dog gets it in his head that if he is not inside AND in his kennel down in the basement- than the world could end. Even in the summertime, he whines and begs and pleads to come in- truly drives us nuts. And of course once in his kennel, he’s only good for a couple of hours. So when winter takes its time coming, you think he would be grateful.
Nope.
I let him in one night out of mercy, because it was cold. This is now a pattern as far as old Baseball is concerned. So when I told him he should enjoy the unusually mild weather, he decided, “I am going to run away and find a new family!”
And with that, he begins to plot his escape.
Unfortunately, he never seems to find a new family…
Instead, he jumps into the first police officer’s car that calls him- he loves to go for rides…
Here in a Northern Town, the police have more than one duty. One of those is dog catcher. Dog catching consist of stopping the vehicle, opening the door and calling, “Here Boy!”
Baseball falls for that every time.
So Baseball got to spend two deluxe nights over at the local vet’s office in luxury accommodations, including a rabies booster. Goodness knows how much that’s going to cost- and he has yet to find that new family.
We thought we had Baseball proofed the yard, but old Baseball, he’s like a convict that thinks it’s entertaining to escape. He looks for moments, opportunities, situations, where he can exploit our guard being down. And it never fails- he takes those opportunities. And so it’s back to Walmart for some items that will make sure and secure the gate as it closes. Because you see, old Baseball, he’s got a head like a battering ram.
He will try gates, like the Raptors in Jurassic Park. Only he will just blindly run into them in hopes that they will pop open. All it takes is one denial, one “No you can’t come in- it’s 70F outside!” and he goes into battering ram mode.
He even managed to squeeze between a chain link and wooden fence once. Would never have believed it if I did not see it. Ever see the horror movie “The Blob?” It’s a creature that causes pain and misery by squeezing through the tinniest cracks… Color it tan and white and you could call it “The Baseball.”
And the really crazy thing is, he’s a sweet dog- when he’s not being neurotic. We would even let him inside and stay with us- but that’s too much stress for him. He must be in his kennel down in the basement- or he ralphs all over the floor from the “stress.”
But he’s part of the family, for better or worse. We are stuck with old Baseball until his time on Earth ends- or mine does.
Until the next time Baseball escapes, the “Queen” eats my lunch or “Snake Dog” gets bitten by a rattler, so long…