This is the second time I have taken on these dogs. Let me tell you a little bit about them. These dogs are all RESCUED DOGS. That shows you that someone has a lot of heart, but maybe not too much rattlin around up in the head. There are 4 Italian Greyhounds and 2 Shih-tzus (& one of those is questionable)and 1 cat.
2 Old toothless wonders are named Gentry:
and Ricco:
2 younger ones are Cheyenne:
and Shiner: (still looking for a picture)
2 Shih-tzus are named Laurie and Cassie:
1 cat, Cat Ballou (I don't have a picture of him but he's beautiful)
The first time I sat with the dogs was an emergency. A neighborhood kid had always fed them. They had never had a Real Sitter, or as I like to refer to myself, a Granny. So in November, 2008, I was called into action. I had seen the dogs on one occasion and knew they were timid. I like my men like that too. Things were gonna work out just fine. Since this was an emergency, the wife had left before I arrived and the house was open. I was told Ricco (toothless wonder) was inside and the other toothless wonder was at the vet having some more of his teeth pulled. The others were locked out on the sun porch. They have their own little playroom with a pet door, cages full of blankets, food, water, a heater -- what more could they want. A GRANNY, of course.
When I entered the house the first thing I saw and the first thing I smelled was a pile of dog shit that Ricco had left for me on the rug. A rather large pile, for such a small dog. I was not happy and said "Who shit on the Rug?" I didn't expect an answer from a dog, but Ricco started shaking his head like Katherine Hepburn. I thought maybe I should tone it down a little, didn't want him to die on my watch.
Now for the rest of the gang. They heard me and went ballistic. I opened the sun porch door and was stampeded and licked too death. Back to the family room we all went where they immediately starting sniffing the spot onn the rug. I always carry dog treats when I visit someone with dogs, and have for years. These dogs have no manners at all. They attacked me, with tongues wagging, dewclaws digging in my arms -- you would have thought I had steaks under my clothes. Finally I had to use that real loud Country Voice of mine and scream "Sit the Hell Down". Ricco's head started shaking again. The others weren't affected all all. It had to get real ugly before I had their attention. But I finally did get it and when they were semi-calm they got their treat.
Did I mention that it was so cold that week and that none of the brass monkeys in Virginia had any balls. They all dropped off. Therefore, the dogs had no intention of going outside to do their business. After all, they had a sun porch and it was clean and warm -- perfect! It was the dropping off point for tons of fresh, warm poop and they left me lots of treats.
Cat Ballou wasn't here that week either. His owner found him with a hole in his chest. Unsure whether this was a bullet hole or some other wound, she tried to put him in the car and rush him to the vet. He had other ideas. Once she had been clawed good and proper, the husband was called in for backup. He got his comeuppance. Between the two of then they got Ballou wrapped in a blanket and off to the vet. In the vet's office Cat Ballou scratched two assistants, then whacked the owners for good measure and bit the vet. The vet questioned the date of Ballou's last rabies shot? Guess what -- 4 years had passed with no shot. Poor Ballou was quarantined for 12 days. So he did not have the pleasure of meeting Granny that first time either.
The folks by now had traveled to North Carolina, so I moved in with treats, a faux minx lap blanket and the dogs were in heaven It was a warm sunny day and everyone was on the sun porch. I let them know I was here for the long run and they were very excited. Romping and jumping and clawing me too death. Let the good times roll, PARTAY, PARTAY.
Visiting and getting to know each other again lasted about an hour and I was tired. I locked their asses back on the sun porch and began unloading. That was a smart move on my part, color me proud. I must have made 15 trips from the garage into the house and all the time they are howling and crying like someone was beating them too death. Trust me, someone wanted to beat them too death. I rushed just to move bags in and let them loose and keep them quiet. At other times I encouraged them to howl and bark. I wondered what the neighbors thought -- you could hear the dogs down to the road when they did that. As a matter of fact, everyday that I walked down the drive to get the paper or the mail they all howled. I always had a smile on my face when I went to the mailbox and that was why. Wonder if any of those peeping neighbors wondered why.
After everything got unpacked and treats were handed out. I grabbed a brand new book, settled in the nice leather recliner, had some Roy Orbison playing and something distracted me -- wonder what? Well, one of the Shih-Tzus (from now on they will be referred to as "SHIT-SUES") had the other one by the foot and was dragging her across the room as she howled. The Loud Country voice started screaming curse words that I don't think I'm allowed to use here.... and obviously the dogs didn't recognize them because they kept right on keepin on. I had to grab the leg of one and the mouth of the other to separate them. When I grabbed those girls everyone wanted me to grab them as well, jumping and begging for their attention. This is actually a two-Granny job.
Cheyenne is a very timid little female. I believe she was found abandoned in Kansas. I can now get close enough to scratch behind her ears and back and she will stand up on my leg when I'm sitting and beg for food. She won't come near enough to take a treat from my hand but will let me toss her one. She has to be quick or one of the others will snark it so quickly she doesn't know what happened.
Any noise made in the kitchen is automatically connected with food and causes a feeding frenzy. Whether it is a wrapper being torn or a top being popped, there is an interest. Maybe it's because they usually eat DRY FOOD? YA THINK? THEY ARE WET FOOD CHALLENGED.
Shiner is the cuddler and lap dog. He also is a bottomless pit. He wants part of anything that goes in anyone's mouth - no matter what it is.
You know what, that reminds me of when my kids where little. They always wanted part of what I was eating, even if they had their own -- what is that??? I can remember going to a place that served strawberry pie when they were young. I bought two pies for dessert. One pie was for dessert and the other pie was for me. While they were watching television before bed I grabbed that pie out of the fridge and locked both bathroom doors. I put the commode seat down very quietly, took the plastic cover off the pie and slid it into the sink. With a huge tablespoon I began devouring that pie -- I probably never chewed the first bite, swallowed it whole. Halfway thru someone turned the door knob and I got very quiet. Then someone turned the other door knob. I wouldn't even chew. Then, as if on cue, they both said "Gail, let us in, what are you doing?" I still didn't make a sound. They knew I was there. Then Karman said "I have to use the bathroom." DAMNIT! This was a one bathroom house. God, she was smart. So I told them I would be out in a minute. Each one at a different door. I started shoveling that damn pie in my face as fast as it would go. Then I heard "GAILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL". I grabbed a towel and wrapped pie pan and spoon in it, washed my hands and opened the door. "WHAT, I asked, Can't I even go to the bathroom alone?" Their eyes were huge as they scanned this tiny bathroom. I walked out with towel in hand and dumped everything in the washing machine. They were sneaky but I was sneakier.
Last night I baked a sweet potato and the dogs ate 3/4 of it before I figured out the only place I could safely eat in private and not share was the garage. They liked it so well that I think that's what I will give them for their dinner tonight.
Ricco may be the oldest, I'm not sure. He may have 4 teeth, but his tongue hangs out the side of his mouth and his head shakes like Katherine Hepburn. I believe he is also the tallest. When he runs to me it looks like a horse galloping sideways with a smile -- are you getting a picture.
Gentry is very feeble and does have a few teeth. He sleeps under the covers with me at night. He does not sleep in a cage. I imagine that is because he was the "first born". He is so thin that I would think the duvet would smother him too death. Hasn't happened yet. He also is a bottomless pit. He paces the floor beginning around his bedtime -- I didn't know that he would not go to bed alone. No sir'ee. When I tried to get him to follow me to the bedroom with a treatk, he acted so befuddled. Then the SHIT-SUES saw some action was going on and treats might be involved and they came sliding sideways on the wooden floor to see where Gentry was headed and what he was about to eat. You could never, ever allow them in the bedroom. It would be destroyed. So when they slid around the corner, Gentry acted frightened and ran away. He is like an old maid who is off her schedule. I know someone just like him.
Now for the no guts no glory part of the story. This is the part you will laugh til you cry. At my expense too.
Sunday morning it was cold, dreary and rainy. I was still in my pj's at 10 a.m. Why not, I'm on vacation. I never do this at home anyway. I noticed that Cat Ballou was sitting in the living room windowsill and was getting wet. Mercy, let Granny get that baby inside. I run to the front door and finally get it unlocked, get the storm door opened and call Ballou to get his ass in the house. He saunters up like he is doing me a favor. Looking around the corner of the brick to see what dogs are there to harass him. Now I had no idea what these dogs are in the habit of doing. I yell, Ballou get in the damn house. At that particular moment, the SHIT-SUES run through my legs out on the front porch and Ballou takes off sprinting, jumps up on the chain link fence and swishes his tail at them. They look at him for a second or two and Laurie must have said "let's blow this joint" and off they go. All I could think of was that they would be killed and it would be my fault. I ran back inside for shoes and THE CHASE WAS ON.
Next door to this house is a field full of briars, mud, small trees, and lots of leaves. The dogs are running for their lives, ears blowing in the wind. I am braless, in an orange HARLEY DAVIDSON shirt, plaid pj bottoms and a pair of COWHIDE flats. The back of my hair is flat against my head and the rest is parted down the middle. I am yelling, "Laurie, Cassie, come" -- "Laurie, Cassie, I have treats" - "You Stupid Sons of Bitches". Now it was last Sunday and people were up having breakfast I'm sure and getting ready for church. There was a fat woman running through their yards screaming obscenities at something. Hell, by the time they saw me there were no dogs anywhere in sight. The dogs were long gone. I was just trying to catch my breath. There were 2 houses to go and a hill to climb with a small forest next to the hill. I made it up the hill, yelling just the names of the idiots, trying to compose myself, wipe the rain off my face and slick back my hair. Nobody asked if I'm lost, hurt or crazy nor did I see people peeking out behind their curtains. They were all well hidden. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE!
I turned and headed back down the hill, hoping my slick shoes don't make me fall and break a hip. God knows nobody would rescue me. I glanced over at the forest and don't see any white IDIOTS and head back towards home. As I rounded the bend there sat the SHIT-SUES in the middle of the road, near the neighbors across the street from Jerry and Dusty. I start calling in my sweetest (very unnatural voice) "Laurie, Cassie, I have a treat." The car in the driveway nearest the dogs starts to back out -- the dogs run up to the car and the guy in the car acted as though he was going run over the little darlings. Off I went running and screaming, the dogs, the dogs, watch out for those dogs. (Probably sounded like "De Plane, De Plane"). By then I was close enough to touch their car and he looks me in the eye as I said "the dogs are stupid, please don't run over them." He slams his car into drive and his wife gives me the EVIL EYE and they fly down the road. What was their problem, Jesus.
I was ready for the BIG STROKE and turned around to try and grab the dogs as they made a dash for the next hill as fast as they could run. Honest to God, their ears were flapping in the wind. Oh, Mother of God. I decided to get my car out of the garage and run over them myself if I found them.
As I was going into the house for a towel to dry off I could hear neighborhood dogs going wild. Not only that, but the Greyhounds were barking like crazy too. Wonder if they had been watching all along from the living room windows? They had front row seats, probably making bets on the SHIT-SUES.
I grabbed a box of treats that would make a loud noise when I shook it out car window. By this time, the dogs have a 10 to 15 minute head start on me.I drove and drove around the neighborhood and no sign of the WHORES anywhere. I was dreading the phone call to the owners. I stopped and asked several people and they hadn't seen the dogs they all said no, but what did they look like and what were their names. Nobody asked me what my name was, where did I live or what was my phone number? Amazing, isn't it.
I had totally given up and was driving home and as I started up the driveway there they sat, happy as can be, on the front lawn. They recognized my car immediately and ran to meet me. I almost cried I was happy to see them. The first thing they did was run right under my front tires -- perfect opportunity to run over their heads, I couldn't -- what Granny could do that. By then they were beginning to piss me off. I finally shook the treats box out the window until they moved enough that I could inch my way up the driveway. Once again, not a neighbor in sight. Unbelievable. Someone was watching, I know it. I felt it. Woman's intuition.
I was able to get my car halfway into the garage without running over them. I jumped out of the car and shook that box of treats til they were begging and crying. CAPTURED AT LAST! They got nothing until they were locked in the house. That finally happened. I was exhausted and wanted to cry. I really wanted a big shot of Vodka, but it was only 11:30 a.m. I would be an alcoholic if I drank before 4 p.m. Those two dogs had damned near turned me into an alcoholic.
When their owner called that afternoon she laughed as I relayed the story. She told me she was sorry that had to happen to me -- but that the girls had done that before. She never thought to tell me it might happen. But that dogs have strong sense of smell and can find their way home. (I'm a cat person - how would I know) She doesn't chase them anymore, she stands on her front porch and waits. Had I known, no one would have seen me in that big ole Harley Shirt, braless with flat, wet hair.
Things went well the rest of the time, lots of laughing and hugging the pooches until it was time for the owners to return. I know the dogs are missing me, but I am sure we will see each other before too long. If they can remember their scent and find their home, they aren't going to forget me soon.
AND BY THE WAY, I COULD NEVER BE A DOG WHISPERER. I do have photos but still have not figured out how to get them to this blog space. I will try to insert them into a separate blog, that way you will have the pleasure of meeting these dogs.
Happy Trails.
