TheBanyanTree: Another Dog Story

[Theta Brentnall]

Open gates and no dogs is one of the most horrifying things in the 
world.  Thank goodness this all turned out okay.

Theta

On 8/5/2012 11:00 AM, Monique Colver wrote:
> Again, Honey the wonder dog has failed to grasp the full import of her
> situation. She's 14. She has arthritis in her back legs. She can't hear as
> well as she used to, she can't see as well as she used to, and she tends to
> go the wrong way now and then. Her legs are wobbly at times. She's on
> anti-inflammatories and pain pills daily, which have made her feel like
> she's 10 again. But she's not 10. She's become clumsy in her old age, and
> often steps in the water bowl instead of just drinking from it.
>
> It's hot here today, again. Yesterday was unbearable, and while other parts
> of the country do this sort of heat thing all the time, we do not. It's why
> I moved up here.
>
> Honey and Ash went outside first thing this morning, as usual, and after
> awhile (is too a word!) Andrew went to let them in.
>
> But there weren't any dogs to be found. He called, and usually that brings
> one of them running from around the corner, usually Ash, since Honey
> ignores us/doesn't hear us, but this time, nothing. He investigated some
> more, and he found the gate open.
>
> The gate is never supposed to be open, obviously, because it means the dogs
> can walk out. And dogs will walk out if given the opportunity, because
> they're always up for an adventure. Even Honey, when she should be settling
> into the life of an old dog. She still plays with Ash like she's a puppy,
> but that's probably because he's irresistible.
>
> So of course, finding no dogs and the gate open, we panic.
>
> Andrew walks out front and starts calling for Ash, but the street is
> silent. I put on shorts, a hat, sandals, and find a leash. I go outside,
> and start looking down the street. Andrew heads to the end of the
> cul-de-sac, so I head to the cross street. I hear barking dogs on the other
> side of our street, but Andrew's checking that out, and when he finally
> comes toward me he reports that it's not our dogs causing the ruckus.
>
> A neighbor driving away stops and asks for a description of the dogs, and
> tells me he'll let me know if he sees them.
>
> I turn left at the cross street and start walking towards the school, a
> favorite destination for Honey in the past. But as I'm walking, our Honda,
> the old one, comes up next to me, and Andrew leans out the window to say
> he's going to check out the school.
>
> I never thought of taking a car. That's why he's the genius of the family.
>
> So I turn around and head in the other direction. I walk past our street
> and then turn left because that's what the road does. And then I see a
> black dog standing in a yard a few houses down, and it looks like he has an
> orange bandanna on.
>
> What a coincidence! Ash has an orange bandanna on! Or did, last time I saw
> him.
>
> "Ash! Get over here!"
>
> And the crazy dog, who is nothing if not obedient, starts running towards
> me. Of course, that puts him on a collision course with any cars that
> happen to be coming around the corner, because Ash doesn't know he's
> supposed to turn a corner, not run straight across. So I stand out in the
> street to ward off any oncoming cars while Ash makes his approach. We avoid
> contact with any cars, and I put the leash on him.
>
> "Where's your sister?" I ask him, but he just pants and looks as if he's
> the happiest dog on the planet.
>
> So we head down the way he just came from, and then, up ahead, I see her.
> She's trotting along as if she has a specific destination in mind, as if
> she has an appointment to keep, and she is not going to be late.
>
> "Honey!" I call, and she turns and looks at me. And this is how I can tell
> she's getting old. She starts trotting in our direction.
>
> This is so unlike her. Her usual tactic is to turn and trot off in the
> other direction, because she'll be damned if anyone tells her what to do.
>
> We catch up to her, and since Ash is already wearing the one leash, I tell
> her to walk with us.
>
> Yeah, that's funny. But she does, except she goes faster than us. I'm sure
> Ash could keep up, if he weren't on the leash, but I can't. It's hot out
> and my leg has been noncooperative at the best of times. She trots out
> ahead of us, and when we get to a slight street to our left she turns left.
> I cajole her into staying right where she is while we catch up.
>
> She invests a few moments in sniffing the vegetation, giving us time to
> catch up, and then insists on going in the direction I don't want her to
> go. So I grab her tail (so undignified, I know), have her sit, take the
> leash off Ash, and put it on her.
>
> And the three of us head back home. There are two dogs in a fenced yard on
> our way, and Ash stops to have a confrontation with them, but then bounds
> back to my side pretty quickly.
>
> And then Andrew and the Honda show up, once all the hard work was done. But
> at least I wasn't stuck in a car that doesn't have air conditioning. He
> couldn't take the one with air conditioning because I won't let dogs in
> that one.
>
> Ash jumps in the car, though by now we're only three houses away from home.
> Lazy dog.
>
> I don't take Honey's leash off until she's inside the house and incapable
> of making an escape.
>
> And it's only after their adventure that she gets her anti-inflammatories
> and pain pills, which she'll no doubt be needing for sure.
>
> That dog slays me.
>
>
> Monique Colver
> An Uncommon Friendship: a memoir of love, mental illness, and friendship
> Now available at
> Amazon<http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_1?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=Monique+Colver>
> and
> at www.AnUncommonFriendship.com <http://anuncommonfriendship.com/>
> www.ColverPress.com
> monique.colver at gmail.com
> (425) 772-6218