We have a dog treat jar that was given to us 12 years ago by my sister Kerri. When you open it it plays a part of one of two songs, "Who Let the Dogs Out" or "You Ain't Nothin' But a Hound Dog". It doesn't play them anymore - I think the batteries of run out and I'm not inclined to replace them. Wonder why? Anyway, the song Hound Dog was on mind last night when Wally, for the first time ever, caught a rabbit.
He ain't no friend of mine. He said he was high class. Well, that was just a lie.
The back story is that we got home after a night of theatre and friends in Grand Rapids. (Saw Phantom of the Opera - fabulous staging/set/choreography. Memories of Delaney as Christine!) After six hours in his kennel, we knew Wally would be ready to be set free. And he was - much to the chagrin of the rabbits in the backyard who didn't see him coming. He grabbed at some animal, it yelped and Wally dropped it. He looked at me on the deck, seemingly unsure of what he'd done. I knew it couldn't be good but I wasn't sure what it was. We had a mole problem a few years ago, and our previous pup, Sandy was known for finding them. So I called to John while Wally nosed the animal. I think he wanted to play but it wasn't playing. We got him inside with a lot of prompting and pulling and pushing. John got a shovel to dispose of the now deceased dead bunny.
But Wally wasn't done - he wanted to go back out. We let him out one more and he sniffed all over the back yard - we had to call him, several times before he came in reluctantly. Again with a lot of prompting, pulling and pushing.
While trying to go to sleep, I heard him whimpering. I shushed him and prayed he'd give it up and go to sleep. Thirty minutes later, I heard him again and wheeled out in my nightie to let him outside. I let him sniff around for about 15 minutes, hoping in that time he'd be satisfied that the bunny-plaything was gone. Plus, it was now 1 a.m. and I was beyond ready for sleep.
He wasn't going to make it easy because Wally had wrapped himself around a tree. And no amount of verbal prompting was going to get him free and, more importantly, me in bed.
Did I mention that it was after 1 and I was in my nightie? And I didn't want to wake John because well, there was no use both of us being awake. And did I mention that I had the back flood lights on so I could see Wally? Did I mention that I was in my nightie? Or that the nightie was white?
I couldn't turn off the lights or I wouldn't be able to see and without suitable covering nearby, I crouched down and crept down the deck stairs. While sitting on the bottom step, under the glare of floodlights and in my white nightie for all the world to see, I yanked on Wally's chain to pull him free. And that little bugger once free started to wander away. Now furious under the glare of floodlights in my white nightie for all the world to see, I growled under my breath (because I didn't want to yell garnering even more attention to the spectacle that was me glowing under the lights in a white nightie) at the damn dog.
Once not-so-wonderful Wally was back in his kennel, I tried to sleep but my mind was racing and likely my blood was boiling. I heard the clock chime two and I knew I wasn't going to be going to the 8:30 church service. I prayed God would understand and that was the last thing I remembered.
So, it's now 10 a.m. and I'm still in the white nightie sipping coffee and composing this post. And that 'damn dog', that 90 lb lap dog is laying by my side oblivious.
He's a hound dog for sure ( a lab/bloodhound mix). And he's a friend of mine.
He ain't no friend of mine. He said he was high class. Well, that was just a lie.
The back story is that we got home after a night of theatre and friends in Grand Rapids. (Saw Phantom of the Opera - fabulous staging/set/choreography. Memories of Delaney as Christine!) After six hours in his kennel, we knew Wally would be ready to be set free. And he was - much to the chagrin of the rabbits in the backyard who didn't see him coming. He grabbed at some animal, it yelped and Wally dropped it. He looked at me on the deck, seemingly unsure of what he'd done. I knew it couldn't be good but I wasn't sure what it was. We had a mole problem a few years ago, and our previous pup, Sandy was known for finding them. So I called to John while Wally nosed the animal. I think he wanted to play but it wasn't playing. We got him inside with a lot of prompting and pulling and pushing. John got a shovel to dispose of the now deceased dead bunny.
But Wally wasn't done - he wanted to go back out. We let him out one more and he sniffed all over the back yard - we had to call him, several times before he came in reluctantly. Again with a lot of prompting, pulling and pushing.
While trying to go to sleep, I heard him whimpering. I shushed him and prayed he'd give it up and go to sleep. Thirty minutes later, I heard him again and wheeled out in my nightie to let him outside. I let him sniff around for about 15 minutes, hoping in that time he'd be satisfied that the bunny-plaything was gone. Plus, it was now 1 a.m. and I was beyond ready for sleep.
He wasn't going to make it easy because Wally had wrapped himself around a tree. And no amount of verbal prompting was going to get him free and, more importantly, me in bed.
Did I mention that it was after 1 and I was in my nightie? And I didn't want to wake John because well, there was no use both of us being awake. And did I mention that I had the back flood lights on so I could see Wally? Did I mention that I was in my nightie? Or that the nightie was white?
I couldn't turn off the lights or I wouldn't be able to see and without suitable covering nearby, I crouched down and crept down the deck stairs. While sitting on the bottom step, under the glare of floodlights and in my white nightie for all the world to see, I yanked on Wally's chain to pull him free. And that little bugger once free started to wander away. Now furious under the glare of floodlights in my white nightie for all the world to see, I growled under my breath (because I didn't want to yell garnering even more attention to the spectacle that was me glowing under the lights in a white nightie) at the damn dog.
Once not-so-wonderful Wally was back in his kennel, I tried to sleep but my mind was racing and likely my blood was boiling. I heard the clock chime two and I knew I wasn't going to be going to the 8:30 church service. I prayed God would understand and that was the last thing I remembered.
So, it's now 10 a.m. and I'm still in the white nightie sipping coffee and composing this post. And that 'damn dog', that 90 lb lap dog is laying by my side oblivious.
He's a hound dog for sure ( a lab/bloodhound mix). And he's a friend of mine.
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