Of Dogs and Children

A fine specimen of muttdom who was once thoroughly capable at dropping a deer solo at full tilt flight. Yet curiously terrified of thunder and fireworks.

So huge is her reaction to booming sounds, I have grown to totally dread the arrival of Independence Day. It means the sudden appearance of having 98 pounds of wriggling, clawing and totally horrified dog flesh ... complete with hair wafting about like rain depositing herself on the top of my desk. Whether she leaps or crawls to seek shelter in close proximity to me her elected protection zone. The outcome is ultimately the same.

Should I be away when the noise begins and she is outside, she will dig for China through wahtever material is handy, seeking shelter in the closeness of her tunnel. If I leave her in the house alone she climbs into the bathtub. Other choice areas deemed secure from fallout will be that30" square cubby hole beneath my desk, the forbidden area on top of my bed or the ridiculous cramped position in the 15" span between commode and bathtub wall.

Fearless and yet totally without a stance, the hunter at times feels she is the hunted. She isn't really a "kid's dog" and never has been. She would never bite, but does know how to sound off a very effective warning. Always followed by the cold shoulder and a royal yet hasty exit of the area.

Old Sadie ... the original "Feather-Lipped Chicken Eater" has grown quite mellow over the years. She now tolerates the gibberish and the clumsy petting of those who are wee but so very close to me. She has not an ounce of patience for being rudely tumbled upon. The antics of my girls can drive her right out the door quickly. An escape she is most emphatic about when her tolerance reaches that threshold.

Who really can blame the wizened old gal. In people years she will turn 13 come Thanksgiving. In dog years that makes her 91. Every year of which her movements definitely echo. I no longer worry about having her deposit her body between me and the screen. Today, this would be a feat far beyond her capabilities.

Oddly enough, she does however get completely excited when the girls arrive for a stay at Nonnie's. At first glance, it may seem a strange and internal argument with Sadie's particular points of view. Until you consider the food factor.

Small children are very messy eaters. Every dog's dream is realized when human food is presented for consumption. While they may irritate her at times, any occasion involving food when the girls are here brings her frantically scratching to be readmitted. She can smell a slice of American cheese being unwrapped through two closed doors while snoring soundly over 50 feet away.

This past weekend, the girls were here for three days on end. Poor old Feather Lips moods radically rose and fell with every meal and sporadic snack occurrence day in and day out. In for food and out when the squealing and silliness got past the tolerance point.

The youngest is 19 months old and her English is at best ... challenged, though she is trying to pick up the language. One morning the eggs were accompanied by bagels with cream cheese. If there is food being eaten, Sadie will take up residence directly beneath that wee one's chair. Always watching each bite expectantly as surely something will soon fall to the floor and become fair fodder.

The child is totally aware of the dog lying in wait. She is also guilty of purposefully feeding Sadie the parts of each handful she has no use for. Trying to keep this pair separated is useless and so the companionship blossoms, though the attraction centers totally around food.

There she is with a quarter of a bagel in her pudgy hands, sitting sideways in the chair while actively separating the cheese from the bread. Looking down, the child removes the chunk from her mouth and vehemently shakes her head at the drooling dog. "Unh unh," she chortles. "Iz mines." This proclamation only holds court until the cheese is completely licked off.

At which point Sadie is richly rewarded with the bagel bone she has waited for with bated breath. Another moment that should have been on film but is totally lost save for memory.

Its a true love saga of strange proportions that unfolds like any soap opera. Always in front of a live audience though it is only me, myself and I who is attending. Such is the bond between my wee humans and this old, crochety dog. Food is good and shenanigans are not welcome.

Gardening with Lucky

Image: Creative Commons License

There are times when one wishes they had not made such good friends with a bird. The term birdbrain takes on an entirely new meaning. Like the day I made the new raised planting bed on the north side of the deck.

There I was peacefully playing in the fresh, dark soil and minding my own business. The planting was now down to the half flat of Begonias I saved to fill in the outside corner. Suddenly a flapping of rusty red wings plopped an eight pound body with skinny green legs in the midst of my activity. Damn bird! She was squashing two of my just installed Begonias.

"Lucky! Get out of here ... go on now."

Of course she stood firm, craning her neck around and surveying the scene. I know what her next move is before it has entered that pea sized brain. There is nothing red here so she is about to start digging for her favorite wiggling delicacy. An activity that will not end until she hits the hard ground below. There are no grubs in my just screened soil.

"Shoo! Get!"

I was rewarded with the evil chicken eye. A swiveling head motion that puts their profile face first and places that beady eye up close and personal above your nose. At times the evil eye is comical, but not while the miniature dinosaur is crushing my flowers. She was testing her authority to the limit.

I gently pushed her aside to move her off the broken little plants. But ol' Luck was not in the mood to be told what to do right then, and commenced to digging. The soil she removed was settling over all the little Begonias. At a furious pace, I might add - I no longer wonder why chickens have such sharp edged toes. Those feet work like prehistoric rototillers with a miffed pea brain is minding the controls.

Having had enough of her brand of help, I pushed her off the end of the bed. It wasn't but 8 inches to the grass so I wasn't worried about hurting her. This strategy only served to set the imperious Queen Lucky's feathers on end.

One should use caution when dealing with the head of the hen house. She had more power than any of those cocky roosters. No one, or should I say no bird, stood up against her. I, however, am farther up the totem pole and reserve the right to stop her from time to time.

Shall we say that we weren't seeing eye to eye right then? If you think that chickens have no expressions, then you have never lived in close proximity to them. She stood on the grass almost shaking with anger over her unseating from a moment of industrious glee. Wee little mind that she had, the decision was instantly reached as to the next strategic move should be.

She jumped right back up there next to me and pecked a hole in the back of my hand. Having had the final word in a one sided argument, she drew herself up with all her lofty airs and strutted away like the Queen of England. While I sat there cussing her feathered behind as the wound began to bleed.

Lucky was normally my pal and followed me everywhere. She was actually mad at me. Refusing to keep company with me for weeks. If she saw me coming - she ran the other way. If I tried talking to her when I did get close, she stuck her head in the air and dramatically marched away.

Snubbed by a chicken - can you imagine? What an uppity old broad! She may rule the hen house, but she wasn't in charge of me. Tit for tat, I began ignoring her completely. After a couple of weeks, she must have decided to let the loss of a power struggle slide. She returned to being friendly and placing herself in the middle of any activity that involved in digging in the dirt.

It was rather hard to dig a hole with her around. If you were walking with a shovel, Lucky would come screaming from any direction to help you uncover what lay below. Somehow she figured out that the implement meant there was assistance in uncovering juicy white grubs. If you think digging a hole is hard, try doing it with a big chicken jumping in and out of the hole. Don't stop - she'll attack your feet and untie your shoes.

Improved Flavor

Wednesday is Prince spaghetti day ... (Courtesy of Carolyn Diamond)

Do butterflies grow tired of eating the same old stuff day in and day out too? This one seems to have taken a shine to a little zest of pesto. There is nothing like some variety to spice up one's everyday fare. I bet the same is true of many animals and other forms of wildlife. Why else would rabbits flock to level your garden when all the world abounds in juicy greenery?

The experts who create so many delicious brands of pet food seem to be convinced of this as well. I just saw an ad that proclaimed "Sensory Pleasures" from Friskies. Now if only cats would speak English, we would be able to discover if this were a fact or a human marketing campaign.

Normally, I pay no more attention to the print on my dog's food bag while restocking her larder. I just look for the name of one or the other low priced brands she likes. I hate it when the store has a big sale before I get there. This means both brands will be completely gone and I will be forced to contemplate which is the lesser of the ridiculous prices per 18 pound bag.

This means one takes time to read past the words across the bottom of the bag. Its at moments like this that the on-a-mad-dash consumer is assaulted with the craftily designed packaging and marketing slogans. I never cease to wonder when it comes to the claims of dog food manufacturers.

20% Beefier than ever before!
New Improved Flavor!
Preferred by more Dogs!

Has someone surveyed them? Like are they serious? Dogs will eat road kill for crying out loud! The other day I was faced with having to survey what the vultures had left on the shelf in the dog food aisle. No one else was around me, that aisle was empty. As I stood there eying the least costly brand left in the 18 pound bag and not the misleading 16 pound size for the same price. I spied the words splashed across the photo in Godzilla Yellow ... 30% MORE FLAVOR!

I have a bad habit of talking to myself at times. So I spoke loudly to the inert bag of mysterious nuggets, "Really? Did you taste it to measure the improvement." This was met by a hearty chuckle from behind me. When I turned, the lady who had snuck up on me said, "I have often wondered the same thing."

Now granted, there is a difference in some types of dog food brands over others. The very cheapest off brands of dry pet food are shunned by most of our four footed friends. When barn cats and farm dogs turn their nose up at dinner you know there is something amiss. These critters hunt fresh meat and enjoy road kill on a regular basis. Animals can sense when things are off in the food presented. They will go without for days before they will eat some of the cheapest pet foods you can buy.

Then there are just too wonderful brands like Kibbles & Bits. These induce overeating in dogs that are used to a diet of more sensibly priced brands like Gravy Train. My dearly loved BubbaLoo could go through 18 pounds of Kibbles & Bits in less than 4 days. Sadie was not allowed to eat unless I locked him out of the house to feed her. He demanded more and more until the bag was empty. Dam dog ... I sorely miss him and his 130 pound package of silly slobbery love.

Extra sensory pleasure is not a good thing at times. Bubby acted like a kid on Halloween who could not stop indulging until there was no more chocolate left in the loot bag. The boy ate like a horse as it was - who could afford to keep him in Kibbles & Bits! See these types of pet food lure animals to over eat and are probably part of the reason that creates fat pets.

Either way all this improving the flavor is done for the shopper and not the animal. As long as it tastes edible dogs will eat anything. They can't read the bag and don't understand anything in the commercials beyond the presence of another dog in their house. Fifty percent more flavor my eye! If the dog eats it ... its all good. It is even more wonderful and tasty at $4.00 less per bag.