“Hey Luce, wanna go out?”
Lucy runs to the front door.
“Oh no you don’t. Time to go pee, you don’t go pee out front.”
She runs into the kitchen, as I reach to hook the leash on her collar, she does an about face and races back to the front door.
“Get back here!”
She saunters to the kitchen. I reach for her and she’s off like a shot.
“Lucy! Quit playing games. It’s time to eat and you need to go out first.”
Lucy explodes into a wild gallop, slides into home at my feet, and waits for me to hook her up.
Food. It’s always food.
Poor Lucy, blissfully asleep. Stretched out full length and snoring like an old drunk, she woke up and piled off the couch like a shot when one very loud firework went off.
Next thing I know she’s opening her crate door and hiding in the back of her crate.
I drop the towel down over the unlatched door and she rattles around then plops down to go to sleep in there.
I am pissed that she’s so scared she hides.
I am pissed that this is only the beginning of her terror filled nights yet to come as the idiots keep setting them off, 1 here, 1 there intermittently, all night, every night. The entire summer.
I do believe that Miss Lucy is going to be one of those great porch sitting dogs.
The other day I cleaned up and put The Curmudgeon’s mother’s old plastic garden bench on the front porch. (We’d had it in various spots in the yard.)
Yesterday, Lucy spotted the neighbor seated on the porch wall between our porches and began to bark at her. Not a mean bark, she was doing her ‘I want to go see her now’ bark.
So, I leashed her and took her out to say hi to Susan. All tail wags and happiness Lucy got to greet her friend.
Susan’s friend showed up so she went to talk to him and Lucy got tired of waiting for her to return. I showed her the bench and invited her to sit there with me. She had a great time.
“Gee, Mom. Wouldn’t the bench be great with a soft cushion on it? Like the couch?”
Not the professional displays mind you, I hate the idiots that set them off in the streets at all hours of the night and day.
Poor Lucy spent the night hiding in her crate. Idiots!
And so naughty too.
I bought a lovely canvas shopping bag to take to the farmers market and various other stores.
Lucy decided it was a toy and I caught her just as she was starting to chew on the purse flap. So glad she ignored the leather handles.
I do believe that was first time I’ve yelled at her since she arrived.
It was with sadness that I updated my blog headline post. However, I do love the pictures of Lucy that I used.
I also redid my about me post, removing Patty’s history and updating Gavin’s.
Gavin was our 7th Bull terrier. In order they were: Danny, Joey, Malcolm, Mercy, Sadie, Patty, Gavin, and Lucy is #8.
Two dogs make a lot of noise.
One dog not so much.
Turns out that old Gavin was the noisier of the two even though Lucy tends to bark more.
Lucy was looking for him today.
No matter how many beloved pets you have, it is always painful when you lose one.
During the night Gavin’s back legs began to fail to support him and he cried all night. By morning, after a dose of his pain medication, his walking improved by only a tiny margin.
We made a decision. I couldn’t see him go through another night the way his last night was. His vet gently sent him on his way.
At 15 years of age, the dear old boy took the record for the longest lived of our dogs.
I wish to thank all the people on Facebook for the lovely sentiments they expressed. They were a comfort to both of us.
Fly my handsome boy, your Patty is waiting on the other side for you.
Seems that no matter how late/early I take the Gavin out, he still wakes me an hour or so before my alarm. So your guess is as good as mine.
I’m actually glad that the old boy is still around to wake me up so don’t get me wrong. It’s just that, every day, I want that hour back.
So glad I have good neighbors next door.
After having to call 911 once to get The Curmudgeon up from the floor and into his bed, I was desperate for help when he, once again, was on the floor.
I banged on the door next door hoping to get someone…The boys and S weren’t home. I was just about ready to call 911 again when V arrived at my door. She’s stronger than I am and soon had The Curmudgeon back in his bed.
Don’t know what I would do without them.
The Curmudgeon had a decent day until sitting on the front porch in the sun managed to wipe him out.
I’m sure you are asking, “Now why was he sitting on the porch in the sun long enough to wipe him out?”
Well it has to do with two dogs, not ours, and trying to get them safely off the street.
G and I had gone to Target again to pick up two more movies, made a side trip to a little grocery store nearby, and then came home.
I’d bought a small container of pumpkin fudge at the grocery, and after tasting it decided G would love some too. I wrapped up a piece for her and walked over to her house.
Caught her just finishing lunch so she had a nice, sweet dessert to top it off.
When I walked out of her gate, and a little past her car, I got molested by two very friendly pit bulls. No owner in sight. Both looked overheated so I talked to them as I walked back home. hoping to give them water and get them on leashes.
I went inside for treats, a dish, and water, telling The Curmudgeon to call animal control.
The boy was very happy for water and treats but about then, the girl sensed I was up to something, and got cautious. Soon taking off down the street.
The Curmudgeon came out on the porch and kept the boy occupied while I went back inside for a leash. Animal control was on the way.
Our animal control guys are very nice, and very good with dogs. One of our favorite guys showed up to take the boy. I told him about the female, described her, and told him what direction she’d gone.
I hope he found her.
The traffic around here is too fast and very dangerous for roaming animals. At least one is safely off the street.
Today’s Tee shirt
Poor old Gavin.
On Thursday he lost his breakfast and then later his dinner. This after we just got his squirts under control and he went back on mostly his regular food.
So, as of yesterday he began his hamburger and rice diet again, in two small meals. We’ll continue that over the weekend and see if he has any more problems.
At his age, I hesitate when I lift the towel from the front of his crate in the morning. I hope for his normal happy morning greeting.
I dread losing him. I know his days are numbered but when, as today, he runs at me full tilt to bash me in the shin it’s hard to believe that on November 1st he’ll be fifteen.