As a boy we had many dogs, they would wander in, resist
our mothers attempt to get them to leave and finally she would,
rather than see them starve, feed them the scrap from the table,
carrots, cabbage, whatever. Of course they were glad to get it
in their empty bellies. When winter came a pallet of old feed
sacks or something that would later be burned to destroy the
fleas, would be placed on the enclosed back porch. Maybe once in
a 'blue moon" one would come in an open door only to be met with
a broom and threats to shoot him, (all our dogs were male,
whatever gender they really were)!
of them came to untimely ends, none ever were at the vets, or
ate dog food, or were especially well treated. They were run
over, shot by hunters, or in some way met with their end.
Mandy, our beloved Sheppard, as treated a
little different, she had a tag and her shots, went occasionally
to the Vet and as she grew achy and sore with age was allowed
into the back hallway of the house. That was where she was
allowed but after we went to bed she would enter the forbidden
territory and get on one of the couches in the Living Room.
Since she was a little deaf and slept a lot she often was still
there when one of us came down. If she wakened and we did not
seem to note her transgression she would sneak back into the
hallways and greet us from there. If we censured her she would
look so chagrined we would have to turn away to keep from
laughing. She is loved and remembered still.
Sadie on the other hand stays in the house except
when someone takes her out and remains with her to pick up her
poop! She goes to the vet and gets her claws trimmed and
bathed and injected, her teeth cleaned, special food for obese,
(strike that, over-weight dogs)! She has a wardrobe of several
sweaters and coats, half a dozen leashes and another half dozen
dog beds that she rarely uses but that make handy repositories
for her many chewy, squeakys, & teary-uppys. More on that
$3500 for a chain link fence that she will
only play in when we are with her, the rest of the time she sits
and the gate and whines. When bedtime comes, guess where she
sleeps, I have finally gotten somewhat used to waking up with a
dogs butt practically in my face since she is sleeping on what
was earlier in the night my pillow! Since I sleep in the buff, I
was at first very worried that a cold nose, in the middle of the
night, might make my heart stop beating, so far, so good.
We find ourselves walking softly and carefully
to avoid disturbing her and to avoid stepping on one of her damn
squeakies. Incidentally, you ain't lived, until you have had the
crap scared out of you by a squeaky under a bare foot at 2:00AM!
It's almost as bad as stepping on a lost Jackrock!