Inside of a Dog, It's Too Dark to Read

[wails, throws self on floor, flails appropriately]

Puppy didn't greet me when I came home. He even more obviously didn't try to pounce on Meissa when I let her out (she's in heat again, did I mention that?).

Either:

• He climbed the fence for unknown reasons


• Somebody let him out/took him, because they're complete scumbags


• He's still in the yard somewhere and is not making a peep

What do you think is likely? *sniffle*

DEAD RAT!! (Not Pettigrew)

It's gross being the alpha sometimes.

I had an energetic time when my friend Debbie came over to treat me to a birthday dinner. Because I'm not used to timing dog-escape-prevention for another person, I got to chase Puppy once, and we chased Annie and Gemma TWICE. One time I almost got into position to nab Annie going under the fence, but didn't move quite fast enough.

So - I managed to leave for work extra extra early, stopped at Home Depot, picked up three bags of rocks and a few other things (they had Thai basil!), and filled in Annie and Gemma's favourite hole when I got home from work.

Then I let the dogs out.

Unsurprisingly, it took Annie less than five minutes to realise loose = LOOSE, and she headed for the hole, where I was waiting. She and Gemma both poked at the edges, and she fussed out loud... then clawed at these somewhat unpleasant rocks until she made a dent in the pile... and squirmed right under the fence again, with me standing right there. Uh... where do you think you are going, wench?

Gemma followed her, the brat, but she didn't go far and I yelled her back into the yard as I towed Annie along by her collar (which stayed on this time).

Sheesh. I don't know what else I can put there, other than edging the whole fence - and that's a logistical problem because there's cement footings for the fenceposts that I can't dig through. Anything that could be set into the ground would have to be fit between each of the footings (and probably look fairly unaesthetic, although that has to be a secondary consideration). Maybe I can scavenge board from one of the other saggy pieces of the board fence....

In other news, after eating my phone (I must show you pictures at some point), tonight they ate another TV remote - but since Sirius knocked over the almost still new small TV and completely sheared the coax connector out of the back, it doesn't make much difference right now.

I let him sleep inside sometimes because he's fairly quiet and unmessy, but he's starting to feel more comfortable and wanting to help out around the house. See, he's fairly tall, so he can reach things even D'Argo can't, especially since D'Argo's hips are starting to get a little stiff on him now and then.

For instance, the other day (while Meissa was eating my new flash drive) he made sure my replacement DVD cases tasted right to go with The Wild Wild West (Season Two).

Today, I woke up to find that he had stress-tested both of the large packs of toilet paper I'd just bought and left on a card table. He opened the packages so I wouldn't have to, stepped on most of the to make sure they were soft as advertised... tasted multiple rolls to ensure that they had no harsh chemicals and the softness went all the way through and even brought some samples into the bedroom to make sure I knew (at which point there was constant barking from the corgi patrol to make sure I wouldn't keep sleeping).

Such a nice boy.

He'll be staying outside at night now.

---

Irrelevant to the above, those who have to deal with pet stains on anything of a frequent basis:

Which is the best product and why (presented in alphabetical order)?

* Nature's Miracle
* Other
* Resolve
* Woollite

Nah, it's not an LJ poll 'cause I couldn't be bothered. :)

I had been on-line for a bit, knowing that only CONSTANT VIGILANCE! would keep Gemma from leaving the yard... maybe. I haven't used the tethers on anybody since one night when I tethered Dog so I could get in and out of the door without fighting through him and Sirius being all testosteroney at each other, and I came out to find he had somehow wound both tethers around his feet so tightly they were starting to cut off circulation. It took me at least 10 minutes to get him untangled, and I felt awful.

So. I throw on my bathrobe, start yelling for her from the porch, but no Gemma yet - just Girl, in the nest she made in the corner of the fence under the flame vine (nice shady spot, good choice!) barking like crazy. Huh. Well, Gemma's not far, so I clamber off the porch to go see what Girl's fussing about. Look over the fence - no cats. Look left, look right - no cats. Look under the flame vine, she's looking at the ground on the other side of the fence and wait, what's that little squeaky noise?

There's so many semi-feral cats, I thought somebody's kitten had crawled off out of the nest, so as one of the neighbourhood kids walks Gemma back (BRAT DOG) I pad around the fence, into the neighbour's yard, and get opposite to Girl's nest.

There, on the ground, is a teenytiny brand new black puppy... in the full heat of the sun, ACK! My suspicion was confirmed. That was a NEST nest, not just a cool spot, but I still have no idea when she managed to pull all this off. I brought the baby back to her (poor Girl, going nuts) and immediately decided she was going to get the kitchen for the next couple months. I'm going to make her a bed in the pantry, see if she'll like that, and... well, vamp everything else.

[wishes she had the nerve to neuter male dogs the way they apparently do rams]

Meant to tell you lot the other day, apparently aside from a Houdini-esque way with escaping from a snugged harness, Gemma has learned how to untie knots.

After I got home from work, I had all the dogs out to play, not poo on the mats, etc.; Gemma was all Anniefied, to wit: harness, long cable tether secured to a solid piece of house with water in reach - unless she macrames the tether beyond human comprehension. Which both she and Annie have done regularly.

I got to some sort of stopping point in what I was doing and went to check to see how badly Gemma had entangled herself this time. When I opened the door, there was my neighbour, Uncle Rene, escorting Gemma back to the front yard gate.

In her harness.

Trailing about 20-30 feet of cable.

Complete with attached dead grass.



You explain it, I can't. Hopefully a couple extra knots finished off with a half-hitch will foil her thumbless (doesn't even have dewclaws) de-Gordianing in the future.

I'm metaphysical enough to think... no, insist that your collective participation got Schrodinger's Corgi out of her box in one piece. That, and Sirius's heliacal rising but that's another story.

Speaking of which, Blade, Gwynne and Raven Snape were clamouring for details, so I tell the tale.

Mrs Cummings is my 'other mother'; as the maternal parent of one of my quasisisters, this is appropriate, no? She doesn't have broken phones, and is home during the day a lot, so she was an excellent choice for backup — especially since my voicemail access number for my... [breathes carefully through nose] phone... decided it was out of service. Hard to get messages that way, and hard to call support when you're dashing about sticking up flyers.

Anyway, Monday on the way to work I saw on the call-log that Mrs C had called - amazingly, the battery stayed up - so I called her back. She had been frantically trying to get ahold of me, because somebody had called who was sure they had Gemma. I got their number and tried calling them back after I got to work and could write things down. I matched it to a number on my call-log as well; l also got the VM problem straightened out with T-Mobile.

No calls back that evening; the other calls had come in between 0800 and 0900, so I figured I'd wait on stuff like the police report and Miami Herald advert until talking to them, first. Got home, sorted dogs, messed around on-line... waited. Called both numbers, because there were two - the one Mrs C got and a very similar one in my messages. That made me wonder, but messages left nonetheless. 9 o'clock came. No callback, left another set of messages.

1300 came, and I was doing that type-and-fugue thing which means I really need to get something resembling sleep, despite the lack of news. Woke up before my alarm clock, which was sad in the extreme, because it meant I'd 'slept' between 2 and 3 hours only. Augh. I tried calling again, because I still had no callbacks, and got Juan Carlos on a horribly fuzzy connexion. His phone? My phone? The combination? One way or anther, I got an address - I was pretty sure I got it - said I'd get going ASAP. The location was west of FIU, west of the Turnpike (which is very roughly equivalent to W 117th Avenue on that stretch, running from past the county line all the way south to Homestead in the SW 300s). It was just before 1700.

I got to drive during rush hour, woohoo! WITH the flow of the traffic!

It took me 75 minutes to go 15 miles. Very tensely, because I refused to get all worked up on the way there, in case this wasn't really her.

Found the house easily - the fact that it's pumpkin orange helps. No, it's not as horrible as it sounds, but their paint wasn't opaque enough; they either needed better paint or another coat, at least. I didn't see anybody around, so I walked up to the front door. Right next to the door is a little patio area with a low wall, well in the shade at this time of day, making it rather pleasant. And there, in the patio, were an inert bulldog and a GEMMA! I called her name, she perked right up and ran over, and I scooped her up over the little wall. I got corgi kisses, and a whiff of really nice-smelling dog. She'd had a bath!!

I had to phone them to get them to answer the door, as the bell's broken. La abuela welcomed me in and chattered at me in non-stop Spanish, of which I followed maybe half. This didn't phase her at all, and we fed the bulldog, who didn't respond to me at all, really - I think it's his allergy medicines, they fry human brains, why not canine. J.C. and Melissa came down after a few minutes, refused the reward - I'll get back to that - and told me that J.C. had found her around the corner, since he was checking on property he has in the neighbourhood. Ironically, if he'd left her, I'd have likely either reached her with my voice or chased her down myself just a little while later. Anyway, she had a nice adventure/visit - she got to try to pee on their Yorkies' pee-pads (missed somehow), she jumped in their stagnant fountain, whee! (hence the bath) and got a pretty pink ribbon for her trouble. They were really nice, and it's such a relief to know she'd been in such good conditions while she was gone.

The outside dogs got to pounce on Gemma first, but not as welcomingly as the inside dogs. There was much with the playing and barking and running crackerdog! She also sat right between my feet while I was making their really good lunch, but that might have been as much to protect the chewie she'd claimed as affection. Although I said she was NEVER LEAVING THE HOUSE AGAIN, she's been out on Annie's tether and her sister's harness - somebody ate hers. She's better at macrame than Annie is!

Now I just have to learn how to build fencing.

I'm going to use some evangelical terminology here, so forgive me in advance — since J.C. and Melissa refused the reward, I told them I'd donate to the Humane Society; actually, I figured I'd split between them, Adopt-a-Pet and a couple of smaller groups. Who might be willing to join me for a thank-offering? Even if you don't have any money to donate to your favourite pet rescue group (dog, cat, ferret, whatever), you can at least clicky the button here:

Every single one of the last... say, six packages of Piraque sesame crackers I've opened for myself here has been appropriated and consumed by the puppies. This last one, since I wasn't headed back into the kitchen, I left on the cupholder of the bathroom sink (yes, I have become a college boy sans bheer. Pray for me.) This is about shoulder-level for me, which means... oh, at least 4'6" from the floor. Maybe 5'.

THEY STILL GOT THEM!!

(In other news, I am not getting things done which need doing. This is where the head-kicking comes in, if I don't manage to find a way to hide from that, too.)

No, I have no idea. I just heard the right kind of noise outside, got up, there she was at the door.

OK, feeling less insane now, thanks. :D

I managed to coax my HP LJ6L to crank out something legible (old toner, much dust) and put them on stop signs, at intersections, the gate to the park, the post office (not sure if they'll leave it up).... I had three kids wondering how much the reward is rush up to me, so we'll see if Kid Power does better than Herald Power. I'll take the cardstock to work - they're desperate for me to work at least a half-shift - and see if the Xerox can feed it; if not, I'll just have to use plain paper. I need more tape.

I haven't slept yet. My head's hurting, and all my clothes were dirty, so now I've got to wait through the wash cycle so they have time to dry. Better wrinkled than sweaty.

I was having such fun this week, and considering coming off wearing high mourning a little early, too. *sigh* Belated Lammas, belated Sirius Heliocentric Rising Day.