Tag Archives: misbehaving dogs

Trouble in Paradise

WANTED!!!

(Click on mug shots to enlarge for better identification.)

Oh man. Brian pooped in the sala and peed in the spare bedroom, in spite of the fact that I took him out twice last night and once this morning. Then Annie cried all morning in spite of the fact I’d given her food, water and head scratches—perhaps because Brian was in my bed with me? Put Brian out, put a cushy bed for him out on the side of the house and opened gate for Morrie to join him in the side and front yard so they could play without Diego’s interference. Morrie immediately went for the cat food in this usual cat’s domain and then for Annie, whom I had forgotten was in the front garden. Chased her behind the big planter, where she was cowering when I came out to put Morrie back in the back yard and to rescue Annie. There are not enough zones in this house! I don’t know that I have a solution to the problem. Brian is crying outside but I won’t have an animal who pees and poops inside!  Help.

1/2 hour later. Good news. Brian has stopped crying.

Frisky Business: Animal Mischief (In Celebration of National Dog Day)

dsc07914

Frisky Business

My dogs aren’t highfalutin. Don’t compete by size and weight.
All that classy dog shows preach, they repudiate.
Diego never notices where a thrown stick lands,
and neither one’s consistent in following commands.

On stormy days, Morrie’s been known not to chance the rain
to go about his business in the usual terrain.
They’re murderers of  possums. This is no fresh news.
And when six pork chops vanished, I followed all the clues

down to where the evidence lay “hidden” in the yard.
How did six chop bones get there? It wasn’t very hard
to figure out the mystery. Diego was the thief
tall enough to bring about my dinner party grief,

swiping all the main course directly from the pan.
When his master’s back is turned, a dog does what he can.
But at least they are consistent in appearing for their meals.
No dog can only live on the comestibles he steals.

For more frisky business, go HERE or HERE or HERE or HERE! Or HEREHERE or HERE or HERE! The entire story of the purloined pork chops is HERE, and, if you want it all in a nutshell, THIS ONE pretty much wraps up the whole story of my misbehaving dogs.

Prompt words today are highfalutinrepudiate, consistent and, since none of my other prompt sites has posted a prompt yet and since August 26 is National Dog Day, I’m declaring  my fourth prompt word to be dog!! If you see this and want to play along, just post a link to a photo or poem or anecdote about your dog to this site.

Here is my link for your pingbacks to this site: https://judydykstrabrown.com/2019/08/26/frisky-businessanimal-mischief/

Dead Possum

DSC07100 

Dead Possum

A rude surprise,
it lay like breakfast rejected
on the patio outside the dogs’ sleeping room.

The dogs were restless this morning,
barking for their kibble,
unwilling to follow the rules
that decreed paws known all too well
as lethal weapons needed to be contained,
the dogs in their open cages before I’d venture out to feed.
But some wildness recently sated
drove them to assault the door
and refuse repeated demands to
go to their beds.
They staged their impatient war dance,
telling with growls and claws
the tale of the hunt—
That won battle.

I lock them in their cages
and, order restored, I dish their meals
and free them to their feed.
I walk behind them to secure the sliding glass door,
gather dust pan and broom, plastic pail.
Their quarry too large to fit, let alone be lofted
by a dust pan, I grasp the tail and lower the possum
like a colossal tea bag for a dipping,
into the wash bucket,
walk the long path down to the lower wall,
heft it over into deep underbrush
of the vacant lot next door.

I own that land.
It has been the burial place
of sixteen generations of those possums
too slow for escape,
with teeth and claws insufficient for defense––
every one a battle won
by the dogs
and each one equally mourned––
their wild ferocity not enough
to best even dogs seemingly grown docile
until these night battles
gone unnoticed in my dreams
are brought to view in light of day.

The possum’s fur wet and matted but only slightly torn,
every time I hopefully delude myself
that perhaps it’s playing witness to its name
and only playing possum.
Optimistically, I don heavy gloves and winter coat,
ready for the struggle as I try to save
what an adult part of me knows
no longer is in need of saving.

Each corpse ironically made heavier by loss of life,
that dead weight of it
is echoed in a central part of me
as I try to lift with reverence
this newest evidence
that most of life
and all of death
is out of our control.

What I Found When I Got Home from the Beach

What I Found When I Got Home from the Beach!!!!

IMG_9144IMG_9145IMG_9141 (1)
Morrie totally destroyed Frida’s bed but left Diego’s untouched!  BAD DOG!!! Frida is sleeping in my bathroom on the cushy rug tonight.  Guess Morrie needs to be in a cage. And can’t be trusted at home alone.

 

Morrie Takes off and Brings the Road Home with Him!!!!

Morrie Takes off and Brings the Road Home with Him!!!!

It’s true.  When Pepe came to give me my massage today, he opened the door and all three dogs ran out!  After two months of never escaping when the construction guys were in and out dozens of times a day, suddenly they asserted themselves and were long gone–not a whisper of a tailfeather was in view in any direction by the time I got out in the street to call for them.  I didn’t know whether to fear that they’d gone up the mountain or to be glad.  No cars up there and fewer dogs than in the streets.  So, nothing to be done. I decided to leave them alone ’til they came home, wagging their tails behind them.  An hour and a half later, that’s what they did.  The first two to enter were fine, but this is what I saw when Morrie entered!

IMG_8664

First thing he did was make right for the water bowl.

IMG_8668

A one-and-a-half-hour run in the mountains sure makes a Laird thirsty!!!

IMG_8680

I couldn’t help but notice the splint-like accumulation on his leg.

IMG_8679

not to mention the sizeable limb of some sticky weed, complete with tiny tenacious bristles all over it and flower abloom.

IMG_8678

Oh yes, those little decorations all over his head were sticky as well, and had no desire to be shed.

IMG_8673

Contrast Morrie to his brother’s pristine coat!

IMG_8670

The “limb” looked like a sunbather using Morrie’s coat to  attract the sun’s rays–a sort of solar hothouse!

Ah, Morrie.  Always a new thrill.  I got the limb off, in pieces, before he took off to tussle with Diego.  When I fed them, I got a few more pieces removed, then noticed that some scraped off as Diego and Morrie rolled and growled and wrestled and did their usual hi-jinx.  I went back to party preparations.  (Pictures to follow.)

I have neglected to say that the doggie domain is almost finished. Today they primed the walls and they reflect so much light into the hall now that I’m tempted to leave the walls white.  Dare I?  It looks beautiful, even in the chalky transluscent white of the primer.  I put the fridge in and the two cages with beds inside and Frida’s bed which almost entirely take up all the floor room.  I left the outside door to it open and a half hour ago, heard noises and went in to find Diego in Frida’s bed and Morrie in Diego’s bed in Diego’s cage! I couldn’t persuade them to switch back to their own bunks, so we’ll see what happens when Frida comes in. No lights connected, so I can’t take a picture!  Perhaps I’ll try with flash.

Happy Thanksgiving!  Tomorrow before the guests come, I plan to put Diego in the doggie domain, Morrie (and his bed) in the little dog run outside the spare bedroom and Frida in the garage with her bed while the guests are here.  One guest asked if she could bring her dog and I said I thought there would be pandemonium enough with my three.

 

 

Thanksgiving Insurance

IMG_8614

Thanksgiving Insurance

As I pat butter on the turkey,
all my dogs get extra lurkey.

But when they get my sound rebuffing,
they develop interest in the stuffing.

So what solution do I tout?
Stuffing goes in. The dogs go out!!!

 

To read a about and join in on Shelter Love’s Prompt, go here:https://chicprune.wordpress.com/2014/11/11/shelter-love/

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/literate-today/

No Words!!! (The Morrie Saga)

No Words!!!! (The Morrie Saga)

One episode follows too quickly on the heels of another. I’m going to let the pictures speak for themselves.

IMG_1840IMG_1844IMG_1842 IMG_1843 IMG_1845 IMG_1846 IMG_1837

Yes, he opened the drawer.  Yes, he ate the drawer knob, and the TV antenna connection, and the books, and the crayons!!!  No, I didn’t ever think he could get a drawer open.

Yes, I have removed the drawers from the room now.  Yes, I feed this dog.  No, I can’t spend every moment with him.  Yes, at least he didn’t eat the second box of crayons.

Yes, he’s sleeping here beside me as I type this. Yes, his stomach is growling.

Some Scottie parents continue to underestimate their kids, in spite of what Marilyn and Garry tell them.

Too soon old, too late smart!!!

IMG_1850Yes, this is a new picture of Morrie looking guilty!  I should have known when he was in his cage when I entered the room and when he didn’t start clamoring to be let out of his room the minute I got home.  I need a theme song similar to Jaws to start playing when I enter my house!!!

Epilogue: What Did You Do, Morrie???

IMG_1542 Needed:  Innovative recycling ideas for 30 rolls of chewed up TP.  Extra points for artistic uses. (If you are new to this story, better have a look HERE first.)

IMG_1631 (1)Morrie, want to tell the folks what you did tonight?  Morrie?  Do you? IMG_1700Want to tell them why the sewing machine is out in the hall? IMG_1603Want to tell them why the drapes are tied up in a ball? IMG_1672Want to tell them what that is in your mouth,Morrie??? IMG_1696(Morrie looks a bit stunned at the prospect, or perhaps this is a look of uncomprehending innocence?  Tune in later for the rest of the story.)

Finally, A Voice!!!—A Letter from Two Bad (Misunderstood) Dogs

Today they chose my suggestion for the daily prompt! It was: Return Address—Yesterday, your pet/baby/inanimate object could read your post. Today, they can write back (thanks for the suggestion, lifelessons!). Write a post from their point of view (or just pick any non-verbal creature/object).

If you’d like to see the letter the below post answers, please go here.

dsc07914 (1)
Finally, A Voice!!
(A Letter from Two Bad (Misunderstood) Dogs)

Do you think it’s simple, giving voice to our demands
without the proper vocal chords, without your human hands?
Everytime we try to talk, you scold us and you hush us,
even though you’ve just admitted that our howls are luscious.

And lacking proper fingers, we cannot write you letters.
We aren’t given proper tools to address our “betters.”
Simply howls and growls and barks and waggings of the tail—
and yet you do not take the time to learn this doggy Braille!

If you’d listen closer, perhaps you’d understand us.
Instead you shout out, “Stop!” and “Hush!” and seek to countermand us.
Can’t you understand that we’re protecting you from prowlers?
Feral cats and owls and skunks and nearby canine howlers?

We have such curiosity, though you determine to balk us.
We wouldn’t have to rush the gate if you’d take time to walk us!
We have to climb up on the roof to get a worldly view.
We wouldn’t be there barking if you’d take us out with you!

As for the cat food, take a clue. The reason we adore it
Is ‘cause it’s smelly, wet and luscious. Dog food? We abhor it!
That cat leaves a bit to tempt us—it’s a cruel feline game!
So why not buy us cat food? It costs you just the same.

And now the final agony. The ultimate tragic hitch,
Not only can our mom not cook, but now we make her itch!
No wonder our neuroses include jostling for attention.
A mother who can’t touch us? This escaped your earlier mention.

We thought you didn’t like us so we tried to win your favor.
Your touch is what we long for even more than cat food’s savor.
And as for pooping in the yard, you never told us to
sneak behind the garden shed to have our little poo.

You seem to think we know these things, but where would we have learned?
It’s you who should have taught us, for obedience must be earned.
If you would spend more time with us, perhaps you’d finally see
there is no other creature with whom we would rather be.

An Ode to Dog Companions

DSC07914
The Prompt: Literate for a Day—Someone or something you can’t communicate with through writing  can understand every single word you write today, for one day only. What do you tell them?

An Ode to Dog Companions

Darling little Frida, dearest Diego, too.
I have a little something I have to say to you.
If you’d like to go out walking every single day,
you have to start responding when I shout out, “Hey!”

That word means “Pay attention!” Its volume says “Right now!”
It doesn’t mean to take off after every passing cow
pulling me right after you, cause it is two to one,
and since my last foot surgery, I don’t much like to run!

Another little something I’d really like to tell
is that it was all your fault the last time that I fell.
When one of you runs toward the lake, the other towards the town,
your leashes wrap around me and the way I go is down!

Please don’t jump up on the screen whenever mealtime’s near.
I’ve had it mended more than once—a dozen times, I fear.
If you sit there quietly, your meal will be served fast.
I tell this to you each day, but my words don’t seem to last.

Another little something that needs badly to be said
is that it would be lovely if you’d shit behind the shed
instead of on the footpath or all over the grass,
for pooping over everything is really rather crass.

You don’t have to answer that dog across the street,
for he sets a barking record that you don’t have to beat.
The fighting cocks can crow without your high accompaniment.
(Albeit that your howls are growing quite magnificent.)

The hound of the Baskervilles was acting on a curse
and now that you have matched him, there’s no need to rehearse.
The owl will hoot hoot every night no matter what you do.
Ignore him, please. This is your mother begging it of you!

The dog food is for you dogs, and the cat food is for cats.
If you keep forgetting this, it’s going to drive me bats!
It does no good to try to knock cat dishes from the wall.
Those antics will not ever get you anywhere at all!

Diego, when I get home, please don’t drive Frida away!
You won’t believe there’s love enough, no matter what I say.
I have one hand for each of you, so let her have her share.
You are a dog and not a pig, so gluttony’s not fair.

Please don’t eat the cat bed and please don’t chase the cat.
Bullying’s not an answer. I will have none of that!
You found me on the street and did all that you could do
to make me bring you home with me to join my motley crew.

I am allergic to you dogs, and also to each cat,
although I know that you cannot be cognizant of that.
And so you want to sleep real near and have me stroke you often.
But when I do, it ends in itching, nose-blowing and coughin’.

Your species is a puzzle to which I don’t have a key.
Though it was at your insistence that I brought you home with me,
why is it every single time an open gate you see,
you’re through it, running down the street, so anxious to be free?

(for a similar prose answer to this prompt, go Here)