What a difference a year makes!
Not to worry. This is not one of those sappy reflective posts where I recount the milestones of the year gone by and look longingly and hopeful to the year ahead.
Rather, I just happened to snap a photo of Abbey and Rusty surveying their kingdom as the kids were enjoying the snow earlier this week.
“Hey, Ed. Rusty’s in my yard.”
The call has come countless times, never opportune. I was just finishing my first cup of coffee this morning when my neighbor called to let me know that Rusty was on the lam. Again. I asked her if she had seen Abbey, Zoe’s puppy, but she had not.
Great! I thought as I threw on a pair of shoes, grabbed the leash and made my way across the street. I met my newest neighbor first. Newest, I say because I had not met them yet. They could have lived there for years for all I know. I just hadn’t had the opportunity to meet them. Abbey provided.
She was busying herself tugging at the leash my neighbor had put on her anxious to continue her great escape. I thanked them immensely and set to the next house to retrieve Rusty.
Come to think of it, I’m not sure I introduced myself. I introduced the dogs. Everyone in our little village knows my dog. In fact, they knew Rusty before they knew me. They’re not a nuisance just big and hard to miss. Two years ago the county replaced the bridge that spans the river at the end of our property. Every morning when the workers arrived, Rusty made his way to the end of the yard to supervise the progress.
One day, when he shows up missing, I make my way down to the job site to see if any of the workers had seen my dog. The foreman asks, “Oh, is that your dog?” then he turns to the crew and yells, “Hey, any you guys seen Rusty?”
The freaking bridge crew knew my dog before they knew me.
Anyway, I get Rusty and Abbey back into the yard and set about to find where they were getting out. It wasn’t difficult. They both were soaking wet and covered in mud. They’ve been walking through the creek at the back corner of our property.
I’ve had fencing materials for about a month but it’s been either too cold or the water has been too high for me to rig a barricade. It’s still chilly and the water, though not as high as it can get is still high. Apparently, not high enough.
Did I mention it was raining?
So yeah, I spent the better part of my morning perfecting the art of canine containment. I was soaking wet, full of mud and cold. My feet were soaked, my hands sore and my tools are covered in mud. I was tired, may back was sore and the 1/2 cup of coffee I had been able to drink before starting this little project had worn off hours ago.
My three little helpers, Zia, Zella and Zander were just as, if not more, wet, cold and muddy as I though not nearly as disgruntled. They had spent the time climbing on boulders, playing in the mud and throwing sticks and rocks into the creek. Oh, and dropping my tools into the mud.
As I put the finishing touches on my last patch-worked piece of fencing that now spans the creek Zia, panting and giddy with the excitement of a kid that has just spent the better part of her morning playing in the mud, every kids’ absolute favorite thing to do in the whole wide world, asked, “Dad, can we do this again?”
I looked at my watch, it was not even 11:00 am. “Good Lord, Zia. I certainly hope not!”
I took this a couple of weeks ago through the back door (hence the poor quality). Rusty, the big one asleep, has got to be one of the coolest dogs in the world. About as laid back as you can imagine. I have similar pictures somewhere with the kids riding on his back. He just takes it. Should he become tired of their playing on him he simply gets up and walks away.
Abbey was Zoe’s birthday gift back in January. (Because with 5 kids, a dog, 3 cats and the hordes of birds I feed I didn’t quite have enough to do.)
Abbey is a bit high strung, as puppies go, and has essentially quarantined poor Zia to the indoors. Not necessarily a bad thing when it’s so cold out, but it’s going to get warmer some day. Abbey likes to nip, as puppies do, when she says hello and Zia does not appreciate that as an acceptable form of communication.
Anyway, just thought it was pretty funny to watch Abbey climb all over poor Rusty and he never even budged.
There must be close to a hundred of them. Big ones. Small ones. Furry ones. Shaggy ones. Smooth ones. Hard ones. Soft ones. Some have missing arms, others legs. Some are just a head. Others are beyond all recognition.
There are girls, boys, bears, rabbits, cats, dogs, fish, dinosaurs, tigers, lions, pigs, penguins, and walruses. We’ve got stuffed animals in just about every room of the house. Pandemic proportions. And with very few exceptions, every stuffed dog, cat, bear and whatnot has a name. Mike, Ruby, Ariel, Emily, Cochon, Ella…. They all do.
My wife is perplexed as to how the kids can come up with so many creative, sometimes bizarre, names for these ridiculous stuffed toys and yet can not choose a better name for the cat.
Meet Little Gray Kitty.
And yes, that is how she is referred to every time they call her.
Also, for some strange reason they have started referring to Rusty, our dog, with the slightly more descriptive–Rusty Dog.
In an effort to stimulate stagnating brain cells and hopefully spawn some creativity, I am working on a little thing I think I shall call SUNDAY SONNETS. Essentially, Sunday Sonnets will be a brief collection, quite random, of events or happenings around here in a loose verse form. And no, I will not adhere to the truest definition of a sonnet as being a verse or song of 14 lines of iambic pentameter. I’m not a poet–hell, I’m not even a writer–but then again you already know that, don’t you. My initial offering, though not labeled as such, would have to be last week’s “That’ll Teach Em“.
This week’s Sonnet addresses the ever dwindling rodent population around Casa de Ed. For discussion purposes let’s just assume that rabbits are rodents, OK? I’m a dad not a zoologist. Though zoo keeper would not be too far from an apt job description.
RODENTS BEWARE
Rodents, beware.
Though extremely cute and cuddly, your safety
Can not be assured in this place.
Yesterday’s offering
By our feline warriors was a most
Adorable (and assuredly dead) bunny.
The kids cringed
With horror and repulsion at the feasting
Yet would not look away.
Then Rusty
Availed himself
To the spoils.
And the feline feast was done.
Note to self: Get cat food!
Tripping With UpTake