There is nothing I like better at sunset than running up and down the street in my stocking feet (it's so easy for me to run, you know!) chasing the damn dog.
I was sitting in the house, peacefully watching Jeopardy when the phone rang. It was Walt, who had just left the house about 3 minutes before. Rather than opening the front door to scream at me (as he did in the last video I posted), he had pulled his phone out to call and tell me that Spencer was loose.
The one good thing about Spencer, as he becomes a teenager, is that if nothing else, he will come when I call. Does he still bark and bark and bark and bark at the back fence? Yes, but if I call him he comes running in the house.
Has he gotten out before? Yes, but when I call him and invite him to run with me, he does, following me into the house for a treat.
Tonight he discovered the joy of freedom, and he wasn't about to join me in a romp or come when I called, not even for a promised treat. No, he preferred to run back and forth across the street in front of oncoming cars.
I know better than to try to catch a happy dog who is enjoying his freedom. Heck, our first dog, Ho Chi Mutt, made it his life's work to get out of the house and he knew how to stay just far enough away from me that he was tantalizingly close, but too far for me to touch. He was like a carnival midway game that looks like it should be easy to win, but in truth is almost impossible.
For a short period of time it looked like we might have him cornered, me and a woman across the street, but he got away from both of us. I finally sat down on her lawn and hoped he'd come to me. He did. He thought that was just the greatest thing to race at me full speed and leap over me.
I finally was able to grab him. Then, of course, I had to get UP off of the lawn, holding a puppy who wanted to play some more. I had to ask my neighbor to help give me a hand so I could get to my feet and I kept a strong hand on Spencer's collar as I took him home again, all the while telling him what a GOOD dog he was for coming to me and saying as sweetly as I possibly could all the terrible things I was going to do to him when we got home again.
Spencer, aka "the really good dog" the one who is going to "make somebody a wonderful pet" has become a teenager. If he were human, he'd have a couple of tattoos, several piercings and low-rider jeans.
Other than a couple of Jack Russell terriers we had for a couple of weeks, Spencer is the only dog who insists on standing on the kitchen table, searching for good things to eat. Tonight he polished off two little bowls of mayonnaise left over from the asparagus we had for dinner. It doesn't help to push the chairs up to the table, which foils most other would-be table snitches. He's so skinny that he can find ways around blockades.
He is teething on the big straw basket that I use to store large items in the family room. It was my one "decorating" accessory that I bought several years ago. Several puppies have teethed on it, but Spencer is more determined. Other puppies have been foiled when I cover the basket with a towel. Spencer just dives under it and continues to chew.
He is constantly challenging Sheila for top dog position. She doesn't usually mind foster dogs, especially ones who have been here a long time, but Spencer's on-again, off-again subtle challenges cause lots of loud wrestling around here. I don't think anybody's really serious, but they all respond to Spencer's mood.
He's still basically "a really good dog," but I sure hate the canine teen months. I remember when our beloved dog Toby was known as "the dog that ate Villanova Drive" (including a chair!). We go through it with all of them who are here at the right time--and stay long enough to feel that this is "home."
But I'm ready for Spencer to be someone else's problem!
Tomorrow is Cousins Day again, so the next entry will be late. It's an overabundance of riches. We are having a crab feed for dinner tomorrow night. I can't wait!
I just hope that Walt doesn't have problems with Spencer while I'm gone.
Be sure to check this video of my friend Jim Brochu's exciting day at NASDAQ. It is so cool!
2 comments:
Spenser is an energetic and fiesty youngster. I admire your commitment.
I wish that I could have foster dogs....maybe if I rethink some of our space. Do they make really sure the dogs aren't ill?...ours was SO ill when we got (and the shelter obviously secretly knew it but were trying to save a life in giving Doggie to us).
*mingle*
Post a Comment