While I was in there, I heard a commotion in the back yard. The hens were not happy, something was bothering them. I yelled at Bob to go check. About the same time I heard a dog bark. I yelled again, “There’s a dog in the back yard!”
“No,” he answered. “There are two.”
I grabbed my bathrobe, he pulled on his sweat pants, and we hurried to the back yard. There were, indeed, two big dogs out there, shopping for breakfast. They hadn’t bothered anything yet, they were just going from pen to pen, as if they were perusing the menu.
The dogs had wandered into the yard through the back gate, which someone had left open. I told Bob to try to grab the dogs while I closed the gate. The last thing I wanted was for the dogs to get loose and get out on the highway nearby.
The dogs went right to Bob when he called them. I heard him say, “Sometimes I reeeeally don’t like you, Mom! You always give me the nasty jobs.”
The dogs were wet and filthy and smelled of skunk. Now Bob did, too.
He found a phone number on one of their tags and I went inside to call. A woman answered and said she’d send her husband right away.
I didn’t ask where they lived, but I knew the dogs weren’t from our little valley. The neighbor dogs are German Shepherds, a Corgi, 3 Cattle Dogs, and a small Pit mix. And they’re either safe in their yards or out with their owners. A loose dog around here is usually a dead dog. The highway is very close to our houses and it’s “city” traffic, drivers on their way from their housing development to their jobs in town. They don’t slow down for anything.
I was actually quite amazed to see live, strange dogs in my yard.
My work schedule has more leeway than Bob’s, so he went back into the house to take his shower and try to scrub off the skunk smell. I put my heavy coat over the bathrobe and a pair of sweat pants under it and stayed in the yard with the dogs to wait for their owner. I didn’t want them harassing the chickens.
What nice dogs. This is Heidi, a Bernese Mountain Dog. She sat on my feet and kept them warm and made my shoes smell like skunk. She’s a huge fat dog and her feet were sore. You may recall that Cap’n P’s dog Tubix is this same breed. He never wanders from the kitchen window, though.
The other dog, Cookie, is a Yellow Lab. She didn’t relax for a minute, she had her nose into everything. She is also very sweet, but had a worried look on her face. Please note, she has one of those shock collars on.
The owner showed up 30 minutes later in a brand new, big, immaculate SUV. This was my instant impression of him: successful businessman, nice fellow, no common sense about animals.
I don’t mind making snap judgments about people because my opinions are always open to revision.
He stood at my gate and looked down at the dogs. “My kids aren’t going to be happy, but we’ll have to get rid of these dogs now,” he said.
“Why is that?” I asked. “They’re pretty nice dogs.”
“They won’t stay home,” he said. “I have THREE acres. You’d think that would be enough.”
“What kind of fence do you have?” I asked.
“Oh, I don’t have a [mere] fence [like your ugly chain link], I have an [expensive] underground system.” (The words I added are ones he seemed to imply.)
I smiled. “Well, it obviously doesn’t work, does it?”
I don’t see how a fence like that COULD work. The Bernese has hair that is 4 inches long and very thick. Could she even feel a shock? If a dog runs through the barrier and gets shocked on the way through, it certainly won’t go back and get shocked on the return trip, will it?
I suggested he could pick up a chain link kennel at Lowe’s to keep the dogs in at night and turn them out in the day time when they’re home to watch them. That evoked a sneer. Nope, the only way he saw to prevent a reoccurrence was to send the [stupid] dogs [who don’t appreciate the luxury he provides] to a new home. (Again, I filled in the blanks.)
He wasn’t happy that the dogs were dirty and smelled skunky. He had put a temporary barrier in the SUV to keep them in the back. He had to pick up Heidi first and put her in, she didn’t know how to load. She immediately broke through the barrier and got on the back seat. Cookie had to be picked up, too. The fellow was in his nice work clothes. I admit to snickering as I waved a cheery “Goodbye.”
We see a lot of this in our area. People will move to the country on an acre or two and see it as a “ranch.” Some of the developments are built on former ranches that still bear those names, adding to the illusion. If the new inhabitants spend a lot of money on trendy animals and the most expensive accessories, they’ll be “ranchers.” They learn the hard way. Dogs are actually the cheapest teachers, some folks don't learn until they try raising horses or cows.
This is not a city vs. country thing. Most of the really good dog owners I know live in town. Learning to live with animals successfully gives a person a good grip on reality. Even a $2000, immaculately-groomed poodle will poop on the carpet occasionally.
Which reminds me. Just before Cookie left, she deposited a sweet treat on the lawn.
I went in the house to take my second shower. Bob was dressed and ready for work, his skin pink and shiny from scrubbing. “Before you leave,” I said, “will you please go pick up the dog poop from the back yard? Thanks!”
The boy doesn’t really live here for free, you know.
Oh, I almost forgot. The dogs had wandered here from a house near the Sheldon Feed store. That’s at least 6 miles along the roads. I doubt they came by that route, they’d have been hit and killed. I figure they came up Deer Creek and probably crossed under Hwy. 16 at the overpass near the Sloughhouse Inn, then came up the north side until they smelled chicken breakfast.
Evidently 3 acres is NOT enough.
