I give you – The Coonhound Deluxe. Guess, we’re not getting rid of him. Just yet.
I’m listening to Steely Dan’s Black Cow and Rhen is like, almost asleep. I’m slinging him. I can’t believe he’s sleepy. First, because it is early in the morning. Secondly, it’s Steely Dan. He truly is my child.
Then Coonhound walks over by the table where I surf the internet and pukes right under my chair. On the carpet.
It’s like high noon in Dodge. We just stare at each other. The town people gather. An old man cackles into his jug of moonshine. Coonhound Deluxeâ„¢ knows I’m gonna have to clean it up and he knows there’s a good chance it will wake Rhen.
I lean in close to Rhen. Squint and whisper in his ear, “We’re gonna make it through this. Remain groggy and continue to dig the Dan. I’ll get paper towels and a vacuum.”
Dodge City, October 2006
Rhen and I went to Woodlawn Cemetery yesterday afternoon for a delightful stroll amongst the headstones on such a fine spring day. The wind was up. Cool but offset by the warm sun. We started from my Grandmother’s section and made our way to the other side. The whole time Rhen was using my Dasani water bottle for a teether. After about 15 minutes of walking Rhen discovers gravity, big time. He keeps throwing the bottle on the ground and since we were going downhill, it would slide out in front of him, providing endless entertainment and wonder.
Being such a nice day and considering where we were, I just keep picking up the bottle and giving it back to him. I’m laughing too and cheering everytime Rhen throws it over. We had a great walk. The whispering pine trees, the warmth of the sun and me and Rhen laughing like loons.
In television land, Lost was a slow burn. Not reallly the high octane episdoes we’ve been treated to the last couple of weeks. The previews were worth it though. Michael comes back, says something about being able to take The Others. Jack wants the guns from Sawyer. Everyone is beating the war drums. Grey’s Anatomy was a repeat, but I missed Season 1 so they’re new to me and I need the background. I think O’Malley is my favorite character on that show. He’s a good guy.
Today looks to be a wet one. It’s good for the grass seed I planted over the weekend. It’s been blowing east ever since Sunday. We want a lush green lawn for Rhen to play in this summer. Oh yeah and finally after like, 10 years of owning dogs, we invested in a high end pooper scooper. Instead of letting piles of dog poop accumulate in our backyard through each season, we go out every day and pick it up. The Coonhound is very regular. Miles, not so much.
Hey hey! So, I’m all twittery because WordPress (the blogging software I use for tedfoo.net) will update its software soon, which means I will be compelled to do it too, and have all sorts of problems. Hopefully it will go smoothly and not like, break everything. I hate that the most. First off, I ‘ll have to see if the new features are worth (possibly) breaking the site.
So the other day I was thinking about our coonhound, Owen. He’s an odd duck. During the day, he’s very meek and needy. If I even lightly, barely, slightly catch his toe under my foot (and it’s easy to do, since he’s always by my side) he will run to the phone and dial the humane society. Also he does this super annoying side stepping scurry away which reminds me of an injured spider. Tail between legs, spirit oddly deflated. Nails on wood floor. Clickclickclick. Dial tone. Ugh.
However, at night he has a strange polarity shift in temperament. He goes from meek to being a complete and total ass. If I come to bed and disturb him under the covers, all hell breaks loose. Deep rumbling growling builds to an all out bitchfest at my expense. Then he shucks himself out from underneath the covers and does what we call a “reset” in which he demands his place back underneath the covers. Watching Owen do a reset is like, watching the final moments of child birth. Out pops his head and then he slowly pushes himself out from underneath the covers in one slick movement before unceremoniously plopping himself to the floor below. It is simultaneously beautiful and disgusting to watch.
Took Miles and Owen to the vet today (cue circus music) for vaccination against kennel cough. They’re being boarded this weekend when Gabe, Rachel and Dex come to visit. Trying to avoid injury and anarchy during their stay.
Taking my dogs anywhere is an exercise in logistics, Buddhism, and a strong, strong sense of humor. Be ready to wrestle at any moment. Especially The Coonhound (aka-Owen, Yo-Yo, Coony, The Tough Guy). That dog will hunt.
Load dogs into back of our station wagon. We have one of those dog gates for your car. God bless the person who invented that little number. I can actually drive the car! Downside though, harder to discipline barking dogs.
Get them to the vet’s parking lot. Unload. Here is the part about logistics. Two against one. I can control Miles (aka-The Shiz, The Shiznits, Yoshi, Milosh, Sweet Pants, Shez-wan, Rico, Ricky Retardo) with a menacing, “My-yals”, but The Coonhound is an entirely different story. Prepare to grapple. I open the hatch and The Coonhound makes his first attempt at escape. I knuckle him down enough to get the leash over his head and collared. Tether him to car hitch. Take out Miles and leash him too without knocking myself over as The Coonhound wraps me up with his leash. Untangle The Coonhound. At this point Miles figures out he’s at the vet and makes an attempt to load himself back into the car. Our sheltie isn’t obese. Just a little on the heavy side. Still not much of a jumper. He makes a go at it and only get half way up, he scraps a little bit, and falls backwards. I hear him say, “Uff.” Oh, the humility.
Pack ’em in. Praise dogs all the way into vet’s office. Pretend we’re having the best outing ever! Such good boys! Look at the pretty ladies! We’re here for a visit! Yeah! Woof! Oh, the humanity.
Make some Far Side jokes with the technician who obviously doesn’t read the The Far Side. She’s still a great person because she pretends to be interested in my babbling. Like I tell everyone. I don’t get out much.
Miles takes the first shot. He’s a trooper. The kennel cough “shot” doesn’t involve a needle. It’s just a syringe of vaccine that is shot up the nose. That would seriously suck. Give me the needle. The Coonhound isn’t having it. Technician asks if we should muzzle him. I try to look thoughtful about it (imagining tech’s hand hanging out of The Coonhounds maw) but my mind was made up a long time ago. I suppose we should, just in case. The Coonhound pees all over but takes the load up his nose better than Miles. But then again, he was muzzled.
Pay up and ship out. Pretend we had a great time and make small chat with the pretty ladies. Get the hell out of there before my dogs cause serious trouble. No stink bombs, just a little pee until we hit the parking lot where Miles lays a duke right there. No baggies. Hell, I’m sure this happens all the time to them. Make an escape. Return home in oddly quiet car.
Fade out circus music.