Visiting the Granddogs

I am visiting my kids this week. First stop is to visit my daughter and her family, which includes their dog Bailey. It is amazing how long dogs can remember things. When I visit Bailey and Saphie comes with me, or if Bailey comes to our house to visit, she always gets a little can food with her dry food at breakfast. Saphie gets can food for breakfast, so I give Bailey a little mixed with hers so she will let Saphie alone to eat her breakfast in peace. Now, Bailey loves me so much that every morning during my visit she will whine at my bedroom door until I wake up. Unfortunately for her, Saphie is not with me this time, so no can food.

I had planned to take Bailey for a walk while I visited, but it is raining today. Sorry Bailey. She really needs to walk, she is getting a little chubby. Bailey is a good dog, some kind of a mutt. I think she has some billy goat in her lineage. I never met a dog that ate so many different things. When she was a puppy she ate glass Christmas balls. She ate one of Claires socks a couple of weeks ago. This came out in one piece (so I am told). Thankfully she did this before I came to visit. Right now she is hovering around Claire because she has some cereal in her snack cup and just knows Claire will drop some. I'm pretty sure her persistance will pay off.

The clean up

Last night we went to The Home Depot to purchase materials to repair the deck after the possum incident. It is early morning now, but Jerry is out trying to fix the deck where he had to cut into it to remove our errant dog and is also going to put a board along the ground so she, and hopefully other critters, cannot squeeze under it anymore. He is trying to beat the rain that is expected today.

Saphie was pretty subdued yesterday. She looked longingly at the back door, but I refused to let her out to do her business. Instead I took her out the front door. Every time we went out, she would walk around to the side and glance at the back yard through the gate. It's as if she was being denied a special treat.

After dinner I took her out to go to the bathroom and somebody was walking her big black dog in the dark. She was crossing the street near our house, but I didn't see them until Saphie started barking frantically. She is usually pretty good about listening to me and coming when I call her, unless there is something she feels she needs to do. In this case she needed to keep that dog from her yard. So, here goes my little dog after the big black dog. The owner and the dog think nothing of it. In fact, the lady tells me that her dog loves small dogs. Saphie has no love for big dogs, especially if they are black in color. Maybe she is a racist, I don't know. Anyway, I gathered her up and carried her woofing, all the way, back inside. Next time we went out I check the sidewalks first.

The hammering has started in the back. Saphie does not like that she cannot be outside in the yard with Jerry. She remembers when we lived in the country and was able to go where ever she wanted when he was outside working. No such freedoms here in the suburbs. I am afraid he has not beat the rain. It has just started to sprinkle.

The Possum

An incident occurred last night that prompted me to write it down. Our little dog, a miniature dachshund, decided to take on a possum that took up residence under our deck. This, along with the status updated concerning my daughters dog, and all the comments from her facebook friends about their dogs, kept me awake part of the night thinking of how to convey the love we have for our dogs, however stupid they may act.
In my small world I feel there are two kinds of people in the world; “Dog” people and “Cat” people. I know there are many other breeds of pets out there, but they have never been a big part of my life. You never hear the term “rat” people or “snake” people, or any other kind of pet people. Since I am not a “Cat” person, for the purpose of this dialogue we will discuss only dogs and their tales.
I have had cats in my life, but only for brief periods. When I was a child we had a big loveable tiger cat called Taffy. I was very small and only remember that he was a good cat and very tolerant of me when I was a toddler. I have a photo of him dangling between my cousin and me while we danced with him. The next cat I remember was Casper, a white male cat. My mom hated that cat. She kept saying that he sprayed everywhere in the house. At the time I didn’t know what that meant, but now I can see why she was so angry at him all the time. One day I came home from school and I was told that Casper went to live on a farm. I was very naive and while I cried, I did survive. Then, one day Casper was back; but not for long. I never asked what happened and still believe in the don’t ask don’t tell rule here. The last cat I remember in my youth was a stray my brother brought home. An adorable little gray kitten he named Earth. As kittens do, Earth loved to play with string. One day, while my dad and I were sitting around Earth came tearing through the room with something hanging out of his backside. It seems that he found some string and ate it. When he tried to expel it, it got stuck. Thankfully he was quicker than my dad when he tried to step on the string. Somehow we caught Earth and someone took him to the vet. We were told that it was a good thing dad missed the string. If he hadn’t, he would have turned poor Earth inside out.
Perhaps these poor cats are the reason that I am more of a dog person today. But as you, dogs do some things that make me wonder if I am sane to hitch my wagon to that star. I guess the unadulterated devotion one gets from a dog makes up for the lack of sense they use sometimes.
An example of this is the abovementioned incident that occurred last night. My husband and I were quietly watching CSI when Saphie, our red, blue eyed, miniature dachshund innocently asked to go outside. Thinking nothing of it, I let her out into the night. When she didn’t come in for a little while I decided to check on her. We have a fenced in yard, so I was not too worried, but she is by breed a hunter. When I went outside, she started barking frantically. It was the kind of bark that said “look what I found under our deck, mom. I am protecting our property for you,” To me it was terrifying to hear. While she thinks she is fierce, she is still a small dog; only 14 pounds and no match for a wild animal. I know that dachshunds were bred for hunting badgers, which I am sure are much meaner than a possum, but still, she is my baby.
So, I did the only thing I knew to do. I screamed for my husband to come help me. Mind you, he is recovering from eye surgery and it is dark out, so he is not able to do much except help me worry and try and coax the dog out from under the deck. Why can’t you ever find a flashlight when you need one? That is a question we will explore at another time. Anyway we did find a flashlight and confirmed that yes, the dog cornered a possum. The deck is very low to the ground and I really don’t know how either of them got under there, but there was no way to get them out unless they came on their own. This was not going to happen.
Now Saphie has a dual audience to protect from the creature under the porch. The more we coaxed the further under the deck they went. They finally ended up under the step on the far side of the deck. There is no trap door, or any way now, to get her out so we tried to unscrew the board on the top step. It was covered with snow until recently and rain most recently and it is swollen and very wet. My husband, who as I mentioned, can’t see well because of his eye surgery, is now cursing in frustration. I am banging on the porch and still trying to bribe the dog out with a biscuit. Really? I have a possum and you think I will come out for a Milk Bone?
Finally, my dear husband suggests that he will cut the board and make an opening. I had been thinking this all along, but waited until it was his idea. So, out comes the circular saw and of course it does not go deep enough. Out comes the crowbar to try and pry off the board. Finally, the board came off and I could see both critters. The possum was as far in the corner as it could get and Saphie was right there threatening it. For a moment, I was not sure which animal I was most frightened of!
Sill I had to coax the dog to come close enough to the opening for me to grab her. My husband used the crowbar to hold the possum in the corner, so I would not get bitten. At last I was able to grab the dog by the scruff of her neck and haul her out from under the porch. All the time she was just quivering in excitement.
Since my husband can’t see, I ran next door to ask the neighbor to come and help him with the possum. He is a retired firefighter so I felt certain he would be happy to help. I took the dog inside and gave her a bath to remove all the mud that caked between her toes and on her chest. It took two baths as a matter of fact.
When we were done with the bath, the neighbor was gone and the crisis was over. The porch will have to be repaired and we will have to find a way to block it so Saphie cannot slip underneath it again. The whole incident took about thirty minutes, but to me, while my baby was fighting the possum, it felt like a lifetime.