It’s a legit question, where the hell have I been?
Well, other than the obvious internet drama and the phoenix like upcoming of
Advocating For Change
and a bit of a technical problem with my blog, don’t ask, and don’t ask WordPress either, nobody knows.
there have been a few more events in my life that took all my time.
Oh where to begin?
How about with my dog?
Apollo, he’s a furry adoptee of unknown heritage. I didn’t adopt him, my since deceased Rottie, Mars, did. One evening, my hubby and I returned home to a commotion in the garage. Instantly we both feared that Mars had an animal trapped, and wasn’t going to let it go without eating it. So I sent my husband in. Instead of hearing the growling and screams I expected, hubby was cooing at something, so I went in. There was the cutest, thinnest little yellow puppy I had ever seen. Mars, the big bad Rottie, who had never shown one bit of interest in any other dog, was licking and petting it. He looked up at us as if to say, “This is Apollo, he kind of out of a place right now, mind if he crashes here for a while?”
We let the puppy stay. He was always very much Mars’ dog. Mars taught him to behave, and when to eat, and how to treat the people bearing food and affection. He raised Apollo well, though he was never really a people kind of dog, he was a dog dog that kind of liked hubby and I.
When Mars passed away Apollo got a bit closer to us, but there wasn’t a real close connection, we were like foster masters. He seemed okay with it, he preferred to do dog things and we let him.
We moved him at the beginning of last week. His new area allows him onto our back porch and a good view of us through the windows when we are in the back of the house. I don’t know if it was the stress of the move or being closer to us all the time, but he has decided that he is our dog now. He wants to be with us all the time. It’s kind of nice to have a dog that prefers our company again, but he feels that he should be able to come and go as we do. He, in fact leaves every time that we do.
His new fence is constructed exactly the same way, and of the same materials, as his old fence. The only difference being this one will not hold him, as far as I can tell nothing will.
Day One: The fenced area is complete, looks pretty good, we go to get the dog. He fine with the car ride, and seemingly his new area. It’s very large, 100 feet by 50 feet, includes our patio, back porch, lots of lawn, bushes and flowers, doggie heaven.
We show him around, walk him around it, spend a few hours out there with him. When we go inside he finds out that he can see us and the cats in the windows. He seems fine with that. We have our dinner, bid him good-night and go to bed. Thinking everything is fine in doggie-world. Dog seems happy.
Day Two: Husband goes home for lunch, no dog. There is no evidence of escape. He calls me, I leave work early and we begin the search. We walk the entire neighborhood, drive every street in town, even check out the pound, no Apollo. Just as we are about to give up, we check the pound again, there he is, rested, fed, and happy.
We go up to city hall and pay his bail, provide vial statistics, pick him up, and bring him home. The dog catcher remarked on what a nice, well behaved dog Apollo was. I almost asked him if he wanted to keep him. I watch over dog while hubby makes the fence higher. After several hours in the cold and rain, we are satisfied that doggie cannot escape.
I went in to dry off and shower the great smell of wet dog off. I had no more than got my hands washed when I saw him wriggling under the fence. I manged to run out and with the use of a flying tackle, catch the dog. This was a learning experience for both me and Apollo, he learned that yes, I can catch him, and I learned that I’m way too old for that flying tackle shit. I still hurt.
Hubby and I spend the next few hours staking the fence to the ground-in the 40 degree rain. I was beginning to wonder why I ever wanted a dog in the first place. Dog seems happy.
Again satisfied that doggie couldn’t escape, we are our dinner, bid Apollo good-night, and went to bed.
Day Three: Dog was still there in the morning. Good.
When my husband came home for lunch, the dog greeted him at the front door. Hubby returned Apollo to his enclosure and staked down another route of possible escape. He returned to work by 12:30. Before 1:00 PM, the neighbor called and said he had seen the dog out and had put him into our garage.
I did not know this. I was leaving work early so hubby and I could go out to dinner and do some shopping for stronger fencing material, in a nearby town. Upon my arrival at home, I see that hubby’s car is gone and so is the dog. I assume the worst. I cannot reach hubby on his cell phone, so I commence to search. I try Doggie Jail, no luck. drive all over town, no luck. An hour later, I see hubby at an intersection, follow him home, and he tells me that the dog has been in the garage all this time. He has been out buying fence strengthening materials.
We work on the fence again. It is warm and sunny which makes things a bit better, but it is clear that we aren’t going out for dinner. The dog has actually pulled out the extra stakes in the fence that we had put in the day before. We get this fixed.
We decide it might be wise to walk out into the yard and see if the dog will try to get out to follow us. As we walk away, the dog is pulling at the stakes with his teeth. When he finds that he cannot remove these, he begins to climb the fence. There is one point in the fence that was already there, it has grapes, honeysuckle and trumpet vine growing on it. He is pulling at the vines so he can get over the fence. The intelligence required to figure this and removing the stakes does astound me. This dog is solving problems. He gets out and comes happily running up to us.
We put a top board on the fence. It is dark now. Dog seems happy.
We go inside, have our dinner, bid the doggie a good-night, and go to bed.
Day Four: Dog is still there. Hubby is off work. He plans an all-out fence assault. This requires materials. As he goes to leave to fortify his arsenal, the dog greets him at the front door. Hubby puts dog in the garage and heads out for the lumber yard.
When he returns, the garage door is up about a foot and a half. The dog is happily playing at the neighbors. Yes, the dog opened the garage door. He’s like Steve fucking McQueen in The Great Escape, and that really worries me because we keep our motorcycles in the garage.
This is how it now stands. If you see a well behaved Shepard mix, give me a call.