GOING TO THE DOGS

I'm glad to see Ruth posting a lot. I would have been blogging myself, but I've been going to the dogs instead. Let me explain.

Ordinarily I mess around with our rat terrier Mickey and walk my neighbor Margery's Lhasa Apso, Molly. Margery is in a wheelchair and is pretty well housebound, so I try to see that Molly does her little doggy dumps on a neighbor's grass instead of on Margery's carpet. Besides, I need the exercise myself. I don't get any from walking Mickey because he just wants to sniff around, but Molly zips along at a brisk pace. She is my personal trainer.

But for two weeks now I also have a foster dog, Marley. My across-the-alley neighbor Debra is in a church choir touring Europe and singing on New Year's Day for the Pope. Her husband is tagging along. At the last minute their dog-sitting arrangement fell through, so I got sort of drafted into it, as in "Oh, no, I wouldn't mind at all, I LOVE Marley." Huh. I am discovering two weeks is a long time. I water and feed Marley, let her in and out of their house several times a day, and take her on walks.

Marley is a nice, muttsy dog, sort of a cross between a border collie and a black lab. She has a gorgeous soft black coat and a feathery tail and is very soulful. At the moment she is traumatized because her People are not there. Some time ago their other dog, a little poodle with painted toenails (named Mercedes) died, and she went into such desperate mourning that they bought a stuffed yellow ducky to keep her company. Marley adopted the duck, and it became her Baby. If you go over there, she runs and gets her Baby to show you, and you had better make a fuss over it. Even though it is faded and held together by dried dog slobber.

It is clear she is in mourning for her missing People. I think she believes they are under the sod in the flower bed with Mercedes. She is desperate for attention. When I go over there she follows me around anxiously and wants me to pet her and admire her Baby, and she cries when I leave. I feel so sorry for her that I have been taking her on walks twice a day. LONG walks. She loves walking, and it is all I can do to drag her back home. Of course, this is on top of my regular walks with Molly. And the sniff-a-thons with Mickey.

I have been taking Mickey over there with me so they can play together and she can hang out a little with him. And I have started spending some time in their house in the evening, reading or watching TV, so she will not be so lonesome.

Unfortunately, Mickey is a very jealous little dog. He doesn't like me paying attention to any other dog. He frets about me going over there, and he is very clingy when I am home.

Last night I took him with me and we hung out in the house with Marley for close to an hour. I read and worked a crossword puzzle, and they played this little game they invented. They run pellmell through the house and slide on the linoleum and crash into furniture. I was glad when they finally wore themselves out, and I didn't pay as much attention to what Mickey was doing as I should have.

When I finally investigated, it was too late. Mickey had sneaked off in a corner with Baby and out of pure-D old spite had amputated one stubby wing and pulled out hunks of stuffing from its stomach. Marley was watching him with a stupid look on her face. I think she had been showing him her Baby and was pleased he was admiring it so thoroughly.

I had a terrible time getting Baby away from Mickey. He wanted to keep on trashing it. Then I had a terrible time taking it home so I could suture it up. Marley was inconsolable when she saw it going out the door. I'm sure she thought I was going to bury it in the flower bed with Mercedes and her People. I got home with it, in spite of Mickey jumping up all along the way and trying to snatch it.

That was yesterday, and I still haven't stitched it up. Mickey drove me crazy trying to find it, so I just poked the stuffing back in and made the best of it and took it back over to Marley that night. She was so relieved to have it back, I don't think she even noticed it had been mutilated. I will fix it up later. I hate to sew. I wonder if duct tape will stick to dried dog slobber.