You would think with four dogs I wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on them all simultaneously, but this maternal gal can and does. No matter what I’m doing I have one eye on them, constantly checking to see what they are doing and generally, they are all in one area watching me as intently as I watch them. I am their entire world and it shows in their eyes as they watch their human go about daily tasks. If I’m relaxing and sitting, they are all piled on and around me, their bodies pressed into mine for comfort and warmth, happy as a clam in mud.
So when Jake disappeared yesterday it was rare and unnerving. Being the consummate worrier that I am, my mind immediately went to the dark corners, scraping away the cobwebs of past incidents that frightened, saddened and sent me down the black hole of bereavement. My Louis died on my watch from a spider in the woodpile, a freak accident that taught me to never let my guard down. My already tight and anal outlook was magnified that day until I am almost a freak about keeping my babies safe. So I went from 1-60 in panic mode.
I called Jake's name with no response, which is highly uncommon. He is usually my shadow, my little black shadow, who follows me everywhere, two steps behind like I’m his queen. Sometimes if I stop short and turn around I bump into him so I’ve learned to shuffle softly as I move.
Now I’m running about the house like a mad woman, searching frantically, even second guessing myself and look outside thinking perhaps I missed him when they came in after peeing. The notion of that is insane, I would never miss one of my babies, not only is the visual of four pups imprinted in my mind, my brain does a count, 1, 2, 3, and 4. Maybe it’s a little OCD but I’ve trained myself to be on top of their comings and goings 24/7. Checking outdoors was like when my rings were stolen and I looked in pockets of coats that I hadn’t worn in months, even years, trying to find a simple solution to a potential disaster.
He’s not anywhere upstairs or down, so I’m on the brink of losing my mind when I think to check out the small powder room and there he is, hiding behind the toilet, looking up at me through eyes that are clearly afraid. My poor baby! I pick him up and cuddle him, so happy he’s found and okay but his little body is shaking like a vibrator on turbo. I asked him what’s wrong but he wants to get down and hide back behind the big, white, porcelain bowl. He’s so afraid there is no comfort in his my arms.
And then I hear it, the distinct and annoying buzzing of a house fly as it whizzes by my head. Poor Jake is petrified of house flies. Once, one landed on his ear and got tangled in the hair, buzzing frantically until it broke free. In the meantime Jake was jumping up and down and yelping, trying to escape the loud sound magnified by its closeness to his ear. I picked him up and he shook like a leaf in a hurricane. After that any housefly has to be eradicated immediately or Jake is ducking his head low and hiding under a chair.
It is difficult to train that kind of fear out of dog because they don’t understand words. Sometimes soothing them in a moment of stress can make it worse, it’s difficult to know what to do. My immediate reaction was to protect and love, but perhaps I made it worse by coddling him. Who knows, but he’s is deathly afraid of them now and all I can do it get out the fly swatter and make it better.
I had bones out aging on the kitchen counter and it was a nice day so the main door was open and the screen door isn’t a tight fit. The flies were getting in through the top gap; they could smell death and rushed to the carrion buffet on the counter. My dogs love a bone that has a bit of rank on it and the bacteria balances their guts so they never vomit, ever!
So I got out the fly swatter and the body count started racking up. I don’t know why I hadn’t noticed them before but I was at the computer in the living room and wasn’t paying attention to what was happening in the kitchen. Fifteen flies in all, thirteen died and two were given mercy when I opened the screen door to let them out. Only then did Jake stop shaking. I had to cover the bones to keep the smell from permeating the entire house so the flies wouldn’t have a reason to come in.
While I was committing mass murder, Jake went back into hiding, probably the swatter added to his angst. I am a bit embarrassed to say that it was so darn cute to see him crouched behind the toilet for protection that I snapped a photo with my phone. I feel a bit mean finding humour in his duress, but that little peanut face looking up at me was precious.....I think he’ll forgive me.....
So when Jake disappeared yesterday it was rare and unnerving. Being the consummate worrier that I am, my mind immediately went to the dark corners, scraping away the cobwebs of past incidents that frightened, saddened and sent me down the black hole of bereavement. My Louis died on my watch from a spider in the woodpile, a freak accident that taught me to never let my guard down. My already tight and anal outlook was magnified that day until I am almost a freak about keeping my babies safe. So I went from 1-60 in panic mode.
I called Jake's name with no response, which is highly uncommon. He is usually my shadow, my little black shadow, who follows me everywhere, two steps behind like I’m his queen. Sometimes if I stop short and turn around I bump into him so I’ve learned to shuffle softly as I move.
Now I’m running about the house like a mad woman, searching frantically, even second guessing myself and look outside thinking perhaps I missed him when they came in after peeing. The notion of that is insane, I would never miss one of my babies, not only is the visual of four pups imprinted in my mind, my brain does a count, 1, 2, 3, and 4. Maybe it’s a little OCD but I’ve trained myself to be on top of their comings and goings 24/7. Checking outdoors was like when my rings were stolen and I looked in pockets of coats that I hadn’t worn in months, even years, trying to find a simple solution to a potential disaster.
He’s not anywhere upstairs or down, so I’m on the brink of losing my mind when I think to check out the small powder room and there he is, hiding behind the toilet, looking up at me through eyes that are clearly afraid. My poor baby! I pick him up and cuddle him, so happy he’s found and okay but his little body is shaking like a vibrator on turbo. I asked him what’s wrong but he wants to get down and hide back behind the big, white, porcelain bowl. He’s so afraid there is no comfort in his my arms.
And then I hear it, the distinct and annoying buzzing of a house fly as it whizzes by my head. Poor Jake is petrified of house flies. Once, one landed on his ear and got tangled in the hair, buzzing frantically until it broke free. In the meantime Jake was jumping up and down and yelping, trying to escape the loud sound magnified by its closeness to his ear. I picked him up and he shook like a leaf in a hurricane. After that any housefly has to be eradicated immediately or Jake is ducking his head low and hiding under a chair.
It is difficult to train that kind of fear out of dog because they don’t understand words. Sometimes soothing them in a moment of stress can make it worse, it’s difficult to know what to do. My immediate reaction was to protect and love, but perhaps I made it worse by coddling him. Who knows, but he’s is deathly afraid of them now and all I can do it get out the fly swatter and make it better.
I had bones out aging on the kitchen counter and it was a nice day so the main door was open and the screen door isn’t a tight fit. The flies were getting in through the top gap; they could smell death and rushed to the carrion buffet on the counter. My dogs love a bone that has a bit of rank on it and the bacteria balances their guts so they never vomit, ever!
So I got out the fly swatter and the body count started racking up. I don’t know why I hadn’t noticed them before but I was at the computer in the living room and wasn’t paying attention to what was happening in the kitchen. Fifteen flies in all, thirteen died and two were given mercy when I opened the screen door to let them out. Only then did Jake stop shaking. I had to cover the bones to keep the smell from permeating the entire house so the flies wouldn’t have a reason to come in.
While I was committing mass murder, Jake went back into hiding, probably the swatter added to his angst. I am a bit embarrassed to say that it was so darn cute to see him crouched behind the toilet for protection that I snapped a photo with my phone. I feel a bit mean finding humour in his duress, but that little peanut face looking up at me was precious.....I think he’ll forgive me.....
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