Cousteau was on my lap, like a remora is to a shark – always attached. He’s been that way for 15 years.
On this particular morning, he jarred himself out of a dead sleep with his typical and agonizing announcement that he is going to throw up. “Nyah, nyah, nyah, nyah!”
“Oh! C’mon Cousteau. I just got comfortable.”
All six dogs came scurrying into the living room as though they were volunteer firefighters racing into the firehouse after hearing a siren. The dogs were waiting for what was coming next – a hot snack. I know, it’s absolutely disgusting!
I scooped up my frail, hyperthyroid suffering cat, barreled past the dogs, and fumbled with Cousteau as I made it out the front door. I put him in the yard, and he began his body contorting ritual of “working it up.” Cousteau launched a small cigar-sized hair tube out of his mouth with incredible velocity.
I made it. That was a close one.
In my haste to make it out the front door, I hadn’t closed the storm door tight. Disco, my young male dog, took full advantage of this opportunity and
quietly squirted out the door. This usually is not a big problem as he will typically go to the bottom of the driveway, pee on the mailbox, and then come back.
However, his best friend, Kaya, a new addition – a young female rescue dog, ran past Disco and sprinted down the street. Disco aborted doing “his business” and followed his friend. And, Brandy, Disco’s adventurous half-sister, joined in the parade and chased after them.
This is a problem!
I managed to find Cousteau grazing on a patch of December-dead grass. I grabbed him, tossed him inside the storm door and shouted, “DOGS ARE LOOSE!” hoping to get Cathy’s attention. I would need her help in the adventure that just started.
I ran down the street wearing pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. I struggled to keep my sockless feet inside a pair of slippers that are way too big for me. Oh yeah, I was a sight to see.
I could easily see all three dogs, through the bare landscape, in a yard a few houses down the street. I stumbled and tripped as I ran up their dirt driveway. I lost a slipper.
“Ow! Ow! Ow!”
I backtracked and retrieved my slipper, losing precious time and sight of the dogs.
Disco came from behind the house and he started throwing up.
Oh good grief! He is getting sick now? What did he get into?
As I neared him, he again aborted his mission and reunited with Kaya, who was intent on getting inside a chicken coop.
Who knew they had chickens? This is all I need, for Kaya to go on a killing spree!
I was clapping my hands, whistling, calling their names, and using every positive reinforcement technique I could think of to get their attention.
“Who wants a treat? YUM-YUM! Let’s go for a ride. Are you hungry? YUM-YUM!”
Cathy showed up with my car and opened all the doors and tailgate. She was now shouting, “Who wants to go for a ride? C’mon, let’s go. TREAT.”
Nothing!
I hope these people aren’t home. Maybe, they are at church. They’ve got some lunatic out running in his pajamas in their front yard, and three dogs that want to eat their chickens. I don’t even know these people!
All three dogs abandoned the chicken coop for a sprint behind the house. I followed.
The dogs found a professional-looking beekeepers hive.
“Who are these people? Who keeps bees? Seriously, this is ridiculous. Please, please don’t knock that thing over.”
I shouted in desperation, “LEAVE IT! GET OUT OF THERE!”
Suprisingly, it worked. The dogs revisited the chickens.
Disco started puking again. He had his fun and decided it was better to go in the car and sit the rest of this adventure on the sidelines. Brandy lost her enthusiasm and came to me. I put a leash on her and got her in the car.
C’mon Kaya. Let’s make this easy huh?
I approached her slowly and cautiously as she tried to find a way into the chicken coop. I lunged for her. She zigged. I zigged. It was a pure stroke of luck that I snared her rear leg. I held on for dear life as she thrashed and bounded about.
I had probably triggered some sort of memory of her being captured in the streets of New York City. She wasn’t quite “with me.” She was in full-blown panic mode. She finally submitted and shut down. I cautiously slipped a leash over her head and got her into the car.
As I caught my breath and sat in the passenger seat, Cathy informed me, “Disco threw up in your cup holder.”
“Hahaha. Really? Oh, this just keeps getting better and better.”
We got everyone back in the house.
I sat on the sofa and Cousteau climbed back in my lap.
“Well this day is off to an interesting start!”
Sunday. A day of rest. HA! Not in my house.
Be Kind. Be Thankful. Be Significant.
