It’s been a fun few days here in the Smokies. I’m acting as sole caregiver and
puppy-sitter while Shirle visits with her daughters and grandchildren down in the
Sunshine State.
In the years we’ve been living in the mountains, I’ve grown
quite used to these periods of solitude and double-duty chores. I still wince a little at each hint of a need
for her “babies,” but it’s futile to fight the inevitable; I just have to
muster the extra time and my seldom used talents to run the household without the all-essential
spousal assistance.
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| Bubba a/k/a Baxter |
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| Sebastian |
Sebastian is a mixed breed terror (oops, I mean terrier),
who was not house-broken when we rescued him.
He did catch on quickly by Shirle and me acting as his biological time
clock. We “broke” him by timed, routine escorts
outside and rewarding each success with treats and jubilant atta-boys.
These potty excursions are often interrupted with visits
from White Dog and Angel, a male shepherd and a female whippet that live in the neighborhood. Sebastian reacts to these overly friendly dogs with equal parts of excitement, jealous anger and Napoleonic
challenges. Working with gentle leash tugs,
verbal commands and the occasional finger spank on the nose, he is learning his
social skills and is now anxious (in a good way) for his “friends” to come
visit. (I have to tell you that while I
was writing that paragraph, there was a noise at the backdoor; it was Angel
wanting to come in and play.)
Sebastian is experimenting with signals; he's got a bunch of
them. Typical of his breed, he tends to
be very vocal and try as we will to understand, he keeps changing which sound means
which need. He has the typical pathetic whine (which originally meant, “I don’t want to get spanked again, so you better take me
out”), but he also uses a whimpering
cry, a musical growl, a sassy yap, a snort at the door, and the totally-adorable
River Dance, where he kicks his hind feet like an Irish dancer.
The problem is his needs range from “pee-pee,” to “poo-poo,”
to I want to go see if my friends are outside, to I want to sit in the sunshine,
to I want to go outside for no apparent reason, to can you play with me daddy,
and to “I’m bored watching you work, so I am going to drive you insane.” He knows how to get our attention, but he has
yet to settle on a definitive “this” means “that.” There’s no way I can risk ignoring him,
remember, he is only recently house-broken, so I spend half my day bookmarking
my work, putting on a coat, getting him on a leash (I can’t trust him not to
run away), and taking him downstairs and outside. Unfortunately, I never know if it’s for “business”
or pleasure.
Lately, on his hourly sojourns, he’s been sniffing around
the running boards of my truck and standing on his hind feet attempting look
inside. He remembers that his mommy
comes and goes in that truck, and he not sure she’s not in there waiting to get
out and kiss him.
To convince him that I really haven’t hidden Mommy’s body
under the back seat… Sorry,
I lost my train of thought.
Oh yeah, to satisfy his curiosity, I have been taking him on
my daily trip down the mountain to the mailbox and bank. He’s no dummy, I am sure he’s adding, “Can we
go for a ride?” to his rotating list of signals.
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| Betsy |
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| 19-year-old Hannah |
But life goes on in the mountains, and Sebastian, and Betsy,
and Hannah, and me will survive this mommy-less interlude; I just can’t predict
how much work will get done.
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