Adventures of the Canine Kind

Lest you think I’m the one having all the fun…  The boys have been having some adventures all their own.

Despite their firm resolution that water is meant for drinking, they’ve been ‘swimming’ in the creek a couple of times.  Shhh… don’t tell them it was a bath.  Swimming sounds so much more adventurous!  Jack is an especially good swimmer.  He can cover the width of the swimming hole in just a couple of strokes.  Lightning stands on the bottom with his back legs and paddles furiously with his front paws – basically going nowhere but splashing an amazing amount of water.  And like nearly everything else in life, Gizmo just plods along at slow and steady pace, unruffled and happy to be with you.

And here’s photographic proof taken this morning that they are here and healthy.  These are the expectant faces trying to convey the message that they like strawberry pop tarts, too, and that they really truly deserve a bite off mine.  The looks were more intense until I grabbed the camera. I guess it just doesn’t rattle the same as that silvery pastry wrapper.

We were here, at the cabin, for a few days at the beginning of the month and then down in the Hagerstown MD area for about 2 weeks.  I came back up this past Wednesday.  Lightning remembered.  And coming down the lane that would unnerve a less intrepid woman, he started his “we are at the dog park” yowling.  The closer to the cabin we got, the louder he got.  And you know it… the other two couldn’t stand being out-yowled so they joined in, each upping the intensity of their carrying on. Pretty soon I didn’t know if I was bouncing and tipping back and forth from their dances or from the road!!  I think it’s safe to say they are happy up here.

Each has made some escape attempts, though.  I keep trying to tell them that we are only pretend country and this is real country up here and they just don’t have the knowledge and skills to survive like country dogs.  They look at me like I’m saying some awful purty-toned “blah blah blah… blah blah blah blah.” And then they haul butt to explore.  Every weed and tree and fence post is new and the scents are simply intoxicating to their canine sensibilities and must be sniffed out.  And marked as their own. They don’t grasp that I’d be really sad if they became some black bear’s midnight snack!

And I know they wouldn’t have the sense to back down and run the other way if they saw a bear...

Or leave the snakes alone…

Or stay off the highway if they happened to wander that far…

Or away from another house where they could be shot as an unwanted stray...

Or out of trash cans and away from assorted dead rodents…

See what I mean by pretend country?  We may have been in a semi-rural looking area in Georgia, but we lived like we were in the city.  My guys are basically dumbed-down, pampered, house dogs.

Last night was Gizmo’s shot at being the evil bad dawg… He ran off.  That boy hauled himself down to the creek, over the bridge and up the other lane on our turnoff to chase chickens.  There’s a house painted a striking shade of sky blue not far up that little road.  And there are hundreds of chickens and guineas wandering around there.  (I may be exaggerating again, but there are a lot!) I’m going to guess that the birds have turned mostly wild because of the number free ranging along the road and each hen is herding a good sized brood of chicks.  I wouldn’t expect the number or all those hatchlings in a domestic flock, especially at this time of year.  I wanted to knock him right into next month for that stunt.  I didn’t.  But I sure wanted to in those moments I was dragging him back to the car away from “Squawkfest 2016.”