Much as when National Cat Day came around a few weeks ago and I couldn’t single out any one story above any other because it’s always cat day here, I am struggling to come up with something I haven’t already shared for the corollary, National Dog Day. All of my recent adventures with Elsa and Murray were written up right away. All save for Friday and Saturday.
I was up late Friday night, as usual, writing my blog, when I got a distress call from our older daughter. She needed her dad’s automotive advice, and he didn’t hear his phone ring. I passed the emergency off to him, and went back to my blog. Over the sound of the tv and fan in the window, I kept hearing his voice outside by the gate, and I assumed he was still on the phone with the girl. It wasn’t until the next morning that I got the whole explanation. He had finished the phone call, and Murray started barking like a fiend. He went out to chat with the dogs, thinking maybe there was a mouse in the garage, distressing Murray. He heard a little shuffling noise by the back door and went to check. He was looking near the food bin when he caught sight of a face peering in through the back screen door. Barley was in our yard, seeking companionship with his best friend. Our neighbor had gone on a date down in Denver, and was late getting home. Barley was at his favorite barking window, and something set him off. He ripped out a large dog sized hole in the screen and ran into his front yard. We have no idea how long he ran around, but eventually he discovered that the side gate to Murray’s yard had been left unlatched, and came around looking for him. As much fun as Barley is, we have never authorized a sleepover (mostly because Murray and Barley would get less sleep than a group of sixth grade girls at a slumber party). The Mr had to call our neighbor, who was thankfully almost home, after midnight to let Barley back in. That’s what I’d heard while I was composing.
The next day we determined we needed to introduce Barley’s new little brother Hops to our two, so that when needed, we could dog sit here and keep the neighbor boys out of trouble. Hops is just over a year old, and much smaller than the other three, even skinny Murray with his atrophied legs. He also spent his entire first year in shelters and foster homes, so he is still a bit unsure of where home is and how to process other dog families. At first he was really tense and didn't know how to react to Elsa. She followed him around like finding a Mini-Me was the coolest thing ever, but the entire time they both had their hackles up. At one point Hops got way over stimulated and there was much barking and showing of teeth, but no actual biting. We didn't give up, however, and after a while it all settled down into Elsa on her own, Murray and Barley hanging out as the best buds they are, and Hops dashing all over our yard at light speed, chasing squirrels and birds. It was a little weird, seeing a window into our past when Bump was exactly like that, especially since every time Hops barks he sounds EXACTLY like Bump did. (When I hear him I frequently get a little nostalgic and misty-eyed, missing Bumpy.)
I think we introduced Hops the right way over here, and later that day we discovered that there was indeed a wrong way. A friend of our neighbor's brought a dog to visit them, into Hops' territory. He was less than amused. He picked on the much bigger dog, and had to be sent outside for the entire time the other dog visited. So apparently our yard is going to be like Dog Park to him, but I won't expect to be able to take our two over to his place anytime soon.
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