A few days ago Lancelot and Cochise had some sort of kerfuffle. I have no idea what it was about: they were outside, I was washing dishes. They have always been fine together before. I heard a dog yelp: it sounded like The Chief, I rushed out to see what was going on, but Cochise was already trotting up the ramp to the back door…dripping blood from a bite mark on his snout.

I cleaned the wound and squeezed some vitamin E into it. It didn’t look to be bad, but he milked it for all it was worth: insisting on having his favorite snuggle bed brought to the living room near me and a blanket hot from the dryer. And the space heater: he wanted the space heater too.

Blondie Bear came in and spent a good deal of time licking his owies for him and snuggling up next to him.

When Lance finally came in, his tail was tucked and his head hung low as he peered at me through his eyebrows; if he looked at me at all. He has been sleeping in another room during the day and the boys have been avoiding one another for days.

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It is bitter cold this morning. Of course that is “bitter cold” for Tennessee, other places might find this a pleasant respite. Or maybe not: Billings Montana is showing 34° this morning!

When I got up: around 4:00 AM, Blondie followed me out to the living area and curled up in the small snuggle bed to doze. She was not sleeping soundly because if I got up to get coffee or retrieve a book her eyes would pop open and track me until I settled into my chair once again. She didn’t move otherwise, but she was monitoring me while I studied.

When I’d head down the hall to the bathroom she’d hop up and follow. She sat outside the door, then follow me back to the living area and her snuggle bed when I turned again to my books.

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As I explained above, I don’t like rainy days. I especially dislike thunderstorms, but even drizzly, gray days like today are a serious bummer for all of us. I don’t like getting my feet wiped with a towel, but at least I’m cooperative. When Doug says, “Give me a foot” I lift a foreleg so he can wipe it off with a towel. Then he asks for the other foreleg, and I give it to him. I make him lift the hind feet, but I try not to fight him: he’s going to win anyway.

Blondie has a different technique: she struggles. She fusses and refuses to cooperate and it can take quite a while to get her cleaned up. Especially since she likes to tromp through the mud. I avoid mud, stay to the grassy areas: my feet may get wet but I rarely get muddy.

Lancelot has a style all his own. When Doug picks up Lance’s first foot, he just flops over on his side, saying, “Here they are, all four of them, do what you will. I’m just happy to be able to come inside.” He’s a funny one, Lance is.

Blondie and I are full-time house dogs.  We go outside when we need to, but we eat and sleep indoors with our peoples.  When foster dogs have learned the basic behavior lessons and can act in a civilized manner, they too are invited to stay in our house.  Usually, one at a time: it’s not a very big house and our foster dogs are generally 40 to 60 pounders. Blondie and I are 90 pounds each.  Three of us fill up a small house pretty quickly, especially at meal time.

Fosters start out being fed in their crate, which is in the food room so they can watch our meal time routine.  Then their blanket is moved outside the crate door and they eat on that.  If they prove they will not try to raid our dishes (Blondie and I prefer to dine leisurely; fosters often wolf their food then seek more) their blanket is moved to a position around the table with the rest of us.

Lancelot learned the meal time routine quickly.  He also learned that Blondie gets excited and tends to leave her blanket and pace around when the food starts arriving at the table.  She knows if she wants a dish she must be sitting on her blanket, but lacks my sage-like patience.

Eventually she does settle on her blanket to receive her dish, but sometimes she sits on the wrong blanket.  This causes all manner of confusion for the dog assigned to that blanket, unless it’s mine: I know she will move, so I just sit nearby and glare at her until she does.  Lance decided the best way to prevent encroachment is to reserve his seat well ahead of time: just camp out on it during meal prep so Blondie can’t horn in on his turf.

He’s a clever boy, that one!

Cochise and Blondie were adopted years ago and are full time members of our family who live in our home. They are very good dogs. So good that we give them toys and chewies to occupy them when they are inside (and not sleeping). Blondie has a whole basket of them on the fireplace hearth. Cochise is welcome to make selections from it as well when he wants to but generally, he’s not too interested in anything he can’t eat. Blondie likes to chew, so we refer to it as Blondie’s toy basket.

When padawan learner dogs get enough Good Dog points, they begin coming into our house for visits. Then for over-nights. Then for whole weekends. If they do well, they are invited to move in and stay until their turn comes on the Rolling Rescue bus.

Lupa is our most recent house guest. She did very well and progressed quickly. Her only issue is that she likes to take all of the chewie toys out of the basket, one by one, and carry them to her blanket to chew them. All of them: leaving nothing for Blondie. Blondie is kind and patient (and we sneak one or two back for her when Lupa returns to the basket).

Marie decided to buy Lupa a chewie toy all her own. Maybe she would not be so fixated on Blondie’s toys if she had one of her own to keep in her crate or bring out and chew on her blanket.

Of course, that initiated … issues.

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We all occasionally hear stories about dogs that do amazing things to get help when their owner or a family member is in a serious fix. The TV series, Lassie, was filled with such rescues. So much so that “Timmy fell down the well” has become a colloquialism and occasional gag. But real-life instances do occur and are no joke. Here is one such story:

Cochise Calls Me Out to Get Help

It was a crisp but sunny November day. Blondie and Cochise were out in the fenced play yard. Cochise, being our Chief of Homeland Security often barks at something or other: wandering animals, loud cars, the horrible school bus monster. The UPS truck sends him into a frenzy, I have no idea why. I heard him barking but there was something different: the tone was not his normal “I’m going to get you” bark, it was more of an “Alert, alert” bark. And he was out back of the house, not over in the yard. I went to the bedroom to see what he was barking at. Maybe it was a deer in the woods or a turkey; both were plentiful that year.

I parted the curtains, expecting to see him barking up the mountain slope toward the woods that start about 50 feet behind the house. Instead he was facing the window, looking squarely at ME as he barked. The look in his eyes matched the tone of his bark… something was wrong. He had come to get help. I rushed out the back door. Cochise was peeking around the corner. When he saw me he turned and ran.

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A couple of days ago Blondie found and exploited a weakness in the new fence.  An oversight on the part of the installers combined with a steep downhill slope outside the fence created a place that Blondie could squeeze under the mesh and go A.W.O.L.

I saw her do it and went and told HairyFace.  We went looking for her with the truck.  We found her too.  Hairy opened the door and called, “Blondie!  Want to go for a ride?”  That always gets her, she loves riding.  And she started for the truck, then stopped and gave him a look: “Noooooo, this is a trick.  You’re going to take me home.  I’m not falling for it this time.”  And she ran off into the woods.  Nothing to do now but wait.

HairyFace found and fixed the place in the fence where she got out.

Eventually Blondie got tired and came home.

Now, when Hairy lets Blondie outside he watches her closely to see if there are any other places that interest her.  Our first run of each day is always before dawn.  Unlike us, Hairy can’t see well in the dark, especially when clouds hide the moon.  So he dug out one of the lights NiceLady bought for Drakes farewell party and clipped it to Blondie’s collar so he can see where she is and if she’s spending a lot of time in one place.

That works well and it makes Blondie feel special, with her little light winking and sparkling all around her feet.  I think I’ll start calling her ‘Tinkerbell’.

Me?  I have no desire to run away from home.  I know when I’ve got it good. Besides one troublesome child per family is enough.

(Are you reading this Hairy?  Since I never show up on the A.W.O.L. list, do I get extra treats?)

Video: Tinkerbell goes AWOL no more.

It was November 1^st. Yesterday’s rain had turned to snow: we had a couple of inches on the ground when I got up just before 5:00.

Normally Cochise gets up when I do and comes out to keep me company in the living room where I will study for an hour or so. Not today. It’s cold this morning and he decided to stay in his warm bed. I couldn’t blame him.

I lit a fire in the fireplace to chase away the chill and settled in to read. In a while Cochise decided to come lay in front of the fire.

I heard a sound. To me it sounded like snow falling off the roof to the ground with a “fwoomp”. Cochise jumped up and ran through the house barking: “Monster, monster! There’s a great beast outside: I must go scare away the monster. Let me out!”

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