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This week, Bowie the Dog takes a guest spot. Take it away, young’un. …
First let me say: as Bosses go, he’s not a bad guy. Since I’ve moved in, he and his human partner have allowed me to sleep in the same bed they do, and never outside when it’s raining — which mostly, lately, it hasn’t been.
He keeps my dishes filled with food and water, which is good because I hate to eat and drink on command.
When I need to go outside on business, we don’t hold each other to a rigid schedule. If he does not feel like going out, or he’s run off and left me home (which I’ve become used to but still don’t much like), I just wait until he is available.
The problem is this danged leash thing. It makes him feel as though he’s in control, and I have to admit for a human he is good at following me through the tall grass and puckerbrush.
But life would sure be easier if he’d just let me do my thing. I know where home is and when I get tired I’ll go there.
When he decides it’s time to go outside, I jump around at the door and act as though I’m excited to be at the end of his rope when what I am excited about is beetle-infested logs lying on the ground in the Couple Acre Wood. I’m also a bit excited about chasing the neighbors cats, who’re never tied to a leash. I don’t want to hurt them but it’s kinda fun to dash at them as though neither am I.
Ask the bugs that sometimes get in our house. I’ve played with several of them and not eaten one yet.
I enjoy wading into the tall grass in search of whatever surprises lie hidden there. Mostly it’s Field mice. They like to hang out in hollow logs, of which there are plenty within the Couple Acre Wood.
They think they can hide from me, but I have pretty strong jaws with which I can tear open many of those logs, though sometimes I must return over a few days, tearing into the log a little at a time. I scratch and gnaw as far as I can go, then I have to allow the beetles and ants time to loosen more of the wooden walls.
Occasionally, when I notice no human seems to be noticing me, I escape. First stop is the canine fellow across the street, and there are several more among the next few houses.
I’ve heard the Boss mention something he read that we dogs do not need to stop and socialize the way humans do. He learns a lot of cool stuff from reading but that is just plain wrong. We like to tell each other stories about such intel as where the deer population can usually be found swiping apples off the trees at the far corner of the orchard, and where is the most reliable puddle for a drink in the middle of a long hike.
Like any population, some of us are less than nice to have around and the rest of us are well pleased when someone comes along to take them away, but mostly, we don’t really want to cause problems for anyone.
In fact, when the human in the vehicle with the green stripe down its side stops to remind the boss about a leash is required, I want to tell the one with the badge that I’m right there listening and would not be opposed to having my belly scratched and I haven’t bitten anyone, ever.
Failing that, I just want to go back to snuffling around in another groundhog hole.
And when we get home, I just want a couple of treats before settling down in my corner of the couch. The kind with the gravy stain or faux pepperoni, please. Occasionally, he tries to give me the plain ones, as though their bone-shape actually fooled anyone.
Pu-leeze!
Text & images ©2024 John Messeder. John is an award-winning environmental storyteller, nemophilist and social anthropologist, and lives in Gettysburg, PA. He may be contacted at john@johnmesseder.com