Tuesday, June 21, 2016

Don't Call The DPS On Mrs. Hillbilly Mom

It was unavoidable, really. I tried. I took Puppy Jack to get his next shot. I got him the stuff that prevents kennel cough. But the stickler was the rabies shot. Puppy Jack was one week too young. So no go on the boarding while we are away.


No need to report Mrs. Hillbilly Mom to the Division of Puppy Services.

Technically, he has his buddy Juno. They are fast friends and playmates now. Until it comes to feeding. Juno stays away from Jack's plate of soft canned food. But he will not stay away from her pan of dry food. SO...Farmer H had to find a wire crate (no problem in his collection of odds and ends) to put Juno's big metal pan on, with a little wire rim around the top (actually the bottom of the upside down wire crate) so that Puppy Jack can't paw at the edge of Juno's pan and pull it over.

Technically, Farmer H's oldest son, HOS, is stopping by every evening after he gets off work so he can feed the menagerie and Jack and Juno. He sent Farmer H a video this evening of Jack jumping up on his leg, and Juno smiling in the background, and then Jack jumping at Juno's muzzle. And that's BEFORE the feeding. So Jack is okay, and energetic, and surviving just fine without Mrs. Hillbilly Mom.

I was worried this morning when we left at 6:50 a.m. I stopped to lean over the side porch and pet Jack and let him snuggle up under my hair and bite my earlobe. And he whimpered! I think he knew something was up. He never whimpers. I really hated to drive off and leave him. But he's getting bigger (well, for a dog his size, of course) every day. And maybe even getting some porch smarts.

Oh, he still poops on the porch. But Saturday morning, I heard Juno giving her warning bark. The angry bark. She dashed over towards Shackytown, where she stood glaring towards the BARn field, her hackles raised, growling low in her throat. Jack was standing on the top step. He looked like he was debating on whether to run after her. I got up to see what might be getting Juno's attention. When I opened the front door, Jack was gone!

I looked all around. No Jack in sight. Nowhere near Juno. Not in the yard on the way to her. Not behind the lilac bush. Gone. Then I hear a woof! Woof! Woof! A little puppy woof, trying to sound all big and bad. It was coming from the area of the garage. I guess Jack ran down the steps and under the lattice that enclosed the bottom of the front porch, and worked his way around to come out under the steps by the garage. I turned and saw him trotting around the corner on Farmer H's re-laid brick sidewalk. Stopping every few feet to woof!

I think our little boy will be just fine.


Kathy's Klothesline said...

Oh, you are going to worry, I know you are!!

Hillbilly Mom said...

What am I going to do when Jack has his very special operation? I will feel like a traitor, driving him there and leaving him.

fishducky said...

We do what we have to do, pleasant or not!!

Hillbilly Mom said...

Yes, even if it breaks our heart.