A Mid-Morning Hillbilly Family Vignette

My Sweet, Sweet Juno has not been a happy camper lately. She isolates herself in her dog house on the back porch by the kitchen door. I know it's not so she can catch me on my way out, to scam some extra cat kibble as I'm leaving, and not just when I get home. No dog should spend her days laying in a house. Even if it's a really nice house, insulated, with a shingle roof, that sits up against the house, three feet from the kitchen door so she can smell the tantalizing aroma of Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's cooking.

Juno doesn't like Copper, the neighbor dog, so she avoids him. Unless Farmer H fires up the Gator, and then she joins in barking and acting the fool, and runs along with Copper and Jack like satellites orbiting Farmer H. Jack and Copper are always up to something, and not always in the yard. But I guess Juno thinks they are.

When it's time for the evening snack, even if I chose to walk late in the day, Juno must be summoned from her sturdy shingled lair. She runs to it as soon as I start up the steps after walking. Some nights, it's not enough to call, "Juno...come get your snack." Nope. Just like Jack magically appears when I open the door with a paper plate in hand, Juno must be scolded to come get her rations. They are dependable as clockwork.

Jack prances along underfoot, sniffing, arrives at the designated spot in front of the porch pew, and dances on his hind legs. I usually have a mini-snack for Copper, which I lay on the pew until the dogs who actually LIVE HERE are given their snack. Jack knows not to go for it. He waits for me to set down his plate in front of him. All the while, I've been scolding Juno. "Juno! Come get your snack! Juno! Come on! Copper's gonna get yours. Juno! Snack time! JUNO! GET OUT HERE!" Then I hear her galumphing around the porch. She runs to Jack's plate as he eats. He knows better than to grown at Ol' Grumpy, but he stands his ground, eats faster, and gives her the eye. As I set down Juno's plate, she sticks her nose in it, almost upsetting her place serving.

I really can't blame Juno. She WAS starved almost to death when we got her. I know she'd been at my mom's house for three days, and was only given some bread and milk on the third day. When we'd feed Baby Juno her canned puppy food, our other dogs at the time, Grizzly and Poor Dumb Ann, would crowd around her, making her snarl the whole time she was chewing. It was the funniest thing ever. But probably not to Juno.

Anyhoo...this time of year, Juno always looks quite unkempt. Since yesterday, she's had a bundle of green burrs entwined in her black flowing locks on the front of her neck. It's a big wad. No way can they be picked out. She also has several tufts along her spine that stick up, and are a lighter color from her taking a dust bath and soaking up dry dirt like a sponge in those matted wads.

I walked this morning instead of evening, and gave the dogs a mini-snack of dry ramen noodles. Farmer H drove over on the Gator, and I told him about Juno's burrs.

"Do you think you could get something and cut them off? It's a mess."

"Yeah. I'm going in the house. I'll get something."

That was a good sign. Because you never know when Farmer H might just whip out his pocket knife and start sawing at Juno's neck. He went inside, and I petted Juno to thwart her escape.

"You could have got my kitchen scissors. I can wash them."

"No, I got my hair-cutting scissors!"

"Well, I hope you wash THEM after using them on Juno! This is going to be an ordeal."

In fact, when Juno saw Farmer H come out the front door, she struggled to escape. She loves Farmer H (not as much as she loves ME, of course) and grovels at his feet when he comes out to sit a spell and talk. She's one of those dogs who keep nosing your hand if you quit petting. But now she wanted to make a run for it. I grabbed her by her neck nape with my left hand, and by some shoulder skin with my right, while putting my head close to her and sweet-talking. Jack just looked up at us like, "What in the Not-Heaven is going on now?"

You'd think Farmer H was performing a tracheotomy without anesthesia, so much squirming did Juno do! While whimpering. When in reality, it was just a quick snip, and a toss of that hair over the edge of the porch. Surely you didn't think Farmer H would take it in the house and throw it away! We live in the country! The outdoors is one big wastebasket! I also pointed out the lumps of dusty fur along Juno's spine, making her look like a prehistoric hairy dinosaur. Farmer H snipped them quickly. Tossed them for future bird's nest material, and backed off. Juno took off for her house like a high school freshman for the cafeteria at the lunch bell.

I hope all my teacher buddies are off to a good school year! Monday would be my district-wide inservice breakfast. IF I wasn't retired!