Be Careful What You Wish For: The Puppy's Paw

I've been worried about (Formerly Known as Puppy) Jack. Also about Copper Jack, but since he's the neighbor's dog, not as much. Even though Copper Jack might be temporarily incapacitated with a hurt leg.

Our Jack is just missing. Not face-on-a-milk-carton missing, but gone during the times of day I usually see him. He never comes running to greet me when I leave for town, and has only shown up a couple times in the last two weeks when I return from town. Farmer H says he's always here in the evening, but I don't hear him yapping constantly through the night like I used to.

Now that Farmer H has given away Barry the mini-pony, and Billy the goat, perhaps Jack thinks his days are numbered. Maybe he's traipsing around the countryside with a red bandana of stolen Juno bones tied up at the end of a hobo stick. Maybe he's been freeloading over at Copper Jack's house, what with him laid up due to injury. Maybe he has a girldogfriend down by the creek behind us. Sometimes he runs up to the Mansion from that direction. Like Thursday.

First I saw Copper Jack hobble under the barbed-wire fence from his home. He went to the edge of the concrete carport and looked into the woods. Normally, he'd bound over the side and charge after squirrels. Maybe that's what injured him. Anyhoo... I was glad to see Copper Jack, because it meant that my own Jack might be near. And here he came, up out of the woods!

Jack runs into the garage behind T-Hoe. It started in the days when the cats were squatting in there, clawing their way up into the rafters and treating it like their cathouse. Jack was always hoping to catch one, but he never did. Not even the fat one that he humps all the time. Anyhoo... Jack ran around to the back of T-Hoe while I was getting groceries out.

"Hey, Jackie Boy! Where've you been? I'm so glad to see my long little doggie!"

We were having a regular lovefest, unable to wait until I let him out of the garage and onto the side porch. I leaned over and patted him, forcefully, because he's a wiggly man-dog who plays rough. He might in fact be the cause of Copper Jack's current different-abled-ness.

Jack's more the size of his dachshund half than his heeler half. I bend way over to pet him, because otherwise, he jumps up and gets in the way of walking, his head coming not even to my hip at his tallest. So there I was, all bent over, petting and roughing up Jack's double coat, when he jumped up in my face.

Unlike that time I actually bit down on Juno's cold wet rubbery black nose, I avoided Jack's snout in my mouth, and turned a cheek to his kissing attempts. I knew it was too late to avoid Jack's groping paws.

As I type this on Friday night, I hear Jack yapping over by ShackyTown. I don't even mind.