Thursday, October 31, 2019

The Pack Is Re-Calibrating

Little fluffy dog Marley has been out of his pen since last THURSDAY! He's been out for a week! And he continues to come back home! Farmer H didn't bother to tell me of this new development until Monday evening when I asked about Marley. As you might imagine, this has thrown a massive monkey wrench into the dynamics of our pack of fleabags.

Juno is taking it the hardest. Now I know why she storms out of her house around midnight or 1:00 a.m., bellowing like her dog house is being repossessed. Marley must come up on the porch, and Juno objects. On Tuesday, I saw her sitting alone in the front yard, looking towards the BARn. Farmer H was over there, sorting through his junk, maybe putting fishing poles together.

I figured that Juno couldn't bring herself to join the others. Not with Marley there. Juno is not good with change. She wants to be recognized and deferred to as top dog, but she won't campaign for the honor. If the other dogs come near her, she makes herself clear. But she's not a roving bully.

My little Jack seems to have called a truce. He will trot around Marley, trying to stay between Marley and me, sometimes stiff-legged and thick-necked, tail up over his back. But he's stopped barking and snarling and provoking with a nose-poke.

Copper Jack looks puzzled, and stays in the background. He'll bark if they're all running around, but doesn't interact directly with Marley.

I wish I had a new picture of Marley to show you, but that is kind of impossible with Marley not on a leash. By the time I snap the picture, Marley is out of frame. I'm pretty sure he's an ADD mutt. An Attention Deficit Dog. He jumps like an NBA rebounder, and darts around like a rabbit evading a predator. It's like somebody crushed up crack rocks and mixed the powder with meth and cocaine, filled a large plastic Pixie Stix kind of straw with it, jammed two of them into Marley's nostrils, and blew the contents into his brain.

I used to think my little Jack was hyper. But compared to Marley, Jack is like an elderly woman on a morphine drip after major surgery, who's just eaten a chicken-fried steak covered with white gravy, after it was dredged in a crushed-opiate batter.

Our biggest kerfuffle happened at TREAT TIME! When I got home from town yesterday, Marley was under my feet as I tried to get out of T-Hoe in the garage. Jack never does that! He waits for me at the garage people-door. I pet him, and let him out, then get my purse and magical elixir, and dole out cat kibble.

I opened the people-door, and Jack and Marley ran through. Jack joined Juno on the side porch, while Copper Jack waited on the brick sidewalk. Imagine my surprise when I turned from T-Hoe's passenger door with my stuff, and felt Marley jumping up and rebounding off my hip!

"No! Marley! You're gonna hafta learn the routine. Once I let you out of the garage, you don't come back in."

I will say that Marley stops when told NO. He lowers himself near the ground, shaking with excitement, hoping to be petted. Not cowering, not laying, not sitting. Just keeping himself as still as he can. Of course I pet him.

This is when the 3-ring circus officially started. I grabbed a handful of cat kibble out of the roaster pan. I dribbled out some for Juno, who jumped a foot in the air as Jack ran under her to eat it before Marley could grab it. That's not like Jack. He waits his turn beside the metal chair. I also scattered some kibble there, thinking Juno might come back from her dog house.

I spread some on the sidewalk for Copper Jack. Marley was down there, and ran over, spooking Copper Jack, who took a step back. Marley only sniffed it, and darted up to the side porch, sniffed the kibble there, and ran back down to Copper Jack. My Jack, afraid he was missing something, jumped off the side porch, and started eating the sidewalk kibble. Marley ran back up the steps, sniffed more kibble, then ran to me while I was climbing the steps, almost falling. Marley, that is. Not me. Marley got his front feet over the step edge, and almost tumbled down.

Whew! I went inside, to give them all a leftover biscuit. Farmer H was in the kitchen, having carried groceries for me. Marley ran inside.

"Marley! NO!" Marley ran back out, and took Jack's rightful place with front feet on the threshold. Jack stood to the side, annoyed. Juno, fearing she'd miss a TREAT, come out of her house and shouldered her way to the threshhold.

I handed Juno her biscuit, and she turned tail and reentered her house. I dropped a biscuit for Jack, beside the door, and MARLEY GRABBED IT! Jack was baffled. Farmer H, who was walking out, yelled, "MARLEY! MARLEY!" I think NO might have worked better, but the tone made Marley drop the biscuit. Jack grabbed it and ran, rather than eating calmly beside the door as usual.

I tossed a biscuit mid-porch, for Marley, who ran over and SNIFFED IT, and came right back. Copper Jack was hiding around the corner, having heard Farmer H be cross with Marley. Farmer H pointed to where he was, so I tossed a biscuit for him. Jack ran over and grabbed it, so Farmer H yelled, "JACK! JACK!" Until Jack dropped it and got his own biscuit back in his mouth.

Farmer H kicked Copper Jack's biscuit to him. Marley ran to grab the mid-porch biscuit and ate it in one bite! Then came at me looking for more. I'm pretty sure Juno got indigestion from the commotion. I'm shocked that there wasn't a four-dog fracas over those biscuits. We got through TREAT TIME without a snarl, without a growl, without a bite.

Marley might need a lesson in manners. If I can catch him before he darts.

4 comments:

Sioux Roslawski said...

I will gladly offer my services (for a price, of course) to teach Marley some manners. Some of the things I've taught Radar are:

* how to leap up and put his front paws on my chest. Marley is smaller, but I'm sure I could teach him to jump extra high.

* how to kick and push with his feet when he's being brushed. The resulting bruises are an added bonus.

* how to bark in the early morning or late at night.

* how to bark--incessantly--until a ball is produced for a game of fetch

Let me know if you would like to pay for my services. My fee would include travel time, which of course would include a stop at a famous gas station to take a selfie in front of the fried chicken display case.

Please respond quickly. My schedule fills up fast.

Hillbilly Mom said...

Sioux,
Well, Madam, I'm not sure I could afford the services of such a canine professor. Perhaps you would give a discount, since Marley is a small dog, who deserves smaller tuition.

Funny thing, the barking has stopped! I guess he was just trying to get noticed while in the pen. The other dogs bark AT him now, though. So overall, not a real decrease.

In the style of Farmer H, I will be ruminating on this subject for a week to ten months. So don't hold an appointment open for Marley.

I suspect you are just looking for a reason to start your shenanigans in The Gas Station Chicken Store. Where today, both Man Owner and Woman Owner were wearing black t-shirts with orange jack-o-lantern faces. A picture with them on each side of you (perhaps holding you while waiting for police to arrive) would have been frameworthy. As in, me framing you for imagined or gotten-away-with crimes.

River said...

Marley seems to be smart enough, he'll get the treats routine worked out soon enough. How could you NOT know he was out? Don't you go to him every day with a treat?

Hillbilly Mom said...

River,
No, I don't take Marley a treat every day. The daily treats are doled out from the kitchen door. I set them over on the counter to be ready for when I come home.

The other dogs run to greet me, and play in the front yard, or scuffle on the porch. I see them all the time. Marley must have been keeping his distance from the others. Farmer H said Marley had been sleeping in the hay bales stacked over by his pen, by where we used to feed Barry the mini pony and Billy the goat. So I didn't see him until he came to greet me with the other dogs.