O What A Tangled Coat We Weave, When Freedom Makes Us Rush To Leave

Poor Marley! He's the little dog of Farmer H's Oldest Son (HOS), that we took in when HOS moved to town. Marley is not an escape artist until he's released. He doesn't dig out of his pen, but once out, he gives his new surroundings a few moments, then rushes off to his old home.

Farmer H let Marley out on Monday, for the first time since he returned from Nevada. He thought Marley might hang around. Of course, Farmer H thinks this every time he lets Marley out. I knew something was amiss when I found Farmer H down at the mailboxes, working on the bus-waiting shack.

I parked T-Hoe and got out for the mail. My little Jack came running over from the creek. He'd been swimming earlier, judging from his dampness. As I bent to pet him, I saw Juno and Copper Jack running down the gravel road from the direction whence I'd come. I just thought they'd gone roaming farther from Farmer H, although they're not good buddies, and would sooner avoid each other than pal around.

In the back of my mind, I knew Marley was missing from this picture. It didn't dawn on me until suppertime. But subconsciously, I figured that if three dogs started barking with excitement, and running after Farmer H to the mailboxes, the fourth one would, too.

After supper, I asked Farmer H about Marley.

"Oh, he run off again. I had to go up and get him. He rides good in the Gator. He always comes to me now, I don't have to chase him. Before I went down to the creek, them other dogs chased him off. He was running around in the yard, and they got after him."

Anyhoo...this is the time of year that my Sweet, Sweet Juno molts off her matted coat. She's looking sleek and shiny again. Jack and Copper Jack have short hair, so I've never observed them having any coat issues. They always look sleek, although my Jack sheds fine white hairs like crazy. Poor Marley. Running through the brush, being a little dog and low to the ground, does him no favors. Once out of his pen, he becomes quite unkempt. In fact, it hurt me to look at him.

"Marley need a haircut. Doesn't our neighbor do that? See if she can work on him."

Farmer H called her, but she said she was away from her scheduling book. According to Farmer H, she keeps "barber hours," and is closed Mondays. She called back with an appointment for Thursday. I don't think she knew what she was getting herself into.

Here's the usual picture of Marley, from the beginning of summer:

Smiley and fluffy Marley. You'll barely recognize him in the next horror photo, taken outside the groomer.

The irrepressible Marley still has his smile. Yet he looks like he came out the losing end of a fight with Jack, Juno, and Copper Jack. I can't swear that they weren't involved, but I'm pretty sure that raw spot over his eye is from scratching. It looks worse that it is, because his light-colored fur is tinged with the seeping life fluid of poor, poor Marley.

When Farmer H brought Marley home, we convened on the front porch pew. Marley was jumping around like a Poppin' Hoppie. Juno took one look from the other end of the porch, and slunk around the corner to her house. Jack came to show who was boss, and Copper Jack crept closer in the front yard.

I had treats for all! Juno missed out. That's what she gets for being antisocial. The others had some cut-up hot dogs, and trimmings from a ham that I'd sliced yesterday for sandwiches. Hopefully, this party helped them become acquainted, and the other dogs less sour on having Marley around.

Farmer H got a picture of Marley, but the smile is missing!

Who knew Marley was such a little fellow? Not me, that's for sure. He's the same height as Jack, but weighs half as much, I'd say. Here's Jack, contorting himself to get a good sniff of Marley's junk. He kept trying to provoke Marley, who pointedly ignored him, occasionally giving a barely-audible growl. He mainly panted and smiled and looked off into the yard.

Jack sniffed and poked with his snout and yipped and howled. I think Jack was spoiling for a fight, to prove he was top dog. I put the kibosh on that idea with some stern NOs, and a couple taps to the snout. I know that's not nature's way, but it would be an unfair fight with Marley hampered by a leash. Especially when he'd want to run off instead of fight. I will say that Marley did not hunker down or roll over to act submissive. He just seemed OVER the whole yipping thing.

I don't know what kind of dog Marley is. I'd almost venture that there's some poodle in him, judging by the look of his fur after trimming. My old dog Buster the miniature poodle had the same texture after a grooming. Once all Marley's hair was off, I detected some light-caramel-colored spots on his hindquarters. No idea what he is. He's not as long as that picture makes him look.

Farmer H dosed the shorn Marley with flea and tick liquid. He behaved better than Juno during the application. We'll see if this gets rid of his fleas. Our neighbor groomer refused Farmer H's payment. He's going to try to slip it to her husband, saying that she can use it to buy dog treats if nothing else. We didn't want a freebie. Just a haircut for Marley.

We will try bringing Marley to the porch several times a week for supervised butt-sniffing.