The Escape Artist

LuLu has been in residence at Post Apocalyptic Bohemia for 18 days & she has managed to escape & take flight 5 times. She, shockingly, got out of the back garden on her first day. This fenced garden has held Butch & Sister, the 2 Jack Russells that moved with us to Portland from Seattle a decade ago. This urban oasis has been a safe haven for Larry & Junior for years. We have had the luxury of leaving the sliding doors to the garden pass-through open for canines to come & go as they please. Now they must be escorted to the garden as we attempt to ascertain LuLu's modus operandi & doggie deceit.

On the first escape, with the husband hunting the'hood in hysteria, the tiny terrier turned up on a 6 foot fence post looking like a condor or as if she was playing canine charades & her word was- gargoyle.  We had been in full-tilt frenzy because Little LuLu didn't yet have a collar & tag (since remedied).

LuLu

The #1 narrative was that the little squirt was jumping the 4 foot fence with ease. The Husband has been adding 8 foot bamboo poles lashed to the chain link fence in 6 inch intervals, but I can't conceive of my keeping calm about LuLu being unattended in the back garden.

The Husband contemplates the escape route

Junior, who has never bolted in the 4 years he has been here, did just that. The front door opened a fragment, Junior jumped over Larry the dog & took off down the street, naked! It took the unhappy Husband several blocks to nab him. It seems that LuLu had a trifling talk with Junior & compelled him to sprint down the street with a daddy giving chase. LuLu let on that this was just a boisterous blast of a good time. Bitch!

Such a very nice garden for a little orphaned dog to hang out in...

Larry

Larry, quoting Eric Cartman:
 "You know the feeling when the huge dump you just took shoots back up your ass?"

Sing Out, Louise!

Orphans. We always seem to have one, but in the summer of 2011 we have 2, a canine & human. I will post about both of them, but the canine orphan's tale is a more sanguine story, so it goes first.

Larry, the dog, moved into Post Apocalyptic Bohemia a few months after Sister, our tiny terror of a terrier left us at age 16. A tough one, that Sister, even to the end. Putting her down was an agonizing decision. It is never easy to decide when to say good-bye to an animal friend, they rely on us for that choice, & I never want to have to make it. At the end, Sister's body was that of a dog half her age & she had no disease, no cancer, & no arthritis. But she was deaf & demented. Sister would find herself in a corner & not be able to figure out how to leave, she would walk in a small circle for hours. Heartbreakingly, Sister didn't seem to know who we were in her final months.

Larry was a rescue dog. He was a baby biter & I of course felt some affinity for this orphan. I am also drawn to biting a baby, babies are both aggravating & appetizing. He came to live with us when he was 8 years old & he recently turned 14. Larry is not the most lovable canine. He is a corpulent, cantankerous, covetous cur. He is the Eric Cartman of tail-waggers.  Still, it is woeful to watch Larry loose the use of his back legs & he has cancerous growths that take away from his masculine good looks. Larry's entire focus in life is food. He will be with us until he has no interest in eating. Then we will know it will be Larry's time to leave.

 The Husband holding a very rasty Larry. Enjoy... the Husband will make me remove this photo & I will have a reckoning.

A week ago, my handsome, sexy, talented friend Bryan tossed off: "Do you & your husband think you could take on another terrier?" I was a bit taken aback because the Husband & I had recently admitted that we were not looking for another dog, there would be no visiting of shelters or looking online, but if a hardluck story should plop in our lives, we might be able to be Daddy Warbucks for a canine Little Orphan Annie.

She was dropped off at the animal shelter in Tillamook, Oregon, by a family in an RV, saying that they just didn't want her anymore. The shelter is not a "no kill" shelter & because they lack funding in the current economy, this shelter does not hold on to animals long before doing them in. My buddy Bryan's charming mother volunteers at the shelter & she understood that this little female terrier deserved one more chance & decided to foster her rather than leave her on Death Row with the Pit Bulls.

  Her first moment in her new home

Meeting her new family

 Seemingly stunned by the promise of her fortunate future

She has been with us for only 24 hours, but she seems to sense that she has hit the doggy lotto jackpot. I have brought home all our dogs, with the Husband never having had a say in that decision. But, he has chosen all of our animal family's names. He has dubbed her- Louise. She came with the name- Snickers, but I couldn't abide saying Snickers because it was a name I was bestowed with in kindergarten, & the situation that brought me that moniker is still to painful to think about 55 years later (it had something to do with my inability to make it to the bathroom in time).

We have long ago shortened Junior's name to June... so now we have June & Louise. If you catch that reference, you are in my club.

Dainty June & Baby Louise

She already has my heart, the Husband's too.

Every little breeze seems to whisper 'Louise.'
Birds in the trees seem to twitter 'Louise.'
Each little rose tells me it knows I love you.
Every little beat that I feel in my heart
Seems to repeat what I felt at the start.
Each little sigh tells me that I adore you, Louise.
Just to see & hear you is joy I never knew,
But to be so near you thrills me through & through.
Anyone can see why I wanted your kiss.
It had to be, but the wonder is this:
Can it be true, someone like you

Could love me, Louise.

Leo Robin

1929

Movement

We take in orphans here at Post Apocalyptic Bohemia. Larry is a rescue dog. He was much loved by his original family, but he nipped at the brand new baby & was sent away. Larry went to live with relatives of the original family. They didn’t like him & kept him in the garage. We think that he was snapped at or hit with a dish rag or towel. Larry becomes unglued at the sight of a dust cloth or rag in use. He is a corpulent, covetous, cantankerous, churlish canine. It is not hard to deny the similarities between this cur & Your Host.

We think that Larry is 14-ish years old & he is starting to fail. Cloudy eyes, lumps under the skin, sleeps a lot of the time. We have been through it with Baby, Sister, & Butch (terriers all) before him. Larry will sometimes not be able to walk & he drags his hind legs behind him as he scoots his way around the house. But if food is involved Larry is suddenly a puppy & on the run. He falls down stairs & only wants to walk one block on our outings.


Dogs come into our lives destroying the carpet & they leave the same way. Larry has always been a very good boy about “accidents” in the house. He was 8 years old when he was brought to our family, fully house trained, & with basic commands learned.

This morning, I left the house at 4:10am for my commute to the job. The still sleeping Husband heard Larry ask to go out at 5am. When he asks these days, you have to really hurry or he won’t make it. Larry didn’t make it. As the Husband open the sliding glass door to the back garden, he stepped, each foot, in slippery, stinky, steamin' shit. He recalled that the dog poop oozed in between each toe & into each toenail & crease of his foot.


So as not to ruin the carpet, or even the hard wood floors, the Husband made his way from the backroom, through my workspace & down a short hallway to the bathroom & shower. He accomplished this journey on his knees & elbows to avoid feces features imprinted in the flooring. According to the Husband the cleanup process was neither pleasurable nor painless. That was the start of the Husband’s day & the answer to my question: “How was your morning?”


I only wish that I had been there to capture it on camera. I would have sent the video to Oprah or Ellen, or even Nate, after making a plea: “Please Oprah/Ellen/Nate, help my husband! He is having a hard time of it. His life has gone to shit!”

One of these 2 hairy beasts is actually a warm, welcoming, winning, wonder of a love pup, & the other is crabby curgeudgeon that might like to take a chunk out of you. Venture to guess which is which?

Do You Hate It When Bloggers Post Photographs Of Their Pets?