We have two dogs now. We didn’t last week at this time, but things change. We had a dog before, but he was "free to a good home" (a.k.a.: "a crap shoot"). Blaze was a standard poodle mix who was waaay too rambunctious and needed more attention than we could provide. He excavated deep holes in the back yard. He tore most of the veneer off the garage’s back door. He removed trim from the house. He chewed apart the hose that sent water from the back faucet to the "swamp cooler" (if you don’t know what that is, email me and I’ll explain). He chewed on the television cable that that went into our bedroom.

That last item was the last straw. Despite the fact we never had a TV in our bedroom, Wife decided that this bordered on (or crossed over into) Sacrilege! Well, actually, now I think about it, the reason Blaze had to go was because he could never restrain his excitement when Son was allowed into the back yard. He repeatedly knocked Son over, and although he seemed contrite and truly apologetic each time, we decided we didn’t want to wait for Son to outweigh the dog (60 lb.!) before he could use the back yard without fear. Blaze went to the pound, where I hope his otherwise winning ways (which I didn’t mention above) found him a home with bigger kids before his number came up (I digress, but at least I seem to be good at it). I believe I was talking about how we had two dogs, now.

That the dogs arrived at our home was directly related to the extreme weather we sometimes experience in this part of the USA. Their arrival was an unforseen side-effect of my attending a class on Snow Removal Duty. Since it snows here, the Air Force, since it must be able to operate in all sorts of weather, is equipped with all sorts of machinery to remove snow from runways, taxiways, streets, parking lots (am I missing anything here?) etc. (there, that should cover it!) Unfortunately, the Air Force (and the other services, as well) is "downsizing". This means while they have plenty of snow removal equipment, there are not enough snow removal people to operate it. Of course, this means when it snows so much that they’re sending people home (or telling them to stay there), I (and several other augmentees) will be braving the elements in one or another sort of snow-removal machine.

Actually, I enjoy learning to drive new kinds of vehicles. I love cars, planes, motorcycles, heavy equipment – just about any mobile machinery. The opportunity to go learn how to drive Bobcats (a Skid-loader – about as much fun as you’re allowed to have at a construction site!), tractors, front-end loaders (tracters with buckets at the front end), dump trucks, road sweepers and, (YES!) the Oshkosh General Purpose Vehicle (capable of clearing snow at 60 MPH! What a blast!) amounted to a 3-day paid vacation from my usual job. I got to meet all kinds of people from all over the base (and all over the country). One guy used to drive heavy equipment when he was a teenager, another guy owned a whole herd of mid-60’s Fords (I guess he was a collector). I am continually amazed and delighted that the Air Force is so eager to let me have that much fun on company time. God is good! But I digress (again, s’more, still…)!

I happened to mention that since Dog #1 had to go (and in fact, had gone quite some time ago), we were looking for another dog. This time, we wanted a smaller creature that would be less likely to intimidate (or knock over) Son. One of the guys fron Roads and Paving (the agency that trained us) mentioned that someone had abandoned some puppies at the house next door to his. He gave me directions to find the place, so after work I went there to see about the dogs. They were both male, littermates, friendly, and appeared to be black-and-white Jack Russel terrriers (I have since decided they may be Fox terriers, though they are probably a mixed breed. They are definitely not Great Danes). I loaded them in my car and took them home.

Wife expressed mixed feelings about the dogs. She had mentioned we needed a dog about that size, but I’m certain she meant only one dog that size, rather than a set of hyperactive book-ends. Son took an immediate liking to these guys. He quickly named one "Tigger", although, since Wife did the translating (and is an inveterate Winnie-the-Pooh fan), there may have been some creative translation of Son’s barely articulate jammering. My first (and quickly discarded) choice for names was Mutt and Jeff, but almost nobody understands that reference these days. I named the other one Buster.

That evening, Tigger very nearly earned a trip to the pound, and Wife would've driven him. While I was away at Wally World (Wal-Mart), Tigger first attempted to "hump" Son, then mark him as territory. Wife intervened before Son could be dampened (Son gets wet often enough as it is, since he's still in diapers). Wife banished the dogs to the back yard. I have since been told that this behavior is typical of an insecure dog. I don't wonder that dogs displaying this behavior are given little reason to feel secure. Wife has since put Tigger on probation, and he has displayed much-improved behavior as he becomes accustomed to living with a pack of humans.

* * * * *

We went for a walk the other day, and discovered that Buster and Tigger were following us down the road, as if to say "Didn’t you forget something?" They ought more properly to have been named "Harry" and Houdini. They are experts at getting out of the back yard, despite the increasing complexity of the obstacles we place in their way. The present remedy is working, thus far (knock on wood). We found some cinderblocks and placed them in front of the holes they have been digging under the fence. I hope they settle down and decide to keep us.

It is 10:00 p.m. as I write this. I have just come from a short expedition to the back yard to determine if the source of the barking sounds coming from the front yard are due to absenteeism in the back yard. I was back there for only a few seconds when two contrite shapes squeezed under the fence from the front of the house. "We’re really sorry, Boss, but we just can’t seem to help ourselves." I scolded them and moved the (heavy) cinderblock to what might be a more secure position in front of their bolt hole.

I think the next step is to cover the ground adjacent to the fence with something the dogs can’t dig under. Tomorrow I think I’ll go to the farm supply store and price chicken wire. Dogs can’t use wire cutters, can they?

Return to Scenes from (sur)real life