The Downside of a Dogdoor

or

RETURN OF THE BONE....

GET. OUT.

The Remains of the Day

I was de-stinkifying the carpet. Sometimes, it gets a certain funk that is hard to describe. Gregg doesn't smell it, but it bothers the heck out of me.

I was working on the stairs. I sprinkled on the Zorb, a product put out by the genius that created the Dyson vacuum, and was working the sawdust-like particles into the carpet with the specific vacuum attachment created just for that, when I heard the click-click of the dog door magnets. Not thinking too much of it, I glanced up. 

Ray was standing in the front hall holding in his mouth a rawhide bone; a horribly muddy, leaf-encrusted, wet, flaccid bone. It had the look of an aged piece of parchment that had only recently been discovered. 

His eyes bright, his tail swinging in delight, Ray was ready for a game of keepaway. 

I did the only reasonable thing I could. I screamed. 

Startled, the dog dropped the bone, scattering mud and leaf matter over the freshly-Zorbed carpet. Then, sensing that this was part of the game, Ray again picked up the nasty thing. His tail moving in overdrive, Ray stuck his butt in the hair and jawed the bone, weaving his head from side to side in a classic nyah-nyah-nyah-I-got-the-bone-and-you-don't move.

I hastily dropped what I was doing and started down the stairs. Ray took off to do a loop around the coffee table. I noticed as I chased him, that he had already been around the coffee table once; a trail of mud and leaf debris marked his path. 

"Get out!" I yelled at the dog, "Go outside!"

Still convinced that this was a game, Ray happily dashed for his door, in his haste dropping the bone on the living room rug and rapidly recovering it, leaving another pile of mud for me to step over as I followed him into the kitchen. The trail of mud that he had tracked through when he brought in the bone was less obvious on the magic, mud-colored floor. 

Ray shot through his door and into the backyard. Now that the crisis was over, I enjoyed the chase, trailing the hound through the yard until the game was over. Ray was intent on looking for a place to bury the remains.

I returned to my work and left Ray to his.

What?
I didn't do anything.

Return to Freedom

After almost two whole days of being stuck in the house because of the downed tree, Ray was more than ready to get back outside to his digs.
The tree crew arrived late in the afternoon and made quick work of the enormous mess. After they left, Ray was allowed out to investigate and, sensing freedom, made a break for the yard from whence the tree had come. Under protest, he was quickly returned to the safety of the house. Gregg and I spent an hour and a half taking apart the broken section of fence and erecting a temporary fix. Ray was let loose again.
In celebration of his return to freedom, the hound demonstrated his magnificent singing voice, dug up a section of pachysandra, unearthed his bone, and then re-buried it. Later in the evening, he vocally harassed a mousie that he detected gamboling on the opposite side of the fence.
All was once again right with his world.

Act of God

It happened in the middle of the night.
Ray had heard it and sounded the alarm. My sub-concious had heard it too, and I had lain in bed for a brief moment trying to process the thumpthumpthumpthump that I had heard before scrambling out of bed to calm the dog and investigate the noise.
Not knowing where the noise had originated, I went down the stairs and turned on the porch light to look out onto a deserted street, then to the back door to peer out onto a deserted patio. I stood listening for a moment to the quiet around me, then returned to bed. Ray, who had declined to join me in my investigations, was already back on his futon, sound asleep.
The next time I was awakened, it was by Gregg at 6 a.m.
"There's a tree down in our backyard," he said, "It came from the yard behind us and broke through a section of the fence. Looks like it took out some branches on some of our trees on the way down."
I lay in bed trying to get my eyes to work, then after a few minutes, crawled out of bed to throw on some clothes.
I went downstairs and followed Gregg into the backyard; it was a mess.

Act of God
(That's what the insurance people call it)

I heard a noise at the backdoor and turned to see Ray standing with his nose pressed up against the glass. I went to retrieve a leash and led the hound outside, guiding him around a pokey branch, and then along the fence so he could pee. We then walked around the branches covering the path, and into the grassy part of the yard. Ray stopped.
I pulled at his leash trying to get Ray to follow me so that I could view the damage through the fence but Ray wouldn't follow. He walked over to the air conditioning unit alongside the house and stood in his usual sad-dog mode, with head down around his knees. I pulled the leash and watched as the collar slid up over one ear of the unmoving dog. I rearranged it back down over his neck and handed the leash to Gregg.
"Could you hold him while I look?" I asked.

Obligingly, Gregg took Ray's leash and, while I poked around the destruction, tried to convince the dog to move away from the house into the yard. Ray resisted.
"Just turn him loose and see what he does," I said to Gregg.
Gregg unclipped the leash and both of us watched as Ray went behind the bushes, and avoiding the yard entirely, walked along the foundation of the house to the patio and then to the kitchen door.
"How does he know?" asked Gregg to no one in particular.
"I dunno," I responded as we both headed back into the house.

Still Life with Dog and Toes

Moonie's Happy Face

This is a photo of pure contentment. Moonie at her happiest. I know, she looks demented and slightly outraged, but Moonie is actually displaying that which we refer to as "big Black Rhino lip." When Moonie is lippin' she's purrin'. It just doesn't get any better for Moonie.
It used to be, when I put Moonie on the chair with Ray she would immediately jump down and scurry away (followed at high speed by the dog). Over time, this changed to jump down and walk away quickly, then to jump down and saunter away, then to jump down and stand there and think about it for awhile. Now she stays and purrs, gets nuzzled, and gets her ears cleaned.
It's been a long haul, but we're there.
Happy Big Black Rhino Lip Day.

I like this one better than the one with the air leaking out of him.
 Even if she does look like a Black Rhino.

Moonie's doppelganger.

.

Sofa Wars

After two days of being denied his spot on the couch because it was occupied by The Thing that Hisses and Whacks, Ray took proactive measures. Instead of waiting for everyone to be seated at the coffee table for dinner before wandering over himself, Ray staked out 'his spot' a good half an hour before everyone else arrived. By the time dinner was served, Ray was comfortably ensconced.
Hugo, who, after the first night's confrontation, had become instantly convinced that the spot was once again his, came to jump up on the couch in HIS spot and found it already occupied by his arch-nemesis. The big, black cat turned on his heel in a huff, walked a few feet away, and plopped on his side in outraged silence. There he lay, glaring holes through the oblivious dog's head.