Faced with “older dogs” syndrome, my neighbors added young blood to the mix. They took in an abandoned dog.
Patches had a few days of angst and then settled in. She is still persuaded she is starving to death, but considering her newly plump belly, this may be her permanent perspective.
Patches is very sweet, gentle and not much trouble. This is fortunate as she seems to be moving in. Last night the owners called her and she sat at my feet and stared… Didn’t budge an inch. I had to walk her next door.
She seems to adore Little Bear (as do I) and He TOLERATES her more than any dog he has met since he (too) became a grumpy old man. He (twice now) has climbed on top of her and laid down, because she snuggled up against ME in HIS spot 🙂 No growling or fuss. Just a double-decker dog sandwich until she squirms out from under and he subsides into the Daddy spot. Little Bear growls at her when she gets excessive about sniffing his behind but then allows her to lay right next to him. They are the same size and a bond is definitely forming. Yesterday he walked over to the big house and brought her back.
Patches adores the every morning dog walks. The cast keeps changing. For a decade and a half Sadie and Little Bear were the regulars with others tagging along until they moved away or worse. Recently Sadie’s hips deteriorated another notch (I so understand), but I explained that I fall down too, and she has started coming again.
Over time the morning ramble has become more
pathetic subdued. With the passing of the years the older dogs plod along and I follow doing my nursing home shuffle. Patches tires of the pace and like a pin ball firing up the chute she takes off. She bounces off the trees (almost) and runs circles around us oldsters. She can do a 180° so fast it is undetectable to the human eye and at 50 miles an hour, stops on a dime. She is the only Dog I have ever seen fly, with long eerily sustained leaps, all four legs stretched straight out. All she is missing is the cape. It is infectious and tails rise a little higher and feet feel less leaden. Ah!, youth.
The rolling foothills of the high New Mexico desert are sparsely inhabited and filled with wonders. There are rabbits and rabbit holes. You can stick your nose in one for a heavy breathing session. There are Prairie dog tunnels one can attempt to excavate. Dogs are born Scatologists. New Mexico is famous for it’s scat. The three dogs cluster around a pile and conference. Coyotes play “marks a lot” as do dogs, and any fragrance must be meticulously and exhaustively sniffed, examined and then covered with your own calling card. Patches enthusiasm renews our appreciation for this Coney Island for dogs.
Patches is a talker. She emits a spectrum of low grunt, groan, moan, throaty burpels, wooflets and puffs. Or sometimes she just mutters. The new girl has some character and quirks. I like that. She has some flaws. No one could measure up to the high standard Little Bear sets. Still, here she is and we like her just fine. She is a happy addition to our lives.
Posting pictures of the current Dog Walk Club is akin to Grandma whipping open her plastic accordion of grand baby pictures in the grocery store line. I realize this. There is one OBVIOUS exception. I believe images of The Little Bear (graven or not) activate harmonic celestial vibrations that flood the world with smiles, joy and cookies. Not that I am prejudiced.
Next week: My secret talent as a Namerizer