Society for the Preservation of My Sanity

Argh! I'm madder'n a wet settin' hen right now.

Remember the "nice" little mixed-up pup that was dropped off here a couple of weeks ago? We kept him thinking he was just lost and someone would claim him because he had on a collar? And he was all nice and good? Well, he is GETTING ON MY LAST NERVE!

It's not all him, but he's sure contributing heavily to the delinquency of a poodle.

Argh!

Every time Tucker goes out now, here come Trouble romping and playing. Trouble is now much more aggressive with Tucker, so Tucker runs. They're still semi-playful, but now the play is not confined to the yard. Oh noooOOOoo. Now Tucker will run all the way down to Mom's house, past that an on down to the pond. Where he gets smelly and dirty and muddy and nasty! ACK!

If he doesn't go down there, he will follow Trouble up the bank behind our house, across the corner of the cemetery and on up into the woods.

Tonight? Tonight he followed me and Mom outside, slipping out the door after being told to stay, and before I can get a couple of things put into Mom's backseat, he is gone.

Him and Trouble.

I yelled and hollered and screamed for him. But nothing.

Lately, I've taken to using a flyswatter on his ornery butt. In the daytime, it works like a charm because he can SEE it. But at night?? Yelling, "TUCKEEEER! I'VE GOT THE SWATTER, OL' BOY!" just doesn't make much impact on him. So I start calling and walking around the dark yard. Mom is all the while fussing and telling me I have to get a jacket on because I'm going to get pneumonia and die otherwise. Okay, not her exact words, but that's what she meant.

She keeps yammering at me about a jacket until next thing I know she's taken HER sweatjacket off and is sticking it in my face while putting on a coat she had gotten out of her car.

Yes. I do realize the woman is bonkers. I'm considering taking her with me to the flea market tomorrow. Or listing her on e-B@y. Ya think?

Then she says just ride down to the house with her. She's sure Tucker's down there. I am not so sure. I can't shut her up, so I go thinking I'll jump out of the car and run for it while she's digging in her purse for keys.

And I do pretty much that. I walk all the way up the hill to my house in the dark. Yes, the moon's almost full, but the path is overshadowed by thick pines. I make it up here safely, then open the back door, reach inside for my swatter and head up to the cemetery.

Now this cemetery doesn't scare me because it's not overgrown and spooky looking and I live beside it and no living dead people have come to get me yet. And frankly, by this point I am so mad that were a living dead person to attempt my abduction, I would rip off all Its appendages and make It wish It were dead dead instead! (I shoulda been a poet, yes?)

I holler and listen, holler and listen when I hear the faint tinkling of Tucker's tags. I hear him run up to the row of medium sized pines that mark the border of the cemetery. I am on this side of the pines, he is just on the other side in the cemetery. He stops and I order him to come in the calmest voice I can manage.

Then he comes galloping around to the opening and whizzes past me about 3 yards. I then swat toward him and tell him to get his butt to the house. He growls as he tucks tail and runs.

He always growls when he knows he's in trouble. It just gets it out the way for when he actually gets spanked. He was trying to avoid me so he ran down to the 'shallow' end of the long hill where the bank is. I take the short way, straight down the very steep bank, between the shop and dog pen where Lucy and The Seven Warts live. Right at the corner of the shop on the back side, there's supposed to be our tomato cages hung on a nail. The cages are still there, but they were no longer hanging on that nail.

I wouldn't know that except that in the black darkness there, I tripped over them and fell face-first in the yard. I jammed up my wrist a bit, bruised my knees and can already feel the soreness in my neck.

Needless to say that when I opened the door and Tucker ran in, I swatted the snot outta him.

There are entirely too many dogs around here. Tomorrow, if nothing else, Trouble leaves. And maybe I'll start talking to his protoge again.

Maybe.