Tempers were raised and disharmony resulted.
The day opened as it usually does around here, expectations no different than the day before, or the day before that. Same ol’ same ol’, copy-paste. However, no sooner had the day begun to unfurl — ablutions performed, lattes prepared, lips converged and parted again with a wave good-bye: “Have a nice day at work, Honey” — when I sensed a palpable disquiet in the air. One I could not put my finger on. And then just as suddenly as it came it was gone. Hmm, I thought, maybe a false positive.
I forgot about it and set about my usual AM routine. I checked the morning e-mail, assessed the notifications on my phone, e-replied to certain matters which needed my attention, traversed the web along my usual route, prepared and enjoyed a second espresso. I was well into an analytical task related to work when the dogs began to stir, a bit sooner than usual I thought, and this should have confirmed my earlier suspicion of an ephemeral disquietude. Being preoccupied with my task it didn’t. It was five or ten minutes to 10:00; usually the dogs don’t pester me until 10:30 or later.
Okay, okay, we’ll go for our walk now. As we got ready to go it seemed to me they were much more snipey toward each other than usual.
It was a gloriously bright day on the bluff overlooking Cook Inlet and beyond, a great place to walk in peace (usually), or hunt should you have the ego of a national emblem:
But it wasn’t a usual day. I sensed that unsettledness again, the same kind I’d felt earlier, and scolded the dogs to stop sparring so close to the bluff edge — One of you is going to fall down that hill! You might think I should know better than to think they understand me, but you’d be surprised how sensitive a mature dog can be to certain tones of voice. They stopped and came to me expecting a treat. I caved and gave them each one. Hippie parent that I am.
We rounded the final turn on the bluff and walked up and over the south face of the sand dune, by this time of year entirely snow free. We took the short route back to the car as I was anxious to get home to get some work done. Into the car we all went, the dogs into the back seat as usual, but sort of like when you were a kid and your sister was “in your space” in the back seat of the car and you shouted, “Mom, she’s touching me! She’s touching me!”, well, Harry was so growling at Lucy. I scolded him to be quiet, and when he did, caved and gave them both another treat. It would not be the end of doggie discord for the day.
Back at home there was an unusual disembarkation inside the garage, wiping of muddy paws and the removal of Harry’s harness, yes, but also more sniping and sparring — What is up with these two today? Once inside the house I made Lucy her usual breakfast — ground beef, brown rice and pinto beans — fed her outside, and then hand-fed Harry his kibble and ground beef, per Happy Wife’s suggestion that it’s best to do it this way to prevent him from eating like a maniac. It sort of works.
With that done I’m finally back at my work, concentrating, when the dogs start pestering me again. What now?! Outside? Fine. Let’s go. Out they go and I think what the hell I’ll give them each a rawhide bone to keep them quiet for a while. This usually works. I’m not back in the house thirty seconds when I hear this eruption on the back deck. One, or two dogs, I couldn’t tell as I sprinted to the back door, screeching and wailing. I get to the door and look out and all I see is Lucy with a ton of whoop-ass on top of Harry trying to rip him a new one. What the hell?!
I get out there quick and pull her off him, inspect them both and assure myself neither dog was hurt. I see one of the rawhide bones on the deck. Uh huh, I see, so Harry couldn’t find his bone for some reason and thought he might enjoy Lucy’s.
You know, on any usual day Lucy would allow this, do nothing, the fabric of the day’s harmony would continue unbroken.
But for reasons I don’t understand, even though I might have known had I trusted my earlier premonitions, it was not a usual day.
When I first read this post, Rod, I was concerned the dogs were keying on something other than themselves, mostly because I had just recently been informed of this.
I did once see a lone wolf while on our bluff walk. Way down at the base of the bluff in winter, walking about on the near shore ice. He (she?) saw me, and I he/she, but the dogs that day were none the wiser.
We also almost walked right into a wolf sauntering along a trail as we were coming down form our extreme ironing climb up Knoya Peak in 2005. I looked up, it looked up, and we both went whoa! Luckily Lucille was already on lead for being naughty and Rufus was lagging behind Rod who promptly grabbed him. The wolf just veared off the trail and disappeared into a seemingly smooth hillside almost like a ghost wolf. It was beautiful.