Chapter 5 (Freedom and Animals, cont.)
Tom’s Dogs:
It wasn’t like there were no dogs at Tom‘s house. He had Holly and Pudgy. Holly was supposed to be a good hunting beagle for Tom, back when Mary Jane was his wife. After their first hunting trip together, I was told, Tom had been so upset with Holly that when they got home, Holly made a mad dash for Mary Jane, and jumped up on her lap for love and comfort. She earned her place in Tom's heart when she was a great comfort to Mary Jane when she was going through the last throes of liver cancer which took her life in July of '82 (exactly two months after it was diagnosed, though she had been feeling poorly for quite awhile and Tom had been taking her to hospitals and doctors that last year trying to find out what was wrong).
Pudgy was a present for the kids the Christmas after Mary Jane died. She was supposed to be a good rabbit dog also… (again, ...not to be). However, Tom was at work and the kids at school, and what with his picking up the slack with Trese who had become the lady of the house at twelve going on thirteen, they had little time to spend with the dogs, and they were no longer indoor dogs. Fortunately Tom had a fenced in backyard, and had a little doghouse in the garage for the two dogs, and besides being fed in the garage, had little attention paid to them. Once in awhile Holly would get away. We didn’t think she could find he way home. She had her name, address, and telephone number on her collar, and eventually someone would call having found her, and they‘d go over and pick her up.
When I moved in, I tried to like Holly and Pudgy, but something got in the way. Here I had brought Wendy into the household. I think subconsciously I felt it just wasn’t fair that Wendy had free range of a house in which Holly had been banned since Mary Jane died. The dogs were no longer housetrained, so there was no way I could rectify the unfair situation. I was still working as an RN at Willow Point. It was easier to just ignore them, but I think I resented them for making me feel the guilt of my having Wendy in what was really “their“ house.
I had tried taking Holly and Pudgy for walks along with Wendy, but inevitably Holly would roll in something so objectionable that if I had taken them in the car, and hadn’t something along with me clean her up or to wrap her in I’d be in bad trouble.
Once this happened on Thanksgiving, having an hour or so to take them for a drive and walk while the turkey was still in the oven. I took them down by the Susquehanna River, alongside Old Vestal Road …a veritable rabbit heaven. When Holly and Pudgy got chasing them I wouldn’t lose them, as their howling gave them away. I finally extracted Holly from some brushes, and put her on a leash, dragging her back, with obedient Pudgy following. When far enough away, and Holly seemed to be following along well, I let her off the leash. It was then when my back was turned that she found a most foul thing to roll in …some kind of poop, and had nothing in the car with which I could clean her up. This was so foul that I was thankful that people dumped junk and old trash, as I found an old wet rags and an intact man’s shirt. They probably were dirty, but they weren’t as dirty or smelly as Holly, so I wiped what I could away, and wrapped her in the shirt so I could take her home, almost having to have her sit in my lap, stinking to high heaven, so I could drive her home windows wide open on a cold day so she wouldn't smell up the car. I had to be careful when I got home I didn’t foul up the house--all festive and smelling like turkey and pumpkin pie. She was released out back--where I could again forget about her, and after a change of clothes, and after I calmed down, Thanksgiving was pleasant. I couldn’t blame her for this habit, but I was so frustrated and angry with her that I could justify my reasons for not liking her.
It wasn’t until years later, and cute little Pudgy had already died, having been like her name--pudgy--and had congestive heart failure, and we had moved up to the land, when Holly and I bonded. We brought Holly along, of course. By then I had a yellow Lab, which had been a Guiding Eyes Pup we got to keep. We couldn’t find an rental apartment or house that would allow pets for the space of time between selling the Charleston Avenue house, and building our new home. So we had the garage built first, bought a woodstove to heat the area, and moved into it, arranging the bedroom, living room, and kitchen furniture to areas of living in the garage. That was in October, 1992. I never felt so much like a pioneer as then, as we had a toilet, but no water hooked up, and I had to go down to the creek to bring up water to flush the toilet. For drinking and washing dishes we went to a local spring where the Murphys had the water piped out alongside of Quaker Lake Road, so locals could stop to get fresh spring water. We took showers at Trese's home, as she was, at that time, married to Ray Williams.
Holly was about 15 years old then, I had to train her to do new tricks, like to housebreak the old dog. I guess she remembered when she was an indoor dog, but she was able to safely practice this in the garage where mistakes were easily forgiven. I took her on the leash for walks with Gayle and I. I realized that she could hardly see, and used her nose to guide her. She couldn’t hear either, which was a relief for her as well as us because whenever there was a thunderstorm, she would go nuts! She would get under the bed and start digging as if she could dig a deep hole to get away from the horror of thunderstorms. I hadn’t realized this when she was in the garage in Vestal. After we moved into the house, if there was a threat of a thunderstorm, I would simply leave on the lights, and, whereas she couldn’t hear the noise and couldn’t see the lightening in a lighted room and she'd sleep through the storm not knowing the difference. We finally learned this after a few times of having to pull her out from under the bed where she was digging so furiously we were afraid she’d wear a hole in the rug, let alone our not being able to sleep with that going on. Now, without her clear vision nor hearing, she was able to be let off the leash. She would no longer wander away. A trick she enjoyed when she’d be trailing behind, was when I’d get Gayle to come with me when I’d take a sharp right, off the path, and we’d hide behind a tree. Holly would go past the spot… stop… then go back until she picked up our smell, and then follow her nose. When she discovered us, she practically smiled. Tail wagging she’d show pride in her ability to track us down.
She turned out to be a loving and gentle affectionate dog, and I realized that the something inside me that refused to love Holly and Pudgy while back in Vestal, was the guilt in that they didn’t have the freedom that Wendy… that all of my history of pets had. I hated and still hate to keep things fenced in, tied up, or restrained in any way even when it was necessary. I was so glad it was no longer necessary for Holly to be restrained, and for the last two years of her life she experienced a new kind of freedom despite her weakening senses.
Tom’s Dogs:
It wasn’t like there were no dogs at Tom‘s house. He had Holly and Pudgy. Holly was supposed to be a good hunting beagle for Tom, back when Mary Jane was his wife. After their first hunting trip together, I was told, Tom had been so upset with Holly that when they got home, Holly made a mad dash for Mary Jane, and jumped up on her lap for love and comfort. She earned her place in Tom's heart when she was a great comfort to Mary Jane when she was going through the last throes of liver cancer which took her life in July of '82 (exactly two months after it was diagnosed, though she had been feeling poorly for quite awhile and Tom had been taking her to hospitals and doctors that last year trying to find out what was wrong).
Pudgy was a present for the kids the Christmas after Mary Jane died. She was supposed to be a good rabbit dog also… (again, ...not to be). However, Tom was at work and the kids at school, and what with his picking up the slack with Trese who had become the lady of the house at twelve going on thirteen, they had little time to spend with the dogs, and they were no longer indoor dogs. Fortunately Tom had a fenced in backyard, and had a little doghouse in the garage for the two dogs, and besides being fed in the garage, had little attention paid to them. Once in awhile Holly would get away. We didn’t think she could find he way home. She had her name, address, and telephone number on her collar, and eventually someone would call having found her, and they‘d go over and pick her up.
When I moved in, I tried to like Holly and Pudgy, but something got in the way. Here I had brought Wendy into the household. I think subconsciously I felt it just wasn’t fair that Wendy had free range of a house in which Holly had been banned since Mary Jane died. The dogs were no longer housetrained, so there was no way I could rectify the unfair situation. I was still working as an RN at Willow Point. It was easier to just ignore them, but I think I resented them for making me feel the guilt of my having Wendy in what was really “their“ house.
I had tried taking Holly and Pudgy for walks along with Wendy, but inevitably Holly would roll in something so objectionable that if I had taken them in the car, and hadn’t something along with me clean her up or to wrap her in I’d be in bad trouble.
Once this happened on Thanksgiving, having an hour or so to take them for a drive and walk while the turkey was still in the oven. I took them down by the Susquehanna River, alongside Old Vestal Road …a veritable rabbit heaven. When Holly and Pudgy got chasing them I wouldn’t lose them, as their howling gave them away. I finally extracted Holly from some brushes, and put her on a leash, dragging her back, with obedient Pudgy following. When far enough away, and Holly seemed to be following along well, I let her off the leash. It was then when my back was turned that she found a most foul thing to roll in …some kind of poop, and had nothing in the car with which I could clean her up. This was so foul that I was thankful that people dumped junk and old trash, as I found an old wet rags and an intact man’s shirt. They probably were dirty, but they weren’t as dirty or smelly as Holly, so I wiped what I could away, and wrapped her in the shirt so I could take her home, almost having to have her sit in my lap, stinking to high heaven, so I could drive her home windows wide open on a cold day so she wouldn't smell up the car. I had to be careful when I got home I didn’t foul up the house--all festive and smelling like turkey and pumpkin pie. She was released out back--where I could again forget about her, and after a change of clothes, and after I calmed down, Thanksgiving was pleasant. I couldn’t blame her for this habit, but I was so frustrated and angry with her that I could justify my reasons for not liking her.
It wasn’t until years later, and cute little Pudgy had already died, having been like her name--pudgy--and had congestive heart failure, and we had moved up to the land, when Holly and I bonded. We brought Holly along, of course. By then I had a yellow Lab, which had been a Guiding Eyes Pup we got to keep. We couldn’t find an rental apartment or house that would allow pets for the space of time between selling the Charleston Avenue house, and building our new home. So we had the garage built first, bought a woodstove to heat the area, and moved into it, arranging the bedroom, living room, and kitchen furniture to areas of living in the garage. That was in October, 1992. I never felt so much like a pioneer as then, as we had a toilet, but no water hooked up, and I had to go down to the creek to bring up water to flush the toilet. For drinking and washing dishes we went to a local spring where the Murphys had the water piped out alongside of Quaker Lake Road, so locals could stop to get fresh spring water. We took showers at Trese's home, as she was, at that time, married to Ray Williams.
Holly was about 15 years old then, I had to train her to do new tricks, like to housebreak the old dog. I guess she remembered when she was an indoor dog, but she was able to safely practice this in the garage where mistakes were easily forgiven. I took her on the leash for walks with Gayle and I. I realized that she could hardly see, and used her nose to guide her. She couldn’t hear either, which was a relief for her as well as us because whenever there was a thunderstorm, she would go nuts! She would get under the bed and start digging as if she could dig a deep hole to get away from the horror of thunderstorms. I hadn’t realized this when she was in the garage in Vestal. After we moved into the house, if there was a threat of a thunderstorm, I would simply leave on the lights, and, whereas she couldn’t hear the noise and couldn’t see the lightening in a lighted room and she'd sleep through the storm not knowing the difference. We finally learned this after a few times of having to pull her out from under the bed where she was digging so furiously we were afraid she’d wear a hole in the rug, let alone our not being able to sleep with that going on. Now, without her clear vision nor hearing, she was able to be let off the leash. She would no longer wander away. A trick she enjoyed when she’d be trailing behind, was when I’d get Gayle to come with me when I’d take a sharp right, off the path, and we’d hide behind a tree. Holly would go past the spot… stop… then go back until she picked up our smell, and then follow her nose. When she discovered us, she practically smiled. Tail wagging she’d show pride in her ability to track us down.
She turned out to be a loving and gentle affectionate dog, and I realized that the something inside me that refused to love Holly and Pudgy while back in Vestal, was the guilt in that they didn’t have the freedom that Wendy… that all of my history of pets had. I hated and still hate to keep things fenced in, tied up, or restrained in any way even when it was necessary. I was so glad it was no longer necessary for Holly to be restrained, and for the last two years of her life she experienced a new kind of freedom despite her weakening senses.
posted by Cranberry Jo @ 1/01/2008 01:45:00 PM
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