There’s something endearing about canine behavior. It’s simple and basic. Cesar Milan often reminds us that dogs live in the moment. They don’t worry about what might happen tomorrow, and they never grieve over past mishaps. They don’t care how much money you have in the bank or if you have good standing in the community. You, as their owner, are the center of their universe. I love the poster that says, “You can say the most stupid thing in the world to a dog, and he’ll look at you with such admiration and say, “OMG, that’s brilliant! I never thought of it that way!” All that being said, there are a few times when my besties feel that they have to set me straight. Once in a while, they believe their pack leader just doesn’t get it. Take last week, for example. I woke myself up in a sneezing fit. Recovering momentarily, I realized that my eyes were watery and itchy and that I had a splitting sinus headache—all good signs that spring is in the air or is just around the corner. The besties were having similar sneezing issues. It was time to roll the vac out of the closet and to check the hepa filter. Being the oldest bestie, Sundance welcomes the sight. He knows from experience that once the floors have been property cleaned that I will switch the vac to the attachments setting and call his name. He bellies up for a good brushing and a vacuuming that rids his coat of allergens and any loose hair that remains. Sundance thoroughly enjoys this special treatment. The girls, on the other hand, run into their kennel to hide—as if that’s not the first place I’m going to look for them. Moxie tells me in her deepest, most urgent growl talk that vacuuming ranks right alongside toenail clipping. Both are unnecessary, unwelcome, and despicable practices invented by humans. Shy goes into a high-pitched tirade to voice her strong opinions on both topics as well. Sometimes I win. Sometimes the girls win. That afternoon I asked Moxie if she’d like to go for a ride in the truck. (Is the Pope Catholic?) She hopped right in and was delighted to see that I was making a stop to see one of the local veterinarians. I wanted to ask his advice on how much vaccine and wormer I needed for members of my Angus herd. Moxie was further delighted when I invited her to come inside with me. Her past experiences there have been relatively pleasant, even when we had to go in last year to have her left forepaw treated after she injured it on some barbed wire. While the veterinarian and I were talking, I noticed that Moxie’s nails were excessively long. That forepaw is healed but it is still very sensitive. The only person who can get the nail clipping done expediently is Austen. If Mox growls, he says, “NO!” She has tried crying on occasion, but he doesn’t give in to that tactic either. Since Austen probably won’t be back at the farm for a month or so, I asked the veterinarian if he would muzzle Mox and do the job. Sure enough, Mox gave out an uncharacteristic warning grow when he started with that sensitive paw. Once he moved to the second paw, however,, the hussy rolled over on her back and enjoyed the rest of the manicure. Moxie’s veterinary trip turned out to be darned pleasant after all. A little girl in the waiting room begged to let her pet my dog. Since Moxie loves kids, she became all sunshine and light, the recent nail clipping forgotten already. On the way home, however, Moxie wanted assurance from me that Dr. Jim doesn’t have a vacuum cleaner at the veterinary clinic. Things might get serious if she tried to hide under the examining table. No, until I have a couple of strong men to help me restrain Moxie, she will get her usual noise-free brushing from me every morning at home. Besides, she claims that a vacuum cleaner just can’t improve on natural beauty.
Posted on: Mon, 17 Mar 2014 05:19:23 +0000
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