Glacier
10-19-2004, 12:03 AM
So after the past week of storms, vet trips, more vet trips, hurt dogs, fallen down fences, on top of all the usual critter stuff--scooping litter boxes, cleaning the dog yard, chopping up pounds of meat and carrying gallons of water ect...I was not a happy camper and was thinking today that life could be so much simpler--if I didn't have to have 3 different kinds of litter just so all the cats would use a box; if I didn't have a dog aggressive dog so I wouldn't have to worry about the others getting too close to Kayleigh; if I had nice, well adjusted dogs, a bunch of Earle clones instead of a bunch of timid boys; how much more money I'd have without the vet bills, the food bills. Why do I know how to use an axe to hack up moose meat and why did I spend my weekend learning how to use a chainsaw to clear fallen trees? Kinda wallowing in self-pity....So I gave myself the night off, just the basics were going to get done around here.
So I am laying on the futon, watching mindless tv, when I realize that right behind me, nestle against my knees is a sled dog. 20 months ago, Pingo was afraid of the door, not housetrained, had never been in a building, and no way was she going to cuddle with someone. She would go completely tense if I tried to hug her at first. She didn't know what toys were and tonight between her little paws is stuffed cow that she carries everywhere with her. She knew nothing except working and the small area around her dog house. (and she came from a good, gentle musher)
Beside me snuggled right against my cheek, softly snoring was Chum. A young husky cross who at one time, not so long ago, was destined for death. His crime--he growls alot, about everything. It's just how he talks and communicates. He's not aggressive. He's never bitten, but in the shelter environment, he was labelled unadoptable. All he really needed was a place to relax.
On the other side of my head, an almost 15 year old cat purrs like an outboard motor. A sweet, snuggly ball of fur who was dumped at 13 by an owner who just couldn't be bothered anymore. Little Felicia, the handicapped kitten, stages a flying leap off the couch and on to the bookshelf; defying gravity and the experts who said she wouldn't survive.
Out in the yard, Ozzy follows me around licking my hands, a dog who four months ago ran, barking his head off if I tried to pet him. Kayleigh, who is dog aggressive, flops on her back for a quick belly rub before she eats her dinner. Goldie even with her wounds bounces while she waits for her meal. Preacher barks at the other dogs, even though he can't see them anymore. His tail is still held high, his ears erect and he still tries to guard his home the best he can. Pacer sleeps curled up in the porch having forgotten the jerk who filled his back end with bb pellets. Hobo runs around the big yard like a tasmanian devil. You'd never know he was almost wolf bait 8 months ago.
And as I laid there, surrounded by fur and watching even more furballs out the windows, I felt a sense of peace return. I remembered why they are all here and that no matter what, I wouldn't give up a single one of them. Cuz in the long run, it's all worth it and heaven knows I'd just waste the extra money anyway!
So I am laying on the futon, watching mindless tv, when I realize that right behind me, nestle against my knees is a sled dog. 20 months ago, Pingo was afraid of the door, not housetrained, had never been in a building, and no way was she going to cuddle with someone. She would go completely tense if I tried to hug her at first. She didn't know what toys were and tonight between her little paws is stuffed cow that she carries everywhere with her. She knew nothing except working and the small area around her dog house. (and she came from a good, gentle musher)
Beside me snuggled right against my cheek, softly snoring was Chum. A young husky cross who at one time, not so long ago, was destined for death. His crime--he growls alot, about everything. It's just how he talks and communicates. He's not aggressive. He's never bitten, but in the shelter environment, he was labelled unadoptable. All he really needed was a place to relax.
On the other side of my head, an almost 15 year old cat purrs like an outboard motor. A sweet, snuggly ball of fur who was dumped at 13 by an owner who just couldn't be bothered anymore. Little Felicia, the handicapped kitten, stages a flying leap off the couch and on to the bookshelf; defying gravity and the experts who said she wouldn't survive.
Out in the yard, Ozzy follows me around licking my hands, a dog who four months ago ran, barking his head off if I tried to pet him. Kayleigh, who is dog aggressive, flops on her back for a quick belly rub before she eats her dinner. Goldie even with her wounds bounces while she waits for her meal. Preacher barks at the other dogs, even though he can't see them anymore. His tail is still held high, his ears erect and he still tries to guard his home the best he can. Pacer sleeps curled up in the porch having forgotten the jerk who filled his back end with bb pellets. Hobo runs around the big yard like a tasmanian devil. You'd never know he was almost wolf bait 8 months ago.
And as I laid there, surrounded by fur and watching even more furballs out the windows, I felt a sense of peace return. I remembered why they are all here and that no matter what, I wouldn't give up a single one of them. Cuz in the long run, it's all worth it and heaven knows I'd just waste the extra money anyway!