Posted by: istop4books | December 3, 2007

Bad Dogs

Meet Double


and Trouble

This post could also be named, “Oh What a Night!”

It all started on a chilly Friday night, it was gently snowing, the Christmas tree was decorated, and soft Christmas carols were playing as we sat in front of a warm fire. OK, sounds good but the truth is that it was freaky cold, sleeting and snowing, and husband and I just wanted to watch a good movie (The Namesake) in the den. We let the dogs out – Cheyenne with her shock collar (which she often ignores in favor of chasing squirrels) and Boomer – who never leaves the yard because he never knows when he has the collar on or off. Made some tea and bunkered down to watch my latest netflix find. Well, that was 8 pm. At 10 pm there was no sign of the dogs. Hmmm. Still thought they were around. 11 pm and no dogs, starting to worry. At 11:30 I put on my coat, winter boots, felted mittens, hat and scarf and ventured out into the wild to look for dumb and dumber. I figured that maybe Boomer had crossed the shock line and was afraid to come back in. He would bark or whimper if he heard my voice. I walked clear to the ravine, calf deep in snow calling for him. Nothing. Walked up and down the street – not a sign of them. Came home , grabbed my keys and took off to see if I found them dead on the street somewhere. By this time it’s midnight, so it was just me, the kids coming and going from their parties and the cops patrolling. We do live on the very edge of town close to corn fields , so I drove over there too. Up the street down the street. If someone had seen me they would have called me in as a possible stalker. “Here double, here trouble, here Cheyenne, here damnit!” Nothing. Came home mad as heck, sat in the living room with a clear view of the back patio. 1 am I dressed up as a mummy again and slipped outside into the mind numbing cold. Called them both up and down the ravine. Nothing. Went to bed fully clothed, just in case and jumped up every five minutes looking out the window. At this point, I’m thinking they’re dead, drowned in the creek, or taken to the humane society. 1:30, Cheyenne is back! Yeah!!!!!!! She’s curled up next to the patio door. Get up, run down the stairs, open the patio door. Cheyenne takes one look at me and trots off towards the street. Back into full Antarctic regalia and out the door I go again. Up the street, down the street, Cheyenne’s gone. Back to bed. 2:15 am, I look out the window and there’s Cheyenne again by the patio table with a bone in her mouth. %&$%@#$ dog!!! Up I go, down the stairs, turn on lights, put boots on, coat, forget hat and out I go, and there goes Cheyenne down the ravine. OK – there’s only so far I’ll go and down the ravine is a deal breaker. Still no Boomer. Now I’m thinking Boomer is hurt or injured and she’s not coming in until I find him. 3 am, I’m back out calling for Boomer and all of a sudden I hear the clinking of his dog tags, and there he is, running at full speed to me. I cried. His back legs were iced so badly that his toes were split with the ice in between. Still no Cheyenne. Made a cup of tea and left a treat covered in peanut butter on the patio step. 3:30 there she is wagging her wanton tail and looking like “Who? Me?” The two of them slept in the kitchen and didn’t move a muscle until after lunch on Saturday.


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