Relative Something

The description of our hot days of summer as “dog days” is supposed to be in reference to the hottest days, or a period of inactivity or sluggishness. It was particularly hot here yesterday, but nothing about the day was sluggish, especially for Delilah. She had a day that pushed us to our limits of tolerance. It all started with an unplanned visit to the vet, for which we certainly don’t hold her at fault.

Last Monday, we were down at the labyrinth, with guests, and had been attempting to keep Delilah occupied by tossing a “frisbee”-type disc for her to catch and return. As we visited, I somewhat absent-mindedly gave the disc a fling and as Delilah bolted after it, she caught a hind leg on a short wire decorative fence that Cyndie had placed to mark part of the labyrinth border. Delilah let out a yelp and briefly panicked as the multiple linked sections of the fencing appeared to be chasing after her.

At the time, we didn’t realize the degree to which it had punctured her leg. Five days later, Cyndie noticed the wound was looking worse, not better, and called the vet. Delilah earned another round of antibiotics and this time, did come home with the “cone of shame” to keep her from chewing at the spot of the wound.

By the time they got home from the vet, Julian and Allison had arrived, with her dog, for a visit. Having another dog here as a guest provided a good opportunity to work on socializing Delilah with other animals, but it takes a fair amount of attention to manage the interactions. No surprise to me, since Delilah has yet to calm down when our cats show themselves, Delilah demonstrated over-excitement and a fair amount of aggression toward the unfamiliar canine presence on her turf.

After those guys departed, we closed a door to keep the cats in our bedroom and provided Delilah a chance to move around the house, off-leash. She eventually found her way over to the spot on the carpet where Allison’s dog had been, and promptly peed. I guess I don’t blame her for behaving like a dog, but it didn’t win her any points for having house privileges. Out the door she got tossed.

We headed down to the barn, where Cyndie had been watering the seeded dirt along the new access around the building. Unfortunately, the water pooled in a couple of low spots where the new gravel had been spread. It was good to learn, though, and I set about raking the area to correct the situation. Now, instead of a pool of water, I had a soupy area of muddy gravel, graded just right. We went around the other side of the barn and put up boards in the high heat of the late afternoon.

When we finished with the boards, and were headed back up to the house, we turned the corner to find Delilah lounging in the cool of that muddy gravel soup.

Then Cyndie decided to try sprinkling some additional seed on the high side of the dirt slant above the gravel, around which she had already constructed an impromptu fence to keep people and dogs off the new seed. Of course, Delilah got in there and dashed to and fro, chasing some invisible enticement. Cyndie hollered, I scolded and commanded, Cyndie threatened, and Delilah thrilled at the excitement. What a circus.

To top it all off, Delilah then wandered off our property, into the neighbor’s field. I was up by the house when I heard a gunshot –a frequent sound around here, but this seemed closer than others– and then noticed Cyndie calling for the dog. I grew alarmed, because we keep talking about wanting to introduce Delilah to our neighbors who own the woods that surround two sides of our property, since we know they hunt and shoot guns a lot, and because Delilah has a distinctive profile that appears wolf-like, and coloring that matches some of the fox around here. We don’t want them to mistake our dog for a wild animal, if Delilah happens to wander into their woods or fields.

After several frantic calls, I spotted Delilah through the trees that form the border between their field and our property. She had an old mummified carcass in her mouth. I have no idea if the gunshot was related to her being over there, but it sure feeds my grave concerns about her lack of response to our commands. With a dead animal in her jaw, she seems to switch off her “pet” mode and cares nothing for our alpha role.

She’s the one with the prize.

Muddy, and hoarding her smelly dead prize, Cyndie left Delilah on the front lawn, to chew her grotesque carcass, vowing to leave the dog out all night alone.

It didn’t last. By the time dinner was almost done, when Delilah took a break from gnawing on her find and showed up at the back door, Cyndie was moved to go out in the dark and give Delilah a bath. They finished the night, both freshly cleaned, cuddling on the floor.

What a dog day!