We have a basset hound named Duke. We call him, “Short Dog” because he’s short.
He has 6 inch legs. His ears are in his water bowl when he drinks. And he has hamster eyes that look like they are about to pop out of his head.
I am a crazy-cat-lady at heart, but if I have to have a dog – I’ll take Duke.
He’s sweet. He’s low maintenance. He leaves the chickens alone (mostly). He keeps the coyotes away. My kids adore him. DH loves him. Duke is a great dog.
The other day I went out with my oldest son to see his new chicks and admire their cuteness. Duke looked like he could use some exercise and fresh air, so we fastened the leash and headed to the brooder.
When we got out to the big, red barn I let Duke explore around (inside the barn) while my son and I played with some baby, buff orpingtons. When I turned around to make sure Duke was not drooling over the newly hatched chicks, he was gone.
Duke was gone. A quick ear could detect that he was just in the woods behind the barn barking at something in a tree. This is the problem with hounds – their noses. If it weren’t for those noses I’m pretty sure they would never move.
My son jumped on a 4-wheeler to go grab him. Duke likes to follow his nose, which takes him into territory and terrain that no 4-wheeler has ever gone before. We knew he (Duke) wasn’t far from home because he never stops barking when he’s on a scent and we could hear him.
We called. We yelled. We 4-wheeled. There was no gettin’ that dog. Which was not a great thing since we were supposed to meet some friends in 15 minutes for a birthday party at a restaurant 15 minutes away.
Duke is generally low energy and returns to the garage after a romp in the woods, so we left him outside to play. We would n’t be gone long.
When we got home – Duke was not in the garage.
He was not on the back porch.
He was not on the front porch.
He wasn’t in the woods barking.
Ugh. Duke was gone.
My oldest daughter is Duke’s person and she was none too happy with me.
“MOM. You lost my dog!”
“Sorry, I’ll find him – I promise.”
Duke is microchipped. This isn’t the first time he’s wandered off and I’m sure it won’t be the last. He always comes back. Somehow. Unfortunately. lol.
As expected, my phone, email, and texts were blowing up first thing the next morning.
“YOUR PET HAS BEEN FOUND.”
I called the number.
The first thing she said when I phoned her was, “Oh, he’s such a sweet dog. If you hadn’t called we were going to keep him!”
DH promptly said, “Tell her to keep him.”
I said, “NO! That is your children’s dog. What is wrong with you!”
So, I fetched the dog.
The last time this happened I drove 40 minutes one way to pick up my short, 4-legged, hobo-dog.
This time he was 6 miles down the road. Ugh.
Better than 40 miles, but good grief! That nose! That stinkin’ hobo!
Bad, Bad Dog!
As I loaded Duke into my car I thanked the nice lady for keeping Duke safe overnight. I asked her where she found him.
She said, “You know where that old tobacco barn used to be on the Highway? There’s some Jersey cows there now…”
I said, “Yup.”
She continued, “I pulled in the driveway and when I opened the door Duke just jumped in my car.”
In case you are confused…..
The “old tobacco barn” is my barn..
The Jersey cows are my cows.
The driveway she pulled into was my driveway.
Duke was in HIS yard when she pulled into my driveway and took my dog to her house.
Duke was kidnapped.
When Duke got home he was exhausted. He was tired. He’s always asleep but this was different. He wouldn’t eat. He wouldn’t drink. All he did was sleep for 24 hours.
My oldest daughter, who is Duke’s person was not happy. She loves her short dog. Short Dog loves her.
First, I lost her dog, now he was going to starve to death trying to recuperate from being kidnapped.
Instead of walking around the house saying, “Mom, You lost my dog!”
She was petting her dog saying, “Mom, You broke my dog!”
Well, he wasn’t broken for long. Duke woke up the next morning with a renewed appetite & is doing fine.
I lost the dog.
I found the dog.
I broke the dog.
Now, he’s fixed.
Have I mentioned, I’m a cat person?