In The Doghouse

Harper is having issues while dogsitting. We don't have to import dogs to have issues. Our own do that quite well enough on their own.

The standard morning routine around here is that our son gets up disgustingly early to attend to various school activities. He generally comes downstairs around 6:00 a.m., lets the dogs out, fixes himself a quick breakfast, and lets them back in around 6:15 on his way out the door.

Today, however, they decided to (1) chase deer, and (2) get into a fight with a raccoon, all the while barking and howling at the top of their furry little lungs. Our son chased after them, yelling at the top of his lungs for them to "come."

Of course, most of the action took place near our bedroom window.

After waiting in vain a few minutes for the ruckus to die down, I  stumbled out of bed, pulled on my robe, stuck my feet into a pair of flip-flops, grabbed a flashlight, and went outside.

Our property is fenced and cross-fenced. The area around the house is fenced, enclosing about 3 acres. The land slopes from front to back, has lots of small rock outcroppings, and is blessed with a lot of vegetation that defends itself with thorns, stickers, and pointy leaves (wait-a-minute vines, agarita, and of course cactus). That is not the best terrain in which to stagger around in the dark while wearing flimsy sandals. Great way to sprain/break an ankle/knee/leg.

The prevailing 'trees' are scrub cedars, which are better described as tall bushes rather than trees. That means the raccoon can't climb high enough to escape the dogs, and the dogs can shake the tree/bush hard enough to dislodge the hapless raccoon and get it on the ground.

Did I mention that a cold front blew through last night, with temperatures in the 40s and winds gusting around 30 mph? Did I also mention that I habitually sleep nude?

So I'm chasing two dogs who are chasing a raccoon who is dashing from tree to tree, but doesn't quite make it to the next one before the mutts catch up to him. The result is a few seconds of intense tumbling furballs punctuated by respites in the cedars. My robe is flapping open, forcing me to divide my attention between dangerous footing, dangling genitals, and battling animals.

The damn coon finally made it to the fence and escaped through it, leaving a pair of extremely excited and frustrated dogs.

And one thoroughly pissed-off almost-senior-citizen.

I had to use the belt from my robe as a makeshift leash to drag the dogs back to the house. Thank goodness it was still dark, because I was in no mood to worry about the neighbors getting an eyeful as my robe flapped freely in the wind.

My wife, of course, slept through the whole fiasco. Worse yet, she showed no inclination to help warm up those parts of my anatomy that had gotten chilled.

Damn dogs...