The dogs are seniors now, each having grown up with their “favorite son.” Now that the boys have returned to school, the dogs seem to be bored. And the cats, well when they are entertained, everyone is entertained.
So, I turned the backyard into a menagerie of sorts, adding multiple bird feeders and a picnic table for the squirrels. Does that scream, “Middle age!” or what?
I need constant reminders to feed our son’s backyard rabbit, but those birds and squirrels will never go hungry.
In his advanced age, our labrador has a serious case of “I Do What I Want.” The bird and squirrel feeders provide some entertainment, but the new dogs on the farm behind our house are a temptation he just can’t resist.
To visit said dogs, Braxton has to go down a hill, across the creek and up the other side to an old fence. From a distance, it looks easy; a quick jaunt to the other side.
But, it’s not. How do I know this? Because in our older son’s absence — and Senior Dog’s recent disregard for the wireless fence — I was forced to take a hike.
After calling his name numerous times and hearing him moving through the trees, I realized Braxton was trying to get to the house but for whatever reason, could not.
Ugh. Do you know how cold it has been outside lately?
Over the river and through the woods I went, bundled up like a Ralphie in a Christmas Story and cursing our oldest for leaving his best friend at home. His best friend found a hole in the fence large enough and tempting enough to jump through, but was not able to find his way back again.
The far side of the creek is not cleared and it is steep. It took a hefty amount of time to clear a path to the fence without tumbling into the water or losing an eye to a rogue tree branch.
And there Braxton stood between two fence lines. The two Great Pyrenees pups looking on with curiosity from their own yard.
Once rescuing Braxton from his predicament and reminding him he is not young and spry like his new friends, I spent the next few minutes plugging the fence hole with debris.
Kind of like putting a baby gate at the top of the stairs.
Before the rescue attempt, I snapped a picture of the daredevil dog and sent it to our son, “Come get your child!”
He laughed. He laughed knowing that he can’t come get his “child” because his campus housing does not allow for it.
So, I have resorted to lecturing Braxton every time he goes outside.
“I will NOT come rescue you again! Leave those dogs alone and stay in your yard!”
I know full well the last thing I want to do is call our son and tell him his Bestie has “officially disappeared.”
So, my parenting tactics of the toddler years are now bestowed upon the Fur Children. And the Fur Children listen about as well as the toddlers.
Motherhood, Part II, is a recurring column in the Springfield News-Sun.
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