Since I cannot post any pictures at the moment, I am worried that certain things I was going to post from Thanksgiving may never happen. Because, on a good day, I am barely caught up. Trying to remember not to forget things that happened more than two weeks ago is more or less an unnecessary exercise in futility. A sentence which I realize is redundant (since an exercise in futility is, by definition, unnecessary). I’m just really hitting the point home for the future me who wonders why I never posted those pictures from Banner’s first hike around the ranch.
In other words, future me needs to remember who the real enemy is here. Namely, Picasa Web Albums and Google.
But I digress. All I really want to do is tell you story about Haskell at the ranch over the Thanksgiving holiday. Because this blog has really been lacking stories about my Awesome Pawsome since Banner’s arrival. This is sad, because they continue to amuse me often with their antics and near constant health crises. Like Gypsy managing to get both a yeast AND bacterial infection in her right ear AND her back paw at the SAME TIME earlier this fall. Because who knew THAT was possible? She’s obviously stepping up her game now that a baby is in the house.
But back to Haskell.
Now that all three of our canine “children” are getting…ahem…older, it takes less to wear them out. So, even though we were only at the ranch for just under 48 hours, they were EXHAUSTED. Haskell in particular.
Case in point: On the Saturday after Thanksgiving, my brother, brother-in-law and I walked out to the newly installed flagpole next to the peak. It was after dinner – probably close to 10 PM – and the quarter mile or so walk (one way) also doubled as the “last chance” potty break for the all the family canines (of which there were, I kid you not, SEVEN in attendance over the holiday). It was dark outside, so keeping track of all of the dogs by moonlight alone was difficult. Still, I could account for all of them by the time we reached the aforementioned flag pole. All that is, except for Haskell.
I called for him over and over, but to no avail. I wasn’t really worried, though. Until, that is, I started back towards the house sometime later and realized I hadn’t seen him since we set out.
About 2/3rds of the way back to the ranch house, I saw a dark mass in the middle of the road. An unmoving mass that was too big to be a pile of horse poop but too small to be one of our dogs.
Or so I thought.
It ended up being – you guessed it – Haskell. Apparently, 1/3rd of the way out to the flagpole, he became too tired to continue on or return to the house. So, he simply gave up and lay down in the middle of the caliche gravel and ceased to move a muscle until I happened back upon him later on.
And, you know what? I honestly think that dog expected me to pick his 60 pound a$$ up and carry him back to the ranch house. It was pathetic.
I didn’t though. But only because my hands were full. Not because I have standards.
Instead, I became Haskell’s own personal pep squad and congratulated him on his step by step progress. And eventually we did succeed in making it back to the house and the comforts of his doggie bed.
The next morning Haskell was still so tired that he peed on the cement walkway instead of venturing into the grass to do his business. And when it was time to leave for Dallas, I had to pick him up and place him in the car. Three hours later, though, he had made a miraculous recovery and felt well enough to bark incessantly at my mother’s chickens for nearly three hours straight. But when I got the hose out to bathe him later that afternoon, he was suddenly too exhausted to do anything but lay in the grass and stare at me. I – literally – had to drag him to the hose.
He may be a dog, but Haskell deserves an Oscar for all his drama and acting, I swear.