A Pie Eyed Mess

 

          A Pie Eyed Mess

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 It’s been a rough week for me and my pooch, Lola. I’m a mess. Lola is doing better than I am and she’s the one who limped home bleeding.

I’m going to fill in a bit of the back story for you. Sky is about a year and a half old now. Up until one day in April, Lola and Sky were good play buddies. Sky often accompanied Lola and me on our walks and it was a pleasure to watch their running-dog games.

On the day play turned mean, another dog attacked Lola. Sky watched, tilted her head and you could almost hear her thoughts, “Oh, so that’s the way it’s done.” Sky joined the fray. This took an instant, rolling Lola and biting at her. I began yelling and wielding my cane, lot of good that did, but the dogs let go, Lola raced home, unhurt.

From that day, Sky lay in wait, on the alert to bully Lola. Lola scampered home multiple times. Lola is not and never has been an alpha dog, despite her age.

Most days I could talk Sky down so the dogs could play. About a month ago Sky got a new companion, Cloud, a street dog rescue. Both dogs are big. Sky is not dumb. She taught her new mate everything she knew. Some days Lola would not leave our yard. I kept on the alert.

I was out cutting a magnolia flower from my tree outside my wall. I like to put a magnolia in a small bowl and have the scent waft throughout the house. All of a sudden, there was this unholy racket, barking, squealing, yelping pain. I screamed, “No, no, no.”

I’m not about to separate fighting dogs. My yelling stopped the pair of aggressors and Lola limped home, bleeding freely from her front leg. Her back, thick with long hair, was coated with slobbers. I couldn’t find any other owies. Lola would not let me touch her leg but the purple stuff sprays everywhere.

I kept a watchful eye on Lola in case we needed to go to the vet. Lola is fine, healing quickly, hasn’t even picked her scab. I’m a mess. If I were a dog, I would pick.

I let the neighbor dog owner know what happened. He won’t take any action. Dogs will be dogs. That’s true. One thing I know, true or not, is that once a dog has tasted blood, they will go for it again. It will happen. Dogs will be dogs.

I’ve rearranged outside time for me and Lola. I’ve a large back yard, so Lola has plenty of running room. I use the back gate for our shorter walks, out of the line of sight.

I’m a mess. I don’t feel safe from dog attack, not for Lola, not for me. I could easily be mowed down in the middle.

 Lola is part of my therapy. She senses my unease and gives me extra attention. I know, it should be the other way around. 

My other therapy is my oven, my go-to stress relief. I baked buns. I made crackers. Yesterday I whipped up a leek pie. Today I made an apple pie.

I could do worse. It keeps me off the street. My few neighbors benefit. I share with Lola.

And, I’m filling my freezer.

Sondra Ashton

Looking out my back door

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