What a difference a week makes...

The last time I wrote in here, I was typing about Savannah and Satchmo and how well they were getting along. I spoke too soon.  As I type now, Satchmo is at the local animal shelter, and I'm hoping beyond all hope that he finds a good home. Possibly one without a 70-pound dog already in residence.

Over the weekend, we drove to the no-kill shelters in the surrounding towns. No room at the inn. Well, of course there's no room... they keep every dog whether they're adoptable or not. And let's face it... older dogs and not-so-cute dogs hardly every get taken home.  Do the math: there could never be enough no-kill shelters for every single puppy and dog that comes into this world courtesy of people who don't 'fix' their pets.

With last-ditch efforts yesterday to find Satchmo another home, I couldn't put it off any longer. I gathered up his vet papers and vaccination certificates, and drove that little dog to the local shelter this morning. All the way there, Satchmo sat on my lap and watched this blasted country world go by, and when we got to the shelter he sat quietly in my arms while I talked to the woman there.

I offered to pre-pay Satchmo's adoption fee, so if someone did come along looking for a small dog, they wouldn't have to pay anything at all to take Satchmo home with them. The woman said that wasn't allowed, and there was just no guarantee how long they could keep Satchmo there, no matter how small he was and how little he ate. When I went into the dog-kennel area with Satchmo, I understood why... they had so many dogs and even litters of puppies. What on this blessed earth is wrong with people who don't understand the importance of getting their pets spayed or neutered? There ought to be a law... if you don't have those procedures done, then you can't have a pet. Period.

Savannah and Satchmo.... I thought they'd be best friends forever. It just wasn't meant to be. Satchmo just had too much energy for Savannah... always wanting to play, wanting to be the top dog here, and Savannah just didn't know how to handle that.  She either got very aggressive with Satchmo, or she stayed in another room and just ignored him, transferring her frustration to Sweet Pea, chasing that poor cat for no reason at all.  Most of the time, I had to keep Satchmo on a long leash in the kitchen, just so Savannah could have her own space in the breakfast room or the TV room. Not good. Not for either dog.

This morning when I left Satchmo in that kennel space, I could barely look at his face. He was sitting there quietly, as if all the energy had been drained out of him the minute we walked into the shelter door. I gave his leash to the guy taking care of the kennels and he asked me if Satchmo was friendly. "Yes, he's very friendly. He loves everybody."

It was all I could do to not scoop that little dog up and tell those people I had changed my mind. Savannah has been through a lot this year since those blasted fireworks sent her running off into the woods for 12 horrendous days. We got another dog because we thought it would be good for Savannah, and I would have done anything to bring her out of her post-lost shell.  We didn't realize that once the novelty of having a permanent playmate wore off, Savannah would be wanting her privacy and quiet-time back. Satchmo didn't understand privacy and quiet... he wanted to play, play, play, all the time, and the play just got too rough. Sooner or later, one of those dogs would have gotten hurt.

So now I'm hurting. But that will go away. It's easier having just one dog, and it's peaceful without Satchmo's energy reverberating all over the house. Savannah has stopped chasing Sweet Pea, and the house is like a tomb. Quiet. And all I can think of right now as I type is Satchmo sitting in that concrete kennel, wondering where his pillow bed is. If there is indeed a puppy god, I hope someone goes to the shelter and decides to bring Satchmo home with them.

I am so sorry I adopted that puppy in the first place.  Big, big mistake, and I'm paying for it  now.

Savannah and Satchmo

Thankfully, dog and puppy are getting along much better these days. We haven't had one phone call from anyone else wanting to make Satchmo part of their home, so I guess this puppy is here to stay. In the beginning of this adventure, I said that we would bring Satchmo to the local shelter if no one else wanted to adopt him. But since that horrible week when Savannah was growling and snapping at her new little brother, everything in their doggie-world seems to have settled down some.

And now, bringing Satchmo to the shelter seems to be a most ridiculous solution to minor dog-sibling problems. Besides that, someone else is sure to change his name, and having "Satchmo!" called out into the universe is a very natural and wonderful thing.  My husband still hasn't gotten used to Satchmo's name, but that's because he didn't grow up with a grandfather whose favorite entertainer was Louis Armstrong.  And somehow, that name just fits this prolifically happy and busy little puppy.

Never would I have believed that the addition of one 12-pound puppy would create so much extra work. Because Satchmo is so busy all the time, running from the kitchen into the breakfast room and back again like a little circus performer, he constantly has to go out into the grass. Puppies usually have an over-abundance of energy but I have never seen such Energizer-Bunny-ish movement in one small dog.

As I type this, Savannah is sleeping in her bed, Satchmo is sleeping underneath the table in the breakfast room, and Sweet Pea is on my lap.  The cats don't know what to make of Satchmo, other than watching him speeding around  and staying out of his way. Satchmo will go nose-to-nose with Sweet Pea inside and with Mickey outside, and everyone is friendly and happy with one another, but still, the cats stay out of Satchmo's running path so he doesn't have to jump right over them in his travels. (And he does just that--- jumps over the cats without breaking speed.) The stray kitten is still hanging around the barn, but I'm feeding him on the porch now to make it easier on myself. Barn Kitty will follow me up and down the road when I walk Satchmo, and if I'm in the backyard with Savannah, that little black kitten will walk with us from one end of the yard to the other. (That movie "We Bought A Zoo!" comes to mind.)

I brought Satchmo up to neighbors' J&J yesterday... they weren't home but JAS and Cindy were in their backyard pool and I knew that JAS would have Bella (her tiny Chihuahua) with her. It was the perfect opportunity for Satchmo and Bella to get acquainted, and for Savannah to have a puppy-break.  J&J's yard is enclosed with a wrought-iron fence that we all thought would keep Satchmo contained in that part of the yard around the pool. Well, it didn't take long for Satchmo to figure out how to squeeze himself between the bars and off he went, exploring towards the woods. Thankfully, I saw him before got away from the mowed-grass part of the property... had he gone off into the woods, I wouldn't have been able to follow him without knee-high boots and a police escort.

When I saw Satchmo at the edge of the grass near the woods, I opened up the gate and crouched down towards the grass with my arms out wide and I called his name. Well, the puppy gods were with us..... Satchmo turned around and saw my arms reaching out to him and he came running towards me as if he had been with me for three years instead of just three weeks. I picked him up, closed the gate, and sat down in a deck chair with him and he rested his head on my chest and raised his head up so it was under my chain. A perfect fit. For some as-yet unknown reason, we were meant to have this little dog.  As for Bella, her senior-dog status had no patience with a busy little puppy who was disrupting her pool-time.

Satchmo sleeps in his crate all night long, and very quietly. He stays in there till he sees me come down the back stairs into the kitchen and then he quickly stands up and stretches because he has to get out into the grass. I found a painted wood sign that is now hanging on the front door of that crate: "Dogs Welcome. Cats by Appointment Only."  It seemed to be the perfect touch for Satchmo's crate, and it makes me smile every time I see it.

When I go upstairs for the night, Savannah is usually in her pillow-bed, which is in a corner of the breakfast room. In the mornings, however, Savannah is usually curled up on the floor right next to Satchmo's crate.  Somehow, this is working. It's a lot of work, having two dogs instead of one, but it's working, even though sometimes I feel like I'm the one who needs to curl up in a crate and not be disturbed until the sun comes up.

Labor Day Weekend

It has been a busy day in this country bubble. True to what usually happens when my husband is out of town, something either breaks down, falls over, or requires repair with tools that I cannot use or cannot lift.

This morning, as I blissfully checked my eMail and browsed through Pinterest, the laundry room was slowly filling up with water that was continually being pumped into the washing machine. I had put in a small load of wash because I was up so early that it just made sense to get it done before the day got away from me.

When I noticed the water coming out of the laundry room, it had already spread through half of the kitchen and was on its way into the breakfast room. I didn't even hear the water spilling over because the doors were closed and the dogs were playing... and silly me, it was just a very quiet and peaceful morning. What to do first?!  I knew the water had to be shut off but all of that mechanism is enclosed in a weather-proof box outside and could I even get it open?

Not only was my husband not here, but the neighbors who I usually call in such an emergency were out of town also. I had told friend Cindy last week that if anything happened here when my husband was gone, I'd be calling her husband to come help. And we laughed.... what could possibly happen....

One phone call to Cindy had her riding her Range Rover out into her fields, looking for her husband who was cutting down the tall grass on their property. They were at my house in five minutes, and in that time, I was able to get the cover off of the protective box surrounding the shut-off valves for the water coming into this house... two of my fingernails are probably still outside near that wooden cover.

I turned off the water valves outside the house.... and Cindy's husband had to use some kind of wrench-thing to turn off the water faucets behind the washing machine. I had tried doing that first, but they wouldn't budge. Savannah stayed away from the water on the kitchen floor but Satchmo started dancing and sliding in it as if it were a new game. Into the TV room went Savannah, and into the crate went Satchmo. I had enough confusion in that kitchen without two dogs running around.

Not only had the washing machine filled up (and over) with water, but it was hot water... and I never wash anything in hot water, so something was clearly wrong with that machine. Cindy's husband said the machine would drain and spin if I turned the dial to that setting, and it worked. The water drained out, the sheets and towels spun around, and I put them in the dryer...... and then went back to mopping up the kitchen floor. Cindy's husband made sure the main water valves were turned on and everything was flowing into the house as it should...... and if you look at my laundry room now, it's as if nothing had happened.

Nothing indeed.  As soon as the floor was mopped clean and the sheets and towels were dry, I got myself ready to go into town, determined not to wait until my husband got home to do extensive research on the computer as to what washing machine I needed.  As I was driving into town, my husband called to ask how everything was going. I didn't know whether to mention this latest fiasco or not, being that he was too far away to do anything about it, but the frustration in my voice gave it all away and he knew something was up.

So I told him about the water spilling out of the washing machine and soaking half of the kitchen and nearly getting to the wood floor of the breakfast room.... and told him that I was on my way to Home Depot to buy not only a new washer but a new dryer as well.  "Well, I would be checking Consumer Reports and comparing the prices between Home Depot and Lowe's and they may have more of a selection up in College Station so we can take a look up there..."

He didn't get it. I had to explain over again:  "You don't understand. I am in my car. I am on the main highway driving towards Home Depot. I will see if they have Whirlpool or GE and I will buy both a washer and a dryer."   He asked me if I checked the Internet first.  "No. I was too busy mopping the floor and looking for a wrench-thing for Cindy's husband and trying to keep a dog and a puppy out of all that water."

At Home Depot, I found what I wanted, but they couldn't deliver them until next Saturday. Seriously? While the saleslady went to answer the phone, I called Cindy and asked her to look up the number for Lowe's.  I called them.... they had the same machines... which could be delivered tomorrow.  Fine. I drove across the highway and went into Lowe's..... found the machines........ found a sales person...... told him to write up the order if delivery could be done tomorrow.  He checked their inventory, they had the machines, they could get them delivered and set up tomorrow afternoon. Fine.  If I signed up for a Lowe's credit card, I could save another 5% on the machines. Fine. Sign here. Done.

Done. Done. Done. I am SO DONE with people thinking they need to make decisions for me. I still have a brain. I can do things myself and do them well.  I lived alone for a good long while and made my own way just fine. My mind has not turned to applesauce out here in this stupid country bubble and I hope to hell we don't live here long enough for that to happen.