« Fool's Errand | Main | 300 going on 301 »
October 14, 2006
Day of Poop
Though she has often been pictured on the Barnstorming and often mentioned (usually as the butt of jokes), we haven't focused much on Iggy's well being and her feelings regarding the move to Chestertown. The fact is, she was reluctant at first. She is not a spontaneous dog, vastly preferring the known and predictable to new things and places. Though she enjoys new experiences within certain limits, she is wary of major life changes, and we worried that the barn move would throw her prematurely into the inevitable adolescent funk.
Little did we know that quite another influence would drive Iggy to the edge of angst. Instead of moping about how much she missed all her friends in Baltimore, hated the night sounds of Chestertown, was mortified to be living in a barn, etc., we now hear nothing but Iggy's endless plaintive requests to go outside and across the street to visit with her boyfriend Tanker.
Tanker is a jolly yellow lab, dog of Don (Captain Don/Jack Baur wannabee, to you) and Ann McColl. Iggy and Tanker became acquainted some weeks ago. At first there was blushing and furtive glancing on both sides. The pretense of indifference quickly faded, and the two soon professed undying enthusiasm for one another's company. And realize that Iggy doesn't just like Tanker. She loves him. She is fond of romping with most dogs and will run around with them for a while. But Iggy is standoffish and usually tires of other dogs quickly, preferring after a short while to return to us and continue on her way. But Iggy and Tank play together in a completely devoted way, and never seem to tire of one another. They take turns being submissive and dominant (Iggy is usually submissive to every other dog), and wrestle in a way that can only be described as loving.
The other day Donald and Ann asked us if we would take Tanker for the day, as they were going to be out of town. We went over to Don's house and ran through the Tanker care drill. They had asked us if we would just look in on Tank from time to time throughout the day, but we decided that it would be much more fun just to bring him over to our place. And so we did. He and Iggy played in the living room for a while, and then we took them to the park to play some more. They ran and wrestled and leaped and played tirelessly for about 8 hours. It was remarkable. I kept waiting for the big collapse, but it never happened. Until it suddenly happened. And we had two unconscious dogs on our hands.
Eventualy Don and Ann returned, came back to get Tanker, and Robbi and I cooked a lasagna for Bob, who was a bachelor for the evening on account of Seiko being out of town.
That's the nice, clean version of the day. That's the way we wish it had gone. In reality, the story is a bit less sanitary.
Here's a portrait of reality. Robbi is unhappy. Why is she unhappy? If only the computer screen had a scratch & sniff feature...
At one point near the end of the 8 hours of endless play we thought that it might be a good idea to take the dogs out to do their business. We did. Iggy did her thing. We were waiting for Tanker to do his. It is lucky that Robbi and I were both looking his way at the same time, because otherwise we would have missed the single most astonishing gasatrointestinal display I have ever witnessed. It lasted less than a second, but Tanker made it clear in a vivid moment that he was not feeling well. Robbi took him for a short walk while I cleaned up the mess. Hoping that he had done all that he needed to do, we warily brought him back inside. A few minutes later there was an afershock. Far less dramatic than the initial demonstration, but not insignificant. We did our best with a sponge and brush. Fortunately our sisal rug is a very forgiving color.
Let it be known, Robbi is very sensitive to odors.
The rest of the story is pretty much as reported earlier. Don and Ann returned. Tanker went home. Robbi, Bob, and I did enjoy a fine lasagna and then watched a movie.
Iggy did not rise from her bed until the middle of the next day and, according to accounts from Donald and Ann, Tanker was pretty much down for the count for the same duration.
If Iggy was aware of Tanker's little incident, she hasn't let on. In fact, her enthusiasm for him continues to grow. We worry that she might be a bit young to be having these kinds of feelings, but figure that she could have chosen a far lesser object for her affections. Like a poodle or weiner dog.
Posted by bogenamp at October 14, 2006 04:14 AM