Simple Simon, the beagle I found in a cul de sac just off of rte 460, in bumfuck Virginia – Ivor to be exact – close to the family nudist resort, Whitetail. This was in the suburbs of Ivor, as if a town of maybe 2,000 can have suburbs. Actually, I didn’t find Simon. He found me. No collar, jumped right into the car, like it was where he belonged. His nails, teeth, coat looked great! Why is he out – without a collar? It’s a yearly trip to the Outer Banks, somewhere between 10 – 12 guys, talking baseball, and watching the NCAAs. The cottage is on a creek, just 1/2 mile, maybe, from the ocean. There’s no fence, and I cook for the weekend for the guys. So there’s about $200 worth of food in the car, and I want a bed, thus trying to get there early. No way I can take this dog with me, hell, we don’t know each other, and the baseball is pretty intense, all of the day Saturday, drafting players for your own team, bidding, with a salary cap for your 23 players. This canine find would not work. So, having 80 miles of the 180 mile trip under my tires, I had a choice to make. Do I just leave the dog back on the side of the road? Or go back the 80 miles & try again? The choice was simple. Go home to Richmond, drop the dog, and venture out again on the drive to Nags Head, which happened early Saturday morning. It’s such a nice drive! Simon is obviously house trained. He was introduced to a house with 2 other dogs, and a cat, Sassy.
Sassy runs the place, at her age of 112 in dog years. What are “cat” years? Simon learned pretty quickly not to fuck with the cat. Simon’s a slug. He loves to eat & snuggle. That’s about it. A year later I’m delving into training this dog (we’ll come back to that later).
Horatio stuck his head out from the almost new stove about a month ago. Just a cute, gray field mouse. Us humans got better about leaving food out. There were a number of sightings. Maybe he can be trained! Nonetheless, I bought the old school mousetraps, plying them with gourmet cheese – Swiss and Vermont white cheddar. Horacio was way over the humans. Cheese gone, no dead mouse. After checking it out online, I moved to peanut butter, then salami. And Horacio continued to eat well. I bought 3 more technologically improved mouse traps, one which would let him live. Kind of like mouse Russian roulette.
Why can’t a mouse, perfectly comfortable and fed well, just submit? One of the original traps brought him to his demise, sometime last night. Sassy was asleep on the rug in the kitchen. I knew something was up, as that is not where she sleeps, and I can talk to some animals, strange maybe but true. Sassy & I talk. And Sassy’s a talker. Cantankerous, loving life, a huntress.
Today our forecast is for “spotty” showers, high of 76. I’ll take my chances. Simon goes with me to the dog park as often as my schedule allows. You see, I’m not the one training him to be a, well, dog. The other dogs are.
Generally (not all) dogs are submissive. They want to be fed, they want the cuddling, the desire to be trained for their benefit. Sound familiar?