Friday, June 10, 2011

pt. 2, an incident of near bloodshed

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Tucker by the backdoor, where he abides 86% of his time

I spent Tuesday last week putting up screens around the back porch. I was working by myself so it took a lot longer than it normally would. In fact, aside from fixing the kids lunch and refereeing a stray MarioKart dispute, I was out there all day. It was something like 98 degrees, so I left Tucker inside with Jack and Jon. He was beside himself. I could see him sitting by the backdoor, watching me, and occasionally his anxiety would overwhelm him and he’d let out a sharp bark and lunge headfirst into the glass.

Unfortunately, he stayed like that all day and by the time I had all the screens up and finally opened the door to release him, he about ran me over in his excitement to be free. He stood in the middle of the concrete for a second, surveying the modifications. Then he looked left, spotted a lizard in the grass, and went charging right through the porch rails. The newly placed screen did not even slow him down. He smashed right on through, left its scraggly ends flapping in the breeze, and kept going. He’d have caught that lizard, too, had I not frozen him in place with my most serious, most lethal, most violent..

“TUCKER!”

He looked back over his shoulder at me for a split second and then took off flying across the yard like he was running for his life. And he was. Maybe that heat had messed up my head. Or I was just a little overprotective of the screens I’d shed blood, sweat, tears, and fallen off a ladder for. Whatever the reason, before I knew what was happening I’d yanked up the closest portable projectile, a paintbrush, and was chasing him across the backyard.

It’s a good thing he ran. I mean, you know I love that dog, probably more than I should, but I’ve never before come so close to committing murder. Fortunately, I was brought back to my senses by the neighbors’ car coming slowly down their driveway. I wonder what they would have thought seeing a wild woman running down a dog with a paintbrush. I didn’t stick around to find out, but abandoned the chase and headed inside.

Where I stewed. But only until I noticed Tucker hanging around on the porch a few minutes later. He wanted to come in, but couldn’t bring himself to scratch at the door. Guess that paintbrush really scared him good.

So I invited him inside. We made friends again. No blood was shed. And he has wisely chosen to exit the porch by the door every day since. 

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