Thursday, July 21, 2016

The Puppy Days of Summer Are Upon Us

Whew! It's hotter'n a habanero in Sriracha on an egg fried on a Death Valley sidewalk!

The heat doesn't matter that much to me at the moment, because, well, I'm in the air conditioned homestead, specifically below ground in my dark basement lair, where there's a chill that urges me to use my below-desk heater. Which I resist. Mostly.

Our animals are becoming acclimatized, what with the heat having crept in earlier in the summer, before reaching this crescendo. We've had temps in the mid-90s for at least two weeks now. My sweet, sweet Juno and Puppy Jack accompany Hick on his Gator rides, with a favorite destination being Hick's cabin down by the creek. That's where Puppy Jack first learned about water not in bowl form, I suppose.


Then we had the incident where Hick let Puppy Jack follow him and Juno up to the other property, where he was almost swept away in creek water too deep for his short legs! Ever since that evening when I was greeted by a soaking wet Puppy Jack when I went out to feed him, Jack has been showing up for supper soaking.

Hick claims ignorance (heh, heh, FINALLY) on the subject of where Jack is swimming. He's the one who created this monster, giving my pup his first taste of aquatics. I am fearful that Jack may jump into Poolio and not be able to get out. To his credit, Hick is mean to Jack and shouts at him every time he's in Poolio and Jack climbs the steps to the deck. Still, Jack shows up for supper soaking. It has been a mystery until this week.

Hick first suggested that Puppy Jack was utilizing the moat around his freight cars that would be a garage. "I've seen him get in there before. I bet he goes for a swim while I'm out feeding the chickens."


I disagreed, because Jack is not muddy every time I see him. Still. Jack came to supper soaking. Then Hick reported that he had seen Jack in the chickens' watering pan. Laying there. He was kind of indignant. Hick. Not Jack. "That dog of yours! I went over to feed the chickens the other evening, and there he was, laying in the chickens' water!" Like there was some sign that Jack could read to tell him there was no lifeguard on duty, or that it was had a Chickens Only policy. !!UPDATE!! And just tonight, The Pony and Hick caught Jacky Jack frolicking in the goat's water tub! You can tell it's in the goat's pen, because everything has been eaten except the dirt.


Hick was further flustered to walk around the kitchen nook of the porch one day and surprise Jack indulging in his not-at-all-guilty pleasure. "He was curled up in the water bowl! His own drinking water! He got out when I hollered at him. And about half the water went with him." Huh. I wondered why on some days, it seemed like Juno and Jack must have been really, really thirsty.


On Sunday, Hick decided to grill some bratwursts. He grabbed a bottle of Michelob Dry and a bowl of BBQ sauce, and headed around to the side porch to slap his sausage on Gassy-G, the auction grill. That didn't last long. Back he came, and flung open the kitchen door. "Your dog is swimming in the goldfish pond!" I told him to get a picture, but by the time we got back outside, Jack had wised up and evacuated his own private swimming pool. "I wondered why that stump looked like it had been moved. That's his ladder!"


Let the record show that those particles are clumps of fish pellet food that Hick tosses in every evening for his bigger-than-your-hand goldfish that he's grown from Walmart goldfish size, back when Walmart used to sell goldfish. It wouldn't surprise me if Jack was jumping in there to eat the food.

Anyhoo...here's Jack with The Pony when he took the water dish picture. Looks like our Jacky is contemplating a swim. Good thing his lifeguard, Juno, is there to supervise. I don't mind Jack taking the plunge every now and then, as long as it's not in Poolio.


Hick has promised to make Jack his very own puppy pool by cutting the end off a blue plastic barrel. A kiddie pool would be too awkward. I want to fill it each morning, and dump it each evening. Jack's a little doggie. He only needs a little pool.

Really. Who could begrudge a little fella like this his nightly dip?



14 comments:

  1. He would be very easy to spoil.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. He's already pretty rotten. Just ask Hick about the cover for his precious 1980 Olds Toronado.

      Delete
  2. It would be hard denying anything to that cute face.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yes. About the only time he hears "No!" is when he chases the chickens.

      Delete
  3. Poor hot little buddy. I'd have him in my basement lair.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Every now and then (when Hick is at work) I scoop Jack up and carry him through the house with me. Shh...that's our little secret.

      Delete
  4. Screeech (to a stop).

    First, Hick slapped his sausage on the grill? You missed that one.

    I guess Jack will be skinny dipping...

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. If you mean did I miss getting a PICTURE of Hick's grill/sausage moment...yes.

      Jack is indeed a skinny-dipper. Which, thankfully, Hick is NOT. Though he got close when he went through his tighty-whitey swimwear period.

      Delete
  5. Who could begrudge him anything at all?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I know, right? Jack is pretty persuasive when he bats those puppy eyes. And precious when he stands on his hind legs and prances with that long little body leaning up against your shin.

      Delete
  6. Replies
    1. I feel like I'm two-timing my sweet, sweet Juno!

      Delete
  7. Replies
    1. Since Puppy Jack doesn't have a little finger...I guess you could say he has me wrapped around his long little torso.

      Delete