Wordless Wednesday

 

Beat This Caption

 

Curious George Joins the Circus with Mixed Results

Monday Question

 

I got an awesome lick mat that I use when my parents are having a snack in the living room so I don't get in their faces and bother them.   I used to have a marrow bone filled with treats, but my mouth and the bone were not a good match.

Do you have any toys that contain treats a little bit at a time?

Saving Calvin, the Dog in the Well

 

Once again, the tiny, terrific terrier duo was called upon to save a dog, and this time I can honestly say I couldn’t have done it without Pocket. 

    I was lying in the backyard getting some sun when I saw the Foley signal.  I yelled “To the Yorkie Poles,” and Pocket joined me as two of my minions, the Stavinsky brothers, natives of Warsaw, and terrible dog parents, dragged us in a rickshaw to the site where the prayer was issued. 

    We looked around and didn’t see a dog in need, just two standing by a hole staring downward. I checked my IPaw and it said the dog, Calvin, was praying for salvation after falling down a well.  We flew inside it, and sure enough, we found the 12-year-old Golden Retriever desperately treading water twenty feet below the ground.

    This is where working as a duo paid off.  Calvin was in desperate circumstances.  He was growing tired and needed encouragement.  But, more imperative was getting him help.  If I had stayed with Calvin, the rescue would not occur, but he would have become weary and drown if I left him alone.  Thankfully, Pocket was with me, and she could stay with the dog while I got help. 

    Usually, I could wait until nightfall and drop into a dream to tell the parents where their missing dog was, but everyone was wide awake, and by nightfall and dream time,  it would be too late.  They were working in the yard.  It was impossible to get their attention; I had to get Calvin’s siblings, Ava and Aubrey, two purebred miniature poodles, to stand by the hole and bark like they never had before. Being naturally chatty, the girls began perfectly barking and got their parents' attention.  The duo was somehow surprised that their aged, half-blind dog had fallen into a large open hole on their property.

    Pocket stayed with Calvin, encouraging him to swim.  He continued to say that he wanted to rest for a moment, but the dog was not buoyant enough to stay afloat on his own, and Pocket kept telling him just one more minute than he could rest.  Pocket yelled to me that Calvin didn’t have too much longer.  

    We had to communicate to the confused parents to call 9-11.  Dogs cannot speak, but we can bark in short bursts and make it sound like a phrase.  I asked both girls to bark “9-11.”  It only took the dim-witted parents a few minutes to recognize it and call.

    Pocket knew Calvin was failing. She remembered she had a treat in her ear she had saved for later.  She got it out and then flew over Calvin, with the treat just out of reach.  Pretty clever for a second sister.  Still, even wanting the treat, Calvin had minutes left before we would be greeting him at the Bridge. 

    The emergency responders arrived.  Pocket kept telling Calvin one more minute.  After ten, she was losing faith as Calvin’s eyes were closing, and he was barely staying afloat.  Just before he went under, a man repelled down, grabbed Calvin then pulled him to safety.

Once we knew Calvin was safe and his stupid parents would cover the hole, we went home. The pocket was very excited about the save.  It was her first one where the subject was so close to passing.  She sat at the end of my bed, nervously talking about it.  Finally, tired and wanting to go to sleep, I asked Pocket to settle down.  She did but still fidgeted and kept me awake. 

And that is how I ended up playing ball with her in the middle of the night.  And she still doesn’t bring it back.

Pocket the Half A Bee

I do not like to assume a bug’s body unless in an emergency.  They are cheap and always available but are unsteady, not cute, and unwelcome by humans.  Also, when you borrow one, you must get expensive insurance because they are easily squishable.  

    When Pocket came to me and said she wanted a bee body, I tried to tell her that she wouldn’t like it.  But, you know how persistent she can be.  So I took her to the hive and let her pick out a bee.  She wanted the smallest one available, nothing more than a baby.  She gladly paid the insurance for this very squishable body.  

    Pocket shocked me by saying she wanted to go at night.  I told her no one would be able to see a little bee in the dark, but she persisted. 

Before Pocket made her switch, I noticed a twinkle in her eye, the kind she used to get before she played with me.  I knew she was up to mischief, so I borrowed a moth body to keep an eye on her.  

We flew down to the front yard, and she settled on a flower while I fluttered by the window, trying to discover her motives.  Then I heard the door open and saw River walking on a leash.  I could have flown down to warn her, but I wanted to see what Pocket’s play was.

When Pocket saw River, she flew her little bee body towards the pup.  I thought she was going to bite.  I wouldn’t blame Pocket.  River took big chunks out of her a few times, and Pocket had become an avenging angel.

Pocket settled on her leg, and I waited for the yip from River as Pocket stung her, but there wasn’t one.  The river began walking into the house, and I saw Pocket’s bee body holding on to River’s leg.  I could not believe what I was seeing.  Pocket was getting into the house in a body.  Since humans learned to put doors on dwellings, this has rarely happened.  

I flew to the window and watched.  I saw River begin to shake her leg like she was trying to kick a thousand little soccer balls in a row.  Pocket continued to aggravate River by running up and down her leg.  Finally, the humans noticed River’s odd behavior and dropped to the floor to discover what caused this spasm. 

When Pocket was found on River’s leg, I shut my eyes, expecting her body to be squashed, but something strange happened.  Pocket was put on a finger, and she got to feel what all angels long for, their human touch.  It lasted several glorious seconds until, because no one knew it was her, she was dropped in the sink and sent to the sewers.

I flew back to the Bridge, where an excited Pocket had happily paid for the lost body. She told me how wonderful it was to be touched by a loving human again, even if they found her revolting.  It was an angel’s dream come true.  While I wish I had thought of it, I was proud of Pocket.  

So, next time there is a bug in the house, before you kill it, give it a little pet because you never know who it is.  

Two People and a Dog in Search of a Vet

 

Sketchy is a tiny chihuahua who lives with his two parents.  Now that he is a senior, he loves it when they carry him.  But, he still has the instinct to bound to the door whenever he hears someone outside.  Lately, he has been mistaking different sounds for a knock.  On this day, when a car door shut, Sketchy unexpectedly pushed away from his dad and fell to the floor.  When he landed, he yipped in pain and began limping.

His concerned parents picked him up and maneuvered the leg, hoping it was just a sprain.  Sketch’s shriek of pain proved otherwise.  It was on the weekend, so their only choice was to take him to the emergency vet.  With his mom holding the injured pup, his dad sped to the pet ER they regularly used.

Per COVID protocols, his dad texted the office that they had arrived and the issues that brought them.  A masked tech came to the car while Sketchy’s mom told him that he had to go with her, but his parents would be anxiously waiting in the car.  His dad rolled down the window and carefully lifted Sketchy to pass him to her.  

“I’m sorry,” the young tech said. “We can’t take your dog.  We are full.”

The woman took Sketchy’s dad aback.  “What do you mean full?”  He had never had a dog turned away at the emergency vet before.

“We can’t take on any extra patients; our recovery room is full.”

“We are not looking for Sketchy to stay overnight,” the father explained.  “We would just like an x-ray and maybe a splint.”

“Yes, I understand, but we could find something on the x-ray, like bone cancer or a condition that requires surgery, and we would have to admit him.  We wouldn’t be good doctors if we sent a patient in need of medical attention home.”  

“But, you’re not letting us get medical attention!” Sketchy’s dad shouted.  “How is that any better?”

“It’s like a pair of socks at Christmas,” the girl said.  Sketchy’s dad, his anger growing, held up his hand and shrugged to convey that he did not understand.

“Before Christmas, everything is wrapped under the tree,” she said excitedly, “There might be a box under the tree that catches your eye.  You get excited about what it could be, and then when you open it, you find out its Christmas socks, and you are disappointed and have to find a place in the drawer for them.  We don’t want to find out Sketchy is a box of socks so that we won’t be seeing him.”  She turned and walked away.  

Sketchy’s dad wanted to follow the woman and continue to argue, but his mom said they needed to concentrate on the dog’s health.  She convinced him to drive north, where there were several emergency vets, and hopefully, one of them could see Sketchy.

None of them could.  Each ER insisted they were full and sent them to the next one further North, until they had traveled 120 miles to New Hampshire’s Lake Region, where they drove to the shore, handed over Sketchy in a plain, brown paper bag to two indigenous people who canoed him to an island where an unlicensed shaman chanted over Sketchy, then put an ill-fitting splint on the poor baby.  When Sketchy’s dad tried to pay with a credit card, he was waved off and told they would take six fresh catfish as payment.  After a night of fishing, the debt was paid, and Sketchy returned home with his parents.

While fishing, the dad accidentally embedded a hook in his hand.  During the trip home, it became infected.  They stopped at a hospital and went to the emergency room.   They told him they could not see him because the facility was full.

They suggested a hospital on an island run by a shaman.

The dad told the tech it was okay.  He would take his chances with the infection.  So much for modern medicine.  

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