(re-run from 2018)
Normally I write about my rescue dog on a monthly basis, on her adoption anniversary date, the 26th of December. Consider this a bonus post, since she has been making news these past two days.
Every morning I get into the hot tub with my cup of black tea, and Daisy perches on the edge of the hot tub, guarding me from the morning dangers, like wind, sunlight, and leaves falling.
Yesterday she lost her footing and fell into the steamy water – 102 degrees. Plus, it was over her head. I was able to grab her and get her high enough for her to scramble out on her own. Twenty pounds is too much for me to do in a dead lift. She had an invigorating bath with no soap.
Today she was back on the ledge, so I guess she didn’t learn a thing yesterday.
Since smoke from a vegetation fire invaded my airspace yesterday around noon, I didn’t walk the dogs. I got up early today, got ready, and had time to take the dogs to the park before my worker woman came over. I tried to put the purple harness on Daisy, but she scratched my bare leg a good one, so instead I put her into a time-out in the bathroom and took Pepper to the park first. Then I came back, got Daisy’s harness on her, and took her to the park.
We were having a fine time playing fetch. No one else was around. We were on our 9th or 10th throw when I noticed a man in my peripheral vision. He had three little fluffy dogs on leashes.
Daisy saw them, too, and since she was off leash and feeling sassy, she made a beeline for the dogs. I called and called her, but she had to check out those tiny creatures that weighed maybe the same as she does, if you combined their weights.
The man freaked out and kicked at Daisy while she was busy checking them out. She wasn’t growling or picking a fight, just being her happy self but barking her maniacal bark. She looks deranged but she’s just being her neurotic self. The little ones got stressed since their owner was stressed. The next thing I knew the man had picked up my dog by her purple collar and had her hanging there in the air by her neck. By then, I had made it over to them and grabbed my dog out of his hands, a squirmy, writhing Jack Russell, but a little stunned by the neck thing.
Then my worker woman, who had just pulled up and had heard all the commotion, came into the park.
“Kelly, come help me!” I called to her.
I had the leash in my hand, but there was no way I could let go of my dog to put on the leash. Kelly helped me, while the man stood there, fuming.
In all fairness, we are not normally at the park at 9:00 a.m. He was surprised. I was surprised. Daisy was happy to be out in the grass running, after having had no walk yesterday.
I didn’t look back as I took my dog home. Daisy didn’t get her full ball-throwing session. Now she is pressed up against me as I pound out this post in my recliner.
Daisy, what are you doing with a sixty- something owner? You need a nine-year-old kid to run with.
Tomorrow, smoke willing, I will take you at your normal 1:30 park time, when we can have the whole place to ourselves.
That old man and his fluffy dogs will be long gone by then.