Will anxiety meds be mixed in my kibble? I’m helping Mom sit a house in Beaverdale, Iowa. At first, I thought living in a town duplex was gonna be a hardship. I mean … I’m a loose kinda mutt with wanderlust running through my blood. So, I struggled with being tethered, day in and day out. Instead of focusing on confinement, I enjoyed the unique smells offered by the constant parade of walked dogs. Keeping my sniffer occupied helped my sanity.
Those dogs that live in Beaverdale have it made in the shade, man. There are two parks half a mile from our place. Mom made it her mission to trot me to and from one of those parks … daily.
I had just begun thinking the situation was tolerable when a squirrel figured out the front yard tree was just outside the limits of my chain. With his safety guaranteed, he proceeded to sarcastically snark, twitter, and squeak. He tossed his well-endowed tail with abandoned joy. The little twat was just outta my reach. Frustration doesn’t come close to describing my depth of feelings.
That was bad, but then that nasty little rodent did something despicable. So despicable, I almost wished he’d get squashed on the road. He told the behind-the-house rabbit what my parameters were. After Mr. Nasty Squirrel went to bed, Ms. Fluffy Bunny took over.
Ms. Bunny acted with malicious meanness. When darkness settles she quietly sneaks into my range. Then she does a quick wiggle of her cotton ball tail to grab my attention. With speed, my four paws hit the ground in a sprint. Reacting that way is pure instinct; no brain firing anywhere.
Yup, you guessed it. I hit the end of my chain with so much momentum it practically rips my head off. Ms. Mean Bunny laughs and laughs while she falls on the ground in fits of glee.
I’m a smart hound. Do you think I quit reacting to her shenanigans? I’m embarrassed to say I couldn’t quite get my brain sparks to override my instinct. It was getting so bad that Mom was contemplating drugging me. She felt a drugged dog would be better than a dead dog.
The parks saved the day.
Beaverdale Park has three treed areas for dogs and hikers. Yes, the rule is … dogs must be tied to their owners at all times. But My Mama thinks if we are totally alone, except for the occasional deer, it’s ok for me to run free and wild.
Ashby Park is the other area we frequent. This park has a ton of playground equipment and a great place to play Frisbee with dogs. I’ll never understand why my brethren want to run around trying to catch the silly saucer. I prefer to be nose deep in scents I can dig up or follow.
Anyway, they do have a small, wooded space I can roam. For this to be successful, Mom must always keep her eyes peeled. Sometimes people invade the park, so Mom locks me in the tennis court until the coast is clear.
These two parks have saved my sanity. At this point I can ignore the stupid squirrel. I bark at the bunny but seldom run after her tantalizing tail. Yeah, me got some powerful instinct control for being a mere mutt!
I’ve sorta enjoyed city life, but am looking forward to getting back to my summertime field in Minnesota.
Luv, Otis 🧡
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