The Little Pack

Turns out that explains everything, and I mean everything about Cheyenne. Her absolute Tasmanian devil-like destruction, her strange sounds and inability to bark, her hunting instinct, the way she chases the kitties (how many times a day do I say “Cheyenee, quit chasing the cat.”, “Cheyenne, you leave that cat alone” and my personal fave, “Cheyenne, don’t eat the kitty!”), the fact that she hates water, grooms herself and trims her toenails, her utter lack of interest in retreiving toys, and of course, her supreme intelligence, yet complete incapability to learn, um, almost anything. I had absolutely no idea just how unique these animals are until I started reading about them, and now I am obsessed. Someone needs to start a support group for us poor souls, and if noone else does, then I will.

Kind of like John and Kate Plus Eight, only not as catchy. Dixie, our fourth dog and sixth pet. Whoa. I had the most vivid dream the other night starring Jack, IO, 2 Cheyennes and 3 Dixies. And sometimes the cats were with us too. In a major city, trying to get from point A to point B with not enough leashes, and complete chaos, Jack not listening, IO scared and hiding, traffic, people, other dogs. And then there was the rational part of myself analyzing the dream and wondering whatever happened to the other Cheyenne, did she have a sister we couldn’t save? did we lose one along the way? and why were we in a movie theatre with all the dogs anyway? The feeling of being absolutely overwhelmed was so real I woke up completely stressed out. I used to know that in some sort of crisis, (flood, tornado, end of the world, etc.) that I could still save all the animals if I was by myself. I had a plan. Now I hope for the best. So… Miss Dix. I have high hopes that she will be the peacemaker, and all will be well in Jack’s world again.