The Little Pack

Cheyenne despises animals on the TV.  She will race across the room from wherever she is, stand on her hind legs and leap straight up in the air towards the TV growling and carrying on. The hair on her back stands up and sometimes when she is really distraught, she will race from window to window, whining and whimpering, “defending” the house from these interlopers. Considering that nature shows are (or should I say were) one of my most favorite things to watch on TV, this is more than a little annoying. IO does not like a lot of commotion–in fact, we call her the Fun Wrecker–so she will put Cheyenne in line, to end the ruckus. Often Cheyenne can’t help herself, and then we have Cheyenne snarling at the TV and IO barking repeated warnings at her. Sometimes IO will be so fed up she will literally “rush” Cheyenne. IO does this sparingly, as she has to give up whatever warm cozy spot she is in. Cheyenne will then struggle between being submissive to IO and striking back at the predators on TV. To avoid upsetting IO, Cheyenne has become more selective over the years. Instead of expressing her hatred for all animals, she now reserves it for “special” occasions, such as baboons, lions, bears and wolves. I, too, have curbed the amount of time I spend watching these types of shows. Sometimes when she wants to be naughty, I see her look at the TV searching for a reason to be upset and make a fuss. It never ceases to amaze me just how observant she is.

This morning started with a serious breakdown. The dogs began to “celebrate” my awakening before I was actually getting up. They would bark and leap off the bed at my slightest movement. Once I finally got up, I came out into the living room to laundry that was strewn from one end of the house to the other. They, and by they, I really mean Cheyenne and Dixie, had taken dirty clothes out of the hamper. They had gotten into the shoes and thankfully settled for carrying them around instead of eating them.  Soon they were chasing each other. Meanwhile, the cats were chasing each other, Archie was eating dog food, Dixie was in the kitchen,woofing and twirling around on her hind legs, begging for breakfast. We let Cheyenne out and almost immediately heard the distinctive ruckus of birds. Which means that a mama bird was defending her young from none other than our beloved Shoo Shoo. I knew I was in for it today before I ever even had a sip of coffee.

We have been teaching Dixie to be on the electric fence outside and she is doing really well with it. My thoughts on electric fences are still to come, but it has been a life saver with Cheyenne. Jackson and IO are not on the fence, but Dixie has had a bad habit of chasing cars. She is doing really well, and no longer chasing cars or kids on bikes. We are starting to leave her outside by herself for several minutes at a time. Her confidence level is soaring. She is so happy to be able to run and chase Cheyenne. After everything she has been through, it is fantastic to see her happy and healthy.

IO seems very wise to me here, and indeed, she is. This is classic IO: she loves to relax. In the mornings, she is the last to get up, as though she needs to adjust to the idea of waking up. Instead of going outside right away she hangs out with me while I eat breakfast, and while I also adjust to the idea of being awake. She is a dog after my own heart! In the summer, relaxing means laying in the grass, soaking up the sun.

One night while my husband was away on business, I got home late, let the dogs out and made dinner. Cheyenne stayed outside. I sat down on the couch after a long day. A thought crossed my mind to find Cheyenne but then I think, what’s the worst thing she could be doing? Digging to China? I decide to deal with it after I eat. Seriously, when will I learn not to tempt fate?

She comes back to the slider door on her own. Immediately, I assume my earlier fears were completely unfounded. I could not have been more wrong. I let her in, sit back on the couch and continue eating when I suddenly smell the worst smell in the world. I smell my food wondering if I somehow failed to notice it was rotten… it’s not the food.

Logically since Cheyenne is the only new element in the room, the smell must be coming from her. I smell Cheyenne but it doesn’t seem to be coming from her. I sniff the couch; it’s not the couch. I get up and look for a pile of dog poop, wondering if Jackson just had a bizarre case of explosive diarrhea. I see nothing. I make Cheyenne go outside to limit the number of variables. The smell is still around so I make Jackson lay down, and inspect him everywhere, if you get my drift, and although I see no evidence of this mythical diarrhea, I literally sniff his butt, ruling out gas and diarrhea in one fell swoop. I have set his neuroses into overdrive, and he hides submissively in the corner.

Now IO sniffs the exact spot Cheyenne laid in, and the smell, although still present, has dissipated ever so slightly. Cheyenne waits at the slider, and when I let her back in, the smell almost knocks me over. It is 9 o’clock at night and there is no way in hell that she can stay in this condition for any length of time. This is the worst smell ever. Since I see no evidence of poop on her body, and because no horses or cows randomly roam through in our yard, I deduce that a dead animal of some sort is probably the source of this aroma.

Solutions start racing through my head. I realize I have one option only—the coin-operated dog wash down the street. I begin to literally pray (amazing how religious I become in times of need) that it is still open.

I herd her out the door, round up IO and Jack, find a towel and grab my purse. I load up the big dogs and realize I need to take off her electric collar, which I do and it is sticky and worse, now my hand smells like her head!!! Sick. I seriously want to go inside and wash my hands but I cannot leave her to rub her body all over the inside of my car. Besides, I reason that since I have to touch her to wash her I may as well just suck it up. Against all my better instincts, I leave the sticky smell on my hand.

Inside the car, I open the sunroof all the way and roll the windows down as far as I can without worrying about anyone jumping out (seriously the smell is that bad) and even though the windows are open and we are going 55 mph I can still smell it. We arrive at the car wash and God grants my prayers. The dog wash is still open.

Up until this point Cheyenne has been very excited about her little adventure. But she now knows where we are and she is not happy. She despises being wet. This must be the Basenji in her.

I coax her out of the car and into the dog wash. She refuses to walk up the ramp so I, ewwww, have to pick her up. I hook her to the safety chain and attempt to put my money in the bill collector.  It accepts coins only, and wouldn’t you know, I only have cash. Are you F-ing kidding me?? Desperately, I look around. I locate a bill changer—outside. Meanwhile Cheyenne desperately tries to escape by jumping over the edge of the trough. If I leave her alone she will hang herself. So, she will have to come with me. I unhook her, re-leash her, and yes, obtain $20 worth of quarters, exactly what I wanted. I take her back inside.

The second time around, she knows for sure she wants nothing to do with this process. She is even more unruly than before and fights me every step of the way. An enormous spider crawls up and down the wall. Normally this terrifies me, but, for once, it is the least of my worries. As I scrub her, I really try not to think about why her fur is sticky. She has the most forlorn expression so I remind her these are the consequences of her actions. When we leave, I can see she’s devastated by the loss of her hard-earned “perfume”.

On the way home Kid Rock’s “All Summer Long” comes on the radio and I blare it, just laughing my head off and singing along. As strange as it sounds I thank whatever it is that I thank for this spirited dog. I feel a peculiar, yet deep sense of joy. When I close my eyes that night, I fall asleep right away in a contently tired way.

The next morning I am smart enough to keep her on the leash and she leads me straight to her treasure, a rodent of some sort with half of its hair licked off its body.