The Little Pack

Mornings are a special time in the Little Pack household, packed full of sweetness and celebration. IO very often greets me with nose nibbles and headrolls. These are clearly joyful acts. Once I start to stir, Jackson and IO will often begin to bark and carry on with celebration while Cheyenne races back and forth next to the bed, wiggling all the while. Archie waits at the bedroom door and purrs the moment he sees me.  Everyone races down the hallway. Baby Titten sits on the arm of the couch and burrupts as I walk by and I pat her on the head. Dixie speeds ahead into the kitchen and leaps and twirls around, woofing. She wants  a morning snack. Archie also gallops into the kitchen, bounds up onto the counter and waits by the sink for me to turn his water on. Meanwhile Jack rejoices that he found his favorite toy and asks me to throw it. Sometimes IO lingers in bed a little longer, catching a few more zzzzs before strolling out to the living room to wait for a few last bites of my breakfast.  All of this takes place while I am on autopilot, still in stupor. I am not a morning person, in fact, I can barely function when I first wake up. It occurs to me just how sweet these waking hours are, and how ironic that it all takes place while I am still too unconscious to fully treasure and savor each moment the way that I would like to.

The story of Jackson began one day during my lunch break when I went to the animal shelter “just to look.” I finally lived in a place where I could have a dog and I was even able to bring a dog to work. I had been waiting to have a dog forever. I thought I wanted a black lab puppy, kind of the best of everything, easy going, lots of endurance for long runs and hikes, but also content just to hang out. I had lived with a border collie named Cowboy and a golden retriever named Sage, and although I absolutely adored border collies, I thought that a more mellow breed would be a good idea.

At the shelter, there was a crazy dog named Butch, who sprang up in the air continuously, a female golden retriever who was a little older, 7ish maybe. And then there were 2 border collie puppies, about 6 months old, named Ziggy and Marley. Marley could have cared less that I was there. He was mildly interested in me, but that was about the extent of it. But Ziggy, Ziggy came right up to the door of his cage and put his snout through the opening and gave me kisses. His broken heart was obvious and he was scared and insecure. I immediately felt a connection to this dog.

Someone suggested I take him into a separate area and spend time with him away from the other dogs. I put the leash on him and he stood facing away from me with his nose in the corner of his cage. I spoke to him in my most persuasive voice and still he did not  move. I had to pick him up and carry him into the other room. He continued to face away from me with his little face in the corner. I tried talking to him, but he was so afraid he just kept staring straight ahead. So I sat down next to him and removed the leash. We sat that way for a long time.

Pretty soon, he stopped staring in the corner, and turned to face me. I didn’t dare talk or even breathe because I didn’t want to spook him. He took a few steps towards me and I sat perfectly still. He laid down next to me and put his head on my leg and my heart just broke into a million little pieces. Before long, he had climbed up into my lap, and put his head inside my fleece and let me pet him. This was the moment I said to him, “I think that I need to take you home with me. OK?” So I did, and Ziggy became my Jackson.

The pack dynamic is interesting to observe. Jackson hates Cheyenne, and Baby Titten and sometimes even Archie. This has everything to do with his possessiveness and insecurity with me. Except that you will find him occasionally bathing Baby Titten. He loves IO and Dixie and will put up with almost anything from either one of them. Cheyenne lives to provoke, well, anyone, but particularly Jackson and Baby Titten. Her and Dixie are like peas in a pod but they bicker like sisters. More and more Cheyenne is getting the nerve up to challenge IO’s authority. Dixie bosses Jackson and Archie around. She mostly leaves Baby Titten alone, as Baby Titten will chase her down, and I think she is actually slightly afraid of her. Dixie tangled with IO exactly once. Archie and Baby Titten have a complicated relationship. They fight often, and yet they snuggle together often.  During times of tension—if Cheyenne is acting too big for her britches and IO begins to warn her, Jackson and Dixie will quickly begin to stand guard, at the ready to follow IO’s orders. Further, if any single one of them perceives danger, it only takes one to lead the charge, and they all come running. Cheyenne need only make a peep and Jackson is there in a heartbeat, ready to defend her, us, and the rest of the pack if necessary.  As much as they all argue and squabble with each other, at the end of the day, they are a pack and will protect each other at all costs. One time, Jack got into a scuffle with a dog next door that was literally about 3 times his size. That dog pinned him like nothing. Within moments the other 3—IO, Cheyenne and Dixie—were at his side, determined to protect him and willing to take on this horse of the dog. Even more telling, Cheyenne loves this other dog and has played with him on many occasions. But her pack is her pack and she was there for her Jack. It was a normal dog scuffle, nothing more than a tiff really, and the melee was soon broken up. But the incident shows just how deeply pack bonds go and how superficial their spats really are. It really is a bit like watching a big family interact. This living breathing organic web of love we call our little pack.

Yesterday I vacuumed underneath my dresser for the first time in obviously too long and was startled to discover a treasure trove of the animal’s most prized possessions:

• 5 tennis balls
• 2 mouse toys
• 1 mini tennis ball
• 1 hanger
• 3 bottle caps
• 1 sock
• 2 furry puff balls (originally the feet of some toy)
• 4 bones