Soapbox

Go Walk the Dog!

    I would like to go on record here as saying that next summer, or by fall at the latest, Tucker will be a great dog. I firmly believe that.
      He's bright and inquisitive, very affectionate and people-oriented, and has a lot of unique character and personality. He makes me laugh at least once a day. He'll be a great companion for many years, and knowing that he'll be standing at the stairs, fuzzy head tipped to one side, watching for me to come in from the garage when I return at the end of a rough day will be a great comfort. Until that day, however…

      Tucker gets lots of long walks in places where I can let him off his leash, because otherwise, I tend to yell a lot. After being a quiet, good dog all night Tucker wakes up at 5 AM… and so we get up at 5 AM. Breakfast, a bowl of water and then he starts his daily round of trouble: biting toes, chewing shoes and stealing panties from the laundry. So it's important to get him out of the house. But winter is coming, and don't like to be cold.

     Last week, while I was selfishly writing a poem instead of going for a walk, Tucker ate rat poison. I was at the kitchen table and heard him in the living room, being bad. You see, he has a certain bounce to his step that is only present when he's playing with something he knows he shouldn't have. I peeked around the corner to see what he was up to this time and there he was with a packet, or what was left of a packet of D-con pellets. I'm not even sure where he got it! Probably the garage.
    I fished the remnants out of his mouth while he rolled on his back and waved his paws in the air like it was a great game, listening to mommy squeal. After I washed my hands and wiped off the rug I called the vet. Our dog Mischa had gone a few rounds with a pack of D-con when he was only about 10 lbs soaking wet, and after we rushed him tearfully to the vet we were told that d-con is a cumulative poison and he'd be fine. So while I was concerned, I wasn't freaked out.
     Dr. Lehnerd's office informed me that the new generation of D-con is much more deadly than the stuff Mischa got hold of and old Tuckerby needed to vomit ASAP. Better there than here, so I took him to the vet for some doggy ipacec.

     After a few hours of observation he was pronounced "probably OK" and I brought him home with a week's supply of Vitamin K. He celebrated his homecoming by curling up at Steve's feet and, after 10 minutes or so of good behavior, began stealthily chewing  through the computer power cord dangling nearby. Fortunately my "Miss Clavel" instincts kicked in and I suddenly sat forward and grabbed him by the tail and hauled, revealing the cord between his feet.  The cord was doctored with some electrical tape and Tucker was sent outside for a "time out".
    And this was just one day.

    In about a year, I firmly believe that Tucker will be a great dog. Until then, better keep your eyes open when you visit at our house.