Sunday, 27 July 2008

• Ode to Chief

  Oh, Chief, my crabby little rabbit dog...
  

  These months with you have been a challenge. You now weigh 30 pounds and containing you takes serious effort. The other day I tried to keep you from following me out the front door. My arms are still sore.
  

  You chew up everything in your path: toilet paper rolls, pillows, roadkill, newspaper, etc.
  
  

  You have a voracious appetite. I had to dig you out of the 50 lb. bag of dog food yesterday. You were still hungry and the bag was a little bit open, so in you went, and there you stuck, until I heard your cries for help.
  You clotheslined Gizmo in your quest for a piece of a lettuce. I have bruises shaped like scratches on my legs from your continuous begging. You ate all the strawberry plants in the garden.
  

  You are a lovey dog. You are only happy if you are in contact with people or animals. You almost fell out the second story window once. I was outside and I had left the bedroom window open. You climbed into the sill and saw that Hey! There is something going on outside that I am not participating in! The injustice! So you howled and pitched a fit and rolled around in your death throes until the screen popped loose. You may never see me run that fast again. It is truly a miracle that I caught your fat ass before you hit the ground.
  

  When you were smaller, sleeping was all you did. You found weird places to sleep, and more than once I found you curled up in the back of the closet, or snoring softly on top of a pile of shoes. I thought it was funny to wake you up, because you always "talked" when you were sleepy. Little grunts and snorts and cooing. You don't do that very often now, but a couple days ago I stood outside the closed bedroom door and listened. I know you are trying to sound pitiful and forlorn when you howl like that, but I just think it's hilarious.
  
  
  
  
  
  
   You are possessive. You have taken control of the armchair in the living room. Should anyone attempt to remove you from the chair, they will receive the dog version of a dirty look. "Good luck prying me outta here, pal. I weigh 30 now and I know how to throw that weight around. Just try and pick me up. I dare you."
  
  
  
  I tried to use you the day we cut down a pine tree. You, Sullivan, and Gizmo were happy to pick up the smaller branches (and in Sully's case, not-so-small) and carry them. The hard part was trying to get you to bring them to the fire pit. All you wanted to do was chew on the pine needles.
  
  
  
  
  

  As I said earlier, you are kind of crabby. The first time you met J's dog, a pit bull/German-shepard, I was sure you were going to die. You don't play nice with the other dogs.

  I originally had 3 rabbits for you to practice on. Then the one had 3 baby rabbits. They are grown up now, and the mother was pregnant again. She had 10 this time, and they ALL LIVED. The adult males died, and you are delighted every time I bring out the frozen rabbits on a string. You can follow trails all day long. Some day I want to put you in the enclosure with ALL of the rabbits at once, live.

  Oh crap, you are coming toward me carrying what looks suspiciously like a chewed-up bill.

   

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