The words Approved by the Post Master General were embossed on the front of a very large metal mailbox that was staring back at me a few feet below my face like some sort of dwarf sentinel. I could practically hear it stamp its post down into the ground while shouting No one gets past this point! Well, unless you have been approved by the Post Master General.
I disproved it by unwinding the leash Slobber King had managed to tangle around the mailbox post, and we carried on. Slobber King, by the way, is one of two dogs I adopted recently. Slobber King is a hundred pound coonhound. Upon first meeting him at the shelter, I thought that maybe his droopy neck skin, elongated lips, and the slobber strings hanging six inches down from his mouth accounted for at least twenty-five percent of that weight. And then I got to know him and nope, he is a hundred pounds of muscle. Which brings me to another point.
I, and I’m sure many other people, should not be trusted in an animal shelter. Because, for instance, some people might go there specifically looking for a young German Shepherd mix: the charming sort; the sort that is young enough to patrol the property and still be trustworthy with said person’s children. Instead, said person might decide to adopt a five-and-a-half-year-old neglected hunting dog that is heartworm positive, who spent his entire life severely flea infested and living in a kennel. Said person might also own a flock of chickens and a couple of well-loved fluffy bunnies. Said person probably even said It will be fine.
So, this is the summer of dog training. I have no regrets—some souls are worth spending your summer on. But let’s get back to the mailbox.
Above that mailbox the clouds were doing that beautiful thing where they bundle up all snuggly together on the horizon while also looking really fat and jolly like they’ve just eaten an entire chess pie and now they are blushing a soft pink and hoping that nobody noticed. The sun was hanging a few fists above the tree line and streaming into my eyes in a way that really is quite acceptable on a June evening.
[This is Lil Crazy. She is a greyhound/plotthound mix who was seized by the county as one of eleven dogs removed from a farm for neglect. She was emaciated, but now she is sleek, and has no difficulty bossing Slobber King.]I laughed at that mailbox then, because who really cares? Who gives a crap about the Post Master? Who gives a crap about standard mailbox sizes?
I had this profound thought, because I had the meaning of life dancing before my eyes, invisible, but probably up in those pink clouds somewhere. I was reaching out for its coattails, and although the coattails of serenity are not really the real deal, they sure as shit are better than nothing. Everyone can use a little mind opening now and then—a little clarity; a little chat with the higher self.
You too can achieve all this by following a very simple, but careful recipe, as follows:
Recipe for Chasing the Meaning of Life’s Coattails
2 months of stress related to losing a beloved canine friend, and the change of meeting new canine friends, one of which wants to destroy all critters chicken-sized and smaller
1 very pretty wine glass
2 cups of wine
Approximately 5 pink colored clouds somewhere within the vicinity of the wine glass
A dash of sweat
Mix all ingredients together gently on an empty stomach, wait for twenty minutes, and then take a walk with a slobbery dog. Expect to find mundane details on mailboxes and all the problems in your life to be equally unimportant.
And there you have it, folks. I hope that you too will chase those coattails. Who knows, maybe you will catch one.
I did this once, ate the whole pie...But I didn't end up looking at all soft and pink.
Hey Gin, I hope you're well, feeling better and managing, somehow and against all odds, not to be covered in slobber. I hope your walk did what it was supposed to and yep, I chase coattails sometimes...and even caught some at times...mostly not though, but I pretend and that works too.
I'm sure you somehow stored that whole pie inside your leg and you looked trim and sharp as ever. :)
The slobber issue isn't going well. Thus far I think I have been slobbed (a word I had no idea I would ever need in my vocabulary) in disgusting ways about 15 times. It is funny how the mind accommodates though. I think each time it gets a little less disgusting.
Pretending to have those coattails tightly in your grasp - yep, that's the best way. Nice to talk with you. It's been too long.
It's been far too long, indeed.
Can I be honest? I'm not sure I'd accept being slobbed very well. I've done some icky things (is icky a word?) in my life but dog slobber isn't something that works very well for me. It seems your resistance is slowly wearing down though...soon being slobbed will be commonplace I suppose. You'll be a veteran.
And yes, all that pie went straight into the left leg and the rest of my magnificent physique stayed in top notch shape. I walked with a limp for a while though. All good though, I ate another pie and evened it out by filling the right leg. 😉
You can be strange, but don't be a stranger ok?
You, my friend, sound suspiciously like a cat person. I honestly enjoy being licked by my dog - not outright slobbered, but licked. Speaking of being a cat person (which I am not), I agreed to foster kittens for a local rescue. When I signed up I was all naively enthusiastic about saving the world one kitten litter at a time. I assumed that I was being given healthy kittens - the ones you see chasing a ball of yarn on the cat food box. No, these guys were 5 weeks only and very sickly. They were bags of bones and had diarrhea. Two out of six died, including the one that was my favorite and I was considering adopting because he was so incredibly cool and not cat-like. It's a really shitty job. Now I can't do it anymore because the new dog hates everything little, and I can't say I am sad about that.
I don't like that they died, it's sad. And yeah, I'm many things Ginny, many many things, and a cat person is one. 😼
Meow.
😥
Big Dog. I'm so sorry. Losing a dog is about as hard as it gets.
Congratulations on your new crew, though. Hopefully they don't eat your other family members.
Thanks. Big Dog was one of a kind, that's for sure. For some reason when I went to the shelter I had it in my head that I was going to find another one like him. Of course that wasn't going to happen.
My chickens and rabbits concur. I have had him 2 weeks now, and I'd say he is twenty percent better. Unfortunately I think using just positive reinforcement, this is going to be a long haul. But I suppose that is to be expected. He is the oldest dog I have ever adopted, and he is totally different than any experience I have ever had. He has baggage, that's for sure.
Slimy, ropey, wet baggage.
Maybe being older he's about to slow way down and give up chasing the "game." He might only be doing it because he thinks it will please you..?
He seems quite hard-wired. We shall see. He may turn out to be my foster dog rather than my adopted dog. I certainly won't dump him off at a shelter, but after a bit more time if he doesn't get better I will be looking for a critter-free home for him.
That makes sense. You both need to be a good fit for each other. In the meantime, I'm sure he's happy to not be a neglected hunting dog and not be in a shelter.
Slobber King sounds fab. The pictures wouldn't load for some reason so I couldn't see.
The recipe too, I wonder if there should have been more cups of wine!
Good question. At present 2 cups does me well, but certain other occasions may require a higher dose. Certainly not the whole bottle though - lord, that would give me new problems :)
Slobber King is a fabulous guy. And if you doubt him, he will slob you with pleasure.
Haha, that's slobbing is definitely the impression I got!
I dunno, I am leaving more towards the bottle 😀
It's actually three cups and four clouds but two and five works the same, according to math.
Editing the number of clouds can be very challenging. You may have to do a great deal of sky watching to catch the right number, and be sure you have your glasses of wine on the ready. I think being forced to watch the sky for three days to get it just right might be part of the effect though.
Yes. Sometimes it can take awhile but the wine brush can help blend and blur.
Three days worth will provide plenty of answers and, quite a few questions. Best to just roll with it I say.
The wine brush is probably the best in the world at blending and blurring. I should try to remember to drink the next time I feel like painting, and just see what happens.
Try Krita if you have a decent laptop and even a basic mouse. Can paint whatever, and way less mess, no matter how much drink was involved.
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Awwwww... they "look" adorable. Lots of getting to know each other and lessons.
I admire your willingness to accept it, but the constant slobber would be a deal breaker for me. 😝
I'm wondering if you stood in the street laughing at the mailbox long enough to be labeled. LOLOLOL.... and nope, nobody cares about mailboxes and post masters although I'm sure they think everybody does.
Sorry you lost your friend. I enjoyed hear the stories about you nearly fearlessly tromping through wild places with him by your side.
So when I brought both these dogs home (on separate weeks) they both had the most drool I had ever seen. I thought Oh this is going to be bad. But then both calmed down with the slobber, so that the smaller one does almost none. Apparently slobbering is a sign of stress in dogs. Had no idea. However, Slobber King will always have some. Poor guy, he just has such big loose lips. It is sort of like a disability.
I am blessed in that I live in a woodsy neighborhood. The trees protected me from human view, and I'm sure that was a good thing :)
Big Dog was such a hero. He could have taught these two a thing or three. Slobber King is a big coward, bless is heart. Lil Crazy is fierce though, so she leads the way and Slobber King stands in the back with his baritone voice saying something like yeah, what she said!
I thoroughly enjoyed reading this well-written tale. Best of luck with the dogs! Sounds like they have landed in a good home.
Thanks for reading. We are definitely in the dog training trenches right now, but I have faith all will come out well-mannered...even me :)