“Wombles, you fool! You’re going to kill yourself.”
I shouted it over and over. I had to.
Steve was driving us to the hillsides for our hike. He put together a long leash on a line in the back of my big truck. Wombles and Dottie were chained to it. Not me. I don’t get chained.
Hi. I’m Allie. In case you’re here for the first time, there are four parts about how I trained our new, temporary human, before this one. Don’t worry though, you’ll enjoy this one even if you don’t read the others. But, seriously? Why would you miss out? Now, be a good human and get caught up!
Dottie and Sissy were smart, like me. They didn’t bounce around. They were cool. Calm. Proper ladies. Like the rest of us mature ranch girls.
I guess it wasn’t Womble’s fault. I mean, come on. He is a male. The only male. A young one at that. And his name is “Wombles.” He-he! What in the world was my human thinking? Besides, he’s not even a real cattle dog like the rest of us.
Well, Riva isn’t either. But she still knows how to behave. Wombles couldn’t. How could he know better?
I’ll tell you how.
Because I told him!
Over and over, “sit your butt down, boy!” I’d say. I did that because I wanted Steve to hear me. He knows I rarely bark. So when I do, he better pay attention because something’s not right. Like a flying Wombles.
Yup! Dang kid burst out of the side of the truck. Into the air and then, “Wham!” body-slammed himself into the side. I almost lost my cookies I laughed so hard. Steve, on the other hand, didn’t find it so amusing.
He had been eyeing us, thanks to my great skills of communication. And as soon as that dopey, shaggy-haired excuse of a boy jumped sideways, Steve hit the brakes and was out the door as quick as quail fly up a hill. Didn’t bother us ladies though. We’re smart. Can’t say the same for the girls up in the front. Hahaha!
Oh, I am sorry.
Poor girls. They never stood a chance. Riva was on her back seat sleeping. Rhonda was back there with her acting like the foolish child she is, and Jama was on the front seat. Then they were all on the front floor. Legs a-flying, tails wagging and tucking, heads between each other’s legs, and ears being nipped at as to politely say,
“Lady, if you don’t get your foot out of my ear, I’m going to snap down on you like a junior wrangler on his first calf!”
Wombles laid a ‘thanks, pal’ licking to the side of Steve’s face. Then I heard Steve mutter a bit about California and their idiotic leash laws as he tossed Wombles back in. Wombles still had that stupid-looking grin on his face.
“Did you see that, Allie?” I almost made it out of here!” he snipped.
“Why in the world would you do that?’ I asked ‘Where exactly are you trying to go?”
“Why, to Rhonda, of course!” he panted, his tongue nearly hitting the truck bed.
That could only mean one thing. The next few days that wild-eyed boy is going to be absolutely mad-cow crazy.
“Yup. I love her and we’re going to have babies. A whole bunch of them.”
He slobbered in between pants. “Starting today. We’ll run off together before Steve has a chance to stop us.”
Here we were, a couple of moon changes later (two weeks for my human readers) into Steve’s scheduled stay. He brought all eight of us out for a hike as he had many days before. We were having a great time. We all agreed. Steve was a pretty good human. He talked to us, fed us on time and never left my side.
As usual, Wombles and Rhonda were far away from the rest of us. They’re the young’ens so it wasn’t unusual for them to be off galavanting together. They were in sight of course, but not by my side. That’s why I am not responsible for any puppies that may come along. I was just as surprised as Steve was to learn that Wombles and Rhonda weren’t fixed.
C’mon now. Give a lady a break. I’m a bit older. My sniffer doesn’t work quite as well it used to. I had no idea she was in heat until it was very obvious. Then it became obvious to Steve.
“What the hell?” There was that quizzical, deer lost in the headlights look of his again.
“Oh, no! NO! NO! NO! Wombles you horny little bastard! Get off!”
Oh my, my, my. I had never heard Steve talk like that. It was too late. Nothing he could do about it now.
Despite their full day together, Steve decided he should separate the two until Rhonda was no longer in heat. That was not going to be easy.
Steve asked what I thought about all of the days’ happenings. I was speechless. Instead, I walked over to the empty pen and sat in front of the gate so Steve could tell I wanted him to put Rhonda and Dotty in it. That way Wombles would be in the middle pen alone.
It seems that was not going to work for Wombles. The next morning when Steve and I were doing our chores, I found the over-stimulated young’en in the other pen. He had dug under the fence, so I picked up and placed a big rock in the hole. Steve grabbed a log for the other side of the fence where Wombles had dug.
As I was walking away, I could hear Wombles say, “Hey, thanks, guy! You brought me a new toy. You’re such a nice human! You thought I was bored and so you brought me a big ol’ stick to play with. Thank you!”
Within 15 minutes Wombles had moved the log. Love was not to be deterred. So Steve decided to place him in the other pen, chained like a goat to a stake.
Steve told me that it was more spacious, so there was less chance of him getting wrapped up or knocking over his water and food dishes. And, besides, he could still sleep in one of the 3 dog houses that lined the back of the kennel. He would be fine.
Steve always looked out for us that way. I liked that about him.
That Wombles proved to be one determined little fuzzball! Evidently, he has mad jumping skills. He must have climbed on top of a dog house and then either climbed or jumped over. Lucky for him, Steve made the leash long enough that he didn’t hang himself.
I helped to move the dog houses away from the back panel and Steve reattached the leash in a better location. Poor guy (Wombles, not Steve) whimpered and whined for the next couple of weeks until Rhonda was no longer in heat. She no longer had any need for him and paid no attention to him after that.
We enjoyed a couple of nice days of working outside and hiking. Soon it was time for Steve to vacuum the house again. I know it’s considered to be kinda weird for a guy to like vacuuming, but then again, there’s something weird and sweet about our human. He told us it felt relaxing to him. I knew our Maya would be happy he did all those things for her, so I brushed up against him to let him know he had been good.
He patted my side and said he knew women were better at just about everything, but he liked to try. I think he was just being nice to us old gals.
Riva and I waited outside while he vacuumed. The sun was warm on our fur as we laid on our beds, watching Kit-Cat play with one of her babies. As amusing and annoying as she was, Kit-Cat was a good momma for being so young. Our days were good.
And then, wouldn’t you know it? Another chicken went missing, reappeared the next day, but was dead the following day. I suppose it’s just God’s way of telling us to not think too highly of ourselves.
I’ll be back soon with the next part of my tale.