Monday, June 02, 2008

God Bless Us (or heaven help me)!

There will be no photos to illustrate this post. I'll explain later.

We've been doing lots of yard work here at the house on the hill: The perennial garden had to be refreshed, the herb garden needed a ton of work (never let a 19 year old plant perennials in the first place) and of course, fences had to be installed to prevent a certain 175 pound dog from a) drinking all the water out of the bird bath and b) napping on top of your favorite lavendar plants.

Some things had to go, so had to be moved and of course, some new things came to stay.

All during this, we kept the dogs out with us as much as possible. Arnie, the shep/collie mix, uses the underground fence system (or at least we THINK he does. We really haven't checked to see if it works in two years). Linda and Bill stay pretty close to us, but require constant watching.

On Saturday, we were both busy when I uttered (for the 101 millionth time in the past 11 months), "Where's Bill?"

Mark replied, "He's right..."

We both looked to where he WAS ten seconds ago: no Bill.

Then we heard a squeal behind the row of hemlock trees that divides us from the house behind us (where the lovely young ladies lay on blankets wearing bikinis and hoping of a tan but accepting the risk of skin cancer). Of course Mark became a super hero and sprang to the rescue (be it from man or beast).

Turned out it was beast. Bill, who honestly can't figure out why everyone doesn't love him, was spreading huge slingers across large areas of exposed flesh.

Reluctantly, Mark came home dragging an even more reluctant Bill.

That evening, two ladies from the next street over drove half way up our drive to meet Bill and ask just what he was. Mark talked to them. Guess he didn't think it would be appropriate for me to give my stock answer (a pain in the ass) to strangers.

Sunday is my day to sleep in, sometimes as late as 8:30, but I was almost awake when Mark came into the room at 8 to announce he couldn't find Bill anywhere.

I think I was dressed (sans sock and bra) and downstairs in 30 seconds and out the back door in another two. Andy and Kailyn were there, Mark was already leaving in the van (our neighborhood is sprawling). I sent Kailyn down the hill, Andy behind us and I headed up the hill.

A few minutes later, I head the thundering sound of a hundred horses' hoof beats. I knew it was Bill. He came rushing towards me and at the last minute, veered off to the left (he's been watching too many westerns) and headed home.

I shouted that I had him so Andy and Kailyn could stop searching and reached for my cell phone to call Mark.

Mark answered with, "I found him! He was IN the church. Not AT the church, IN the church!"

There are 5 houses between us and the church (I know, strange place to put a church...but God is everywhere, you know). According to the sexton, Bill greeted him when he came to open the door for worship and the followed him INTO the church where he made himself at home, lounging in the doorway, until Mark came along.

I think Bill is God's message to us: three dogs are certainly enough...maybe a wee bit too much...

So why no photos? Couldn't take pictures of something that wasn't here: dog-gone!


sherriknits said...

Cute story. We have a dog that gets away, too. We were horrified the day he ran through the open door of the beautiful Victorian mansion across the street...and totally embarrassed when the owner came carrying him out.

jill said...

At least he is too large to pull the "Mississippi Squirrel Revival" trick.

Only YOUR dog would go to church. Perhaps he needed to repent? ROFLOL

Jann said...

Very funny!!!!! I enjoyed reading your post! I remember, many years ago when my kids were in elementary school, the school office called to tell me that Fred, our Golden Retriever, had decided to attend class that morning and, after greeting many delighted schoolkids, was lounging in one of the classrooms during their lessons. I went tearing up to the school to get him, and there he was, with that goofy smile on his face. Fred was actually a lovely, lovely dog with a human soul!