In May, I thought Buddy the Moosedawg, at 12, was about to kark it. Mentally and physically he was losing it.
But this week he’s running on testosterone like a teenager.
He’s trying to do his spinning, snarling whirling dervish of death and destruction impression.
Granted, he used to do it at about 9000 rpms, slinging rabies froth from his gator mouth and roaring like the Hounds of Hell. Now he sort of does a slow barrel roll sideways before crashing into me or the car or the house, then the air escapes from his mooselungs, like airbags deploying.
He even sprinted down the driveway, though with mixed results.
Because his joints are stiff and arthritic, and he has ridiculously long moose legs, he looked like he was running stiff-legged on stilts. About halfway down the sloping driveway, his eyes looked worried as his brain realized three things.
1) He was going 60 mph, downhill, on stilts. 2) The driveway ends with a wooden fence, and it was fast approaching. 3) He was doomed.
For a moment there, the Moosedawg and I shared a vision – of his head impaled in the fence. But somehow, his wolf-like toenails dug into the concrete.
When he skidded to a stop, he looked up at me with an expression that said: “What just happened? My heart is racing, my chest is pumped and a need a woman. But I can’t remember why.”
I’m not sure if the sunshine is what pumped up Buddy’s testosterone levels or if he just decided that the Crack Puppy was not the only speed merchant living here.
Of late, the Crack Puppy has decided she really, really likes to stay outside. Walking up the driveway. And down the driveway. And up and down. Smelling where every cat has peed, every bird has landed, ever slug has slogged. Sigh.
Normally, she operates in cat mode while outside.
“Don’t be a bore. No, I don’t see you or hear you. LALALALALALALALALA. Shouldn’t you be cooking my chicken livers? And by the way, aren’t I incredibly cute?”
Eventually, she deigns to let me pick her up, bring her inside, give her a treat, and wipe her fuzzy little feet.
But lately the Crack Puppy has switched from “cat” to “rabbit” mode after doing her business and when I am trying to pick her up.
She sort of looks like this, except 1000 times faster. And she is in our front yard, where there are thousands of wife-induced shrubberies to dart under. And Moosepoops to… Ack.
It takes a while to capture her, maybe nine days.
But, after she tires of rabbiting around the yard at the speed of sound, I do eventually catch Ling Ling the Crack Rabbit through human stealth and cunning.
Old Moosedawgs and Crack Rabbits?
Crack Puppy – the update!
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