Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Daisy Goes On an Outing
The physical changes Daisy went through in the next few weeks were amazing. Her rotund, short-legged little body gave way to lankiness and a sleek, well proportioned physique. Her coat was as shiny as satin and her face showed remarkable good breeding and beauty (in an ugly sense, of course.) She is absolutely beautiful and she knows it. She knows just how to sit on her recliner and pose in a head-held- high, I am a proud girl kind of way. 
But she is really an oaf. She doesn’t run, she plods. She still runs into things at full speed and you can hear her coming from a mile away. Her legs are as long as Pup is tall and on many occasions, I have found them both standing there with Pup entirely under Daisy’s body, like a piggy back mutation of a two headed dog.
One morning, I opened my front door to get my mail and Daisy decided to dart out the door. She ran across the front porch and I followed her, hoping to grab her up before she got a chance to escape the yard. Off the porch she jumped, however, and as I held on to the old pillar on the porch to steady myself while I tried to grab her, the pillar gave way and I fell off the porch into the ground cover plants and what I would discover about 30 seconds later was a colony of ants, with the 60 year old pillar following and landing on top of me.
Since I was in my nightgown, and my hair was a mess and I looked like absolute hell, my first instinct was to look around and see if anyone had witnessed this most embarrassing of events. Feeling fairly sure that I had not been seen, I managed to stick my butt up in the air and get on all fours in a most appealing position and try to pull myself up onto the porch, all the while trying to keep an eye on Daisy, who was still cavorting around the front yard like all was right with the world. It is an understatement to say that I am not a limber person, I am far from thin and I am getting old. The combination of my body having betrayed me years ago and the fact that a colony of, of course, red ants was swarming all over me, made getting up very, very difficult. I would probably say that by the time I was on two feet instead of all fours, I was not feeling all that tickled with Daisy. I had ants crawling all over me, I felt bruised and battered and now I had to go catch Daisy. I knew I couldn’t run in the house and get dressed. By the time I had finished, Daisy could be blocks away. So I was forced to chase Daisy, who had discovered how much fun it is to run away from me, down the street, through neighbors’ yards, in my nightgown and bare feet. Keep in mind, there were leaves and ants in my disheveled hair and I was angry. I must have looked like a demented psychopath to anyone who might have looked out their window or driven by and seen me. Daisy just kept running away from me. But she had a special way of doing it. She would stop and wait for me to almost be able to reach out and grab her. She had a sadistic smile in her eyes and I would get close enough to see it…and then she would dart away again. I could have killed her. I finally decided I would never be able to catch her and I remembered my sister Pat’s advice (she is the family dog expert and dog trainer) that I should run AWAY from Daisy and she would probably follow. Running is no longer my forte, so the best I could do was to yell a few choice words (further evidence of my psychotic personality to any witnesses) at her and walk away from her. And she actually followed. If I turned and looked at her or started toward her, even one step, she would laugh and run in the opposite direction. She is no fool.
We finally made it home. I opened the door and she pranced in like she had quite the story to tell Pup, who was sniffing her and encouraging her misbehavior by cheering her on like a hero come home.
I got out of my dirty nightgown and surveyed the damage. 2 skinned knees, a few ant bites, a huge bruise forming on my chest, and dirt in my right ear. Not too bad for an old chick. And Daisy, of course, was unscathed. She just thought it was a pretty fun outing. I heard her telling Pup that as I turned on the shower…
But she is really an oaf. She doesn’t run, she plods. She still runs into things at full speed and you can hear her coming from a mile away. Her legs are as long as Pup is tall and on many occasions, I have found them both standing there with Pup entirely under Daisy’s body, like a piggy back mutation of a two headed dog.One morning, I opened my front door to get my mail and Daisy decided to dart out the door. She ran across the front porch and I followed her, hoping to grab her up before she got a chance to escape the yard. Off the porch she jumped, however, and as I held on to the old pillar on the porch to steady myself while I tried to grab her, the pillar gave way and I fell off the porch into the ground cover plants and what I would discover about 30 seconds later was a colony of ants, with the 60 year old pillar following and landing on top of me.
Since I was in my nightgown, and my hair was a mess and I looked like absolute hell, my first instinct was to look around and see if anyone had witnessed this most embarrassing of events. Feeling fairly sure that I had not been seen, I managed to stick my butt up in the air and get on all fours in a most appealing position and try to pull myself up onto the porch, all the while trying to keep an eye on Daisy, who was still cavorting around the front yard like all was right with the world. It is an understatement to say that I am not a limber person, I am far from thin and I am getting old. The combination of my body having betrayed me years ago and the fact that a colony of, of course, red ants was swarming all over me, made getting up very, very difficult. I would probably say that by the time I was on two feet instead of all fours, I was not feeling all that tickled with Daisy. I had ants crawling all over me, I felt bruised and battered and now I had to go catch Daisy. I knew I couldn’t run in the house and get dressed. By the time I had finished, Daisy could be blocks away. So I was forced to chase Daisy, who had discovered how much fun it is to run away from me, down the street, through neighbors’ yards, in my nightgown and bare feet. Keep in mind, there were leaves and ants in my disheveled hair and I was angry. I must have looked like a demented psychopath to anyone who might have looked out their window or driven by and seen me. Daisy just kept running away from me. But she had a special way of doing it. She would stop and wait for me to almost be able to reach out and grab her. She had a sadistic smile in her eyes and I would get close enough to see it…and then she would dart away again. I could have killed her. I finally decided I would never be able to catch her and I remembered my sister Pat’s advice (she is the family dog expert and dog trainer) that I should run AWAY from Daisy and she would probably follow. Running is no longer my forte, so the best I could do was to yell a few choice words (further evidence of my psychotic personality to any witnesses) at her and walk away from her. And she actually followed. If I turned and looked at her or started toward her, even one step, she would laugh and run in the opposite direction. She is no fool.
We finally made it home. I opened the door and she pranced in like she had quite the story to tell Pup, who was sniffing her and encouraging her misbehavior by cheering her on like a hero come home.
I got out of my dirty nightgown and surveyed the damage. 2 skinned knees, a few ant bites, a huge bruise forming on my chest, and dirt in my right ear. Not too bad for an old chick. And Daisy, of course, was unscathed. She just thought it was a pretty fun outing. I heard her telling Pup that as I turned on the shower…
"Tedd" 
"Scarlett" 
