It’s
one thing to plan a garden…plan a layout…craft a cookbook…
It’s
quite another just to live your life, complete with the unknowns (which I have
to say, I don’t leave a lot of space for…though you’d think by now, I would).
I
had enough wiggle room in my day to spot check things I was to plant …even
adding a little side joke to show Thurman I was keeping my wits about me.
Then,
out of the blue…a strange dog wanders into my yard. She’s a coon hound of some
sort…not a breed I’m familiar with. But she was clearly in search of respite. I’m told these dogs can roam for days, and I’m fairly certain she had been roaming for
at least 3 or 4, as some strange activities happened last Friday that otherwise
would’ve been best happening only if folks like me had been forewarned, which is to say “Country folk don’t hunt on strangers land at midnight without
ticking off the neighborhood, triggering alarms and/or prompting folks to greet you with a gun.”
My
neighbors were the first on the scene. After all, 3 coon dogs howling, having
treed a squirrel, a possum or whatever…that’s annoying enough when your dog
breed of choice is a Pyrenees, whose sole job is to protect goats from such varmints. But add the howling of three strange coon hounds barking incessantly and you've got a ruckus on your hands for sure.
It
was a disturbing night all the way around not only for the dog sounds, but seeing truck headlights come down your drive
at midnight does NOT a warm welcome make (unless you’ve called first and I'm expecting you). As for this man and his renegade hunting buddies, they must’ve recognized
that some houses have alarms (and most neighbors have Smith & Wessons), for
they backed off (wise move) …way off when lights everywhere started going on.
I
never heard from the dogs or the dudes again. (Again, as a matter of Southern
protocol…driving down a drive you don’t know at midnight will get you arrested,
if not killed…Not great judgment on behalf of the person I’m about to introduce
you to next.)
Being
the dog-lovin’ fool I am, what can I do but take her in? I remove her collar
from her bleeding neck. And I feed her the same meat scraps and Pedigree combo
I feed my own, after which, she’s pretty much never gonna leave (I suspect,
hoping to make this her new home).
And
if it were a matter of love alone, I would’ve adopted the dog my Facebook
friends named “Karma”... After all, what are the karmic odds, this rib-showin',
stressed out, collar-choked dog would wind up at My place of all places…just
about the time I’m cooking up bones and handing out Goodwill toys for my own
pups. I mean, seriously. I’m pretty certain hunting dogs seldom experience this
kind of hospitality.
“Karma”
sweet dog…is a very thin dog. A pic or two posted on Facebook and I’m
encouraged to forget her owner. This dog looks abused. Then again, last I’d heard
a coon dog in my yard, was 4 days ago. I suspect her owner found the others,
and left behind the one. That this one left behind had ribs showing …well, it
made for a ton of Facebook speculation…(But what do I know about hunting dogs?)
By
the end of the day, prompted only by what I’d want someone else to do were it MY
dog that got away, I fed the dog; hugged the dog; treated the dog’s hot spots;
removed the dog’s collar (with no name plate, btw…no chip either). In short, I did
for this dog anything and everything I’d want done for my own were the
situation in reverse, after all, these things happen. All I knew to do was to love this dog, and post a few
notices so that whoever she belonged to, would know she was in good keeping.
But
for all the love, I couldn’t put Karma in the pen with my others…For dogs that
hunt small prey are not to be trusted with small goats. Furthermore, as feisty
as Karma was, I feared for her own demise if tossed in with a protective Pyr
the likes of TJ.
So
I left Karma outside…minus her collar…and aware of the situation. If Karma
left, Karma left. Not to be a bad dog person, but I had several of my own to
protect. (Turns out, if you want a hunting dog to stick around, just feed it and give it a toy. Karma never looked more peaceful than when I went to check on her before going to bed.)
By
morning, I looked out and saw Karma…nestled in a big ol bale of goat hay. She’d bedded
down for the night with her eye ever watchful on the front door. She tried to
convince first Rosey, the TJ, then Minsky (bad move) that she was my new # 1
dog. No one was buying it. Instead, they tolerated Karma. They didn’t mind that Karma got fed.
But they were not buying for one second that Karma had come to replace them,
and in truth, she had not. I just needed to find Karma’s more karmic path (if
you know what I mean).
A
few Facebook posts and “Lost and Found” ads later, and I soon heard from Karma’s
owner. (At least I think he was her owner…Ironically, he showed up in a truck
marked “Animal Control” license tags for which I did document.) Bottom line
(according to him) “Karma” was a new purchase…A full blooded …some-sort of
hound with papers. He’d just bought her (i.e. paid good money) only to find her
even more emaciated that when I spotted her yesterday (a status I find hard to
fathom).
But
as I end this day all I can say is “Karma” is a very real thing. Best to play
it safe. Invest in it. Assume it real. When it comes to innocent lives like
hers, I know no other way.
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