I’ve hit a milestone. Saturday I was able to say it out loud, and not cry. I was able to hear it said, and not cry. I was able to keep it together without a meltdown. It’s been 43 days since you passed away, plus pheasant season opener.
But I didn’t go hunting. No, I was home, trying to get over some random horrid illness that’s kept me horizontal and miserable for seven solid days. The girls took good care of me, though. They took turns curling up on the futon or lazy boy with me, guarding me while I slept, escorting me to my many visits to the bathroom, and alerting me to their morning and evening mealtime needs. Thank goodness for that dog door!
What they didn’t do, however, was remind me it was time to turn the furnace on. After several days of being cold and wondering just how bad of a flu this was since I was shaking all the time, it finally occurred to me we need heat and I turned the thermostat to 68.
The heat didn’t come on.
I turned the dial to 75. Nothing. Oh no, I’ll have to call the gas company. I groped my sick self into the kitchen and it all came back to me. Remember the last time the gas company was here, boy? I’m sure the service guy will never forget it!
It was our first year together, that first winter, around the end of January. It was cold, and I was cooking in the oven frequently to keep the kitchen extra cozy warm. Your sisters stayed in the kitchen and your kennel was at the bottom of the stairs. One morning, the stove stopped working, and I couldn’t get it to start. Same with the oven. I tried to light the pilot lite with no success. Detecting the smell of gas, and not wanting to test my fixit skills further, I called the gas company to send a tech out. “He’ll be there before the end of the day.” Great, that gives me time to pick up a few things, get the dogs situated, and shovel off the steps. To my surprise, he was knocking on the door within an hour. I was completely unprepared.
“I was in the neighborhood, and the last call wrapped up pretty fast….”
OH BOY, were you excited! You were spinning circles, getting your sisters all excited, everybody was barking and jumping and wanting to be the first one to greet the gas company service man. I thought I had you all contained in the kitchen while I let him in—but somehow you’d gotten out, and burst through the main floor to the front door like a tornado, your sisters right behind you. The service man was a tad overwhelmed with the three of you jumping and barking. Me too.
“Are you ok with dogs? Here, I’ll round them up, Angel! Sunny! Buddy, whoa!” We were just starting obedience school. I hadn’t really been awarded “pack leader” rights yet, so no one was listening to me.
“Oh, don’t worry, I love dogs!” the man smiled, while you had your keen nose glued to his thigh, sniffing him up and down. As he tried to navigate through the house with your sisters underfoot and you trying to suck his leg up your nostril, he began noting the various animal mounts on the walls, and commented that my husband must be a big hunter.
At that instant you stopped in your tracks and darted to my side, allowing the man to enter the kitchen. I grabbed you by the collar, apologizing. I didn’t reply to his comment, but noticed he was kind of cute. The girls were still dancing around his feet barking.
“So, where all has he hunted?” The service guy asked as he began opening his tool box.
“Excuse me?”
“Your husband?”
“Um…I……” suddenly you pulled away from me and about tackled the service guy. I felt terrible! You stood on your hind legs, pushed him back several feet, burying your nose into his armpit and chest. He was laughing and trying to pet you while you were on your intense investigative sniff and search. You were not fooling around. You were in his face. The girls were barking like mad and I was beyond the limits of embarrassed at my total lack of control.
“Oh, gawd, I’m sorry! Um, it’s just us, it’s still all new. I am so sorry!” I responded while nervously trying to scoop up dogs out of his way.
“Not a problem! He’s a beautiful dog! I bet he’s great in the field!” He says as he looks straight into my eyes.
Oh my, is he flirting with me?
Nervously smiling, I couldn’t respond, it’s not even reasonable to think about if he may be hitting on me here. I just wanted to stop the chaos and give the guy some room to work. Managing to capture the girls and send them to the living room — two down, and just you to go. You would not leave that man alone and come to my side, despite my stern commands.
“Oh, really, don’t worry about him, he’s fine. I seriously don’t mind!” the service guy assures me as he removes the stove top. Way to a girls heart is through the dogs? But he doesn’t know the situation. We don’t see many men around here. Only Don The Duck Man comes around to visit once in a great while. You are the man of the house. I don’t think you should be hanging all over on the guy while he’s trying to work. I just don’t trust you. But he insists it’s okay.
Well okay then. Against my better judgment, I will leave the kitchen to check on the girls. As the guy gets down on his knees to look inside the oven I can’t help but look. Well….how refreshing……no butt-crack! He’s a keeper!
You know how sometimes, a person just gives up, even though they know things are going to go a certain way, because they just can’t convince someone of it? Well, this was fast becoming one of those times. I barely sat down in the living room with the girls before it happened.
“ARGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!” from the kitchen.
I jumped up and ran toward the shrieks.
There was the service man, standing up with his arms straight out, back arched and legs spread.
“ARGHHHHHHHH! He PEED on me! He PEED on me!!”
You most certainly did. Drenched the entire back of his shirt, and onto his pants. Yup, that’s the other thing I didn’t have time to do before the service guy came to the house—I hadn’t had a chance to let you guys out to pee, so it had been hours. 
He was wet. Very wet. The floor was wet. There were no words for how embarrassed I was, yet I was also quite distracted. Wow, I’m thinking, it seems that with that wet shirt, he sure did have a nice body—Oh! OMG that’s horrible! My face turns beet red. Flustered and mortified, I was babbling apologies, offering to launder his clothes as he stood there, bewildered, asking for a towel and a mop.
You came bounding over to me, turned and looked at him and let out one big low bark, as if to say;
“There. I think we’re clear now. She’s mine, all mine!”
Yeah, that pretty much destroyed any chance of me getting a date out of that deal. Well played, Buddy, well played.
Buddy Boy McBrady Gone Forever Bird Hunting as of Monday, Sept 1st 2014 at 3:30 “Find us some good fields up there, boy, and I will see you again soon.”
You can read all about my boy… there are lots of stories under “Buddy – A Series of Adventures” in my blog category, “Words From The Wild”. Please feel free to share with others who may find meaning and value in our journey together, and PR Brady AdVentures.
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I love this story! How funny and I understand your embarrassment. ..still so funny. After I had my oldest daughter, whenever she would be around my mom, my mom’s dog would come over a pee on my mom’s foot as if to say. ..knock it off…you’re mine. Our pets are such an important part of our lives. They bring such joy into our lives.
Buddy peed on every male that we came in contact with except Don The Duckman. Guess he knew Don was no threat. Yeah, he had no intention of sharing me with another guy. Actually, peeing was Buddy’s answer for a variety circumstances–like in my post “Collar Me Loyal”. What a boy.
Last time I was over Buddy was still with you and you had a heavy heart about a decision you had to make sooner or later. I’m so sorry you lost him and he’s still so alive in your stories. I can just imagine the whole scene. All his, indeed.
What a grand story…..and I’m glad you are reaching that point in your grief where you can reflect on all that happiness and chaos that comes from raising pups and just letting dogs be dogs! We love them so much….