Barmy Blue's Bland Blog

How do you make a dog go away?

Today I find myself asking that very question. There is a dog in my garden. Quite a big dog. He's a he, that's certain, he had markings like an Alsatian, maybe he is a short haired Alsatian, certainly looks like one, with a lovely face. He's young, that's obvious. He has good teeth that are...tooth coloured (You can't really call normal teeth white ) I know he's young because he's lively and energetic, and has good teeth. He has no collar but I know he lives in the garden backing onto mine. I know, because I recognize his bark. I hear it a lot and his owners either leave him or tell him to shut up. He's very friendly, instantly warming to me. He thinks that cat made of stone is something to bark at and paw, before jumping away as if it spat acid.


How did he get there?

I've had nightmares about this. Tigers, lions, big dogs, people getting into my garden. It's quite small and only really gets activity from small birds and cats. It's full of thorns. And mud. No problem for Satan, the Demon Dog (His name isn't really Satan, I just thought of it now). I don't know exactly how he got in but our fences are very old and falling apart, it wouldn't take much to get through them.


Imagine my surprise.

Mum'd got me up at 8:30 because dad's coming round to fix the tv antenna and I had to clear away the mousetrap (I'll explain later (it's a humane trap)). I was annoyed, had been dreaming good dream, wanted sleep. Anyway, Dad came, made me help him get a heavy ladder over the hedge and into the garden so he could get on the roof. I started watching Top Gear, then had to help him put the ladder back on his truck and then watch Top Gear. In between the last one (He's gone now by the way, dad) and the next episode (involving finding the best driving road in Europe, where James May picks an uncomfortable car to say the least ) I went to get a drink and breakfast. Suddenly, I hear barking. Very close. Too close. I look out of the window. Lo and behold. A dog. Barking at something. I was a bit worried at first because I didn’t know anything about him and was worried he’d bite (We didn’t think he was very well treated but he seems alright really) He seemed friendly through the window so I carefully opened the door to say hello. He was over friendly, trying to climb on me. I’m not used to that. He suddenly started barking at nothing and it worried me that he might bite so I retreated indoors. You know what he was barking at? The stone cat we put over Henry’s grave as a marker, we call it Ghost Cat. He was barking and trying to paw at it and jumping back, I called mum to tell her, I’ve been calling her on and off since, he quietened down after, I guess he realized Ghost Cat wasn’t real. I tried getting him to sit and he did, and to stay while I opened the door. Now he’s learnt that I won’t open the door unless he sitting down quietly. He’s a fast learner and a very good dog. That’s the only commands he seems to know so far.
It’s not that I don’t like dogs. It’s just since our last dog died, when I was a very little girl, we’ve only had cats, and I’ve never really been alone with such a lively dog. He got mud over my pajamas, when he stood up to say hello. He’s got such a lovely face. I dot a plastic bucket, that we get with the bird food, and filled it with water. He seemed pleased and drank some before picking the bucket up and running off with it, spilling water everywhere. He broke up the bucket, but we’ve got plenty more, though I was worried that he could have swallowed some and it’s be sharp. If I’m inside he’ll look up at me and stand up with his paws on the door to see inside. He wants to get in the house but I won’t let him. If I do he’ll never go home. I heard his owners calling him but he won’t go. His ears perk up and he bounds to the end of the garden and then comes back again. I wonder if he knows how to get back. He must do. Mum thinks he’s having too much fun here. He pulled out one of our dog’s old dog toys, a squeaky parsnip with no squeak. I call it a parsnip, mum tells me it was a carrot once . Then he squeezed through the fence into another garden and I thought he’d gone home but I checked from my bedroom window and found him running around in that garden before coming back (so he didn’t go home) and he brought back half a plastic bottle. It gave me an idea and reminded me of a time I saw a person in the park throwing an empty drinks bottle for his dog to play fetch, so I got an empty bottle, got him to sit and stay until I was ready, encouraged him to follow the bottle and threw it. He absolutely loved grabbing it and chasing it (because he couldn’t grip it) and then chewing it up. So since I’ve been throwing him a new bottle when he gets bored. He particularly loved an empty 2 liter lemonade bottle for a while, now they’re all at the other end of the garden where he left them. Then his owners were whistling for him but her preferred to chew a bottle. We’ve given him bottles to play with and water to drink, in a bowl this time, that he can’t lift, but we won’t let him in the warm or feed him in the hopes he’ll go home. If he’s not gone by the time mum get’s back we’ll try asking our neighbor over the road (who keeps Alsatians, despite her dwindling size ) if we can borrow a lead, and a collar to clip it to (because he doesn’t have a collar) and take him there ourselves. I don’t want to go alone because I worry I might not be strong enough to hold him. I couldn’t even hold onto a manic terrier one time so a lively young Alsatian will easily throw me, even though I’m bigger now. Anyway, he was barking a while ago and he had a good sleep. I’m hoping the demon dog’s gone home now.

Aaaawwwww he’s curled up asleep on the doorstep. WILL I EVER BE RID OF THIS DOG!! He’s such a lovely dog though. I wish I could keep him, but there’s a ton of problems even if his owners sold him to me. That’s why we never got another dog.
Oh well, I’ll tell you how it goes.

Bluebiird out.