The day starts bright and sunny, the windstorm of the night having been laid to rest sometime during the early morning hours, leaving a tranquil and clear day to enjoy.
I wake at the usual time, blinking at the ceiling while my body whines for another hour of sleep, when I know that I can’t, if I want to keep up the usual schedule.
In the end I win the battle I usually lose and roll out of bed to start the day. I get my morning reading done, make the bed and get dressed to head for the house.
Before I’m done, a ruckus outside draws my full attention. Due to the rain the upper patio door doesn’t close well enough for the lock to work, and the large pack has come bursting outside, colliding head-on with my dogs.
Not at all willing to share this moment of freedom with the others, my dogs spring to attention in less than a second. Fights are about to ensue, too, when I jump between the opposing sides, shouting dire warnings and dispersing random slaps at coiled rumps and torsos until at last the wave of canine bodies subsides back through the doorway from which they came. I would like to say that it is my dominating presence that causes this steady retreat, but I fear that it is my personal pack’s impressive snarling that has the most effect. Hah.
Keeping a wary eye on my pack, all of their furs standing on end in aggression, as I go down the four steps in pursuit of the escapees and kick the door shut after the last dog slips inside. Still grumbling from the unwelcome adrenaline rush, I return to my cabin, constantly berating my pack for their aggression and quickly finish the morning rituals. This could have turned out to be a really nasty fight. Had I hesitated to intervene for even ten more seconds, damage would have been numerous on both sides that is a fact.
Upon arriving at the main house, and setting aside my bag, I immediately grab my exercise clothes and change into them when I notice that time is once again ahead of me.
The workout takes up to seventy minutes today, mostly due to the fact that big brother and grandpa need to go check out the water main, which isn’t supplying one of our tenants with water. This leaves me with the majority of the pack–including my own– both sides still harboring some competitiveness towards each other after this morning’s unexpected fracas.
Still, all the routines and reps get done, allowing me to shower and then have breakfast by the time big brother and grandpa return.
Once we’ve settled behind our computers for today’s work, we’re relatively undisturbed for two hours before the younger sibs arrive, once again sending the dogs into a frenzy when three groups are let into freedom and need to mix with the dogs that are already roaming the house.
Though it is a noisy affair, on the most part it is quite an impressive sight. Together our number of dogs is a pack that lives in relative peace with each other; (excluding the occasional disagreement between several fight-happy members, of course) they play together, eat together and genuinely enjoy each other’s company while still keeping close to their individual human masters.
During the nights they easily split up into smaller packs that are closer still, while never really breaking the bond between the whole.
There are some dogs that don’t get along, naturally. Some characters just don’t go together, but that doesn’t take away the beauty of small individual packs fluidly coming together on any given day with little to no trouble at all. According to our vets this is quite an amazing feat, and seeing it happen again and again, every single day, I have to agree.
However, no matter how well our pack gets along, it does not prevent the occasional mishap. Which is what occurs today, sometime after the younger sibs have awakened and are working on their own chores with diligence and little to no communication. (None of the younger sibs are talkative early in the morning, and this shows when they move about their business without so much as a “good morning”. Hah.)
I am just about to start on the third page of today’s session when middle sister breaks the usual silence and states that Bambi, one of our crossbreeds, is sporting an ugly gash in the back of his hip.
Big brother immediately sets to finding the dog that is always roaming through the garden during this time of day, and spends several minutes on the search when middle sister finds the dog and drags the unwilling canine down for an inspection.
It takes little more than a glance to see that a trip to the vet is warranted. In all likelihood Bambi got nipped in the butt during one of the two releases today, giving him the display of sinew and muscle that lays bare a large portion of the inside of his hind leg.
Though the dog doesn’t appear to feel much of it, we decide not to wait too long, and head on out to the vet in less than fifteen minutes. The waiting period at the hospital is relatively short as the assistants and receptionist cluck their concern over a wound that is less severe than some we’ve had to deal with in the past, and soon the vet examines the damage.
We’re not surprised to hear that they’re going to need to stitch it up and after they give Bambi a mild sedative we’re back on our way home with the promise to return two hours later to pick him up again.
After reporting the progress at home, and greeting the pack, which jumps on us the moment we enter the house, I start on dinner, figuring that I might as well get it done before we have to leave again to get Bambi from the hospital.
With dinner over and done with, the dishes done, two hours have gone by and it’s time to head on out to the car. The wind has picked up again, and Dax, who always follows me by sneaking through the fences, jumps into our path, just as we’re about to pull away from the gate. Rather than waste the time to bring him back inside we take him with us to the village.
Bambi is making quite a ruckus when we arrive and comes storming straight at us dragging the poor assistant behind him. He is more than eager to go home, while the vet is giving instructions about the treatment for the next few days.
There’s a triangular section on his hip that shows the size of his wound in full, especially since the skin has been shaved clean. A drain has been inserted to prevent swelling, and this will need to be taken out in five days or so, while the stitches need to stay in for about two weeks.
None of this is new to us, and we ensure the vet that we’ll handle it, as she nods–once again remembering our number of canine companions and the mishaps they tend to get into.
Within fifteen minutes of arrival we’re heading on back, Bambi on the seat beside me, sighing in relief, or so it seems.
Once at home, I find myself to be oddly tired, and lounge in front of the TV for about an hour when I notice my eyes starting to droop.
Rather than risk falling asleep where I sit, I make coffee and get to the laundry I didn’t have time for during the morning hours.
Two batches to take down and two to hang, taking the usual amount of time, before the coffee is done and I pour myself a mug. I spend a little more time in the kitchen, cleaning and organizing the top shelves before I head for the table and set up my computer for some more writing.
Only one more page gets added to the two I did this morning before midnight has passed and I get ready to head up for the night.
Vet visits: They’re a necessary evil, which really break up what could very well have been a productive day.
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