Rufus Tales: What’s going on in the Back SEAT!
5 September 2014
For starters my only opportunity to get a photo of the chickens waiting to get in the neighbor’s front door, was on a foggy day. I almost missed the one chicken on the front porch, and the Guardian puppy. The rest of the chickens were on the back deck, but not near the barbecue.
Eleven months ago, Rufus was an abandoned emaciated hound, who didn’t know what to make of dog toys or living inside a house. He’s a quick study, so most everything changed. Including that his once loose harness is Very snug. And his flea collar is on its last notch. All of which is related to his discovery of ‘cookies’.
The Prince Consort decided to control what ingredients went into the ‘cookies’, so he found recipes. The first peanut butter and oatmeal cookie was well received. Rufus was a fan. Then TPC expanded to a pumpkin, peanut butter, and oatmeal cookie.
Nope. The same hound who will jump and sit, or anything you ask for a cookie, politely took the pumpkin cookie, set it on the floor and looked up at TPC for a ‘real cookie’. We’ll toss the losers in the woods and see how the raccoons feel about pumpkin cookies.
Although Rufus has a crate for riding in the car, he prefers the backseat. Okay, he really would rather ride ‘shot gun’ in my seat up front. But I’m holding my territory. So while TPC drives us all to the daily walk out at the pond, there is plenty of activity in the backseat. Rolling. Scooting along the seat on tummy. Gnawing on the nyla bone. Barking at motorcycles, big trucks, sometimes small trucks, and just for emphasis SUVs.
Pretty much expected stuff. It’s the trip back home that becomes really interesting. By this time Rufus has sniffed a mile or more of fields and paths, and is revved up!!! So first thing he does, after a bowl of water and a quick lick over his paws, is to disappear over the backseat.
And then it gets really quiet. When Professor Daughter was a toddler, she got really quiet. I was sitting three feet away from her sorting through toys. Superman would be hard pressed to smear the entire contents of my left-over from college blue eye shadow over his body as fast as my little Pict descendent did. By extrapolation TPC and I know to be worried when Rufus is quiet.
I have been known to unbuckle my seat belt and climb into the back of the van when Rufus is not visible and too quiet. ( Last time he was nose deep in the stuffing from a dissected pillow I forgot was in the back.) So a day ago he got quiet, and I stretched as far as I could to see in back. Nothing.
And then the seat cover on the backseat raised up like a duck cloth ghost. Rufus had sno-sed his way under the seat cover and was headed back over the seat. (He’s picked out his Halloween costume; no tutus for our hound. He’ll Trick or Treat as a seat cover, thank you very much.) By the time i got my iPhone out, that game was over. Now it was: let’s eat the seat belts time. Which of course means saying “No” over and over and trying to sound like Rufus better obey. Which… well, you know. Nope.
So yesterday it got quiet, I looked back. Rufus was checking the back window for terrorists. Or as TPC says, “Watching our six.” We’ll need some more peanut butter sans pumpkin cookies for the GOOD BOY!
Kath
