A Good Morning!

Someday very soon, I'm going to write an "Introducing" article about Artoo. He's a fun and funny dog, who hasn't had much of a chance to live up to his potential. I promise, Artoo, that day is coming. And, when he gets those much-deserved accolades, I will write all about it! But, until then, let me tell you about his morning.

First, let me preface this blog by saying that Artoo is a big dog, at least for a Teddy Roosevelt Terrier. He's not fat and currently weighs about 24 pounds. Let me add that the weather has been horrific until very recently. You simply don't let house or kennel dogs out to run when it's over 90 degrees by 8:30 or so in the morning, particularly when the heat is accompanied by 75%+ humidity. Even the dogs with free access to the outside spend most of their time in the shade, in cool holes they have dug in the ground. Most of my dogs have spent their summer inside the cottage with me. They've been primarily housed in crates (I have 328 square feet of living space, forgive me), allowed some daily "out" time into the living room, with occasional early morning excursions into ex-pens to stretch their legs. It's not an ideal situation, but it's better than dogs dropping dead from the heat! Being crated, no matter how large the crate, is hard on a good-sized, active dog like Artoo, so, on a few occasions, he got a chance to run around after the sun went down until Cassidy was released for his nightly patrol of the homestead. He enjoyed those runs, but quickly asked to come inside.

However, Cassidy is spending a couple of weeks with his Uncle Dan, while I do some work on my fence. As a result, Artoo gets to go outside in the cool morning air for a run. This morning was a glorious morning, sunny, with just enough clouds to produce a bit of shade and a bit of a breeze. Compared to the hot summer that we've had, followed by two weeks of rain, this particular morning was enough to make ME want to run until I was out of breath. I can't do that any longer, but Artoo ran like a mad dog for about 10 minutes, just for the love of running, until his tongue was out by his stubby little knees.

Then, he spotted the cats.

Creamsicle, Mr. Yellow, and Little Brown had made themselves available, much to Artoo's delight. He's a good boy and has no malice in him, but he does love to see a cat run. His first target was Creamy, who was making a slow, dignified walk to a dirt patch in a sunny area--a good place for a dirt bath and a nap. No matter how many times Artoo buzzed him, Creamy refused to run. He acknowledged Artoo with a flick of his tail or a slight turn with a raised paw, but he never picked up the pace. At the end of his twentyish foot stroll, Creamsicle plopped himself into the dirt. And waited.

Artoo, seeing that his "prey" was vulnerable, rushed in for the "attack." Creamsicle took a swipe at Artoo's nose. He missed, but not by much, causing Artoo to have second thoughts about charging the cat. He ran into the tall grass, leaving Creamy to relax. Creamsicle decided that now was the proper time to get a good roll in, swinging all of his paws into the air as he rolled from side to side, rubbing his face into the dirt.

Artoo quickly took this new opportunity, charging at the cat, once again trying to get him to run! He got three of four paws in the face for his efforts. He yelped like a tiny puppy, instead of a four-year-old heavyweight. As Artoo once again ran into the tall grass, Creamsicle completed his dirt bath. Once he had finished, Creamy curled himself into a ball to get a nap. Creamsicle has been shot, he's been mauled by an unknown critter, and his ears are torn to shreds from numerous fights. He's a fifteen-pound tomcat who isn't going to be bothered by anyone. He fell asleep, while Artoo decided to target Little Brown. Unlike Creamsicle, Little Brown raced across the yard and up a tree, under which Artoo stood, yodeling like a coonhound that had shrunk in the wash.

When she refused to come down and let him chase her up again, Artoo turned his attention to Mr. Yellow, who was decidedly unimpressed with the large idiotdog. He decided to continue his nap on the (sacrosanct) green cart upon which they are fed. No harm can come to them when they are on the Green Cart of Goodness. It was about this time that Artoo became bored. Hadn't he left a couple of cats in convenient places?

His first stop was the tree where he had left Little Brown. Somehow, she'd had the audacity to leave. No matter. The Prickly Kitty was still where he had been left. Not being a Rhodes scholar, Artoo returned to Creamsicle, poking his nose into Creamy's personal space and yipping excitedly. Consequences were swiftly meted out this time, as well as the next time he buzzed Creamy and the time after that. After those failed attempts, he once again spotted the Running Kitty. She waited for him to come close, then raced back up the tree.

You would think that after all of these failed attempts, that Artoo would find something else to do. After all, there is no shortage of trees upon which he could lift his leg, plenty of dirt to eat, plenty of cool shade in which to sleep. Oh no. He spotted Little Brown as she hopped out of her tree and began to slink across the yard. He charged after her and the chase was on!

Keep in mind that at any time, she could have hopped the fence or climbed a tree. She didn't. Instead, she kept Artoo running after her until she cut underneath the cottage and back again to take her perch on the top of an ex-pen, waiting patiently until he found her. She spent the next several minutes batting his head with velvet paws as he tried every avenue--including a freshly washed crate pan leaning up against the pen to dry--to reach her. Little Brown is a seriously odd cat. I think she was having as much fun as he was having. Eventually she grew bored and dismounted the ex-pen to run under the weight pull shed. As far as she was concerned, the game was over. I acquiesced to her request and called Artoo to me to bring him into the cottage. There, having had a Very Good Morning, he curled up in his crate and had a good, long nap.

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Nota Bene

Please understand: I would never stand by and watch any of my animals come to harm, not cat, not dog, not goat, not chicken, not quail. I have literally pulled a rooster with three-inch spurs out of the mouth of a TFT that wanted to make it lunch. Had I thought that, at any time, Creamsicle, Little Brown, or even Mr. Yellow were in danger, I would have intervened. Artoo has a four-year history upon which I can draw for knowing if or when to call a halt to the festivities. He loves to chase the cats. He has no intention of catching the cats. They let him walk right up to them and, if they lie still, he leaves them alone. It's the same with all of the dogs, except for (Mr. Rooster Harming, Quail Killing) Badger, whom I don't trust with any small animals due to his prey instinct.