~ Ladies and Gentlemen, If You Would Now Turn Your Attention to the Center Ring ~
How a four-legged pack of three can be broken down into so many sub-groups is a “wonderment” to me. We three four-legged’s have very distinct personalities and “quirks” (as Dad calls some of our behaviors). Yet we fall into different groups on a regular basis, For instance;
First, we have the Folded Ear Group: Me and Keira
Second, Pointed Ear Group: Hazel
The ‘Triever Group: Me and Keira
Curved Tail Group: Me and Hazel
Red Dog Group: Hazel, Keira (Golden, but red), and Mom, an honorary two-legged member, (hair color)
Senior Group: Me and Hazel
Law Enforcement Group: Me and Keira (deputized last week, but she’s kind of on probation for a while), and Dad of course for unresolved disputes… and… Mom (final authority, ‘nuff said)
Mealtime Vocal Demonstration Group: Hazel and Keira
Philosophers Group: Hazel and Keira (Hazel deputized her as an “intern of musing”, but I think she’s on probation there, too)
Forgot to Pee when I was Outside, So I Need to Go Back Out Again Group: Hazel and Keira
Forgot to Pee When I was Inside, So I need to Come Back In Again Group: Dad
Super-Happy-Shiny-Funtime-Excitement-Galore-Belly-Rubs-For-All-And-Toys Group: All of us
I was reflecting on how we act as a pack in different situations, and how we are so different but have unspoken solid connections at certain points. Hazel and I have one style of communication, but with Keira, a sister retriever, there’s a different kind of camaraderie.
Being so much younger, I feel it’s my duty to pass on what I know… to show her my “kung-fur” moves so she’ll be brave and stand her ground if ever needed. Hazel on the other hand, having a Rez-dog lineage, isn’t much interested in learning those kinds of skills from me. She’s a freelance kind of dog who doesn’t stray too far from the concept of Indian-time (aside from meals). On my end, her philosophical stuff… I couldn’t be less interested.
Sometimes Dad tries to bring me into those long discussions, but it all sounds like an excuse to forget to wag while thinking hard. Yes, I’m stoic, but wagging and watching are equally important to me. I call it courteous vigilance.
Back a few years ago, during Hazel and I’s striped-cat episode, (Keira hadn’t arrived here yet), we stood our ground together on one side of the chain-linked fence and collectively read that black cat the riot act in no uncertain terms. We were so effective together, scaring that cat so bad, she turned her back on us and sprayed us over and over again with the most noxious stuff. It was a costly battle, but I was proud to stand alongside Hazel, and I know she would be alert and protect the pack if it ever came to that. But… she and I are getting older.
I think Hazel’s oblivious to her aging. As for Keira, she will probably have that 80% puppy brain for years to come. Picture large, full-bodied bucking-bronco style acrobatics, so that when she throws herself down on the carpet (for her lateral display), you’d think she was a horse trying to throw a saddle off her back. She does this with no outside stimulus, unpredictably, and it’s not conducive to philosophical musing or moments when I’m performing my Sheriff’s duties. Hence, her probation(s).
Yesterday, two new rabbits came a little too far down the hill towards our fence line. I took my stance, announced myself, and was about to recite the distance rules when Keira threw herself down on her side next to me and waived her limbs in all directions and mumbled complaints about the lateness of lunch, and how deputy work is soooo boring, all the while pretending to absentmindedly kick pebbles and dirt at my flank at random intervals with her back foot.
I looked back at the rabbits’ hill in time to see them wander back up the hill partway, just to get a better look at the one-animal circus act in its final encore at my side. There was no way I could think of to reassert any sort of decorum, let alone garner any respect from the newcomers on the hill.
Heading back into the house seemed to be the only option at that point, and of course Keira leapt up to follow, asking me what we were going to do next.
Angry as I was at her, you know I could have answered in typical sarcastic fashion, but I let it go and just answered, “Let’s go check on Mom in the office”.
Mom immediately saw the disheveled look of Keira’s hindquarters, wearing dirt, pine needles, and some small pebbles. Back outside we went with Mom, a brush in her hand. Keira and I both revel in brushings. It’s a highlight in the ‘Treiver Club meetings. (Hazel always disappears when the brush comes out.)
So there Keira and I were with Mom in the sun, getting brushed together, so… how could I stay mad at Keira when everything was just… so… good at that moment. While Mom picked out a few pine needles from Keira’s “bloomers”, I went over to Keira, flipped up a folded ear and gave her a good washing.
I never gave the rabbits another thought that afternoon. Being in our small group, together, was for a moment in time, the center of our world.
“Groups, tribes, communities, friends, acquaintances… their boundaries change, ever expanding and contracting… they challenge and test… give us a chance to grow, and at times are a safe harbor in the storms.”
I just remembered Dad said that once to Hazel as I walked by. Funny how I still remember that.
~Tucker Oso
