~ Tucker Responds to Your Letters… ~
Dear Tucker:
“I’m writing today because I had some questions after reading your last column.
My younger sister, Susannah (Suze), has me read your column to her whenever Mom picks up the new issue. Suze wants to get a dog like you someday. Between Mom’s Pomeranian (Zeus) and my older brother’s Mastiff mix (Tiny), we could use a pack sheriff around here. Zeus bosses Tiny around all day long, and with the weather in the north country, we’ve been cooped up in the house together more than usual. We could use a peacekeeper.
What breed of dog are you again? We couldn’t remember. We want to start looking for a dog like you to adopt. If Mom and Brendon (Bren) can have their dogs, why can’t the sisters have one?
Also, Suze wasn’t a big fan of your story about your snow-day (we’re tired of snow), and she’d like a story about your relatives. Those are her favorites.“
Yours,
Priscilla Montoya (Cill), 14
Northern Coconino County
P.S. Wish us luck on convincing Mom about a getting our own dog
P.P.S. Suze says hi to your deputy.
Dear Cill:
Thank you for your kind letter. Dad read it to me last night. I had already taken my position in bed, and Dad was waiting with me for Mom. Keira waited in the doorway, knowing Dad would say his goodnights and most likely head out to the kitchen to get a snack. Hence Keira’s reluctance to jump up on the bed with us.
She impatiently ignored Dad’s reading of the letter, because it was mostly about me, but got excited about Suze’s personal greeting. She put her front paws up on the bedspread and stretched out her frame to get the scent of your letter.
Getting back down and wagging her hind-end around the room, she kept asking Dad when Suze was coming over. She wagged herself out of the bedroom to tell Hazel all about her new friend. I guess you could say she said hello back to you in her own way.
I can understand the Snow Party story not being one of your favorites. The pack here is getting restless for warmer weather too, in part because Mom and Dad do a lot more outdoor stuff that we take part in when it’s warmer. Hazel and I also miss lounging in the sun. We tried a couple of times recently, but a stiff, cold wind drove us back to the patio door where Dad was waiting. How did he know?
Now, about finding a new pack member. I’m going to be cautious with telling you what kind of dog to look for. Dad says the right dog can come in nearly any shape or size. He also says the exact same thing about the wrong dog. Now on to the style of dog, like temperament and stuff.
When you meet, take them away from other dogs and give them time to calm down and display their own… uh… rhythm. Dad showed me pictures of the two breeds you have at home now, and I think a medium-sized dog, like me, might help even things out around the household.
My birth Mom was mostly Samoyed with a bit of Retriever. She was white with apricot highlights, a lion’s mane of white, a curled upright tail (again, like mine), and one upright ear and the other at half-mast. You could tell when my Mom was irritated, or listening intently to something, as both ears would stand upright. From puppyhood, she lived on a farm for two years with her brother Henry. Henry was the working dog of the farm.
Mom’s days consisted mainly of herding the chickens back to their area, patrol for fox or weasel signs, and waiting on the porch for Henry to return from the fields. She told me that one day a rancher from down the road asked to borrow her for a few weeks to help with a new heeler they were having trouble with at the ranch.
Carli, the heeler, was learning her training and showed a lot of promise, but she had trouble calming down after her work day. Carli was prone to get into mischief if she was bored. The rancher, having observed Mom’s peaceful but alert nature, was hoping she would be good company and maybe help with bring a little calm to the household.
I remember when she told me about the day she left the farm for the ranch. I was only a few weeks old, and had wiggled up against her chest for a nap, and pressed my face into her ruff while she told me of the anxiousness she felt leaving Henry and the only home she’d known.
The next day, when the rancher lifted Mom out of his big truck, she was only on the ground for a few minutes when she saw that Carli the Heeler was certainly going to be a handful for Mom. She had barely gotten to check out her new environs when she heard fierce growling behind the house.
Racing across the yard, she caught Carli pulling the bedsheets off the clothesline. Mom lowered her head and straightway plowed her muzzle into Cali’s side at full speed, with such force that Carli yelped and ran towards the house.
The rancher came out to see what all the backyard fuss was about and slowly surveyed the scene. Carli looked out from behind his legs, the bedsheets were on the lawn, and Mom was sitting calmly beside them.
The rancher took a bite of the biscuit he’d come out with and tossed it towards Mom. It landed right in front of her. “Go ahead, you earned it.”
She waited and watched as the rancher scolded Carli a bit and put her in the truck to head off to work somewhere in the distance. Then she ate her prize, and… developed a lifelong taste for butter.
The rancher’s wife came out and rehung some of the laundry and collected what needed to be rewashed up to the porch. She sat down on the front step and called my Mom over to her.
Mom sat at the wife’s feet and listened intently to her concerns about Carli, and how she was glad my Mom could be there to help. The wife got up to tend to the laundry, but not before Mom got a friendly pat on her side and a shortbread cookie from the wife’s apron pocket.
I hope you find what you are looking for, Cill. I’ll save the story on how I was born the next spring on that very ranch for you and Suze next time.
Speaking of Spring, Dad said a small flock of robins came through the yard this morning. Stopped by on their way to their northern homes. Dad says it’s a sure sign of Spring’s approach. Bet they’re on their way to your town by now.
~ Tucker Oso ~
