I am so happy to announce that Gunner and Bear have given me permission to live here.
In the last few months my human boys moved out and I’ve been cutting expenses, which is funny since it’s not like they really PAID their rent in the first place. ANYWAY! I decided to change from cable to satellite TV through my phone company to cut about $60 off my monthly bills. Of course, this involves installation, service men, house access etc etc.
Gunner and Bear are my children and I never realize that some people might be a little intimidated by a 95 pound growling (but can’t back it up) Rottweiler and a 60 pound (bark is only a vocal slobbery kiss) Pit Bull. They do however, never fail to remind me.
Early one Monday morning, after I had worked a 16 hour unexpected shift until 7AM, the first installation expert shows up. A little more than sorry that I didn’t re-schedule since we all know that takes forever, I put the boys in the yard and let the man in. About an hour later another serviceman called to confirm his appointment. By that time the boys and I were dozing in my room. Not thinking, I opened the door, the boys ran out, tails wagging, and barks barking in a very loud attempt at being the Welcome Wagon representatives.
The satellite installation guy shot up the ladder, the trainee phone installer dove (and I do mean dove – as in through the window….) dove back into the van, and the senior installer took off across the street. Welcome to my Monday morning! I know that Bear will tour the neighborhood and eventually make his way home (usually escorted by the police like his predecessor Bear1) or just lurk on the porch knowing he’s in trouble. However, I am not sure that Gunner will offer me the same courtesy.
So, here I am, about 10% awake, no shoes, hair looking like Medusa, ratty old T-shirt and shorts on, running across the front lawn after this fast as lightening Pit Bull. Luckily for me, he stopped at the ladder and only tried to climb up. Even more lucky for me, he can’t. I get him into the house and there is Bear2 jumping up and down on his hind legs by the driver’s window, barking at the trainee who can’t get far enough away.
Bear is stronger than I am and I would have paid a lot of money to get video of me trying to drag this stubby tail wagging Rottie into the house. It was not very attractive nor was it very feminine. After what seemed like an eternity, I finally got the boys sequestered in my room and went back to the traumatized men. I cannot tell you how relieved I was, down to the very last fiber in my being, to find the three of them standing around making fun of each other and how they had each reacted. I couldn’t apologize enough, but they were really good about it. Eventually all 5 males were together and new friends were made. Thank goodness, I really need the phone and computer!!
I have noticed that these canine companions seem to work as a tag team depending on who wants what. I can be in the kitchen cooking when Bear will come to me and just jump and bark. I follow him into the bedroom and there is Gunner sitting by the doors ready to go out. If Gunner comes to me and barks, then I can bet Bear is sitting by the food bag waiting.
My neighbors have gotten pretty used to these two as well. The fierce barks don’t intimidate anyone who knows them. One of the young girls next door had friends over. When I let the boys out they ran to the fence. Two of her friends got up and ran. She calmly said, “Oh, that’s just Bear and his friend Gunner.” She came over to the fence and the guys almost wagged their hind ends off. I can see no one has ever told them that Rotties and Pitties are dangerous breeds.
Bear and Gunner continue to keep me busy as well. I don’t think they realize that I have enough craziness around here without their input. Last weekend we had a little bit of rain. I say a little because it wasn’t enough to worry about, unless you have these two around. The yard is mostly scattered patches of grass and lots of open soil. The rain was just enough to make the bare patches a little moist and made it great fun to run through. As a precaution, I had spread old towels by the doors to my bedroom as well as by the mud room door to catch the mud before they got all the way in. I shouldn’t have wasted my time.
I opened the bedroom doors and the first guy in slid across the towels and careened into the bed. Second man in jumped over the first up onto the bed, followed by the other. If paw prints are gifts from the heart, then I am loved more than anyone I know. Lucky for me (and them!!) the wet foot prints washed out of my white bed spread. I really wish they would learn how to go AROUND the bed.
I’m learning a routine more and more from these guys. They have me on a tight schedule. I am not in the least a morning person. I’m usually not really awake until I’m half way to work. Anyway, I’m not sure if he does it to scare me or just doesn’t realize that when he hides, I get a little nervous. Gunner still likes to sleep under the covers. After breakfast, it’s out in the yard at 5AM and then a morning nap. It’s out again at 6 just before I leave. Inow realize the Gunner likes an after breakfast morning nap. More than once I’ve been searching for him, calling his name and wracking my brain trying to remember letting him in. One morning I had gone through the house twice looking for him. I searched closets, bathrooms, upstairs, downstairs, in the yard, on the deck…. no Gunner. As I was throwing on my shoes, the blankets on the bed started moving, I jumped, Bear leaped and Gunner emerged from his warm spot looking at me like I was crazy. He kind of huffed, turned around and went back under the blankets. Since I caught onto the routine, I haven’t lost him again.
True to his nickname, Face, Gunner’s is a very expressive one. Usually I can tell if the boys are up to something by the looks I get from them. Last night I put 5 pounds of flour in a large bowl, mixed it with spices and left it on the kitchen counter. I was (notice I said WAS) going to fry about 15 pounds of chicken for a fundraiser at work. I came into the bedroom to turn off the television when a streak of brown and white shot past me and literally dove onto the bed and under the blankets. Suspicious, and not quite sure what to expect, I called Bear. My beautiful black Rottie kind of slinked into the bedroom completely covered in flour! There was a cloud of white dust spreading from the kitchen, through the dining room and floating directly at me. White powdery paw prints marked the paths they had taken across the hard wood floors. Bear knew he was in trouble and tried to creep away half crawling and half walking. Gunner emerged from under the bed clothes and maintained his innocent look. He actually refused to make eye contact and I just know he was laughing. I was furious! I couldn’t blame either of them. I did leave the bowl on the counter right next to the television and I did hear Bear barking and jumping. I just didn’t make the connection. When I accepted the fact that there was nothing I could do about it, I just laughed, bathed Bear, snuggled Gunner and cleaned it up. The chicken never did get fried, I put it in the freezer and placed an order in at the local fast food deli.
Just think…. this weekend Deycon and his sister are coming to visit for a week….– Written by Eileen, Foster Mom in New York.