That Fuzzy Robe Always Gets Me Into Trouble

If you have been following my blog, then you may have read my experiences with my blue fuzzy robe. You know, the one that carries the high voltage and makes me look like a comet/wonder woman when I decide to try to fly away from scary ghosts in my house.

Every morning, I have the same routine. Wake up, tell Mooch to get out of the way, visit the bathroom (just checking the counters for dust…), then stagger out to the kitchen to start the coffee brewing, let Mooch out into the backyard, pour clean water into her bowl, heft the fifty pound bag of peanuts and dole out some yummies for the untotaled number of squirrels (friends of Hammy) that now wait at the back door for my morning rounds. This is a rather boring and predictable routine. Once I’ve fed the squirrels and the fish, I usually get the dishes out of the dishwasher and start putting them away. And I’m usually wearing my blue fuzzy robe, the one that electrocutes the crap out of me everytime I move, or even breathe. Still, it’s the only robe I own, so what can ya do, ay? (Alright already, surely I could go buy another robe that wouldn’t electrocute me, but I hate, I repeat HATE shopping for clothes. Out of the question.)

So, during this boring morning routine, I rarely see much of anything shocking or surprising in my backyard. Mooch usually barges out to the garage out there on the back forty to see if she can catch the mama raccoon sneaking her way into, or out of, the broken window. (Mama raccoon has a box of babies in our garage.) Normally, Mama Raccoon is waaaay too fast for Mooch, being as how Mooch is somewhat of a couch potato, she doesn’t have the conditioning of a wild animal. So it was with great alarm that I realized something odd was happening in my backyard. Plate poised to be placed in the cupboard, mid-yawn, I heard something that sounded like a cross between a squawk, a snarl, a bark, and a cry for help. I put the plate down, closed my mouth, made sure my blue fuzzy robe was tied tight, and raced for the sliding glass door, which stood open. Nearly tripping over Hammy, who was up on her haunches, hoping for another fifty pound bag of peanuts, I stumbled halfway across the porch and then stopped, mouth hanging open, my mind racing to try to figure out what the hell I was seeing.

Mooch had some very small, fuzzy animal clamped between her jaws and pinned to the ground. Said small, fuzzy animal was snarling like a wild beast, snapping, squirming, and pawing the ground. Mooch growled a warning. I was petrified. My God!! This could NOT be MY dog!!! My sweet, lovable dog who woke me nearly every night begging to climb in bed and snuggle. Not My sweet dog who had to get mama to fix her blankie, get the tic out of her bed, and help her when she was in trouble. No, this was not my Mooch. This was some primeval, primitive wolf creature that was determined to get the intruder out of HER territory. For the first time in her life, Mooch had captured something. And it did not look good.

“Mooooooooooooch!!” I screamed.

Hammy gazed up at me from her position two inches from my right pinky toe.

“Oh, my GOD!! Mooch has a baby raccoon. In her mouth,” I screeched.

I heard vague noises like my husband snoring in the bedroom. Why my bellowing didn’t get him out of bed was beyond me.

MY screech got Mooch’s attention. She looked up at me, lost her grip on the wild creature, and the chase was on. The critter squirmed away from the jaws of the big, white beast, and hauled ass. Well, as fast as its little ass could haul, anyway. Which wasn’t fast enough. I watched as the creature raced for the far side of the yard. Mooch was right behind it, her nose literally on the creature’s backside, just above the tail. Wait just a darn minute now!!! That was no raccoon. That was no wild creature at all. That was some weird, little fluffy froo-froo dog. In MY backyard!! Being chased by MY lovable, sweet hound.

“Oh My GOD!!!” I bellowed.

I quickly looked around. Surely, the owner of this dog would soon be vaulting over my fence to rescue the dog. And catch me standing there in my blue, fuzzy, electrifying robe, with forty squirrels all around me begging for peanuts.

Said dog was making some sort of frantic noise, a hoarse, rattly barkie sound that had an unusual rhythm to it. In fact, such a perfect rhythm, I could almost develop a RAP tune to it. But I digress….

Em…where was I? Oh, yes, absolutely true story. I hollered for Mooch to cease and desist, while the small dog chirped it’s way across the backyard, eyes wide and terrified, legs pumping hard. It seemed to be barking something like, “God help me!!! PLEEEEEASE!!! Why won’t someone help me!!!”

“Moooooooch!!! I screamed.

Having run out of yard and quickly approaching the wooden fence, the dog made a sharp U-turn and headed back the other way. Still chirping it’s plea for help, Mooch’s nose still on its backside.

“Mooooooooch!!! STOP!!!” I screamed.

Mooch obediently stopped and looked at me, a wide grin on her face, her sides heaving from the effort. The small dog ran and hid in the bushes behind the garage. After a few stern orders from me, Mooch came inside.

A few minutes later, I handed Rabbit a cup of coffee. “What was that racket outside?” He muttered. He still looked sleepy as he sipped his coffee.

“Oh, nothing much. Just Mooch tasting a small dog I’ve never seen before.”

Rabbit peered at me over the rim of his cup, one eyebrow lifted slightly in puzzlement. “Um…did you say tasting?”

“Yup. You’ll be interesting in knowing that our dog is quite territorial after all.”

I told him about the dog in Mooch’s mouth.

“You’re kidding me?” Rabbit said.

“Nope.”

“Well, she must not have been too serious. If it was in her mouth, she could have killed it at that moment.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

Rabbit glanced over at Mooch who was now perched happily on the bed, looking very pleased with herself. “Too weird,” he said. “I never thought Mooch would do anything like that.”

“Me either.”

“So, the dog wasn’t hurt?” Rabbit asked.

“Not that I could tell. No blood. Nothing broken. Just total terror.”

“Well, at least it wasn’t hurt.”

“Yeah, we should probably go look later on just to make sure. But I think it scooted under the back fence and took off.”

Rabbit sighed, took a sip of coffee, then looked at me. “Mornin’ Hun.”

I grinned. “Mornin’ Rabs. Just another day at the crazy house, huh?”

“Yup,” he agreed.

I started to get into bed to enjoy my coffee while we watched the morning news.

“Um…Hun…” Rabbit said.

I paused. “What?”

“Look down the hallway.”

I turned around and saw Q, Hammy the Squirrel’s biggest peanut rival standing at the other end of the hallway.

“Aw, shit!!!” I muttered. I got back out of bed and stalked down the hallway to shoo Q back outside. As I handed Q a peanut and scooted him back outside, I heard a cacophony of barking just down the road. Sounded like our new friend had stumbled into someone else’s yard and was getting the warning to leave.

P. S. For those of you who know my love of ghost hunting, here is a newly launched, interesting site to check out. The Zen Frog

Copyright 2009 C. D. Blizzard
Dog Attacks