Geordie, Maggie and I spend the afternoon
visiting our friends, Lindy, Yoda (Corgis), and Heidi (human). Actually, Heidi
also has a German Shepherd, Max, too, but he was relegated to the side yard
because of his notion that Cairn terriers are small prey, and I don't think
that either of my two consider him their friend. . .
We have
a nice relaxing time, catching up on news, sports, weather and whatnot. It had
been something like six months since Heidi and I had last visited, and she
prepares a delicious lunch of grilled veggies with pesto and mozzarella and
Focaccia bread for us to enjoy in the fenced backyard among her lovely flower
garden. Her horse and collection of pygmy goats perched on their pile o' rocks
(technically rock CAIRNS, I guess) make a pleasant picture. The weather is kind
of cool, kind of warm, kind of perfect.
The Cairns 'n Corgis are frolicking about, and as ever Geordie
continues to work on a new record for Guinness's on number of leg lifts,
turf-flings and volume of pee deposited in one hour.
So Heidi and I talk of dogs, kids ( the goat kind), kids (the human kind),
politics (the goat, dog, state, federal, and local kind) and more. It is such a
carefree afternoon, really. Heidi turns the hose on, much to Maggie and
Geordie's delight, and they ambush it as usual. Yoda and Lindy are indifferent
to this but are wonderful host and hostess, and as the incredibly popular cliché
(despite its use of the "irresponsible passive") goes, "A good time is had by
all."
Invariably(?), the subject turns to RATS. How? I'm not sure,
but Heidi says that she's sure there are rats in her barn. In fact, four of
them had recently resorted to water-assisted suicide by hallucinating that they
were Olympic divers, ending up dead in a bucket of water (and tragedy of tragedies--
no gold, silver nor even bronze medals around their diminutive necks)--ah, but
I digress. . .
The light bulb goes on in my head!
We've got Monsieur Geordie, Master Earthdog and Mademoiselle Maggie, too, Organic Rat Extermination Service AT your service!
So
I suggest to Heidi, "Hey, let's see if these guys can help."
We
open the gate, as the Corgis watch the Cairns go into their working mode. In
true Master Earthdog trial fashion, I let Geordie loose. I remind him to "get
the rats," and like the veteran he is, he zooms right in on the barn. Maggie
follows him for the sport of it, and both are sniffing at the platform under
which Heidi insists the rats reside. (So both Cairns receive perfect scores on
the Approach and Indication.) Both of us are pretty impressed, I must
admit. So maybe Geordie came by his Earthdog honestly after
all.
One problem. There is simply not enough clearance
under the platform. We have to clear off some miscellaneous odds and ends. Heidi
then uses a two-by-four to pry up the platform to make room for a certain Cairn
to shimmy his way under it. Geordie squeezes right under and within nanoseconds
is barking, growling and snarling. Maggie chooses to politely honor. She is very
refined, you know.
It takes only about ten
seconds for the unmistakable aroma of PepeLePew to
come wafting
out from under the platform. Some rat!
I grab at Geordie's fat little tail and yank him out, and I must say that this is not easy. He puts up quite a bit of resistance, but I pry him out only because as tenacious as he is, I'm bigger and stronger. Heidi removes the two-by-four thus eliminating Geordie's chance of getting back under the way he came. However, he is not daunted-- not for even a second.
Presto! He's on the platform trying to find a way in again through the back. The
rest of us are gagging on the Calling Card of Mr.
Skunk.
It is obvious that Geordie can be left there
safely while we get the hose, wheelbarrow and Nature's Miracle and shampoo. He
ain't goin' NOwhere! He is determined to get The Striped Cat. Heidi comes back
with the supplies--including gloves clarifying lest I should get the wrong
impression.
"They're
not for me; they're for you-- he's YOUR dog!" she firmly reminds me, and I get
to work.
Heidi hoses off the shampoo, and we hope this does the trick.
I
carry Geordie back to the gated yard where Maggie, Yoda and Lindy look intrigued
and are most likely grateful that they weren't the ones to get the bath. I release
Geordie; he treats a patch of dirt as a large bath towel using it to dry his
wet muzzle. He makes sure that I am standing within easy aim when he shakes
off the water.
I decide to air him out a bit more before we leave Heidi
and the Corgis. It crosses my mind to maybe pick up one of those little
pine-scented paper trees to attach to my rear view mirror.
There is only a hint of "bouquet" on Geordie. He lies at my feet as I write
this, exuding the gentle perfume reminder of today that drifts up nostril-ward.
@Copyright Jill Arnel 2000