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We finally have a contract on our house. Whoo Hoo!! Making two mortgage payments has been about a -1 on the Fun-O-Meter these days. Andrei and I have been busy the last week going back and forth picking up those items that "Oh, we'll get them later" kinda stuff.  (Pictures, baskets, window treatments, area rugs, etc.) In fact, there was so much stuff that we have had to make several trips.  Poor Andrei.  On the last trip, the giant mirror I had crammed into the Jeep was leaning on his car seat for support.  Good thing he is not claustrophobic.  He had brooms and mirrors and lamp shades bouncing all around him. 

While sweeping out the dead flies, Gus, our neighbor's dog, ran into our yard.  I had a flashback to earlier this summer...

We had a female dog show up at our house on morning.  Someone had obviously dumped her out.  She was fat.  Not very pretty.  Solid red.  I called her Red Dog.  She decided to make her temporary housing under our porch.  I finally called the sheriff's to come get her after she made it clear that she preferred our house over any others.  I made the call about 2 days too late. 

My three little innocent children were eating their wholesome breakfast their wonder mom had created for them one blissfully sunny day, and I look out our dining window and to my horror Gus is doing his manly duty to Red Dog right there on our porch. 

"Oh my goodness!" I yell.

Kennedi says matter of factly, "Oh Momma.  Daddy says that is Gus's new trick."

Obviously Red Dog has been in heat for a while now, and my children have already seen it.

"His new trick?"

Kennedi nods her head and shrugs her shoulders.  That's not going on during my watch, so I open up the back door and yell at Gus.  He dismounts, and well, let's just say he was now stuck. Red Dog outweighs him by several pounds and pulls him down the porch steps. 

Oh dear.  What have I done?  My neighbor's dog is fixing to be minus an important body part.  Maybe if I close the door and ignore it, it will all go away. 


After breakfast I hear Annsley from the living room." Mom, look at Gus and Red Dog! What are they doing?"

Oh my stars! Are those two at it again???!!!

They (this gruesome twosome) have made their way to the front of my yard.  Gus is being dragged in reverse.  It's been 15 minutes. Perhaps he needs a vet.  I'm not really up on this breeding thing, but this must be painful.

I call Doug.  I explain the situation and ask, "How long are they going to be stuck?  Should I be worried?" 

Incredulously he says, "Oh, it'll take 30 minutes or so. Don't you know that?"

"Gus is being dragged all over the place.  His hind end is in the air and his front paws are the only thing on the ground."

"He'll be fine," and Doug hangs up on me. 

I don't know why he's acting like I should know these things.  He doesn't act like that.  I have no experience in such scandalous going ons. 

I close the blinds.  I can't bear to watch Gus become gelded--or a eunoch-- or whatever. 

Later that afternoon, Red Dog returned to her porch dwelling-minus an attached  Gus.  I later saw Gus running around chasing a tennis ball.  Either he survived his amputation with all the class an Australian Shepard could muster, or he was fine just like Doug said he would be--probably the latter (although becoming an amputee survivor would make a much better story!)

To this day, we don't talk about it. I'm still dealing with the fact that my children saw raw mother nature and call it a "new trick".   It will be one of those memories burned into the recesses of my mind that  I bring from our former home however.  (Sigh). My children had to grow up that summer morning.