[Dailydrool] Calendar Day

[Elizabeth Lindsey]

Today is our Elsinore and young Charlie's calendar day (9/23).  
Elsinore is the black and tan, and Charlie is the red and white.  
Elsinore came to us from Basset Hound Rescue of Alabama in 2004.  
She'd been found as a stray on the streets where she was having a  
hard time with other strays picking on her. But we know she'd been  
someone's loved pet because she came to us with beautiful house  
manners and some basic commands under her belt, and no baggage beyond  
food aggression, which was the result of living on the streets.

We began fostering Charlie for Bluegrass Basset Rescue at the end of  
2006 when he was a boisterous buppy of 11 months. His first family  
gave him up because he was wild and destructive. They didn't  
understand that he was bored and lonely all by himself while they  
were gone 10 hours a day. They had thought they were getting a  
"docile dog." But who in their right mind buys a puppy when what they  
want is a "docile dog"? The only docile puppy is a sick puppy.  
Charlie was delighted to be in a house with a human who works from  
home (me) and, even better, another basset to play with. My mother  
came to visit a few weeks after we took Charlie in and quickly  
informed me that he was home, whether I knew it or not. Eventually,  
Ken and I realized that, despite his destructive tendencies and  
general naughtiness, Charlie fit us perfectly and Bluegrass allowed  
us to keep him.

As I write this, both bassets are still recuperating from their first  
GABR Waddle and the long car ride home (about 9 hours). As always,  
Elsinore had a wonderful time at the picnic part of the waddle. I  
made her stay on her leash until we got to the Droolers' tent so she  
could be properly introduced to everyone there. She was rather sulky  
about it and impatient with me. Whenever we go to off-leash basset  
picnics, she likes to ditch us at the gate and go off and do her own  
thing without us hanging around and cramping her style. Her style  
involves cruising the entire grounds, picking out people who look as  
if they'll cave in without much pushing and give her a bite of  
whatever it is they're eating.

Elsinore's got a real knack for picking easy marks. She fixes them  
with her unblinking mind-meld stare that's designed to guilt them  
into handing over hot dogs, burgers, crackers, and other foods she's  
not allowed to eat at home because her humans watch her waistline.  
However, this time she was unpleasantly surprised by the rule that  
forbade food within the off-leash area and gravely disappointed by  
everyone's compliance with that rule. However, she made the best of a  
bad situation by finding things to roll on instead.

Charlie didn't play as much as he usually does at basset social  
gatherings. He began limping the night before and his crooked little  
front legs were clearly bothering him. So he was happy to follow me  
slowly around the vendors' tables and then hang out at the Droolers'  
tent with me. That tent was an excellent idea--thank you so much,  
Lisa, for making that possible! Charlie wound up riding on the pooped  
pups' truck with Ken from the very beginning of the parade because he  
was limping so much.

According to the pet communicator who was at the picnic, Charlie  
pulled a muscle. Charlie said he thinks he did it by jumping on or  
off of something. "You see?" I told him. "I told you not to get on  
and off the motel bed by yourself. You see what happens when you do  
that?" Charlie claimed that sometimes he forgets to ask to be picked  
up and lifted off the motel bed because he just gets so excited. So  
the pet communicator helped me have a little talk with him about  
pulled muscles, ruptured disks, and other dire things that could  
happen to him if he persists in not letting us help him. Charlie is  
very, very good about following the house rules of not getting on the  
furniture at home, so this was a problem only for a few days at the  
motel, where we suspend some house rules as a special treat. And I'm  
not too worried about Charlie's limping now because this morning it  
didn't hold him back at all when he chased a cat out of the backyard  
and then kept running back and forth along the fence line to let the  
cat know he'd be happy to chase it again if it tried to come back.

We learned at the parade that our Elsinore really means it when she  
says she doesn't like marching bands. I don't know what it is about  
them, but they scare her so much that she completely loses her cool.  
So I didn't get to hear the Illinois State University's marching  
band. Or any other band in the parade. As the first one rounded the  
corner, Elsinore took one look at the trombones and tried to bolt.  
When I didn't move quickly enough, she let out a couple of truly  
frightened barks as she strained to get away. I also learned that  
Elsinore doesn't like golf carts either. As we walked back toward the  
picnic area, someone with GABR offered us a ride in his golf cart. I  
sat down on the front seat with him and Elsinore on my lap, he put  
the cart into reverse, the cart made a beeping noise, and Elsinore  
lost her cool all over again. Fortunately, he was able to stop the  
cart before Elsinore flew out of it and back onto the street. I told  
her as we walked the rest of the way back to the picnic area that if  
she was hot and tired, she had only herself to blame because we could  
have been there by now if she'd only stayed in the cart. She seemed  
to think that walking was preferable to riding, though.

As I told the pet communicator, our Elsinore and young Charlie give  
us tremendous joy and add immeasurably to our lives.

Elizabeth