Breakfast Treats and Canadian Geesefeatured

The morning was quite cold and overcast, a result of the surprise thunderstorm we’d had the night before and Jeremy was up before I was.  He let the dachshunds and Bowie in the back yard to do their business and enjoyed some peaceful “me time” with coffee in hand and Hoku the ancient cat upon his knee.  Then he made his morning frittata.

I woke up and sat down at the kitchen counter when he was almost done eating and was being carefully studied by my Gustav, Johann Sebastian, and his Bowie (a large mutt of questionable parentage and not blessed with great intelligence but a genuinely kind, good hearted dog).

He held out a piece of sausage to Bowie with the command “Soft” and she gently took it from his fingers.  He praised her and she glowed with happiness.

The dachshunds were next; Jeremy regarded them with great suspicion.  “We’ll try this again,” Jeremy sternly commanded, “and I want you to listen this time.  Soft.  Soft.  Sof–”

Johann Sebastian leaped up like a spring and got ahold of the sausage but he also chomped down on Jeremy’s fingers up to the second knuckle.  He roared “I SAID SOFT!” as Johann gobbled down the treat with zero remorse.

It was like holding bleeding tuna over a tank full of sharks as the dachshunds leaped and snapped, frantically dancing around on their hind legs as Jermey struggled for control.  It didn’t help that he kept pulling the treats back by reflex which only made them more frantic.  After having his fingertips bitten a few more times he’d had enough and snarled “Screw you piranha bastards.  You’ve had your chance.  Bowie!  Come here, you good girl.  You get the rest.”

The dachshunds scowled darkly at each other as Bowie vacuumed down the leftovers that had been scraped into her bowl.  “I told you to be careful,” hissed Gustav.  “You’ve gotten us in trouble again.”

“I’m not the one who peed on his trombone case,” countered Johann Sebastian.

“That happened weeks ago–!”

“Well we both got busted for it,” he muttered.  They both brightened up when I called them to me and we decided on how we were going to spend our day.  The three of us had planned on making a special trip down to LaFortune Park together, visit the pond and get some more library books but it was 45°F outside and cloudy with a brisk wind.  It was put to a vote and decided that we would go to the park when it was warmer and sunny.  Today was for cuddling under the bedcovers and reading books.

The next day the dachshunds and I got in my car and headed to the park.  It was early enough that it wasn’t very crowded at all and we rounded the corner of the library and saw the pond where a flock of Canadian Geese were clustered at its edge and generally minding their own business.

The dachshunds were instantly on the alert, ears up.

“Let’s chase them!” shouted Gustav, already pulling on the lead.

I yelled at Gustav to stand down while Johann leafed quickly through his worn copy of Birds of North America.  He stopped at the entry for Canada Goose (Branta canadensis) then looked up with alarm.  “I really don’t think that’s a good–”

“CHARGE!” shrieked Gustav and he jerked the lead out of my hand, tearing down the incline towards the birds barking his head off.  Johann and I went running after him, the red haired dachshund waving his bird guide in one paw and shouting “No!  Gustav!  Don’t!”

As a Canadian I was going to tell Gustav that these geese are nothing to mess with–we channel all our aggression into our birds–but he hadn’t hesitated a moment.  We saw the geese raise their heads and stare at him without moving–the sight of a chocolate and tan dachshund wearing a sweater, scarf, and charging straight towards them without fear must have caught them by surprise–but first one and then the other spread their wings, honked in rage and advanced.

Gustav always realizes he’s crossed the line about ten feet after he’s charged past it and when he realized what he’d jumped into he slammed on the brakes, tore up about three feet of sod struggling to stop, whirled around and ran back towards us shrieking “MAMAAAAA!!!!  HELLLLLLPPPPPP!” with the agitated flock close behind.

I footballed Gustav and then Johann under each arm–Johann is even shorter than Gustav and can’t run very fast–and we took off across the park with the geese in hot pursuit.  The Tulsa Croquet Club got quite the show as they set up their pitch for the Sunday afternoon match.

“You are an utter moron,” gasped Johann to Gustav after we’d made it to the parking lot and slumped against my car.  “All I wanted to do was collect sun on my back and spread thoughts of Peace to the world and instead we are chased by hissing cobra chickens.  Why couldn’t you have left them alone?”

Gustav’s claws dug into my skin as he clung to me.  “It seemed like a good idea at the time!” he wheezed.

We still had to pick up our library books before we went home but fortunately they were still doing curbside service so we didn’t have to get back out of the car.  Once the bag of new books was in the trunk we set off for home.  We had to pass the pond to do so and when the dachshunds saw this they waited until we had almost passed to stick their heads out the window and scream at them.  The geese stood and ruffled their feathers.  “Step on it!” howled Gustav, but they didn’t bother to chase the car and we continued on our way.

“At least we got the last word in,” the dachshunds agreed.  “Our honour has been restored.”