June 2009 Archives

Here is Juneau this morning after yet another walk in the rain. We've had a lot of those lately. A week ago, while the rest of the family was in Colorado visiting my oldest son, Juneau and me were caught out on the Battle Road in Concord in a steady downpour. We were two miles from the car. But unlike my old dog, Juneau loves the rain. Earlier, as we were setting out from the Minuteman Visitor Center parking lot, a tour bus pulled in. The woman leading the tour was dressed in 18th-century garb. She stared at Juneau. "Is that a rescue from Pureto Rico?" she asked. Seems she had a sato, too. Despite each being comprised of a smorgasbord of breeds, these rescues are a distinctive breed.
Juneau loved having no human besides me around the house for seven days. But eventually everyone came home. In the above picture, she has her eyes fixed on my youngest son Matt. She needs to know where Matt is at all times. She remains terrified of him.

Juneau now has a scar near her left eye (see photo), courtesy of a dog unwilling to share a toy during playtime. It makes her look like a Red Wing or Penguin in quest of the Cup.
Now that my younger daughter is out of school for the summer, Annie takes care of Juneau during the day. That is saving me $104 a week in doggie day care costs.
But I can't get ahead.
Juneau picked up two parasites somewhere (probably from that Saugus River water she drank one hot day). I have to give here 1 1/2 tablets the size of aspirins monthly for three months. The cost of 4 1/2 pills total: $100.
This came one day after I paid $130 for heartworm medicine, flea-and-tick medicine and to have her stool sample analyzed. And yet I'm now 2,500 miles past my car's scheduled oil change.
Juneau remains terrified of my youngest son, Matt, which is getting annoying. I've tried having Matt offer her treats. She stops her barking, growling and retreating to take them from him. But as soon as the last treat is eaten, she resumes her terrified barking.
Juneau is capable of warm-hearted deeds. Her keen nose and eyes enabled a 7-year-old Winchester boy to be reunited with his catcher's mitt. Juneau found the mitt in tall grass at Middlesex Fells. I assumed it was a dead animal, but closer inspection revealed the word "Mizuno" and a telephone number.