That’s one butthurt dog right there.

Poor Ghost. It’s one thing when his weekender friends abandon him, that happens every Sunday and he’s used to it. But when they reject him, he doesn’t know what to do with that.

A little background here: Ghost was once a part of a much bigger pack, and could never get used to being pushed around. He didn’t want to be top dog, but he sure didn’t like the way the low dogs got treated…by the top dog. And so, maybe a year or so before I moved in here, he started provisionally running away from home every weekend. By the time I arrived it was a running joke: He’d head-fake the other dogs to keep them from following, and then he’d slink off to the wonderful, magical place where our weekender neighbors S&L keep the sausage.

By the time he became “my” dog, this had become such a tradition that there was no point in trying to stop it. This particular weekend it just doesn’t work for S&L, and it becomes my sad task to keep him away from there … if possible.

Of course first thing this morning he vanished. He touched base at Landlady’s, but that’s not as much fun since Landlady got her new puppy. Ghost doesn’t deal gracefully with young things of any species. So naturally he left there and trotted to the Wonderful Place.

Where he was left in the parking lot: They wouldn’t let him in. And I found him sitting sadly beside the trucks, but when I called him to jump into the Jeep he pointedly turned toward the patio. I came with a leash and found him sitting in front of the door. When I leashed him, he planted his feet at first. And now he’s in Gitmo, practicing his “Uncle Joel Sucks” face. Because I’m sure this is somehow all my fault.

I should add that Landlady didn’t abandon Ghost or anything, she placed him – and at her own substantial expense. He and his packmates had been desert dogs for so long by the time T died that when she tried to move them into a house it just didn’t work. Ghost in particular, who was virtually born out here and had never lived in a conventional setting, could not adjust. So for almost two years, until the two big dogs died, she actually paid me to be their nanny. She still buys almost all the dog food.

About Joel

You shouldn't ask these questions of a paranoid recluse, you know.
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5 Responses to That’s one butthurt dog right there.

  1. MamaLiberty says:

    Poor Ghost. Just imagine not being able to understand or discuss changes like this. But if he was born a feral dog, you’ve all done wonders with him. Hat’s off to all of you.

  2. Joel says:

    I believe he was a rescue pup (maybe Landlady will chime in here, I don’t know the circumstances) but he never lived as a feral. I have a picture somewhere of him as a pot-bellied little puppy, which is hard for me to wrap my mind around. In my experience Ghost has always been just the way he is now. Very independent except when he’s not (he can be a real drama queen). Almost completely intolerant of the young. Not what you’d call fanatically loyal, and capable of looking you right in the eye while disobeying direct commands he understands very well but disagrees with. I don’t usually keep him confined because – unlike LB – he usually stays close to home. The S&L thing is our one big point of conflict, in situations like this.

  3. coloradohermit says:

    And now he’s in Gitmo, practicing his “Uncle Joel Sucks” face.

    Need pictures

  4. MamaLiberty says:

    “he never lived as a feral”

    Re-reading your post, I don’t know how I came away with that idea. Hmmm…

    I’m with coloradohermit. Need pictures of that mug. LOL

  5. Landldady says:

    When we first moved to the property in 2004, we had promised my son a puppy. So T — being the social butterfly he was — struck up a relationship with the guy that managed the local pound. When a puppy came in a few months later, we got a call and T. and my son went to get him. They came home with the puppy *and* two kittens (whom we later named Point and Click), all of whom were 6-8 weeks old. So that’s the story of Ghost and Click. 🙂

To the stake with the heretic!