Excess Baggage

Three months ago, tomorrow, Gluten-Free Mama and I sallied into the Inland Mendocino County Humane Society facility, and waltzed out with sweet rescue dog, Ellie Mae. I always grace Ellie Mae’s name with he word sweet, because her sweet nature is what guarantees that I can never stay frustrated with her.

Friday's frolic in the snow; Ellie Mae loves this toy.

In some ways I have met my match: Like me, Ellie Mae has a streak of mania in her, that emerges possibly two percent of her existence. In the big picture that’s a pretty good rating. There are two areas of concern, one considerably higher on the ladder of stress than the other.

Ellie Mae has an unwavering desire to be a free spirit, a quality I myself possess, but then again, there is no danger that I will allow my free-spiritedness to goad me into killing eight chickens. Although I can admire this quality about Ellie, I have to stifle it, and therefore I spend far too much time monitoring Ellie’s whereabouts.

In a perfect world she could go outside with me every time I needed to bring in firewood, tend the chickens, and later on this spring, accompany me when I begin to till the soil, here on-farm. As hard as I have tried, I cannot do my chores and adequately keep an eye on Ellie Mae.

One of many exits I haveblocked

Friday, I actually caught her outside the fence, and on her way up to see her bff Emma. I hollered and she hesitated; I bellowed and she did a little stop-and-go cha cha cha; finally, I let it all hang out and she came right to the gate, her body language indicating that the message had been received.

Every time she disappears from my sight and I set up a clamor, I start to catastrophize. Several times I have actually stormed up to HeadSodBuster’s chicken coop, to see if carnage and mayhem have made a return visit, only to discover Ellie waiting back inside at the gate, smiling innocently at me.

I have always said that if you like someone or something, that person or pet can do anything on the face of the planet, and you will be OK with it. Conversely, if you do not like someone or something, and that individual so much as looks crookedly at you, you go ballistic.

I fit into the former category.

The other area of concern is that Ellie is over-zealous in her greeting of visitors. Though understandable, the situation is made worse by the fact that we have few visitors, but we see them frequently. Ellie is having a hard time distinguishing between a genuine need for barking, and barking for the sheer joy of it.

Her joy, not ours.

Prized possessions

Still, in the big picture, both past and present, this is pretty benign. Ellie Mae has had no accidents inside the house, she is sweet to Delta, Ben-Jam-In’s  German Shepherd service puppy, and she  does not have an aggressive bone in her body.

Ellie Mae had not destroyed anything after the phone charger cord, the second day she was with us, until the chicken faux pas. Of course, we furnished Ellie Mae with five key items to liven up her existence, and maybe mellow ours out a bit: a kong, upon which I frequently dabble almond butter, a chew toy, a circular, indestructible play-toy, and a ball. 

The fifth was a cool toss-toy that lasted a week before she got the best of it.

The ball we gave Ellie Mae is not a tennis ball, but the indestructible kind that proved its worth, for all of the years that we had the bulldog. When we first got Ellie Mae, as unthinkable as it is, she had no frame of reference for a ball. When I tossed it to her, it would bounce up against her, she would look at me, and then shrug her shoulders, metaphorically, and leave it.

If she would leave the chickens the way she ignored the ball, there would never have been an issue. Who could imagine a three-year old dog, who had no idea what a ball was for? I have kept this fact registered in my little pea-brain, ever since I made this connection.

The good news is that Ellie Mae barely ever flinches anymore, when I bring my hands to her ears to scratch. She does not start at the sudden sound of a hose being turned on, and she does not skulk away when I pick up sticks to place in the wheelbarrow.

Who can imagine what kind of excess baggage Ellie Mae brings to the table? The bottom line is that HappyDay Farms is the train depot, where there is a special room for all excess baggage.

The only baggage Ellie Mae needs now, is her travel bag, the one which contains a water dish, thermos, toys, blankie and organic dog treats. 

I never forget to bring the dog treats.