[stylist] Old Dogs and Old Tricks

[Brad Dunsé]

Barbara,

Thanks. Glad it struck emotion. Wow, a whole bag 
of marshies. That had to be something. 'smile'.

Brad





On 1/18/2012  08:28 PM Barbara Hammel said...
>I am not at all a dog lover, but this made me 
>fall in love with yours.  I had a friend in 
>college who had a guide dog with a sweet tooth 
>and her particular favorite was 
>marshmallows.  Unbeknownst to both of us, as we 
>sat in her room and talked, that stealthy dog 
>silently got the bag from where my friend had 
>put it, and noiselessly gobbled up those 
>delectable morsels.  I don't remember what they did to her, but




>we had a good laugh at that sneakiness. Barbara 
>A man who wants to lead the orchestra must turn 
>his back on the crowd. --  Max Lucado 
>-----Original Message----- From: BradDunsé 
>Sent: Wednesday, January 18, 2012 8:13 PM To: 
>Writer's Division Mailing List Subject: 
>[stylist] Old Dogs and Old Tricks This was a 
>blog bit I wrote a year and a half ago. A friend 
>is experiencing similar, so I looked it up and 
>re-read it today. I tossed a couple fixes in it 
>but it probably could use more. Nonetheless I 
>thought to post it here as is, despite its 
>length of 1470 words. Don't feel you need to 
>scour over for detailed feedback. If something 
>stands out as your read, great. Old Dogs and Old 
>Tricks The morning routine is commanded by a 
>series of whimpers and whines before I even get 
>in a full cup of coffee. Standing before me with 
>a stubby tail jittering back and forth, rear end 
>swaying left and right, intense pupils staring 
>out of brown eyes and a tongue dangling to the 
>right side of the mouth over huge teeth, is my 
>old dog Buster. Now Buster, surprising to most, 
>is a she, not a he. When I decided on a liver 
>and white English Springer spaniel pup so many 
>years ago now, I was determined to call him 
>Buster Brown
 you knoow as the old shoe company? 
>The fact that I prefer female pups was no 
>barrier for my naming conventions. So walking 
>through the parks and neighborhoods with my wife 
>to my left and pup in-between, calling out 
>shortened nick names like, “Good Busty girl 
 
>That’s my Busty girl 
 C¦ Come here big busty 
>girl,” pretty much jerks the heads of 
>passersby as they dart widened eyes from wife to 
>pup to wife to pup, wondering “Which one is he 
>talking to?” The morning visual and audible 
>ceremony is reminder I need to give her a 
>morning dose of meds, or p I l l as I have to 
>say, as to not evoke canine hysteria. She likes 
>the p I l ls because she gets them wrapped in a 
>small piece of bread followed by a small handful 
>of little dog bone treats I scatter on the 
>floor, to which I call out “Scatter treats
 
>scatter treats” OK so I’m a total dorkkster 
>when it comes to my pup. Now, Buster is nearly 
>14-years-old, has had a wonderful life having 
>gone camping, canoeing, goose chasing, long 
>walks, sightseeing, bird watching, and really 
>has lived a good, full life. At fourteen 
>however, her beer barrel body is riddled with 
>fatty tumors, for over a year now has a 
>fist-sized tumor in one lung, has tooth issues, 
>takes one med to keep the tumor from growing too 
>fast, takes another med to prevent coughing and 
>wheezing attacks caused by fluid building up in 
>the lung, and takes yet more meds for joint 
>medicine to help the arthritis. Her back is 
>swayed resembling an old 1900s barn soon to cave 
>in from the center. Her front-leg limp is 
>getting more pronounced, and her hip movement is 
>very stiff. She doesn’t always come when you 
>call because she is flat out tired. I question 
>whether she actually hears half the time, and 
>she’ll crash into your legs if there’s not 
>enough lights on. But, she is able to scale up 
>and down 13 steps each time she goes out to do 
>her job in the back yard. She still enjoys her 
>special moments on a short walk, or blackened 
>teeth from a good dose of spring dirt from 
>rooting around for whatever she roots around 
>for, as my wife and I chat while swaying to and 
>fro on our backyard swing. To our surprise, as 
>well as our veterinarian’s 
 as she puts it, 
>“Buster just doesn’t  know she is sick,” 
>and continues to plod on without too much 
>complaint. Now, Buster has had a long-time 
>appetite for bread products. Giving it to her as 
>a medication corn dog doesn’t help I’m sure, 
>but I’m tired of putting my fingers down a 
>saliva filled mouth 
, if I’d  wanted that 
>sort of excitement I’d have considered 
>dentistry as a profession, so bread is the 
>preferred dispensation methodology. Before you 
>get misty eyed over this pup’s condition, she 
>still is able to pull off her Houdini routine. 
>What do I mean? Well, her biggest trick is her 
>disappearing trick. No. She doesn’t disappear, 
>however nice that might be at times of 
>misbehaving, which seems to be increasing with 
>age; it is the bread products that she can make 
>disappear. After catching her standing at the 
>counter top with her bowed rear-legs stretched 
>to the ground and nose to the air, sniffing out 
>items on the countertop, we began to be mindful 
>of what was left on the counter, as in when one 
>comes home from grocery shopping for instance? 
>Having gone down stairs to do something, my wife 
>had come down as well to put something away. We 
>heard a big clickety clack, clickety clack on 
>the floor upstairs. My wife and I simultaneously 
>snapped heads towards each other and dashed for 
>the stairs yelling “BUSTER!! Get out of 
>there!” By the time we got up stairs the only 
>thing we saw was a lip smacking smile on my dog, 
>and an empty plastic bag of freshly bought hot 
>dog buns on the floor, which disappeared in less 
>than a minute! Do you know what bread products 
>tend to do to an elderly dogs gastric activity? 
>Let’s just say there’s no need to blame the 
>dog; everyone in the house knows it was the dog. 
>Who is excused from the Houdini trick? Not 
>grandma, no. At my parent’s place where Buster 
>can do no wrong, my elderly mom had just gotten 
>home from shopping and I came up the stairs to 
>find her in a Sherlock Holmes hunch looking all 
>around the kitchen and hallway for something. 
>“You looking for something mom?” I said. 
>“Yeah. I thought I had bought some hot dog 
>buns
” Oh no! I thoughtt. “Well, umm where 
>were they?” “I thought they were in the bag 
>next to the pantry,” she mumbled as she 
>scoured the floor. “Look for an empty bag mom; 
>I think Buster may have found them.” 
>“Hahahaha,“ she laughed
 “I don’t think 
>so, I’ve been right here the whhole time. I 
>must have put them away somewhere”.” But 
>nope. Sure enough, there lay the empty bag as 
>evidence the disappearing bun trickster struck 
>again, in broad daylight with people walking by! 
>This happened again the day of my daughter’s 
>going away get together, before she shipped off 
>to Kyrgyz Republic for her Peace Corps 
>assignment. An hour or so before the party 
>started, I heard my sweet soft spoken daughter 
>yelling, “Buster! No! Bad dog. What’s wrong 
>with you! Get out of there. Let go of it! 
>NOW!” Fortunately, our olfactories were spared 
>by my daughter’s save, but the buns were yet a 
>loss from toothy punctures. As I sat watching my 
>pup this morning with head in bowl, lapping up 
>water in her traditional triplet manner 
 slurp 
>slurp slurp 
 slurp slurp slurp 
p … slurp 
>slurp slurp 
, legs quivering under her own 
>bodyy weight, back caving from weakening 
>muscles, breathing through her nose as she 
>drank, hearing a snap of mucus in her nostrils 
>now and again as the effects of the tumor begins 
>to become more evident; for just a second the 
>image of a much more youthful Buster stood at 
>the water bowl. I remembered all the wonderful 
>times we’ve had together playing hide-n-seek 
>with the treats as she’s sniff them out under 
>me as I lay on the floor, making her think she 
>called up birds with her barks as I pointed out 
>a bird flying by saying “Call ‘em up pal
 
>call up some birdss!” and making her balance a 
>treat on her nose, her staring at it cross eyed 
>until I’d say “OK pal,” then snapping her 
>head in a circle and eat the treat out of thin 
>air. Soon the shapely muscular image of my pup 
>was replaced with the current, swaggered 
>version, and I realize time is drawing near for 
>us to say good bye to a very good friend. As I 
>watched and listened to her drink, somehow all 
>the mischievous antics and misbehavior didn’t 
>seem to matter much anymore. I saluted her in my 
>mind, honoring her maintenance of a good 
>disposition between the groans at night, trying 
>to get comfortable as she lays her tired self 
>for a night’s unrest, and struggling on the 
>13th step on her way back up from her morning 
>constitutional. . We can certainly learn from 
>these canine life blessings we call pets
 all 
>the things she’s done over the  years that 
>have upset or annoyed us seem to have little 
>impact as the chances for her to repeat those 
>behaviors are reduced daily, and the end draws 
>closer. Why then, can’t we afford that right 
>to family and friends now, instead of waiting 
>until it’s too late? The trick my old dog 
>Buster has taught me living her life, really 
>unselfishly, despite the natural instinct to 
>capitalize on opportunities when they present 
>themselves, is being there unconditionally for 
>others when she felt every which way but 
>comfortable, and in her own trials, only wants 
>to please and spend time with others, all the 
>while hiding any discomfort until it is just not 
>possible any longer.   Now
  wouldn’t that be 
>an old trick for a few of us old dogs to learn? 
>Brad Dunsé "Unforgiveness is like drinking 
>poison and waiting for the other person to die." 
>--Unknown http://www.braddunsemusic.com 
>http://www.facebook.com/braddunse 
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Brad Dunsé

"The greater danger for most of us is not that 
our aim is too high and we miss it,
but that it is too low and we reach it." --Unknown

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