Classic TAZ Adventure
Distress Call
Most dogs bark. Some dogs howl. Huskies, however, “sing.” Even without lips, they make a convincing effort to talk. Lacking lips but not the ability to kiss, they settle for a song.
Get our several huskies together and there emerges an enthusiastic, audition of amateurs as if seeking to become a barbershop quartet, a very, demented barbershop quartet. Travis yodeled with the far-flung octaves of a Swiss mountain climber. Elvis held a croon, soft and low, just like the King of Rock and Roll. Our current duo harbors a distinct virtuoso. It is not Taz, who brays loudly and insistently, sounding akin to a cross between a belligerent, hard rock bellower and a derelict donkey demanding dinner. Missy blossoms as our opera diva. She trumpets as if she might be the reincarnated version of the “Flight of the Valkyries”, a powerhouse opera star, complete with horned, Viking helmet, pronged trident, braided, blonde pigtails and armored breastplate, replete with classic 1950’s style Cadillac Bumper Bullets.
Missy’s most startling and unbecoming feature remains her cry. Like any child who is left alone or upset, Missy wails. However, her discontent rises in the form of a blood curdling, banshee scream that sounds akin to a human being torn asunder. This leads to some serious embarrassment and gives insight into her name which is technically Miss PIB, or Mischievous-Pain-In-Butt. Ergo: ‘Missy’ for short.
Currently, to enhance the continuing excitement Missy lends to our home, she is freshly up to her chest in a cast due to a run in, literally, with a window. Since then the hyper-kinetic husky has made it her life’s ambition to perfect the art of cast removal. Her creative methods in doing so continue to surprise us. Robbi has made any number of treks to the vet these last ten days to have Missy’s cast restored.
Robbi’s Toyota truck features a camper shell, offering the dogs free access between the back and the cab. The ever-antsy Missy is used to careening back and forth frequently, however the cast now hampers this perpetual movement. On this occasion, Robbi finds herself engaged in maneuvering through heavy traffic. She watched in the rearview mirror as Missy banged the truck cabin’s rear window open and poked her head through it. From Robbi’s perspective, it seemed reasonable that Missy would be content with that since her weakened leg, burdened with a heavy cast, had as much probability as a rigged midway carnival game to get angled through the slider window by a chance toss. However Missy, not content, and slow on figuring things out, commences to swing the casted leg across the window frame, attempting to put it through the open window. Once in a great while, there is a winner, and Missy’s persistence paid off in spades. Black spades,
because now her useless appendage, having no muscle tone, dangles helplessly between the cabin window and the bench seat, effectively imprisoned in place. Stuck, without any ability to free herself, Missy struggles momentarily. Then in a panic, Missy SCREAMS! This is, of course, mere inches from Robbi’s ear.
As one might imagine, this generates immediate response, not only from Robbi, but also from over half the drivers and pedestrians within 100 feet of her. Robbi alone thinks, “Don’t tear the cast off! We just left the vet’s office!” All others within earshot however think, “That woman is brutalizing that poor creature!” It is said “Reality is 90% perception.” Since the limited framework of understanding for these listeners is a traumatized dog’s scream, assumption and bias will fill the void to activate their conclusions. If looks could maim, Robbi would probably have been carried off in a wicker basket.
Desperately pulling across three lanes of congested traffic, Robbi navigates between Missy’s weaving head and shoulders currently blocking both back windows plus both rear and passenger mirrors. Finally stopped at the curb, her solution to quell the bloody murder screams is to simply lift the dog’s leg from behind the seat. Decidedly, Missy’s frantic struggling has pulled the cast practically off of the leg. The fiberglass splint wobbles–shattered. Happy Husky. Maligned, miserable Robbi, swings the truck around to return to the vet and spend yet another $20, plus wait time.
With this many trips to the vet, and her days off limited, quick stops here and there are required. On the way to the animal clinic, Robbi stops at a small, favorite card shop nestled in a local strip mall. Knowing full well the brunt of embarrassment Missy can concoct, Robbi took great pains to park at the far end of the parking lot, hiking the hundred yards over to the store. Missy immediately launched into her distress call. From the magnitude one would think the Titanic was sinking in the back of that truck.
By the time Robbi arrived at the shop, both the clerks and customers at the card shop and neighboring two stores had filed out to the sidewalk. With furrowed brows and concerned faces, they peer toward the shriek of anguish coming from afar. They shared their joint concerns regarding the severely, injured child, screeching in obvious pain and panic. Should they call the police? Where is it coming from? How could parents be so heartless and neglectful? Is someone beating the poor thing?
Robbi thought she might try to calmly explain that it is only the dog and that shrieking is in its’ nature. Even with that, it would probably require several attempts to fully convince them of the false alarm. “It’s just my dog.”, Robbi muttered as she skulked by the concerned crowd and into the vacated shop. “Really…she’s fine.”, Robbi offered again as the horrendous howls continued to surround and echo off the storefronts and the aghast assemblage. Several pairs of eyes turned to rivet and bore into her as she sought to ignore the rampant noise.
It is understandable that people base their opinions and judgments on their point of reference. To them, that may have been the sound of anguish, a child’s terror, violence seen in the media or film, personal memories of pain, but certainly not the singular image of a Siberian Husky upset at being left alone. Robbi shopped in silence, quickly.
Twilight has fallen as she returns from the vet again and parks the truck at the farthest point away from other parked patrons at another the shopping mall. A nearby, major boulevard filled with noise plus the distance to the mall should keep the sound of Missy from distracting others. A short time later Robbi returns to find a scathing, profanity ridden, anonymous, scrawled note under the windshield wiper debasing her humanity for leaving the dog to bake in the sun. This does not highlight ones’ day, particularly this day. Husky Rescue? Plah!
The back area of Robbi’s truck might be best described as a Holiday Inn on wheels for the canine set. Big windows on both sides have bolted, heavy, metal screens allowing generous airflow, security and privacy. Mats are on the floor for comfort. Dogs’ toys, chews, a cow femur, plus plenty of food and water complete the ambiance. Missy has access to the seats in the cab…all the amenities, including the gearshift and radio knobs for chew or removal. Additionally, the fact that the husky sports a cast reveals that its’ health is taken seriously too. To any reasonably, unbiased observer, the dog is a well cared for animal. But, there are always uneducated observers who assume a dog screaming must be abused. Aside from the fact that it was a cool, early evening, did the writer of the scathing note even look into the truck to see how the dog was cared for and the nature of the situation, or were they so buried in perceptions that fury and bias
vanquished attempts at comprehension? How often we color reality with the heavy shading of our perceptions.
Missy’s embarrassing howling blinds me, too. I found many an occasion to direct judgmental anger toward Missy for her seemingly senseless screaming. But I have learned that one’s perception of the message can often overpower or invalidate one’s listening to it. While I complain vociferously, Robbi hears a once abandoned, young, red and white puppy that spent five weeks caged at an humane society shelter. Missy’s fear of desertion vocalizes at any interpretation that she might be discarded again. Being disabled in a cast only accentuates the distress. Reinforced, positive experiences and patient assurance–not my short-tempered and critical annoyance with Missy’s habits may eventually answer her cry.
Two ears and one mouth, when used correctly will surely keep our perceptions, and reality, better balanced. I must remember that. It also helps to focus on the positive perspective–particularly when fostering huskies! Sure, each experience is another notch. But readjusting my 90% perception will determine if it is a notch in a self-directed gun or a notch up on the growth chart of a richer, fuller, wiser–and maybe a calmer–bucolic life.
There is a widely, researched theory that petting cats becalms the human physiology. Coddling a cat lowers the pulse rate and blood pressure. Missy should be packaged and marketed as a sure-fire stimulant. What a rush! Even those a stadium’s length away from her beleaguered howls find their heart rate quickening. Adrenaline flows freely, senses become heightened and placed on alert. Additionally, at least for Robbi and myself, blood flows toward the head, where it shows in embarrassed, red cheeks, flaming red ears–and teeth gritted in positive hope for a well-adjusted, adoptable dog…someday.
Red-White Missy, the Valkyrie
Red-Eared Robbi, the Muttering
Scott and Taz
“Suddenly, it occurs to me, that I am able to choose a response
to every thorn and rose I meet. I am response-able!”
—Brother Ramos
From the book “Dogged and Determined” by Scott Ski
TAZ Adventures (C) Scott Ski
All rights reserved, used by permission
Want more? Go to ScottSki.net
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