Wednesday, December 20, 2017

Judgement Day

There comes a point in time when enough is enough.  I'm talking about Dax of course.
Every day with Cole was filled with gratitude to have him in my life.
Every day I kiss Peter and tell him I love him.  Every night now, I spoon with Garrett and tell him he's the best boy in the world. 

Then, there's Dax. Maybe the problem is that I don't tell him "I love you", maybe the problem is that too often I tell him "I'm gonna f-ing kill you".  He'd make Mother Teresa cuss.
Tuesday and Wednesday were my days off this week. Tuesday, the cattle were loaded up and hauled to vet school for foot trims.

My F-350 came close to not being able to make the haul because she was back in the shop getting a new gear shifter this week...guess who chewed the original one?  $150 later, we're back on the road in the nick of time.
Our regular 3 month visits to the vet school with Tommy are always stressful.  He's too large to fit any of their equipment and his weight exceeds the capacity of their tilt table.  Without proper hoof trims, he'd been crippled and euthanized years ago.
      (Daphne fits, Tommy oozes over all the edges)
Risk that have to be taken and Tuesday, our numbers were up:  the table failed.  Tommy ended up as a crumpled mess on the concrete floor, legs unnaturally folded under him, head still pinned to the table.  It took just seconds for them to cut his head free, but longer for him to raise himself. He's OK.  Meanwhile, the Demon Spawn decided Tuesday was the day to act like a 35 IQ retard.  I'm accustomed to people praising us for how well behaved my dogs are.  You cannot imagine the humiliation when the accounts manager came around the counter to hold him so I could sign her forms.
No "I love  you's" that day.
Wednesday wasn't looking promising either. 
I'm rushing to get Dax to the Boonies for his 3 mile run before blasting off to Auburn for an 8 AM dentist appointment. We never make it to the Boonies because a fluke water line busted under the house.  I'm in my PJ's crawling around under there, cutting away the insulation to get to the pipe.  No shower either, it's bath by bottled spring water.  The next issue is to find my keys that the child of Beelzebub has removed from the key hooks.  Two sets of keys, gone.  More than 2 acres to scour.  I must've been a seriously bad hombre in a former life and this is my curse.
Later,I get home from Auburn with plumbing parts and a new radio for my truck...

...remember what he did to the former $300 one?
While Flynn is under my house repairing the pipe, I'm unloading my car.  He scurries out because I'm pitching a fit in the front yard when I discover Dax had stolen the new radio, still in its box, and was chewing on it.

At his age, Cole was either at work with me or at home free with a doggie door.  If this one ever asks why he's crated while I work, I can write him an essay.  
And today was the day I was going to make good on my promise to send him to the afterlife.  I left Peter and Garrett at home, strapped on my running shoes, Dax's harness and I took him to the woods.  I wasn't sure if two of us were coming back or not.  But we were going to run until I'd run the devil out of him.  In retrospect, I hadn't run much at all in probably a year since my kidney was croaking because of my bulging female organ taking up half the real estate in my gut. Yet, we easily ran over 7 miles.  Irony is that I was almost the one left on the trails for the buzzards.

No Photoshop... I am green around the gills.
Yet, we have our Christmas miracle:  halfway through the run, he starts looking back at me, anticipating my cues.  We actually bond.

Eleventh hour, but nevertheless.

The breakthrough we were needing.

I knew there was a true Smith in there somewhere.

Waiting for me when we got home was a GoPro from Canada!
So, if the devil we lost on the trails should find his way back into Dax, I can document it and retire from the youtube earnings.  Always seek even the thinnest of silver linings.