Shenanigans
This icon makes me realize how much paler Jack and River have gotten with age. In Jack's case, the white on his muzzle has spread back past his eyes now. They're still middle aged dogs at about 7 3/4 years, but it's in late middle age territory.
Speaking of Jack, I was standing at the front door this morning, drinking coffee, while he was entertaining himself outside. Both Jack and River had gone out with D earlier, and River was already back asleep in the chair. Jack, however, is up for periodic trips outside in all but the worst weather. As I watched, he came trotting into the driveway from the weeds wildlife habitat between the living/work spaces of the property and the field. As he crossed in front of me, maybe 20 feet away, he clearly had something in his mouth from the way he was holding it, but it wasn't large and I couldn't make anything out. He kept going, tail up high and him moving with purpose directly to the side of the garden where he proceeded to quickly dig a hole in the soft dirt of the former potato patch.
I sighed, sat down my coffee, and went to investigate. As I approached, he stopped shoving dirt around with his nose and looked up at me in a distinctly guilty fashion. "Okay, buddy," I said, "let's see what you've got here..." I dug around with a handy stick a bit and came up with, "... it's a... potato? What? There must be something else...? Were you actually burying a potato?! From where?"
See, I have to explain here, but I was really pretty sure there weren't any potatoes in there to start with. The rain should have rotted them in the ground, the plants certainly were above ground, but the plants did revive a bit and the potato was pretty small, so it wasn't impossible that this one just didn't start growing until after the rains. But I'd seen him walking to to garden with something in his mouth. Okay, fine, but I couldn't find anything else in that spot except the potato.
Meanwhile, confident that he'd apparently accomplished his mission, Jack went off to clean his muzzle and paws in the wet grass (not kidding, he wipes his mouth down on the nearest fabric after dinner, too). While he did that, I rummaged around and found a few more small potatoes to collect and was generally confused. We went inside, but after about 20 minutes, Jack just couldn't take it, and insisted he needed to go back outside. Sure enough, he headed straight back to the garden and started digging.
"He's not going to find his potato," I thought. No, I really did.
But a minute later he pops up, looks around, then gets something in his mouth and goes slinking back across the driveway and hiding under the truck. Now, "the truck" isn't my truck, which is currently with one brother-in-law as its engine is... well, I understand the new engine is finally under the hood even if everything isn't connected yet. The truck in this scenario is the other brother-in-law's, a large thing, large enough that it was parked mostly in the grass to get it out of the way, and one with a higher ground clearance, making it very easy to lean over and see what the hell Jack was up to.
Definitely not a potato.
Annnnd not much of it left.
Right.
The thing is, I'm telling you, there was nothing else in that hole. Which, ya know, I'd rather turn up potatoes than animal parts, even if I was assuming and braced for the latter, but there was nothing else in the hole. My only conclusion is that Jack has at least one pocket dimension that is currently stashed in the garden.
Not surprisingly, Jack didn't find dinner all that compelling. River offered to eat his share.
Crossposted to Dreamwidth where there are
comments. Comment here or there. ♥ Blue :)
Speaking of Jack, I was standing at the front door this morning, drinking coffee, while he was entertaining himself outside. Both Jack and River had gone out with D earlier, and River was already back asleep in the chair. Jack, however, is up for periodic trips outside in all but the worst weather. As I watched, he came trotting into the driveway from the weeds wildlife habitat between the living/work spaces of the property and the field. As he crossed in front of me, maybe 20 feet away, he clearly had something in his mouth from the way he was holding it, but it wasn't large and I couldn't make anything out. He kept going, tail up high and him moving with purpose directly to the side of the garden where he proceeded to quickly dig a hole in the soft dirt of the former potato patch.
I sighed, sat down my coffee, and went to investigate. As I approached, he stopped shoving dirt around with his nose and looked up at me in a distinctly guilty fashion. "Okay, buddy," I said, "let's see what you've got here..." I dug around with a handy stick a bit and came up with, "... it's a... potato? What? There must be something else...? Were you actually burying a potato?! From where?"
See, I have to explain here, but I was really pretty sure there weren't any potatoes in there to start with. The rain should have rotted them in the ground, the plants certainly were above ground, but the plants did revive a bit and the potato was pretty small, so it wasn't impossible that this one just didn't start growing until after the rains. But I'd seen him walking to to garden with something in his mouth. Okay, fine, but I couldn't find anything else in that spot except the potato.
Meanwhile, confident that he'd apparently accomplished his mission, Jack went off to clean his muzzle and paws in the wet grass (not kidding, he wipes his mouth down on the nearest fabric after dinner, too). While he did that, I rummaged around and found a few more small potatoes to collect and was generally confused. We went inside, but after about 20 minutes, Jack just couldn't take it, and insisted he needed to go back outside. Sure enough, he headed straight back to the garden and started digging.
"He's not going to find his potato," I thought. No, I really did.
But a minute later he pops up, looks around, then gets something in his mouth and goes slinking back across the driveway and hiding under the truck. Now, "the truck" isn't my truck, which is currently with one brother-in-law as its engine is... well, I understand the new engine is finally under the hood even if everything isn't connected yet. The truck in this scenario is the other brother-in-law's, a large thing, large enough that it was parked mostly in the grass to get it out of the way, and one with a higher ground clearance, making it very easy to lean over and see what the hell Jack was up to.
Definitely not a potato.
Annnnd not much of it left.
Right.
The thing is, I'm telling you, there was nothing else in that hole. Which, ya know, I'd rather turn up potatoes than animal parts, even if I was assuming and braced for the latter, but there was nothing else in the hole. My only conclusion is that Jack has at least one pocket dimension that is currently stashed in the garden.
Not surprisingly, Jack didn't find dinner all that compelling. River offered to eat his share.
Crossposted to Dreamwidth where there are
comments. Comment here or there. ♥ Blue :)