Tuesday, May 19, 2020

I never saw a purple dog

Well, actually, I have, sort of. It's a long and violet tail.

Volk was 12 years old in January. He does not know this. He is also a runaway because he hates being in the dog yard especially now that Lucky has figured out his size makes him top dog. So Volk sits by the fence and cries a lot, a mournful not quite howl.

I used to let him run free with Lucky on a leash because he would mostly come home after our walk. Then he stopped and took off to somewhere, coming home when he felt like it. So I put both dogs on leashes and all was well but Volk was even less happy in their yard.



Late one afternoon, last week, he started with the mournful howl and Tanya said enough. She opened the gate and he disappeared. At 4:30 in the morning she opened the door to let the cats out and there was Volk, comatose on the front step. He had a bit of blood behind his left front leg and on cursory examination, what looked like a small round bullet or pellet home. It was not a bullet or he would have been dead and the wound did not seem very deep.

Tanya called the vet at 6:00 am. Our "House-calls" vet was out of town, so she called the lady vet at the clinic. We could get in at noon. She gave Volk some water with a syringe. Next thing he was sitting up. He was comatose because he was tired. We reexamined at the wound and found a couple more. The little SOB had been fighting, AGAIN. It was not much of a fight as he showed no signs of a struggle. He had been attacked and made a run for it.

An hour later he had struggle to his feet and stiffly walked to the gate to go back in the dog yard. He knows the drill, having been through it many times before. But we had a vet appointment.

The vet found a couple more holes, cleaned, disinfected, bandaged him and sent him home. Antibiotic injections for 10 days. We made a bed for him on the front step, rigged a cardboard box for him to sleep in and tied him to a reasonably heavy plastic patio arm chair. The leash was long enough to give him room to move around and we took him for walks every 4 hours, more to keep him happy than that he needed potty breaks that often. Once a day Tanya would disinfect the wounds, spray purple disinfectant (Potassium permanganate) on it and rebandage him.




On Sunday, Tanya went out the front gate and left it open. Volk made a run for it, dragging the chair. the chair caught in the gate, the "knot" came undone and he was gone, leash, bandages and all. We went looking for him but a lady brought him back in about an hour. She lives across the river/marsh from us.

She has a little female dog and two large yard guard males. Volk likes the little female. the two big dogs disapprove. Volk was then firmly tied to the railing. We quit bandaging as it didn't stay on very well anyhow. He lived for walks so yesterday I took him for 3 km. His leg is fine. Last night he was howling again so we threw him back in with Lucky. He can defend himself.

I went out this morning and sprayed him purple again.



That dog has more lives than a cat. He still wants to run away and we have to watch him when we open the door to the dog yard


For those whose education had been neglected, a poet named  wrote:
The Purple Cow
I never saw a purple cow
I never hope to see one
But I can tell you anyhow
I'd rather see than be one.
Years later she added a verse:
Ah, yes, I wrote the purple cow
I'm sorry now I wrote it
But I can tell you anyhow
I'll kill you if you quote it.




8 comments:

Debra She Who Seeks said...

Poor Volk. It sounds like he's his own worst enemy. And I remember the purple cow poem, but I've never read the sequel -- good stuff!

JACKIESUE said...

I had a great dane(well not really) that I found at the library..I opened the door and he jumped in the truck and I couldn't get out..i went to jupe mills and asked them what kind of food should I get him..he looked at him and said horse?. I had a fenced in yard but he could sit on the ground and jump it no problem..kept him in the house once and he jumped thru the window, taking out glass and frame..tied him to porch he pulled the post off and hearly lost the roof..he at one time belonged to either a really old person or a drunk as he would walk right next to you touching you so you could lean on him..he would ride with me when I took the grandkids to school and the one time I didn't take them he jumped fence went to the school and went looking for him..he found my friends daughter and joined her in the class room. scaring the crap out of everyone as he was huge..the school called and said come get him he wouldn't let anyone in or out..(he was looking for the girls)..the other times he jumped the fence he would walk around town ..he loved going to Nemecek's meat market cause the girls would come out for smoke breaks and feed him ring bologna and cheese..the police would bring him home..he would also follow the mail lady along her route to keep her company..the vet said he was what they called a runner..which is how I got him..he'd ran away..finally the police were getting tired of being his taxi service..one of the city workers took him home with him out in the country..he stayed there for about 6 months till winter and then moved across the street cause they would let him in the house..spring time.he was gone again..

The Blog Fodder said...

He is just a free living man. Or wishes he was. If someone would feed him.

The Blog Fodder said...

I love your temporary dog. He should have had his own TV show. Canada had a show called The Littlest Hobo. A German Shepherd would show up out of nowhere once a week and in 30 minutes save the day then trot off down the road. Your dog would have been an even better hero.

Shammickite said...

Definitely a shaggy doggy story. (Dictionary definition: a long, rambling story or joke, typically one that is amusing only because it is absurdly inconsequential or pointless.)
Bad dog Volk, but he certainly has spunk and is quite a character.
BTW The Littlest Hobo was filmed in the town where I live, Stouffville, Ontario. Often saw them filming in the street or in the park. And there was more than one dog playing the part of Hobo.

The Blog Fodder said...

Volk is a "freeborn rambling man".
If I could have ended with an absolutely atrocious pun then it would have been truly a shaggy dog story.
Littlest Hobo was a wonderful program. Filmed in your home town is so cool.

Diane Henders said...

Poor Volk. As a pet owner, it's always hard to decide whether to let them do the things they live for, knowing that one day it'll kill them; or let them live longer, less happy lives by confining them. Some people are like that, too...

The Blog Fodder said...

His brother Bobik was a fence climber. He met an untimely end trying to get over the fence to meet a love interest, slipped and his collar caught.
I expect Volk will escape once too often and that will be it. What do you do?
Yes, there are people like that too. Fiddle footed and too long in one place makes them jumpy. Other than the years I spent growing up, this is the longest I have lived at any address. But we take holidays to places and will again