Dogs have a way of finding people who need them

Two dogs are companions, three are a pack

Bones, a year old Rottie cross on my deck

It’s the tail end of December. The weather has been hovering between the mid-30’s and mid-40’s during the day and dipping into the teens at night. It has been unusually dry with only a skiff of snow now and then. The forecast says that snow is imminent this morning. I slept in until 6:30. After feeding my two dogs, still in pajamas and robe, I stepped outside cradling my coffee mug. There was a faint glimmer in the east, below the cloud cover. At 30 degrees the air was chill, but not uncomfortable. Nothing stirred, not a bird, nor a tree branch. Not even a car. Complete quiet. I savored the moment. Sunrise on the prairie is my favorite time of day. I don’t live in Hungry Horse anymore. When I first moved here, I had trouble sleeping because it was so quiet. Too quiet.

I will continue the story of how I ended up here and why.

I continued to heal. The price of a good day was four bad ones, then three, then two, then one. Progress. Driving to Seattle to see family would wipe me out and I had to sleep for a day after arriving in order to recover. Something no one understood, because I had not told them about the diagnosis. Trips there were infrequent because of the health toll and were mostly during the summer when the weather and the three mountain passes were clear.

My upstairs loft was partly finished with a roughed-in bath. I found a woman carpenter, Amber, who did plumbing on the side, and didn’t charge a lot. I bought the fixtures and she installed them. Fortunately, the local hardware store had floor models on sale. The real gem in the deal was the jetted bathtub. The color was gray, not my first choice, but the price was right.

I asked Amber to build a wall to separate the bath from the rest of the room. The rough plumbing for the toilet faced a window looking over the house next door. A loo with a view. The wall, however, blocked the light from that window, so I asked Amber to install a window. Amber’s mother made stained glass windows, and I commissioned her to build one to put in the wall. It was fun picking out the glass. I chose lavender and mottled clear glass with “jewels”.

Amber’s mother also gave private classes to make stained glass panels, so I signed up for lessons. We worked at a table in her home. Now I had a hobby. All the different glass colors and textures fascinated me. I learned about the differnt types of glass and companies that produced them. One was in Portland, Oregon, another in Chicago. One was in Woodinville, Washington not far from my parents and daughter.

When I was able to produce a window, I graduated to boxes and lamps. It was like carpentry, using glass instead of wood. Corners had to be square. With the onset of summer, I planned to visit family and tour Spectrum Glass in Woodinville.

While staying with Misty, a teen boy stopped by with his year-old Rottweiler cross named Bones. He was looking for a home for his dog.

“My dad took Bones to the dog pound. My mom and I went and got him out, but my dad said if I bring Bones home, he’ll shoot him,” said the boy.

Bones stood by the boy, and did not look threatening.

“Let me try out some commands,” I said.

I looked at Bones and said, “Sit!” He sat.

“Down!” Bones lay down.

I tried a few other commands and Bones easily followed my directions.

“Does he have any bad habits I should know about?” I asked.

“He hates white tennis shoes,” said the boy. “He attacks them.”

That told me it was likely that Bones had been kicked or mistreated by someone wearing white tennis shoes.

I knew many cities, including Seattle, had ordinances against certain dog breeds like Rottweilers, Dobermans and Pit Bulls. If Bones went back to the dog pound he would automatically be put down, since it would be a “second offense.” It would be a shame to put down such a well-trained dog. Rottweilers are very protective of children.

“I live in rural Montana,” I told the boy. “I can take him and if he and my other dogs don’t get along, I will find a home for him, if you would like. I promise he will not go to the dog pound.”

The boy agreed and I had another Rottie cross to add to my growing dog family. Two dogs are companions, three are a pack. I hoped Bones would get along with Gypsy and Veronica. With a sociopath living a couple of doors away, one couldn’t have too many Rottweilers.

I had traded my Izuzu for a Chevy truck with 4-wheel drive and extended cab. The seats in the back flipped up, leaving plenty of room for Bones to stand or lay down. The back window had glass sliders for ventilation.

Misty, Bones and I set out to Woodinville to tour Spectrum Glass. They sold discontinued and reject glass in their outlet store. It had not occurred to me to wear shoes instead of sandals. We were turned away at the door and told to come back wearing sturdy shoes. It was closer to go to the shoe outlet at the Redmond mall, than return to Misty’s. We left Bones in the truck. I found a pair of “sturdy” shoes and waited in a long line to check out. I heard a dog furiously barking. The checkout station was near the large front windows of the store that looked out on the parking lot. I could see my truck. Bones had opened the sliding back window and was standing in the truck bed. A car was headed into a parking spot next to my truck and Bones was loudly objecting. I watched the car slowly back out and look for another spot. This happened two more times while I stood waiting in the slow-moving checkout line. I handed Misty my money and shoes to check out for me and ran to the truck. Bones seemed glad to see me and hopped back into the truck. I backed out and waited in front of the shoe store. Misty soon slid into the passenger seat with our new shoes. As we started to exit the mall parking lot, a line of police cars was entering the parking lot from the opposite side. I counted four black and whites and more were were turning in. I had a bad feeling they were looking for a white truck with a Montana license plate and Rottweiler in the back. So many officers seemed a bit of overkill for one dog, but I wasn’t waiting around to find out.

“Quick Bones, don’t let them see you!” laughed Misty. He lay down and we drove out the nearest exit. I could swear Bones was grinning. I checked the rearview mirror. No black and whites followed us. We hadn’t been spotted. We three fugitives headed back to Woodinville to watch glass being made.

continued….