Evans’ Rag

Vol 2 Issue 6

Losing our Leafy Brethren

It’s not always a bucolic scene.

Lake Barcroft’s Watershed Improvement District crew plus a support team of tree cutters earned their keep. It was interesting to watch— and I was totally fine not to be part of the work crew. The two trees took them most of two days to cut, maneuver onto the barge and haul.

The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion

This week’s blog title is borrowed from her book. There’s also a link to the original 2005 review in the NY Times by Robert Pinsky, a poet I admire.

Layla in the Park

Two years ago when we drove away from the Pets Mart with Layla, bringing her home she was pacing the entire rear of the SUV. After the hullaballoo of the Adoption Saturday, she was ready to be done with all that mess. She had places to be, or so she kept insisting. Layla’s a talker..

Years earlier we’d traveled hours to the Outer Banks with two full size huskies and a ninety pound Rottweiler in that same SUV, but pacing like she was, Layla took up the entire back of the vehicle all on her own.

D had planned it out; she said we needed to be there when Pet Harbor opened the adoption that Saturday; there weren’t many dogs for the people who’d been approved.

D had shown me the video they’d done of her: “She’s the one,” D was certain. We’d completed the paperwork and passed the house interview with the Siberian woman and her husky. No kidding, she was from Siberia–as was her sweet dog who immediately rolled over in our living room for a belly rub. How easy was that?

In the Pets Mart we found four caged huskies and the one at the end howling so the entire superstore heard her. No way she was happy. Though when I stuck my fingers far enough into the crate, she’d let me scratch her ears and it calmed her momentarily. “She’s a good girl.” But she was one fierce puppy working to get free.

Pet Harbor gives each of their rescues a name, but Vivian? I suggested “Lady” for her politeness and D countered with “Layla.” If you read through her description on the website, her weight was given at 31 pounds–severely underweight. She’s now at her real weight of 50 pounds. Grilled salmon helps; otherwise she’s an indifferent eater.

Other tidbits from the website:

“There were two children in my original home, where I lived for three years. Pet Harbor has no idea about my 4th year. Since coming to Pet Harbor, I have met two children: a baby and a preschooler. I give them lots of kisses.”

“Pet Harbor does not know my history with cats. On 1/7/18, I was tested for cat-friendliness. The result is, without a smidgen of doubt, I cannot live with cats.”

from Layla's page on the Pet Harbor website.

Was she on her own for her fourth year? We don’t know, but it would account for her being so skinny you could count her ribs. And for not getting along with cats, yeah, we already knew about huskies and felines. In Siberia the only creatures moving were called ‘dinner.’

Returning north on I-95, I watched her pace; she couldn’t seem to settle. I-95 was demonstrating how disfunctional a car-based transportation system could be, and she was having none of it. At least she wasn’t going off on the cars parked beside us like Molly the Rottweiler had done on her first few car trips. Was Layla happy we had adopted her? Like a blind date she‘d just been assigned, she hadn’t been given a choice. She talked as she paced the SUV. We were glad she was with us at least.

Can’t say I’ve regretted it, though her early days were interesting.
She bolted out through the kitchen door the first opportunity she was given. Ran a few miles through the neighborhood and amazingly enough found her way back. I grabbed her in the middle of the creek as she launched herself to get by me. Great catch, dude! I think she let me. Ha ha, lot’s of fun, don’t you think?

“She’s not a dog to leave outside by herself.” Good advice.

Four more times she escaped those first few months: once by a gate left open, blowing through the newly installed invisible fence, and again through the invisible fence after a neighbor’s cat, and twice while greeting a husky puppy from up the street and expertly backing out of her collar. Layla now wears a red harness she can’t back out of. D replaced her pink collar as well–wrong color for a bad ass.

Two years later, she’s more settled, but she still gets escorted when doing her business out in the yard.

When she first met Ziggie from up the street, Layla thought the puppy was–large–boisterously so–and had to teach that puppy some manners. Now when we meet Ziggie mouthing her stick, her frisbee, ball or whatever, Layla’s mostly indifferent after an initial butt sniff. Ziggie probably thinks she’s just stuck up.

D took her to a nearby dog park while I was traveling last week. She liked it, I was told, so we took her back this past weekend. At six and a half, she’s no puppy, but she’s still a husky. Would that I were as fast.