Saturday, August 04, 2012

What Goes Around: Wendell's Woes

Wendell got hopped up on sticks.

Wendell has a friend named Jack. Jack is a mostly blue heeler with a little bit of border collie. Wendell is a godawful pest as you know. Wendell and Jack have opposing philosophies on sticks.

Jack lives for someone who will throw a stick. Then he runs and gets the stick. AND HE BRINGS IT BACK.

Wendell also loves sticks. He lives for someone who will throw a stick for Jack. Then he runs and gets the stick, ripping it away from Jack if he has to, AND HE RACES OFF TO HIS SECRET STICK STASH AND THE STICK IS NEVER SEEN AGAIN.

The farmer would never consider throwing a stick for either Wendell or Jack. What a waste of energy. But when the farmer's nieces were here, the first thing they did was starting throwing sticks for Jack. Jack was in heaven until Wendell arrived and started stealing all the sticks.

Unbeknownst to anyone, Jack had been getting madder and madder about the sticks for years. And he finally snapped. The two best friends erupted into a big snarling ball that surged across the lawn.

"It will be fine, " said the farmer blandly. "They are hopped up on sticks. Just let them fight it out."

About one second later blood started spurting and Wendell gave a yelp and dropped the stick and ran to the farmer to be coddled as he always does when a trip to the emergency vet is imminent.

The farmer took him inside and wiped away the blood to see where it was coming from and it was coming from one of his eyes. His eye quickly filled up with blood, turning completely red on the inside in a matter of minutes.

Quick trip to the emergency vet, where it was a quiet day except for a lady in an Acura, who brought in a dreamy-eyed Bichon Frise who had eaten a pot brownie. Wendell was diagnosed with bloody eyeball caused by crushing injury and sent home with a pack of medicine. Bad news? No, the eyeball was unpunctured and did not deflate and after a few days it started  - very slowly - to clear.

Flashback one, two, three, four, five years: young Wendell has enjoyed a lifetime of tormenting Laddy the Tennessee Walker by sneaking up behind him and nipping his heels or pulling his tail, then scurrying away laughing. Laddy has never been able to retaliate because of the skillful scurrying.

Fast Forward to the present: Wendell is out in the pasture snacking on horse poo. Our pasture is an Olive Garden of horse poo. Perhaps because of his impaired vision, he makes a critical strategic error, turning his back on Laddy who is only about 15 feet away. Laddy gets a gleam in one of his big eyes, and in one, two, three, four lightning steps, he is on Wendell before Wendell sees what is happening (Wendell's bloody eyeball is squinted almost closed.) He delivers a direct boot to the middle of Wendell's back.

Wendell gives one short yelp and drops to the ground. He allows himself to be carried into the house without even a whimper which makes everyone think he must be very seriously injured. He takes one of his eyeball pain pills. He sits on a cushion. He eats a treat and simpers. Everyone gazes at him expectantly, talking to him and about him in hushed tones. Isn't he a darling dog? Isn't it awful what happened to him? Perhaps the end is near.

It isn't. He's fine. It's a miracle, but he's fine.

Somewhat sobered, obviously, and a tad bit sore, because payback is a _ _ _ _ _. (Rhymes with hitch.)


Anonymous said...

Oh, dear!
Uh, I guess we should talk about summer and no rain for a little longer?
How about them ants!!
The little joys of life are clearly without number...and expensive.
Glad the little dickens is OK.

Ozarks Goat Girl said...

heeheehee! Got me at "snacking on horse poo!" Millie, you sure write it like it is!

goatgirl said...

That Wendell.

Marigold said...

Perhaps enlightenment has finally come to Wendell-hopper and he will suddenly begin to channel Atticus, taking great precaution in the face of all things, protecting the innocent and generally exhibiting the qualities of sainthood. Or perhaps not. Ommmm ...

Mimi Foxmorton said...

Oh nooo......
Poor baby.

Though I do suppose one takes their chances whilst snacking on horse poo........

Huggies to all!

The Goat Borrower

Willow Fen Farm Goats said...

" Olive Garden of horse poo..." would be quite a distraction to even the most diligent of dogs. Our Bru-dog would love to add horse poo to the gourmet buffet of poo on which she snacks daily!
We wish Wendall a smooth recovery after which he will retain a bit of the humility these lessons have endeavored to teach. We also wish these lessons did not come as such expense to the farmer!

Anonymous said...

This is for OGG: You recall that we were praying for rain? Well, on Saturday night we got a nice storm with about an inch of rain. Unfortunately we also got a bolt of lightning that hit a big oak about 50 feet from our house. It caught fire (inspite of the rain) and burned down inside the tree as opposed to up in the branches. We did not know it...we heard the hit, but did not know the damage. Anyway, we discovered it last night when the dogs woke us to danger at 3am. Two of the burning branches had fallen to the ground and started a ground fire. All is well...thanks to the dogs (cousins of Wendell, I'm sure)and once again they earned their keep. So, eating the excess poo is not the only function of man's best friend. I think we should all give Wendell more respect...he may know something that the farmer does not about that horse!

Ozarks Goat Girl said...

Dear Anonymous,
You must assign yourself another name. How about "Horizontal Pupil Lover" or "Rumenator" or "Caprine Servant" or "Doe-Hay-Me" or "The Reader Formerly Known As Anonymous"-- something--but let me know what it is--because Anonymous does not do you justice. As for your tree--gee willikins! S-C-A-R-Y as dry as it's been here. We also had a tree hit by lightning in the woods behind our house last Sat. night--split it in half vertically. All practicality aside, wasn't that a grand lightning storm, though?

Millie, see what happens when you don't write daily? We readers have to resort to feebly entertaining ourselves. I'm starting to think about throwing a stick and retrieving it myself.

Anonymous said...

Checked in with my favorite site late because of waiting for primary returns. Sooo...a new name? How about Flying Squirrel? It has a nice ring to it (several actually), is currently VERY popular AND with any luck, the public will demand that Wendell's picture is on the next Kellogg's box when they learn that the Flying Squirrel is a fan of This Goats Life! Of course his eye will need to you think that he would enjoy corn flakes with moose milk as much as poo flakes without? Tired...bed!

Anonymous said...

The dogs around here do enjoy their 'Horsey Salad' also.
Wendell does seem like he is on a roll, which I hope stops. He is much better suited to super nanny duties. Which is safer to perform.

Ozarks Goat Girl said...

Anonymous, yes Flying Squirrel is a perfect name for you (I guess). Squirrel, you bring up an excellent idea--that of real, true dogfood that dogs around the world will crave. Dogfood made of poo flakes!! And for opther options, how about regular dogfood with goat berries or horse poo cubes mixed in? This is BRILLIANT! I see the money rolling in already! Goat readers of this blog--please start collecting your goat berries. Millie--there are a million years of goat berries under that falling down cabana--get the farmer and her Korean crew busy cleaning it out (keep the stash away from Wendell). Send all goat berries to Flying Squirrel who, since it's her idea originally, shall henceforth be named president of this new dogfood manufacturing company. All for one and one for all--there's gold in them thar berries!

Anonymous said...

Uh, I forgot what site I'm on!
Better to remain anonymous in this crazy realm.
Much as I appreciate the enthusiasm OGG revs up, I will have to resist the temptation to accept this honor. Instead, I suggest that any and all berries should be donated to Wendell!
All cash receipts from said berries to be used for future hospital visits. (I'm sure the farmer can find room under the cabana for a few more berries...and we KNOW where the farmer is located!)
Sincerely, ANONYMOUS squirrel

Ozarks Goat Girl said...

Oh, poo. :.(