Our husky, Simba, appears to be having a bad week. And most of it's his own doing. I'd say the only thing that he can't be blamed for is his grouchiness over not being walked much over the last seven days. With my husband out of town, I can't exactly walk him twice a day AND work full time AND care for two kids, etc. Simba's definitely getting the short end of the stick right now, and his woo-wooing at me several times each evening are his way of making sure I'm aware of that.
The rest of his bad week -- he has only himself to thank.
First there was last Saturday. There's no nice way to say this, so I'll just say it. He finally got a cat. It's no secret that Huskies think of cats the same way they think of a squirrel or a rabbit -- they're to be hunted and killed immediately. In the nearly two years we've had him this desire has been clear to us, and we keep a tight hold on the leash when we're out for walks. Beyond that he really has no other opportunity. Until last weekend, that is.
Here's the short version of the story.
Simba managed to get into the back yard of an abandoned house behind us through a broken plank in our fence from the previous week's storm. Just as I reached the empty yard, Simba started crying, and when I reached him his ears and nose were bleeding. That cat did not go down without a fight! By the time I got him out of there and back home, the cat was dead. I couldn't be sure, but I thought it was my neighbor's cat that's always out front with ours. I put this cat into a bag and knocked on their door.
This is where it almost gets comical. When I told the wife what had happened, she asked me to show her the cat. I ended up having to pull it all the way out, and she started to cry and said yes, it was Bandit. She got her husband and they headed to their back yard to bury it. A few minutes later, as I was hovering out front so that I could apologize again, they came out and said, "Bandit's inside sleeping!" Apparently she knows her cat really well!
Then it was off to the next neighbor that I knew had a black and white cat, only this time I changed tactics. My first question was, "Do you know where your cat is?" It turns out they keep theirs inside ever since we had a mass cat napping a few years ago (when two of ours, along with 7 others, disappeared inside of a week.) It turns out this cat was a stray that she had been feeding but didn't appear to belong to anyone. As heartbreaking as it all was, I'm so relieved we don't have to have a neighbor we care about hating us right now.
I'd like to think Simba learned his lesson about cats, but I rather doubt it. He's still as eager as ever to get the ones he sees on our walks.
Today's adventure with Simba included him peeing on another Soccer team's snack bag while Charlie was walking him at the field where Noelle's team was playing. Charlie came back to tell me what happened, including how he told the other mom, "It's my mom's fault." Nice. She came right over to give me what for about bringing my dog to the game. I'd only been going by the sign out front that said dogs had to be on leashes -- I wasn't aware there was a rule about "dogs and games" or I wouldn't have brought him. I apologized profusely, but really, there's nothing I can do here to redeem myself. She is going to give me the evil eye for the next 8 Saturdays, and I don't really blame her. I can't wait for our team to play her team.
And there you have it. Love him or hate him -- he's our dog.