Back in the time of the Dark Ages, I was a single parent studying education assistance. This entailed a year of TAFE and practical experience. I learnt that Sascha the Weimaraner Blunderdog was exercising her vocal cords through sustained howling whilst I was absent. I quickly decided she really needed a Companion in order to circumvent her unholy protesting wails.
I saw Pip's photograph at the local vet hospital and called Pet Rescue. Jeanne, the proprietor was all about the animals. I was required to be interviewed by her to ascertain whether I was suitable to become Pip's owner. I was loaned Pip on a two week trial period, during which time I had to prove myself worthy.
Pip was then about a year old. He was all Jack Russell except for his erect Tenterfield Terrier ears. He'd been saved from a pretty miserable existence and I was instructed that I shouldn't look at him or speak to him or even touch him on that first day.
No such hesitancy with Sascha. They looked at each other and fell in love. That evening, as I sat watching the telly with my feet on the coffee table, Pip came and sat beneath my legs. That was the moment that I knew he felt at home.
Once Pip realised he'd landed on his feet, he then became my security detail. He would savage the front door when there was a knock. He was suspicious of anybody new. He found any quick movement frightening. I knew he had been beaten as a puppy and became quite concerned about his high anxiety. A sedative from the vet helped somewhat but he was still prone to startle.
Michael was the first man on whose lap Pip willingly sat. Ruby the Beagle, when she arrived on the scene, was of little concern to the canine lovers. They welcomed her into the fold, but still only had eyes for each other. Leaving the Big Smoke in 2011, they all enthusiastically embraced country living and their half-acre of the yard. Pip even came off medication.
Our big, beautiful, boofy Sascha died over a year ago. I still miss her. She and Michael's Dad are together under his mandarin tree. I was very concerned about Pip's reaction to her death. I thought he may pine away with grief.
This has not been the case at all. The Beagle, in spite of her apparent autistic traits (and she hasn't received the MMR vaccination!), is now Pip's number one buddy. They bark together enthusiastically, they occasionally sleep together and they trundle along on a walk together. Pip is wholeheartedly following Ruby's lead. The destruction of the barricade should have given him the willies. Instead, we heard no complaint or cry for assistance from the rascally Jack Russell.
Pip had also taken to widdling in the house at night. We thought this was due to discomfort from his arthritis or his ruptured ACL. We also assumed he was unable to climb into the dog bed any longer with Ruby and perhaps had become cold and confused, leading to nocturnal peeing on the floor.
So we invested in a lower doggy couch from Aldi for Mister Pip. For three days, he refused to approach his chaise lounge voluntarily. I kicked myself for wasting our money. Then I began to suspect our Pip was taking us for a ride. Earlier in the week, I had watched him launch forth through the dog door without a hint of stiffness. The day after, we found him asleep on his couch. Ruby had commandeered the couch's cushion and taken it to the dog bed.
The combination of their moving into the living room and the new bedding arrangements did marvels for Pip's nightly piddling. I slowly dawned to the reality that we had been severely fooled by a Jack Russell.
There is still the odd wee on the floor in the mornings. I am of the opinion that he has joined the great Australian indecisive response to a problem at hand..." should I go outside to lift my leg? Yeah...Nah..."
This morning I was greeted by both the dogs on the big dog bed. Pip had taken possession of the couch cushion. Ruby had been elbowed aside. The couch had been abandoned.
The worm had turned.
