The Problem with Panda

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The majority of W&G's livestock and creatures have now been moved over to their new place. What remains are eight barn cats and . . . Panda.

Panda was a young dog that a friend had brought them from his very remote ranch, a pup born to a stock dog who took her patrol job seriously and generally had very little exposure to humans. It was rumored that there was some strong Great Pyrenees in Panda's genes - a most beneficial and admired breed of hound for livestock stewardship. What W&G weren't told was that they instinctively have a much wider territory range than W&G's five acres. Out at the ranch, it was not unusual to see the anti-neighbor's great hulking woolly white Pyrenees a mile or more away from their ranch house so I was not surprised in the least.
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And, to their frustration, that she would be incredibly aloof. To my frustration as well. When I arrived, no one could get closer than four feet from her before she would bolt like you were wielding a butcher knife with deadly intent like a scene from Psycho.

It was agreed upon that Panda move to their new place ... IF they ever caught her. They continued to bring her dog food for a while but after a stunningly ill-conceived attempt to place her food in a large cage and rope-snag the door closed behind her, she never entered the cage again and eventually they stopped bringing her any food at all. Being a fairly recognizable sap, of course, I began to take up the slack while fervently maintaining the "That's not my dog, monsieur" position, especially for a hound with obvious magnetic pole repulsion syndrome.

Age and eccentricity allow me to converse with any critter I darned well please and, frankly, they are generally much more polite listeners than humans. And so Panda got an earful at each feeding about how I was far too pragmatic to feed anything 'just because', that there would have to be some other reason to keep an aloof stock dog around on a property that no longer had stock. Maybe she understood her new state of unemployment because she eventually started to edge a little closer in towards me and I tested the waters occasionally with a hand while talking gently and casually to her. She finally realized that I would not abuse this newly forming trust by grabbing at her.
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Then came the breakthrough one day when she came in close enough that I was able to reach out and scratch her benignly as she wolfed down the food I brought her. All in patient baby steps over the course of many weeks but now she will come over for scratchies even when I don't have food for her. W&G showed up at feeding time one day and Gayle let out a loud "I don't believe it! Wayne, take a look at Panda!" as Panda ate, unconcerned that I was scratching her ears. Gayle's next shout was "So ... you have a new dog now?" N-n-n-ope. I usually avoid inheriting stress from other folks' bad decisions whenever possible. I certainly do not keep un-neutered pets around since I don't like loitering around high traffic areas with a box that reads "Free puppies" or 'Free kittens."

Now Panda even knows to make one full circle while I put her food down. It was a family tradition which Brou, Daisy and even Beautiful Dave the Cat and Ming abide by. It gives me a chance to put down food without a bowl being knocked out of my hand and they all politely oblige. What is most curious is that the two dogs have interpreted this ritual as a form of saying 'please' and will spin around wildly to confirm when they want something badly. I'm easy, that works, too.
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I let Brou and Daisy out as usual this morning but, rather than bark with the usual exuberance, Brou ran to the far end of the yard nearest the open shed with Terry's skid steer in it and stood fully upright against the fence with his head adorably cocking from one side to the other, listening intently to some new and totally baffling noise. Since the eight barn cats were also oddly absent, I went out to investigate.
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So here is octo-mom this morning with at least eight new puppies. I really don't hold it against her ... she has the expected intelligence and instincts of a dog, of course.
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Wayne's final surgery occurred last Thursday. The operation was a smashing success considering all the unknown possibilities before going in. They are comfortable that they got all the bladder cancer and Wayne will not have to live with any external bladder replacements. Yessuh!!! Better still, they announced that he would not have to alter his diet and intake permanently either so I can stuff them with whatever I darned well please when they show up.

Now ... how do I break it to them that Panda celebrated by making them doggy grandparents eight times, possibly plus? Ahhh, oui ... mais you forget ... that is NOT my dog, monsieur!
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