Bad to the Bone: A 2015 Petrospective
Dom and I wrapped up our first full year of living in a two-dog household in 2015, and we came to the following conclusion: our house is too small. So we got a bigger one with a bigger yard. Now Cheyenne Marie Princess Diva can play a long game of fetch in her own territory instead of the empty retention pond across the street. Likewise, her brother Jetson Hamish Pharrell B-hole has an endless sea of grass in which to sunbathe. Here’s a look back at 2015 and the awesome — and not so awesome — adventures of the Verastiqui Pack.
After the “Three Day Winter of January 2015,” we head out with the pups to try out the GoPro harness Jetson got for Christmas. Jetson isn’t much into fetch, but he loves to chase Cheyenne, so we create an endless cycle of Jet chasing Chy and Chy chasing the ball. We learn two things about Jetson, the first being that he does not like wearing a GoPro harness. The second is that he runs like a tumbleweed, bouncing and swaying… more of an expression of happiness than raw speed and power.
February is Cheyenne’s birthday month, so we ask her how she wants to celebrate. She answers with a whine and a wistful, “I’ve always wanted to tree a coon.” So we head out to the park in search of a raccoon. While Dom and I argue about whether Procyon Lotors are exclusively nocturnal, Chy spots a squirrel in a tree. A little unsure herself at the great height of five feet, Dom steps in to spot our little hunter’s climb.
If 2015 had a theme, it would be Chy and Jet Learn to Share. Considering how territorial some dogs can be, it’s nice to see them waiting for their turn by lying down next to the dog who happens to be chewing on something. But then sometimes, as in this picture from March, Jet gets a little possessive, and though he may be finished with a toy, he playfully (but forcefully) prevents Chy from taking it. They are also getting better at posing for pictures.
The sun is nowhere to be found at 6:30am in April, but I have no problem picking out a wandering Beagle as I drive to work. He’s hanging out at Applied Materials, just cruising the empty parking lots looking for trouble. I stop to check him out, but he’s not wearing a collar, and worse, he’s not chipped. The only thing to do is take him home and put the word out.
Since Chy and Jet are wary of outsiders, I try to keep them separated. I fail. Horribly. (There’s video evidence that I can’t bring myself to watch.) After what felt like eons of barking and fighting, Chy and Jet somehow become friends with this new dog. They even seem to miss him when I take CarterMan back to his family later in the day.
We move into the new house in May, and for some unknown reason, it starts to rain, and doesn’t stop for several days. Although the dogs have visited the new home before, they hadn’t seen it finished, and had never spent the night with an entirely new set of noises. Chy and Jet keep to their familiar places, like the end of our bed where they’re definitely not supposed to be. Dom and I can’t resist letting them sleep with us, at least until they learn this new place is home.
A month after we move in, we still have no furniture, so Jet prefers to spend his time outside in the warm grass pondering his lack of traction on the wood floors. Every time the doorbell rings, he goes shooting off down the hall to the front door, which wouldn’t be a problem if it were a straight shot. Instead, Jetson does his best Scooby Doo impression as he tries to change direction too quickly; his legs slide out from under him easily, much to our amusement.
After struggling for months to find a pet sitter, we finally luck out with the amazing Dayna from It’s My Treat Pet Care. In July, we take our first overnight trip in forever, heading to Houston to see Garth. Dayna is able to make three visits in that short window, and though she’s not entirely trusting of Jetson, she handles him like a pro. Jetson, for his part, barks like a maniac when she arrives, but as soon as she gives him a command, he follows it (almost like he knows treats are coming). Dom and I agree that none of this would have been possible with the intensive training he received (and continues to receive) at Sit Means Sit Austin.
Emboldened by the overnight in Houston, Dom and I leave the dogs alone in the house for five days and leave the country. We make a stop in Atlanta where we check on the dogs via our Nest Cam and, to no one’s surprise, they’re not in their pen! While we were in the air, Dayna had come by to give the pups a break. While putting them back, she’d accidentally dropped a treat just beyond the dog gate. That would not stand with Jetson, so after she left, he Wiley E. Coyote’d his way to that treat, eventually opening a wide enough gap between the gate and the wall. After that, they were on free roam for the duration.
WiFi was spotty on the beach, so we had to rely on Dayna’s post-visit updates to find out how the dogs were doing. They were bored, mostly, having only a TV to keep them company, while Dom and I danced the night away under the stars, and quietly, in our own ways, missed our pups.
Training continues unabated, week after week. Though they still wear their yellow bandanas of shame to class, Jetson and Chy are far more tolerable of other dogs and people. They behave as if we are the only ones in the park, follow all commands, and eventually start to appear bored. We start taking them through the trails and into off-leash areas to test their discipline. Without fail, they have one “positive experience” after the other. When dogs come up to sniff Jetson, he just looks at me as if to ask, “Do I eat them now or do I eat them later?”
My family comes to visit for Halloween, and Chy and Jet can’t wait to see them. Chy wants to sit in my mom’s lap, and Jetson lets my brother pet him. Pet him. A year ago? We’d be calling my brother Old One-hand Mark instead. We sit outside for most of the night to spare the dogs the ringing of the doorbell, but of course some children show up at 9:30, turning the entire house into an echo chamber of barking dogs.
November finds me continuing with the whole black-and-white theme for my instagram posts, and one cool night lets me capture this picture of Jet. He’s so much more obedient than he used to be, and in his default state, he sits at my side, scanning the world for threats. We added “Pharrell” to his name because he was always so happy, and “B-hole” because, well, he could be a b-hole. He still has his moments, but for the most part, Jetson is a completely different dog.
Cheyenne likes to keep me company as I write, and in December, I write a lot. Whatever trouble the Verastiqui Pack was having in adjusting to the new house is now gone with the arrival of Christmas. We put up a tall tree, opting for artificial so Jet doesn’t choke on real pine needles. It finally feels like home. Chy and Jet don’t wake in the middle of the night anymore to bark at a distant noise. They are excited to walk in the new neighborhood, despite the few times that Chy has bolted to chase a squirrel, cat, or other dog. We settle into a routine, waiting for the next chapter in the Chy & Jet Saga.
It’s now 2016, and both of our dogs have been to the vet in recent months. Cheyenne banged all four legs against a low curb (the sound of her bones hitting concrete was sickening), and Jetson tore his dew claw during some intense backyard romping. You never realize how little you value money until you have a dog. A hundred dollars here, two hundred dollars there; whatever it takes to make them healthy again.
I’ll leave you with a picture of Jetson looking miserable in his cone of shame, but if you want to keep up with him and Chy throughout the year, follow me on instagram. I post mostly dog pics anyway.
