It is 4:30 a.m. We have been watching Frazier episodes, binge watching. No half measures for us. It occurred to me though that before I went to bed, I should describe another Schuster adventure before it slips away into the black hole that is taking over my mind, sucking all bits of memory and thought into its irresistible, dark voracious depths.
Around 3:30 this sunny Thursday afternoon, we took the dogs for a walk. Nothing unusual there. As I have explained before, Mary takes charge of three of them, I have Simon. She and her three are usually far ahead of me and my one. For all of the walk Schuster stays on a lead, as does Simon. They are dachshunds after all, stubborn creatures who cannot be trusted on their own.
The problem is that Schuster does not know that he is a male dog and that he ought to be sniffing all the other dog scents, and peeing on everything he sniffs that he can't eat. Instead, Schuster wants to be with whichever "big" dog who happens to be walking off lead, usually Frollie, the Jack Russell. Thus, Schuster pulls constantly from the beginning of the walk to the end. No sniffing, no peeing, just pulling, beginning to end. Fortunately he does wear himself out.
When we get to the bridge that crosses Silver Creek/Brushy Fork, we go down to the water. Frollie walks across, Schuster follows him as far as the lead will allow, even into deep water, for we have found that the little rascal is a very determined swimmer, and he will follow Frollie anywhere. At one point all you could see was his little red head and black nose above the water.
After the swim, we followed the black-topped trail down to the last trash barrel and bench before we turned around and headed home. All was more than well, for Schuster pooped twice there. He doesn't pee, he doesn't poop, but he pooped this day, not once but twice. And we made it home without further incident, our little swimmer, walker, and now pooper. He still hadn't peed, while Simon had not done much else, squirting every weed, rock, dark matter, and sandy nook he discovered along the way. This is a dog trail; imagine the joys for a male dog with a good nose. Simon will not be hurried; Schuster will not pee.
We made it home safely. All was well. I went to the back door once I had gotten up the stairs, and let the four dogs outside to check out the yard, noisily of course. While they were out, I went into the front room to empty my pockets, and there I saw it. Right in the middle of the living room rug, Schuster (who else?) had peed! Such a thing leaves me speechless, gob-smacked actually. All that time, all that water, and there was a puddle in the middle of our house. Actually it was almost worth it just to be able to write that last rhythmic sentence: "all that time, all that water, and there was a puddle in the middle of our house!" We love you Schuster, odd little dog that you are!