Thirty-six barking dogs make an incredible amount of noise. Even eliminating the nine puppies leaves me with too many dogs to look at fairly in one session. I’m beginning to think this plan may be harder than I thought. O. K., eliminate the two very old dogs. I need pets that will live a number of more years. Just look at dog sized dogs. Pekes and miniature poodles are for old ladies. That gets it down to nineteen dogs. After two and a half hours of playing fetch, scratching bellies and a bit of testing for previous training I have six dogs to see again tomorrow. Next time I’m bringing earplugs! The volunteer warns me that some of the dogs I’m interested in may be gone by then. That’s fine. I’m making a long term commitment. Fifteen minutes or less with a dog is not enough to do that.
I put the earplugs in as the volunteer (why don’t they wear name-tags?) leads me thru the kennel doors. All six of my dogs are still here. They also got in another dog last night he thinks I might like from the ones I picked out before. She’s a beautiful little English springer bitch in liver and white. She even has papers, which is not a factor for me but I do like springer spaniels. Buster(who calls a bitch Buster?) has obliviously been well trained. She has the friendly disposition that seems to be standard with springers. At three years old she is just what I want. That leaves one more dog to choose. I work too many hours to leave one dog home alone.
I played with each of the other dogs again before picking out a nameless yellow lab mix who was dropped off here undernourished and flea ridden last month. The vet thinks she’s about four or five years old. She has had some basic obedience training but will need some work. I really liked a Jack Russel male named Scott but I have to have two males or two females. I’m not starting a puppy farm. The shelter includes a certificate for neutering with each dog but I won’t use them. Looking at Buster’s (that name has to go) pedigree I may even let her have a litter. As a final test we put the two dogs in a run together and leave them alone for several minutes. Then I go back in the run and pet first one and then the other. They get along and aren’t overly jealous. I can go in and sign the paperwork, pay the fees and load up my two new dogs.
Nancy, the woman I’m left with by the first volunteer asks for my drivers license and starts filling out papers. The unnamed Lab mix is all mine in minutes. She wanted a name to put down but I explained that I had promised the neighborhood kids that they could name the dogs which may have put me in danger of losing my grumpy old guy status. John Leonard down the street can have it. When she started on Buster’s paperwork she stopped almost immediately. Buster, who’s pedigree says is she named “Hunter’s Queen Maeve,” came in with another dog from the same deceased owner who’s family made a donation to the shelter and asked that the two be placed together. The kennel workers should have been told about that but since they only came in last night not everyone would be aware of it yet. Did I want princess, too? I wasn’t really planning on a third dog but she told me that the two had been together all of Buster’s life. The family felt that it was best that they stay together. She claimed that at ten years old Princess(Grand Champion Princess Gertrude not of Bavaria) shouldn’t add much more work to the two active dogs I was adopting.
I’d put a lot of care into choosing my two dogs. I wasn’t going take a third one at random so I suggested that princess be brought out to the run where Buster and the lab were waiting. Re-inserting my earplugs I went back to the kennel and played with the dogs for a few minutes before a volunteer named Sue(they do have name-tags) came in with us carrying a Pekingese. No! I want dogs, not pampered rats. That high pitched yapping was cutting right through the barrier of the earplugs. An extended version of the usual canine greeting ensued(not describing butt-sniffing; not that kind of story) while I mentally reviewed the other available dogs. I was thinking about maybe getting Scott and having him neutered after all. Then that damn yapping rat looked up at me and started licking my ankles since my butt was out of reach. I only picked her up to protect my expensive support hose. Then it was only common courtesy to scratch behind her ears, right? She just curled up in my arms after a quick lick at my nose and made herself at home. O.K. how much longer is a ten year old pekingese going to live anyway. I could handle it that long.
I drove home with two dogs in the carriers I had brought with me and the princess in my lap. Fortunately she was willing to lie there quietly. By the time I put Princess on the ground and had leashed the other two dogs I was surrounded by children. I’m not sure where they all came from and have no idea how the news of our arrival spread so fast. Questions were coming like shotgun pellets. “Is that one a boy or a girl” “what kind of dogs are they” “can I pet him?” “Can we really a name them?” “I thought you were getting two”
The dogs were trying to get away from the commotion and princess was cowering right between my feet. “Quiet, everyone!” I said as authoritatively as I could. “You’re scaring them. They are all girls. You can have a contest to name the big ones but I have to like the names. Stay away from them when I’m not around until we find out if they like kids. The little one is named princess and she’s too old to learn a new name. Especially stay away from her because she’s old and dogs like her aren’t always good with kids anyway. They are called pekingese because they come from China. The yellow one is mostly a Labrador retriever. She doesn’t have a name at all yet. The brown and white one is an English Springer Spaniel. Her official name is” I had stop and look at the papers on the car seat. “Hunter’s Queen Maeve (forget Buster, that will always be the boxer who bit my dad when he tried to spank me) but that’s way to long. I’m going to walk the dogs around a little while so they learn where they live. A couple of you at a time can come pet them.”
So that’s what happened. I walked the dogs around the yard and the meadow out back. Kids came and spoiled them until I said it was someone else’s turn. The walk lasted longer than I had planned on before everyone had a chance at petting while the others argued about names. When I finally returned to the truck Daniel, one of the older boys stepped forward. “We think that she” he said pointing to the springer, “should have her name shortened to Queen. Then since you have a queen and a princess she” pointing to the lab, “should be Duchess.” It seems I was living with royalty.
I finally got the dogs inside and set up another bed for princess. Food and water were put out and refilled. I don’t think Duchess has any experience with free feeding. I’m sitting back in the recliner with princess on my lap and the other two curled up under my footrest. Reaching for my book I think about what I’ve done. I’m committed to three dogs. Two are bred for hunting. I’ll put my shotgun to it’s intended use. I can’t kill myself with it now.
I didn’t sleep well. Princess definitely felt that she should be in my bedroom. She whined at the door and scratched on it for what seemed as long as two nights before she gave in. She was in Queen’s bed this morning. The other two seemed to understand that the beds I had put them in are were where they belonged. When she finally got quiet I still couldn’t sleep. I’d eliminated the worst solution to my problem but the problem remained. I couldn’t keep on pretending to be a man.
I got up with the alarm despite my lack of sleep. The dogs would have to be walked soon or I could clean up the consequences. I’d taken a long week-end to get my new housemates settled in and plan for the future. I pulled on a pair of Jeans and a t-shirt with my corporate logo. I got Duchess and Queen into the two dog rig I’d purchased for them and tied a length of parachute cord to princess’ collar. I’d have to make a return trip to the pet store. After a nice walk and fixing breakfast I would have to find another reason to procrastinate. I do want to spend time with each dog individually before returning to work.
Serious thinking while keeping three dogs under control just didn’t happen. In the end I tied princess to a fence post and jogged up the road and back with the big dogs. It was that or carry her. She thought I should have carried her and let the neighborhood know about it. I forgot to bring waste bags so I’ll have to go back and clean up on this afternoon’s walk. Hopefully I wouldn’t get any irate phone calls before then.
After breakfast I walked into the living room and took my shotgun from the corner where I’d left it three nights ago. An Orvis side by side twenty gauge, it had been a much appreciated bonus from a satisfied customer in the days when I still did much of the work on major projects myself. It might have tipped the balance when I l held it that night. I couldn’t use such a beautiful piece of craftsmanship to do something so ugly. So I’d removed the shells and went looking for dogs. Wiping it down, I put it back in the gun safe. The decision had been made to live. Now I just needed to decide how I was going to live.
The problem was made worse by how well I’d pretended. I was a tomboy who loved hunting and fishing with dad. I loved just about anything outdoors. That led to the creation of my company soon after I left college. Green Engineering, Cyrus Green CEO and janitor. Also shovel jockey, chief surveyor and forester. I, now we, set up environmentally sustainable retreats with fish and game management plans for wealthy clients on land they purchased for vacation homes. I got started when I was asked to look at plans my college roommate’s family were making for a place in upstate New York. His dad liked my ideas and the work I did to carry them out. He told some other Wall Street people about me and what was going to be a summer filler while I waited for something to open up in forestry became a career. I’d built up a lot of muscle doing that work. I am worried about how much of our success is based on my appearing to be a man’s man, an expert outdoorsman when I’d always been an outdoorswoman. The success of the company meant I had resources to transition but it also meant that I was responsible for the livelihood of forty people. I have to tell my family, too but I don’t think they will be too surprised. There have been broad hints over the years that they would accept me if I was gay. I don’t think they will have any trouble with the real reason I’m different.
As much as I’ve thought about this and dreamed about it, I just don’t know where to start. Monday I’ll call a therapist I researched several years ago. Today I’m going to go shopping for the clothes I haven’t worn since I got too big to sneak into my mothers stuff. I don’t know. Should I do something that public already? Maybe just get some nice body wash, facial cleanser and shampoo. My years of working outdoors haven’t been kind to my skin and hair but I never dared to do anything about it. At least I’ll get Princess a leash when I’m in town. There’s a decent plus size clothing store about thirty miles away. I’m just not a Walmart kind of girl. I’ve thought about getting cash from the ATM and going there in the past. I was afraid to even risk my banker finding out I was a woman. This time I have to do something. Either use the shotgun or make the move. Getting the dogs means I can’t just check out so I guess I’ll check out the dress shop. I doubt they’ll believe in a six foot one, one-hundred and ninety-five pound girl friend so this is it. I wonder if they have anything suitable for dog walking?
I didn’t have to announce my return to the dogs. They mobbed me at the door. As excited as I was to wear the beginnings of my new wardrobe it was clear that the girls had other priorities. I just unloaded the poop scooper and the new leash. The rest would have to wait. We all took a short walk together while I dealt with this morning’s mess. Then I took each dog individually to the field behind the house to try them off leash. Princess and Queen both showed the results of good trainers. Queen responded well to the whistle. I wasn’t surprised that Princess didn’t. Show dogs don’t need long distance control. Duchess tried. She’d had some training of some kind. She just wasn’t consistent on any of her commands. If we work on it she’ll be ready to hunt by this fall.
It took most of another hour to remove the tags from my purchases and put most of them away. After a shower to wash off the men’s products I’d used that morning I dressed in a mauve pants suit that I was afraid made me look like I was trying to be Hillary Clinton. It was that kind of store. I have to get some casual clothes when I go to the city Tuesday. At least the manager was not shocked by an apparent man as a customer. Others had been drawn to the plus sizing she offered. I’d bought panties but had not found a bra in my band size that wouldn’t require serious stuffing. The shoe store in the mall hadn’t carried anything in a women’s size 12 so I didn’t bother with stockings either. I have to wear support hose most of the time anyway. But there will be no doubt in anyone’s mind when I take the dogs for their last walk of the day. This is the home of the royal ladies with a duchess, a princess and two queens.
Comments
Fascinating beginning
This doesn't say chapter 1 or anything. Rightly so, it stands on its own. But I want to know more about this character. Love the dog's names.
>>> Kay
It was two chapters
It was the first two chapters of an attempt to enter the multi-part story contest last year. After this the subplots began multiplying like tribbles and the whole thing falls apart. Several attempts months apart have failed to get it under control. I'm glad you agreed that this part makes a complete story.
I really like this one
please continue it !
Sorry Dorothy
As I said above the story just gets completely out of control after this part. I kept trying to imagine the practicalities of transitioning and finding more and more subplots cropping up. I'm sure that actually doing it without just walking away from much of their current life is even more complicated than my imagination.
Poodles
I believe you must have been thinking of toy poodles when you said miniature poodles. Miniature poodles are easily the size of long-legged beagles, are very intelligent, and easily trainable. They also a great family dogs.
We had one when I was growing up, and you couldn't have asked for a better dog.
"Life is not measured by the breaths you take, but by the moments that take your breath away.”
George Carlin
poodles
I think you are right. There was just this little fluffy looking thing in one of the cages and she wasn't interested enough to check on the actual breed.