Coon Dog Day
I haven’t blogged in a while, but it’s just that–and maybe this is a post for hubby’s blog–having twitter and a smart phone really feels like I’ve been keeping everyone up to date. With six weeks to Peanut, I feel like I have too many real life things to do to also take the time to blog about them. But to snap a picture with my Blackberry and upload it to Twitter? Oh everyone has time for that.
I’ve thought of a system, though, so expect some quality blogging in the next six weeks, and hopefully I’ll be able to keep it up so that y’all will know more about Peanut ex utero than you did about Peanut in utero.
Now–where were we. Ah. North Carolina.
Coon Dog Day was great except for when our (now we know) gun shy dog wriggled out of her collar and took off on us, trying to escape the Civil War era soldiers firing muskets at the start of the parade.
Hubby had time to tweet “Here comes the parade”, I had time to take these shots, and…..
……away went our dog, along the railway tracks and into the deep, foreign woods, and after her we went: hubby in sandals, and I, 7 months pregnant, in flip flops that broke shortly after we began our chase. It’s hard to find a dog in the woods when you’re a) having to wade through brambles and wild raspberries that are cutting up your legs and b) your dog has no collar and is therefore completely silent. We’re hollering, calling her, trying to sound as sweet and reassuring as we can. Both of us are unsucessful at whistling her whistle, because the heat and stress has just dried up our mouths. I’m trying not to cry too much, but I just keep imagining the trip back to Toronto without our dog and I can’t bear it. I’m sobbing. Hubby’s working out in his head what to offer as a reward, since we saw coonhound puppies for sale earlier that day for $150. He figures (he later tells me) $300 would be enough to convince someone NOT keep a gun shy, mostly-useless coonhound, but instead buy a puppy. Maybe two!
He finally tells me to go back out to the railway tracks to see if she’s out there, trying to keep me calm so I don’t go into labour in a country in which we’ll have to pay for the birth. At some point I get tired of carrying all my camera equipment so I dump it by the side of the tracks, because I figure–it’s Saluda–no one’s going to steal it. I think shortly after that I broke down again, hubby came out of the woods to comfort me, and then–there she was–cautiously coming back up the tracks towards us. The problem was, to get back to us she had to walk in the direction of the parade, which she was not willing to do, as she could still hear sirens (from the volunteer fire department). We tell her to sit. We go to her. Hubby instructs me to hold my dog, which is both useful for us to keep her restrained, and it helps me calm down. I put her in a tight hold around her body and grab her leg once my arm is around her. I’m not letting go no matter what she decides at this point. We put her halti on, but don’t even connect it to the leash, then leash her at her collar. I think hubby tightens her collar. It’s felt like hours. It’s been about 10 minutes.
We had to wait out the parade (it’s waaaaaay in the distance), because everyvtime we tried to walk in that direction, she tried to go the other way, tail firmly against her belly.
Eventually I had to go to the bathroom, and as I walked away, hubby asked her if she wanted to follow Mummy, and she did. So we were able to get back to the festivities. It’s really too bad she wasn’t in full form because she would have kicked ass at the treeing contest.
And really, nothing will give you a better impression of what Coon Dog Day and coonhounds are all about than video with sound. (I can’t figure out how to embed them so you’ll have to go here, here and here, if you’re interested.) You can see Addie being unusually quiet in the last one.