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Re: Ball gardens...addictions...drought/cat


Oh my!!!!  So glad you wrote in, Daryl.  I really thought we were  perhaps 
reading into things or such, but hearing your VERY similar situation  really 
does put something more than coincidence to it all.....doesn't it??   What were 
your thoughts at the time???  We really don't know what to make  of the 
situation.  Does the new puppy otherwise act like Hermann, or is it  just certain 
things she does that you mentioned???  It's really an odd,  eerie feeling you get.
Thanks for sharing your experience, I appreciate it.  
Noreen
zone 9
Texas Gulf Coast
 
In a message dated 11/2/2005 11:02:40 AM Central Standard Time,  
gardenchat-owner@hort.net writes:

Noreen,

I showed your first message about Flaksey to my husband,  who said, "Now 
*That sounds familiar."

Many years ago, we had a  mostly-Blue Tick Hound named Hermann. We adopted 
him after he had been  beaten with chains and thrown out in a sleet storm. He 
died many years  later from lymphosarcoma. Several months after he died, our 
other dog  Popper was still pining away - wouldn't eat, losing weight, didn't 
want to  play. The vet suggested we get her a pet, so I started scouting the  
shelters looking for a neutered male, over a year old, no floppy ears,  
medium sized.... I finally located what sounded like the best choice and  
went to check him out at the local adoption day.

While I was  playing with him in the get-acquainted pen, a gangly red 
floppy-eared  hound pup kept trying to crawl into my lap, or over my 
shoulder, trying to  climb up my pants when I stood up to gently shoo her 
away. After about 20  minutes of this I succumbed to the inevitable, and 
brought her home with  me.
When I set her down to meet Popper, she wagged once, sniffed once, then  
marched through the open door straight to the water bowl.  After a  quick 
sniff of the allowed territory (kitchen and dining room) she sat in  front of 
where "his"  food bowl used to be. And waited, and watched.  And waited until 
I found a spare bowl ( we had tossed Hermann's old one)  and fed both of 
them. When Bill came home, she flung herself all over him  ( picture a Snoopy 
dance), curled up in his lap, and went to  sleep.

A week or two later when we gave her the run of the house, she  went right to 
the corner of the living room where Hermann used to hide his  toys. She by 
now had quite an accumulation of her own, of course, but  seemed very 
disappointed not to find the old stash, which we'd also tossed  out.
There were other such things, like finding Hermann's pet rock outside,  
snoozing with it and trying to carry it - a feat that she couldn't  
accomplish for several months since it was too big for her puppy  mouth.

The kicker came about a year later. I had gone out with her to  feed the 
chickens, and heard a huge amount of yelping  - not the "get  the heck outta 
my yard, stranger," yelp, but the "oh boy, oh boy, oh boy,  friend!" song.

I went around the corner to look,  saw a semi in  front of the house and went 
to tell yet another trucker that he had the  wrong address (a guy down the 
road owned a plumbing company, and  deliveries were often attempted at our 
corner instead of his) . Meanwhile  Annie was keeping up her happy dance and 
singsong. I saw a guy climb out  of the truck and start to walk to the front 
gate and realized it was our  friend Greg, who hadn't ever met Annie. He and 
Hermann had been best buds  whenever he had visited, but it had been a couple 
of years since he had  passed through.  She practically knocked Greg down 
when he came  through the gate, hugging and slobbering all over him.

I'll let  everybody draw whatever conclusions they'd like.

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