You may recall the sorry recent saga of my Belgian Malinois, Chili. You can see the back story at this post. He had been going missing for days at a time. This was causing his mama (me) grave emotional distress and was ravaging Chili’s health—he was a walking skeleton by the third episode of disappearance.
So, what’s a mama to do? I took him right off to the veterinarian who in turn took his testicles right off. (Aha! Take that, you wayward male!!) But the veterinarian warned me that it would take up to three months (!) for the hormones to leave his body to the extent that he would quit roaming.
This was not good news. I am a woman who likes things my way NOW. I was disappointed that my swift action against his sex drive would not give me an immediate cure for the roaming. I have no good way to confine him while I am at work.
But, I am beginning to learn to relax and just let the things I cannot really do much about go their own way. So, I just stayed around close during Chili’s convalescent weekend, then went off to work as usual, leaving Chili outside.
Well, I’m happy to report that, residual hormones or no, Chili has stayed right around the house! Not once has he roamed off again. The only thing I can figure is that he is sooooooooo smart that he realizes that really bad things happen to dogs who don’t stay close to home! In any event, I am thankful that this problem seems cured. He’s back up to his normal weight and looking quite handsome.
And he still spends time in the woods, sniffing, chasing those threatening squirrels away. He has a good life in the country.
We on the farm are now back to our comforting routine. The dogs sleep on their beds on my bedroom floor at night. When I drive off for work, they immediately trot up the driveway to spend the day with Grandmom. On two or three occasions recently little Scout (the Sheltie) has “asked” t o stay the night with MIL, and that is just fine. It is amazing how much comfort and company MIL and I get from these dogs!!
Here’s Chili looking longingly toward the woods, hopefully realizing that his roaming days are over:
Tomorrow my son and I are hosting a conceal-and-carry class. Believe it or not, this was MIL’s idea, and she will be getting her license, too. We will be gun-toting mamas. This will be a gathering of good friends who want to get their licenses, and we will do so with my back porch as a classroom and a pot of soup for our break.
I am looking forward to really learning about my pistol. MIL has been saying for a while that we country girls need this skill, and she’s right (note to self, don’t mess with this Immigrant Daughter….). I will report on this endeavor.
And somehow the subject of guns sorta seems to mesh with the beginning theme of this post: a cure for wayward males…but I’ll leave it to you for that connection. C