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My dog was born November 6, 1997. He’s been with me ever since. He’s a Jack Russell Terrier, or as the lady who bred him says, a Jack Russell Terrorist.
I named him Mowgli after the feral boy in Rudyard Kipling’s Jungle Book series. The story of Mowgli being accepted and raised by the pack is an integral park of the Boy Scouts of America’s Cub Scout program. I was going to name him Bubba, a good southern name. But, he’s really not a “bubba” type. Mowgli is much more fitting.
He’s never chewed up anything I didn’t give him with the expressed purpose of having it chewed up. His very first chew toy at 10 weeks of age was a sock my dad tied a knot in. It’s the only sock he’s ever chewed.
On occasion, he has peed on inappropriate things. Particularly when I’m on the phone or on the computer for an extended period of time. I’ve learned to usher him out the back door when these periods present themselves.
Socialization is not one of his strong points. He’s an only dog and doesn’t get many opportunities to be a dog with other dogs. Also, because I’m single, he gets extremely excited (see previous paragraph) when other people come to the house. He’s mostly harmless but he jumps. I’ve seen him nip a “stranger” (he has a house full of cats) and heard that he nipped a heat-and-air repairman at a friend’s house. I guess he was protecting his turf.
During the day when I’m at the office he lives in the back yard. He’s got the Taj Mahal of doghouses. The yard is his. He chases off squirrels, rabbits, yellow jackets, birds, and the occasional opossum or raccoon. He caught a squirrel once. This is proof that squirrels communicate with one another because they’ve all known better since then to get within range. The one he got was really pushing the envelope of dog v. squirrel conflict.
When I’m home he hovers or sleeps within a relatively close orbit around me. If he had his way, preferably touching me. I’m the alpha (at least I like to think so) in his pack. We’re not separated too often. An overnight once in a while, maybe a short weekend. He travels pretty well so when I drive north he comes along for the ride. I have kenneled him when I’ve been away for any extended periods.
Right now I’m preparing for a 17-day trip to the east coast. A dear friend up north was graciously agreed to dog-sit him while I’m away. She’s done this before so she knows what she’s in for. She keeps reassuring me that he’ll be just fine. I keep reassuring her that I know he’ll be fine, that I’m worried that he’ll drive her to lunacy before I return. I dropped him off last Sunday and drove south. At one point during the trip I thought I’d pull over at a good spot to get him out of the truck take him for a walk but he wasn’t there. He wasn’t standing at the back door wagging his stubby little tail furiously last night when I got home. He wasn’t there this morning when I woke up either.
I really miss him.
I named him Mowgli after the feral boy in Rudyard Kipling’s Jungle Book series. The story of Mowgli being accepted and raised by the pack is an integral park of the Boy Scouts of America’s Cub Scout program. I was going to name him Bubba, a good southern name. But, he’s really not a “bubba” type. Mowgli is much more fitting.
He’s never chewed up anything I didn’t give him with the expressed purpose of having it chewed up. His very first chew toy at 10 weeks of age was a sock my dad tied a knot in. It’s the only sock he’s ever chewed.
On occasion, he has peed on inappropriate things. Particularly when I’m on the phone or on the computer for an extended period of time. I’ve learned to usher him out the back door when these periods present themselves.
Socialization is not one of his strong points. He’s an only dog and doesn’t get many opportunities to be a dog with other dogs. Also, because I’m single, he gets extremely excited (see previous paragraph) when other people come to the house. He’s mostly harmless but he jumps. I’ve seen him nip a “stranger” (he has a house full of cats) and heard that he nipped a heat-and-air repairman at a friend’s house. I guess he was protecting his turf.
During the day when I’m at the office he lives in the back yard. He’s got the Taj Mahal of doghouses. The yard is his. He chases off squirrels, rabbits, yellow jackets, birds, and the occasional opossum or raccoon. He caught a squirrel once. This is proof that squirrels communicate with one another because they’ve all known better since then to get within range. The one he got was really pushing the envelope of dog v. squirrel conflict.
When I’m home he hovers or sleeps within a relatively close orbit around me. If he had his way, preferably touching me. I’m the alpha (at least I like to think so) in his pack. We’re not separated too often. An overnight once in a while, maybe a short weekend. He travels pretty well so when I drive north he comes along for the ride. I have kenneled him when I’ve been away for any extended periods.
Right now I’m preparing for a 17-day trip to the east coast. A dear friend up north was graciously agreed to dog-sit him while I’m away. She’s done this before so she knows what she’s in for. She keeps reassuring me that he’ll be just fine. I keep reassuring her that I know he’ll be fine, that I’m worried that he’ll drive her to lunacy before I return. I dropped him off last Sunday and drove south. At one point during the trip I thought I’d pull over at a good spot to get him out of the truck take him for a walk but he wasn’t there. He wasn’t standing at the back door wagging his stubby little tail furiously last night when I got home. He wasn’t there this morning when I woke up either.
I really miss him.
posted by steve | 9:47 AM
2 Comments:
At first I thought you were telling us that Mowgli ran away when you took him "up north." Now I realize you just miss him while he's on "vacation." I'm sure he misses you, too. We're sitting my sister's cat for 2 weeks but must keep her away from the dog. (Gracie isn't socialized either.) Dory has already fallen off the couch into a trash can. She is quite entertaining. We will all miss you while you're away. Send a postcard.
Good friends of ours have a Jack Russell, they call him Jack Rascal! I love my dogs, Sandy and Jessie, both rascals but not Jacks.
Hope you are visiting Lana, I haven't heard from her so I don't know if that's the case but if it is - Enjoy!
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