Yesterday I shared our beginnings stories of our pair of lovely Saint Bernard girls or St. Nerds as Sweet Man called them. He carried a picture in his wallet of the two doggie girls and our lovely Shelley and would tell people that these were his puppies. Poor Shelley.
Right after Belle got her stitches taken out from her surgery, the dogs were romping in the back yard on a sunny day and I heard this faint, as if off in the distance cry for help. I stopped and listened carefully....yep it was a man's voice, almost a whisper, calling for help. I went to the back door and there on the ground was this poor meter reader. Belle had him on the ground, had her mouth (softly) planted around his neck and the Prissy, still a puppy was pulling on his pant leg. OMG, "Belle, leave it!!!!!!!". She promptly let go, sat down next to me and started wagging her tail. The guy, who had no harm done to him, other than an ego crashing and some slobber on his neck, started to curse at me. Belle bristled, growled and miracle of miracles, Mr. Bad Ass changed his tune, right quick. Prissy in the mean time has ripped his pant leg and is runny around with her new gotten toy and having a ball. I apologized to him and then asked him why, when I had informed the utilties company that they were to read the meter over the 8 ft fence because I did have two huge doggies, had he decided to come through the 4 ft and then the 6 ft gate to come into the back yard? He looked on his clip board and guess what, he was one house off. Can you all say, too bad so sad, fool boy.
I called the utility company to make sure they knew my side of what had happened and checked to make sure that they had all the pertinent information about my "girls".
This was in early March, but by May the girls had gotten another one. This time Sweet Man was home for lunch. Let me pause here to say that when I married this man, it was a civil ceremony so we had nothing in the vows about for better or worse, richer or poorer, or lunch. Messed with my schedule and I was very unappreciative at the time. If I had do overs....well let's just say there would have been happier lunch breaks, if you get my drift. Back to the dogs. We heard, "OH SHIT". This cry was not quiet and it was accompanied by alot of barking and snarling and screaming. By the time we got out to the back yard, the "girls" had a pair of pants, playing tug of war with them and there was a very out of breath meter reader on the other side of our fence without his pants and part of his underweat. ROTFLMAO. What a maroon as Bugs Bunny says. Yep, was one house off again....this time we got a bill for $750.00.....which we got settled. The dogs were so proud of themselves. I wanted to say good girls but thought better of it. But how could I be mad at them when it was there back yard and they were doing what territorial doggies do.
As Belle aged, she developed arthritis and would sit on Turtle hill (another tale for another time) in the sunshine and communicate with Prissy. In earlier times they would run the perimeter of the yard, gathering all the scents of the night before and settle themselves into being yard dogs. But when Belle couldn't do that anymore, Prissy took over the duties and it was as if she brought the scents back, one wall at a time, to her alpha to check out. Sometimes if it was a very good sniff, Belle would pull herself up and go have a sniff and a snorttle, then come back and settle for the day. Prissy was the sweet one, Belle was the in charge, bossy one.
These stories of my first St. Nerds still tickle my funny bone. As a general rule, Saints are just as they are depicted....smart, calm, loving, patient, loyal, protective and furry. You have probably heard stories of them being lazy and slow....uh no. We have had 4, known dozens and not a one of them has been lazy....they just manage their movements, getting the most out of the least. Slow....well I have personal scars from not being able to get out of the way quick enough as they dash past you at full throttle. They have no idea in hell that they are not lap dogs, or small dogs and depth perception is a pie in the sky concept with them. Their tails alone are responsible for the rearrangement and destruction of half of my world. And ya know, I would not change anything, including the 7 vacuum cleaners in 11 years with the first pair. Like Shelley used to say when she was little...."we believe in hairy tales and live in one too huh Mommy?"