Somehow the morning had gotten away from me. Though I had set the alarm early, I now find myself rushing around, trying to get out out the door. Better get the dogs out before it was too late. I attach the leashes, but being in a hurry, I let the dogs out the door, leashes trailing behind them. Shawnee, the border collie, runs out to the road, and is plaintively looking at something down the road. She starts to dash down that way. It’s probably just someone out walking with their dog in the morning. I try my usual bribe, and shout “Biscuit!” That’s the cue that I’m carrying their favorite peanut butter dog biscuits, and she turns around running towards me.
I grab the leashes and head off with them into the woods to prompt them to do their doggy business. Thankfully they don’t take too long, and we’re back in the house. Whew! I can grab my morning coffee and head out — hopefully, I won’t be too late heading down the hill.
Suddenly the dogs are going berserk, leaping and bounding at the front door, barking. The cacophony of barking seems to get louder and louder. Must be someone out walking with their dog. Yet their response seems to be even worse than usual. What the heck is going on?
I go to the window to see who is causing this bedlam to break out, and it’s not a person. They’re baaaackk! By they, I mean the moose. A female cow moose and her yearling calf had been visiting our house a couple of weeks ago on a Sunday morning, hanging out right in front of our porch for around 20 minutes. Yep, there’s mama moose standing on top of the knoll in front of the house. Unperturbed by the barking of the dogs, she nibbles at a bush. Where’s the yearling?
I suddenly see out of the corner of my eye our neighbor Bruce with his spastic chocolate lab. Bruce has let the dog out to go for a morning run. I don’t think he sees the moose. I creep out on the deck, not wanting to spur the moose to action, and frantically wave to Bruce. “Bruce, Bruce! Do you see the moose? You might want to get your dog!” He glances over and realizes what’s happening, and runs out to corral the bouncing dog.
Where’s the yearling? I don’t see her. Oh, now I see her. She’s standing right in front of my car in the driveway. Now what? In the war of wills between me wanting to leave and her intractability of standing her ground, I think the moose wins. Nothing to do but wait her out. Finally, she ambles down to the side of the house. Mama moose is still standing there, but a few feet away, but time is wasting, and I’m now running late. Does saying you’re late because of a moose sound suspiciously like, “the dog ate my homework” as excuses go?
I figure I can make a beeline to the car and gun it out of there. Whew, I’ve made my escape.
Coming back home last evening, the car in front of me grinds to a stop on the way up the summer road, clearly staring at something next to the road. Yep, there’s mama moose and her calf. They’ve moved all of 1/10 of a mile during the course of the day. I sigh, and resign myself to the fact they’ve taken up residence and life with the moose seems to be a reality for the foreseeable future.
