Incompletely Closed Garage Results in Small Animal Adventures

Last week I had one of those Dog Days of Summer.  To be more accurate, Nase the house dog and Miles the border collie had a Dog Day of Summer.  I had forgotten that the middle garage door wasn't entirely closed, and I let Nase out in the morning a little before 6am for his daily constitutional.  He ran around the side of the house and got Miles, then the two of them disappeared on a rabbit hunt.  For seven hours.  I called them but heard no hint of their mischief neither did I see any sign of their location.  Though both dogs are seven years old now, Miles is in pretty good shape from working outside with me all the time.  On the other hand, Nase's biggest day-to-day exertion consists of deciding whether to nap under the bed or in the closet. 

Around 1:30pm they finally returned.  Nase came to the front door as he always does, and when I opened it I saw my bearded friend had rubbed out most of the hair on top of his muzzle, and was covered in scratches on his face and front legs from digging under something in search of the rabbits.  He was also very hot and tired, and slowly walked into the house.  He went to the laundry room and had a long drink of water, then he laid down with one paw on either side of his water bowl and his chin IN the water.  He closed his eyes and fell asleep.  Perhaps rehydrating via beard-wicking properties?

The next day Nase was so sore he could barely move.  I couldn't convince him to go outside to do business in the morning, so I had to put a leash on him and nearly drag him outside.  He stiffly stumbled through the house on his leash until we made it out, then when he was done relieving himself he slowly and carefully teetered back to the closet to sleep the rest of the day.  It's hard getting older.  I tried to tell him this is why sedentary senior citizens don't run marathons without training.  Nase insists it was fun, it was worth it, and he'll do it again.

The other part of the incompletely closed garage door story involves the cats.  Sabbath, my black barn cat, has been very stressed by an orange tom cat who has been hanging around our place and beating him up regularly. 

 The night the garage door wouldn't close all the way, Miles gave us his yip of alert to let us know something was afoot in the outdoor domicile.  When my husband Owen and I switched the light on to check things out, we discovered Orange Cat and George the black cat having a showdown in the middle of the garage.  Miles was watching from the corner doing his best to let us know, but stay unnoticed himself.  I shooed George out of the garage, and once he was gone Orange Tom Cat became very friendly!  Purring, rubbing up against my legs, asking to be pet.  I picked him up and put him in a large dog crate for the night with wet food, an old horse blanket, and a litter box.  He was so friendly I suspect he was either dumped by someone or left behind when a neighbor moved. 



The next morning I discovered the giant mess he made out of the crate by finger painting with the litter box (some cats are artistic like that) and demolishing everything within reach of his paws through the slots.  But he was happy and meowing at me, rubbing his face up against the side of the crate and jumped into my arms for a snuggle when I opened the door.  One of my working kids said he needed a cat to do mouse control at his place, so I put Orange Cat in a cat carrier which was then strapped to the back of the 4-wheeler, and my working kid drove him home.  Apparently Orange Cat escaped the second night and came back here, but I haven't caught him again yet.  This time I'll take him to the cat rescue in Fort Collins to be neutered and adopted.  If he wasn't beating up Sabbath (who was here first) I'd keep him myself because he was such a sweetheart, but I won't make my current adorable mousers endure bullying.