Dealing with 'new doggie'

The Trailwatcher/G. George Ostrom

Ours is one of those homes where things do not seem quite right unless there is a loving, faithful dog waiting to welcome us at the door, and perhaps steal a slipper to chew on if it isn't getting enough attention. We have had a couple larger dogs but find a small one is easier to take care of at our age. A guy in his 80s doesn't need a 60-pound English pointer climbing up in his lap.

Don't know where or how he acquired it, but our new doggie's name is "Moby." Iris found him through an ad in the paper. A physically handicapped lady had rescued him from a "tough life" but said he needed love and care she wasn't able to provide. She thought he was about 5 years old. Moby is a "miniature pincer" but weighing in at 15.5 pounds, a hair overweight from being fed table scraps, and looks like a Doberman.

Iris fixed him a little doggie bed next to ours and the next morning when she looked, she couldn't see him in there. Turns out, Moby likes to fuss around with his blanket until none of him is showing during the night … nothing. We quickly found that he does not appreciate having someone help cover him. Even if it takes a while, he insists on doing it himself; otherwise it obviously isn't done exactly right. I never saw a dog do that before. I told Iris perhaps he has a neurosis, but citing her experience at raising four babies, she said, "You wouldn't understand George, but I do."

There are other quirky things. Son Shan gave him a small rawhide chewy and after gnawing on it as much as he wanted, Moby searched all over his new home looking for a place to hide the unused part. Iris said the lady who rescued him also had a couple of bigger dogs, so Moby must have learned to hide anything personal he wanted to keep. It probably was difficult, because two or three times a day he slyly retrieves the chewy and hides it in a different place.

It took a few days for him to feel at ease outside, but "new doggie" loves the large fenced yard where he is now in charge; however, he does not really enjoy walking on cold, wet ground. During his initial explorations, he often hopped three legged so that one paw or another wasn't touching most of the time. Then came lots of snow Saturday night. Early Sunday morning he absolutely refused to go out and actually walk around in that stuff. He ran and hid under a blanket in Shannon's bedroom while Iris and I worried about his going potty in there. Iris shoveled a narrow path from the front door across our patio into a cleared spot in the front yard. At that point Moby reluctantly agreed to go out, quickly deposited a small token sample on the patio and then dashed back inside. Waited awhile then I completely swept off the patio, clearing a trail down to lawn and out to a tree four feet from the eaves. After studying those improvements for a minute, he zoomed out to finish off his morning duties, then back to Shannon's warm bed.

We are enjoying the friendly little guy a lot; but it could be a long winter for Moby … and a busy one for us.

I bought a copy of the new centennial book, "A View Inside - Glacier National Park" and couldn't put it aside until reading cover to cover… "100 years - 100 Stories." Though it has been my good fortune to spend most of a long life next to and inside that wondrous place, I never quite realized the depth of dramatic, deeply emotional, and life influencing affects the Park has had on so many others.

Besides getting my subconscious squared away, the heart felt stories by all those other Glacier Park lovers revealed many things about people themselves, their relationships with others, and how they react when confronted by over whelming beauty, physical challenges, danger, and natural phenomenon none of us quite understand. I'll probably read it again … soon.