Faces of Rescue

Deanna in San Antonio writes;

“Hi Shutter!
Love your stories. But why is it your articles “Saturday With Shutter” are never actually posted on Saturday?”

Hello Deanna,
Let’s be honest, my little stories aren’t exactly “Breaking News” or anything. It takes time from when the events actually take place to my being able to sit down and write about them in a coherent manner. That and I must share this laptop with my human servant whose typing dexterity and skill is very similar to a game of “Whack -A- Mole”. But I will endeavor to be more punctual.

Bob in Wichita writes:

“Cute stories Shutter. But I could never own a dog. They are messy, they bark, they are a lot of work, and they leave dog hair on everything. ”

Hello Bob,
First, you don’t OWN a dog, you have a dog, and a dog has you. It’s a partnership. We give you love, companionship, and uncompromising loyalty. As for our utilitarian careers, some of us help you sniff out drugs and explosives. We can aid the blind or vision impaired, and provide comfort to those whom suffer from other disabilities such as PTSD. We will let you know if someone is coming through your front door or sneaking in your window.

As for the rest Bob, well you humans are not exactly glowing with intellect. You are dumping billions of tons of trash into your water tables every year, and fishing you oceans to near oblivion. You pump all manner of toxins into the air and are deforesting this little globe almost faster than Ikea can crank out their next piece of disposable dinning room furniture. All so you can plop your portly behind down so as to consume your nine thousand calories of pork rinds, and woof down your mercury laden tuna sandwich from the local sub shop. Bob there are six hundred and fifty thousand homeless people in this country. One in three children are under nourished while one in five don’t know where their next meal is coming from. With all of this in mind I can only surmise that your priorities are a bit askew if you find a little dog hair offensive.

“The Perfunctory Potty Pad Party”

My human servant works. To his credit he works a lot. Very odd hours too. Mornings, evenings, even at night. He provides for the pack and does so admirably. As far as you humans go we could have done much worse (See Bob from Wichita). Our human is very conscientious as to our needs too. He knows that because of his often extended work regime, there are going to be times when nature calls for us and he won’t be present let us out! So to compensate for these times of need our human servant has graciously provided us with an alternative to leaving landmines all over the living room floor the affectionately titled “Potty Pads” for just such emergencies.

However with the absence of our human servant to amuse us and the less than hospitable weather as of late, we, the pack I mean, they sometimes get bored. I do not suffer from this boredom as I am more than content to order “Pay Per View” surf the web, or even peruse whatever passes for literature on his bookshelves. But the Pack, well, not so much.

So last Saturday around 2am Porthos emerged from the other room dragging one of the a fore mentioned potty pads our human servant had put down in the event we needed it while he was away. Not to be out done Reese quickly retrieved one of her own. Let the party begin. I sat reclined in the corner of the sofa remote in paw and watched in quiet amusement as the two of them began to shred and tear and distribute the pieces and parts these potty pads all over the living room floor, table, and sofa. It was grand to watch. And when the furnace would come on these pieces would begin to float and drift about coming to rest all over the place.

This went on for nearly an hour until Reese and Porthos interest in the pads waned and they once again climbed up onto the sofa for a well deserved nap. I spent the rest of the evening pondering the reaction of my human servant when he returned from a long night at work to this indoor blizzard of paper and plastic that had consumed the living room. Would he laugh? Would he be angry? Would he just simply consume copious amounts of alcohol and then fall into bed? Or worse. Would he blame ME?!

As it turned out he did none of the above. He walked in the door, took off his coat, hung it up, and bid us all a good morning. He then went into the kitchen and returned with a large plastic bag while Reese and Porthos leaped about excited at his return while further scattering the debris around the room. Our human servant walked around picking up as many of the pieces as he could and placing them into the bag. He then went into the next room and returned with that demon possessed vacuum cleaner and sucked the rest up from the floor and furniture. With the room all tidied up he then began to make our breakfast and then placed the bowls in a semi-circle on the living room floor like nothing had ever happened.

With the morning routine complete he cleaned out the bowls in the sink, gave us all a treat, and went in to take a shower. He never raised his voice. Never made a disapproving scowl. Nothing. I must say I was impressed. I could only surmised that he had come to the conclusion that in all things there is good and bad. You can’t have sunny days without the occasional rain. Joy would have little meaning if every once you never shed a tear of sadness. And being a member of such a grand pack as ours would not be nearly as much fun without at least every once in a while, a perfunctory potty pad party just to keep things interesting.

Carry on,
-Shutter