We picked up the red heeler, aka Australian Cattle Dog, at the shelter Saturday morning and brought him home.
As expected, he was pretty freaked out by the ride, new surroundings and Ruthie: ears down and tail between legs.
We quickly discovered he was never taught not to "mark" his territory indoors when he lifted a leg and whizzed on the floor scrubber parked by the kitchen door.
Ruthie decided he posed a grave threat to her food and water supply, i.e. all of the food and water in the house. Much angry barking and growling whenever the new dog - we're calling him Psycho Jack, or just Jack for short - tried to eat or drink from his own bowls.
Ruthie also took to staying in her kennel all weekend so she could guard her supply of food and water.
We had much to accomplish over the weekend - chiefly beginning the massive cleanup for Austin's graduation openhouse next weekend and doing concrete planning for a website for our wedding photography business. We got pretty much nothing done because of drama associated with having a new dog in the house.
Maria's mother had been in the hospital for three days after being diagnosed with a viral pericarditis, an inflammation of the membrane around the heart. That explains why she's been short of breath lately. The treatment was rest, and lots of it. Visiting her Saturday evening and photographing a restaurant our neighbor is revitalizing were piled onto the plate. We got to the photo shoot but missed visiting hours.
She was sent home for a few more days of bedrest Sunday and Maria took her parents some pancakes and other breakfast food.
Having complained about yet another good motorcycling weekend being stolen from me, I proposed to go for a ride while Maria and her daughter catered breakfast.
I headed west on I-74 in glorious sunshine without any particular destination in mind. After a few miles, during which I watched the odometer on my '03 BMW K1200GT roll over 20,000 miles, I decided to find Twin Cities BMW Motorcycles in Savoy, Ill.
With the demise of my local dealership, Twin Cities at a distance of just under 100 miles, is now my nearest BMW motorcycle dealer.
The ride was pleasant, made all the more so by conversations with strangers at a couple of rest areas. At the first stop, I emerged from the restroom to find two guys admiring my bike, which led to a conversation about the various features and qualities of BMWs.
At the second stop, a guy from Peoria, Ill., who was en route home with his wife and kids, complimented my bike and mentioned he had an '04 R1150GS. He was wearing a t-shirt from my late lamented local dealership and it turns out we were both at Spokane for the BMW MOA national rally last July and know many of the same people and places.
I found Twin Cities BMW right where it was supposed to be - on U.S. 45 south of Urbana - and had a quick lunch at a Subway near the dealership. The dealer was, of course, closed on Sunday but the point of my mission was to go for a ride and locate the place.
Having done that, I headed home, somehow missing a turn of U.S. 45 through Urbana and ending up taking a local road east to St. Joseph where I re-joined the interstate.
All systems worked perfectly and the XM radio made the ride all the nicer.
But I was coming home to chaos.
Maria and I had planned to hash out wedding photography stuff after dinner. But the girl laying out Monday's edition of Maria's newspaper called as we were clearing the dishes to announce she had a serious shortage of photos and stories. So Maria ended up shooting photos of the neighbor kids on their backyard trampoline, then dragging me to the office where we prepped the photos and wrote a couple of stories to fill holes in the paper.
On the drive home, Maria sensed something was wrong and asked. I unloaded, saying the new dog in the house has put me into sensory overload, especially coming at a time when our energies need to be on other things - like making money.
She has become very attached to Jack and encouraged by the way he's come out of his shell since arriving at our place, but she especially hates the thought of having to take him back to a shelter which very obviously bums him out.
I agreed to try to give the situation a few more days.
But Jack has spent the morning locked in his kennel because I have much work to do and can't spare the time to walk him or keep him from whizzing on the furniture.
Maria, I fear, didn't think this through to the point of realizing that the burden of keeping Jack entertained, educated and out of trouble, falls on my shoulders, since I'm the one who's at home during the day.
I hope, for her sake, we can make this dog thing work, but I'm not terribly optimistic.
We shall see...
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