The month of July has been brutally hot here in Pennsylvania. More than that, we have now reached almost five months of my wife, Renee, working from home, due to her office at the university being closed to the coronavirus. She is online all day, and that tends to not like certain disturbances. What kind of disturbances? Well, for one, barking beagles.
“Yes,” Renee says in her work voice to a gaggle of coworkers crammed into a zoom meeting, “I think we can install that module to the curriculum without too much diffi—”
“Baroo! Howl! AWWWW!” the beagles interrupt her as they notice someone walking their dog past our house. The dogs take turns, like sentinels on the wall at Guantanamo, perched on the back of the couch with their heads under the window blinds. When an on duty beagle notices any violators—dog walkers, joggers, bicyclists, mailman, UPS, FedEx, neighbor coming home, neighbor leaving, squirrel (high alert) rabbit (red hot alert) bird, or a leaf blowing in the wind—he or she will then, as the on duty sentry, sound the alarm. It takes about .2 seconds for the rest of the pack to start barking as well. This has happened so much in this hot weather that my wife can react in .3 seconds. She mutes her zoom meeting, then yells, not in her pleasant work voice, but in her marital voice, “Will you shut those blanking beagles up!? I am in a meeting!”
That is when I spring into action to get them calmed and quiet. I yell at them, or distribute the dust. What dust? Well, I pulverize milk bones now. This is what I have been reduced to doing with my wife at home all day in meetings that need quiet, and me being stuck at home working from the phone. It is bad enough that she has to but a fake background behind her, so that no one sees the random beagle bouncing through the background. I like the miniature Milk Bones, but they are in short supply, as well as everything else. The massive Milk Bones, made for giant dogs, are always around and seemingly always on sale somewhere. I put a bunch of them on a towel, cover them with another towel, and pulverize them into near dust with a hammer. This, as you can imagine, makes a bit of noise, so it has to happen at night, after the meetings. Once pulverized with a hammer, I smash them further with an old woods dowel, rolling it over them. The dust goes into a plastic container.
When my lowly mutts shut down online higher learning, I spread a palm full of dust on the kitchen floor. It takes them awhile to find it all, and they normally forget what they were barking at. A new duo of sentries takes a watch. This happens several times per day. The real problem has been the high heat, and the fact that it has been in the 90s during the day and only cools off to 70 or so by dawn. Oh, and the bulk of my job, hospital and nursing home visits, has been cancelled. I have a Regal dog box with fantastic insulation against heat and cold, and I would typically load those dogs up in the morning, run them for a few hours, and then go to work. They stay cool in the dog box, travelling from one hospital to the next during the work day.
“Are they worse than usual?” Renee asked?
“Oh yeah,” I answered, “Way worse.”
“Can’t you do something?” Renee switched from her marital voice to her work voice.
“They need some time on rabbits,” I said, “It has been over a week.”
“What do you do about that?” she asked
“You won’t believe me.”
“Why?” she asked, “Is it illegal?”
“No,” I said, “Just weird.”
“What is it?”
I grabbed my phone and opened one of my weather apps. I have a few of them. “See this,” I said, pointing at a blob of red in Ohio.
“Yeah,” she said, “You driving to Ohio?”
“No,” I said, “But Ohio might come here.”
“What?”
“I may not use computers as much as you, but I have a few things that I have figured out.”
“Forecasting the weather?”
“Nope,” I said, “But close. You know those guys that drive vans into storms, looking for the tornadoes?”
“Yeah,” she looked at me.
“Well, when I see rain coming, I try to get there about a half hour before the rain starts, and the rainfall will keep the dogs cooled down. Depending on the rain, I can get a pretty long run.”
“How long have you been doing this?” she asked me.
“Years.”
“Is it dangerous?”
“Nah, if it rains too hard, I sit in the truck.”
“It works?”
“When it rains, which it hasn’t done lately. One day, last year, I ran dogs in the morning at Beechton Beagle Club before it got hot. Did visits at the nearby Dubois Hospital, then went to Mountain Laurel nursing home. After that I had to go to Williamsport Hospital. When I left the hospital, I saw rain coming, and got the dogs dropped at West Branch Beagle Club before the storm started, they got another good chase. Two clubs in one day. That’s rare.”
“I am impressed,” my wife said, “Here I thought you were not good with technology.”
“I ain’t very good, but I can see where rain is going,” I said.
“Oh Yeah?”
“You don’t have to be a weatherman to know which way the wind blows.”
“Who said that?”
“Dylan. But it is true.” The Ohio rain never made it this far.
A day later, I heard the work voice coming from the kitchen. I mean, home office. “Get in here, please!” I have to admit, I was perplexed. Yeah, we had two squirrels and a UPS lady already, but at the moment the beagles were sedate, most of them sprawling themselves on the cold linoleum in the home office.
“Now what?” I said.
“Look at this radar!”
“Let me see,” I said.
“What do you think?” she said, her bottom lip quivering as she looked at the dogs, fearing they would erupt again.
“Are you in a meeting?” I asked.
“I am logged in,” she stared at the radar, “I don’t have to talk, I can hear them with my ear buds. My wife has these massive, ugly ear buds. They look like some of her earrings, so I often don’t realize they are ear buds with her hair down.
“You know that spot where I went hunting when the guys from Outdoor Life came to town?” I asked her.
“I think I can get there before the rain if I leave right now.”
“Here are your tracking collars, I took them off the charger and put them into the duffel bag. Don’t hurry home.”
“I guess I am a storm chaser,” I said.
“More like Rain Man,” the marital voice was back.
“Yes,” Renee says in her work voice to a gaggle of coworkers crammed into a zoom meeting, “I think we can install that module to the curriculum without too much diffi—”
“Baroo! Howl! AWWWW!” the beagles interrupt her as they notice someone walking their dog past our house. The dogs take turns, like sentinels on the wall at Guantanamo, perched on the back of the couch with their heads under the window blinds. When an on duty beagle notices any violators—dog walkers, joggers, bicyclists, mailman, UPS, FedEx, neighbor coming home, neighbor leaving, squirrel (high alert) rabbit (red hot alert) bird, or a leaf blowing in the wind—he or she will then, as the on duty sentry, sound the alarm. It takes about .2 seconds for the rest of the pack to start barking as well. This has happened so much in this hot weather that my wife can react in .3 seconds. She mutes her zoom meeting, then yells, not in her pleasant work voice, but in her marital voice, “Will you shut those blanking beagles up!? I am in a meeting!”
That is when I spring into action to get them calmed and quiet. I yell at them, or distribute the dust. What dust? Well, I pulverize milk bones now. This is what I have been reduced to doing with my wife at home all day in meetings that need quiet, and me being stuck at home working from the phone. It is bad enough that she has to but a fake background behind her, so that no one sees the random beagle bouncing through the background. I like the miniature Milk Bones, but they are in short supply, as well as everything else. The massive Milk Bones, made for giant dogs, are always around and seemingly always on sale somewhere. I put a bunch of them on a towel, cover them with another towel, and pulverize them into near dust with a hammer. This, as you can imagine, makes a bit of noise, so it has to happen at night, after the meetings. Once pulverized with a hammer, I smash them further with an old woods dowel, rolling it over them. The dust goes into a plastic container.
When my lowly mutts shut down online higher learning, I spread a palm full of dust on the kitchen floor. It takes them awhile to find it all, and they normally forget what they were barking at. A new duo of sentries takes a watch. This happens several times per day. The real problem has been the high heat, and the fact that it has been in the 90s during the day and only cools off to 70 or so by dawn. Oh, and the bulk of my job, hospital and nursing home visits, has been cancelled. I have a Regal dog box with fantastic insulation against heat and cold, and I would typically load those dogs up in the morning, run them for a few hours, and then go to work. They stay cool in the dog box, travelling from one hospital to the next during the work day.
“Are they worse than usual?” Renee asked?
“Oh yeah,” I answered, “Way worse.”
“Can’t you do something?” Renee switched from her marital voice to her work voice.
“They need some time on rabbits,” I said, “It has been over a week.”
“What do you do about that?” she asked
“You won’t believe me.”
“Why?” she asked, “Is it illegal?”
“No,” I said, “Just weird.”
“What is it?”
I grabbed my phone and opened one of my weather apps. I have a few of them. “See this,” I said, pointing at a blob of red in Ohio.
“Yeah,” she said, “You driving to Ohio?”
“No,” I said, “But Ohio might come here.”
“What?”
“I may not use computers as much as you, but I have a few things that I have figured out.”
“Forecasting the weather?”
“Nope,” I said, “But close. You know those guys that drive vans into storms, looking for the tornadoes?”
“Yeah,” she looked at me.
“Well, when I see rain coming, I try to get there about a half hour before the rain starts, and the rainfall will keep the dogs cooled down. Depending on the rain, I can get a pretty long run.”
“How long have you been doing this?” she asked me.
“Years.”
“Is it dangerous?”
“Nah, if it rains too hard, I sit in the truck.”
“It works?”
“When it rains, which it hasn’t done lately. One day, last year, I ran dogs in the morning at Beechton Beagle Club before it got hot. Did visits at the nearby Dubois Hospital, then went to Mountain Laurel nursing home. After that I had to go to Williamsport Hospital. When I left the hospital, I saw rain coming, and got the dogs dropped at West Branch Beagle Club before the storm started, they got another good chase. Two clubs in one day. That’s rare.”
“I am impressed,” my wife said, “Here I thought you were not good with technology.”
“I ain’t very good, but I can see where rain is going,” I said.
“Oh Yeah?”
“You don’t have to be a weatherman to know which way the wind blows.”
“Who said that?”
“Dylan. But it is true.” The Ohio rain never made it this far.
A day later, I heard the work voice coming from the kitchen. I mean, home office. “Get in here, please!” I have to admit, I was perplexed. Yeah, we had two squirrels and a UPS lady already, but at the moment the beagles were sedate, most of them sprawling themselves on the cold linoleum in the home office.
“Now what?” I said.
“Look at this radar!”
“Let me see,” I said.
“What do you think?” she said, her bottom lip quivering as she looked at the dogs, fearing they would erupt again.
“Are you in a meeting?” I asked.
“I am logged in,” she stared at the radar, “I don’t have to talk, I can hear them with my ear buds. My wife has these massive, ugly ear buds. They look like some of her earrings, so I often don’t realize they are ear buds with her hair down.
“You know that spot where I went hunting when the guys from Outdoor Life came to town?” I asked her.
“I think I can get there before the rain if I leave right now.”
“Here are your tracking collars, I took them off the charger and put them into the duffel bag. Don’t hurry home.”
“I guess I am a storm chaser,” I said.
“More like Rain Man,” the marital voice was back.
RSS Feed