Have Bulldog Will Travel
- Jan 20, 2016
- United States
- Bulldog(s) Names
- Lala, Dozer, Chesty, Winky & Waggles
Oscar and the Dove
OscarMayer was a funny boy. Not as funny as Hoss, but funny just the same. He was a smarter kind of funny. Some of you may remember that Hoss was not so smart. I first met OscarMayer while riding my bike in an adjacent neighborhood. Donna, my son, and I cruised our way into a cul-de-sac and as we turned around I spotted him. He was running through someone’s front yard chasing some young children. Some of the kids were chasing him. Everyone was having fun. We all stopped to watch and he eventually came over to us, kids in tow. He was a beautiful shade of deep dark red with a pinkish white face and white chest. I asked the kids if I could pet him. One of them spoke up and said, ”sure, his name is OscarMayer and he doesn’t bite”. They were right, he didn’t bite and he loved the good scratching I gave him.
Several times over the next year or so we’d ride down that same road always hoping to see OscarMayer but never did. We didn’t see any kids either. I figured that they had moved and that I’d never see him again. I’m not sure of the exact date but sometime around Christmas in 1998 my wife, on her day off, got a call from the vet practice where she worked. Her co-worker said that someone had brought a Bulldog in for treatment of an ear infection. They also stated that they were looking to re-home their Bulldog; that they were about to have another child and were fearful that their overactive bulldog would hurt the new baby. Having recently lost Hoss to heart failure, there was room for another. Donna called me and told me that we were getting a new Bulldog and his name was OscarMayer. I knew right away that he was that same little red football shaped guy that played with kids. Whooohooo! He was just 3 years old when his family gave him up. That one I could never figure out.
OscarMayer fit right in with our family. Naggy and Oscar got along great and played, and chased and chewed on each other regularly…all in good fun. That’s what Oscar was all about. Everybody loved him. He was gentle, playful, smart, beautiful, and except for his chronic ear infections, relatively healthy. Oscar did like to mark, however, and he was sneaky about it. He was sneaky about a lot of things…especially when it came to hunting birds. Often I would peer out the back door and holler for him, “OSCARRRR!” Only to spy him with his head stuck in a bush, up to his shoulders, peering around inside in search of prey. Every now and then we’d take him to our beach house on the North End of Va Beach where the beach is wide and it’s not so crowded. After it got dark, he’d bark at us to take him down to the beach to chase, and crunch, those tasty ghost crabs…somehow he knew that they came out after dark. He’d catch one every now and then and chomp it and move on to the next. Occasionally, one would clamp down on his flew(s) and he’d give a quick yelp, a short shake, and the crab would go flying. More often than not the crab’s offending claw would still be attached to his flew. A few swipes of his paw, claw removed, and off he’d go…continuing the hunt.
Very early one Spring Saturday morning Donna insisted that I take the kids out for a potty break in front of our home on the island and not to let them into the back yard because there were 3 young Doves poking around in the rose garden. She thought that Oscar might try to chase them and didn’t want him to scare them off. “Doves?...Really? They’re just Doves…rural Pigeons, I say!” Begrudgingly, I took the kids out front.
It was barely dawn and difficult to see. I wondered, how did she even see the stupid doves…er, Pigeons. Grrr. Oops, I stepped in a pile of crap that someone’s dog had left for me. It wasn’t one of those piles you step in and then unknowingly track into the house. It was one of those piles that your foot kinda slides through…you know it as soon as you hit it. I nearly fell into it. Whew! Then I smelled it. Grrrrrr. One pair of shoes refitted and I was ready to get on with the rest of my day.
Whoohoo, we had plans that day. I can’t recall what we were doing but we were on a timeline so as not to be late. Donna did not like to be late. We were supposed to leave at 9:30am in order to arrive at that somewhere by noon. Wherever we were going I do recall that we needed to allow extra time in order to find it. This was the pre-GPS era. How did we ever get along without it?...oh yeah, a map.
At 9:15am Donna instructed me to let the dogs out again. I complied. Ten minutes later she comes downstairs and says, “OK, I’m ready…where are the dogs?” “I let them out, like you asked me to.” “You didn’t let them out back, did you?” “Of course!..I did…oh crap…the Pigeons…er, Doves…her Doves. Damn Doves. She quickly flung the door open and Naggy came running in. Where was Oscar? He was nowhere to be found. Where were the Doves…nowhere to be found. OSCAR!!!!
I stepped out and saw his little butt and tail wiggling while the rest of him was in an Azalea bush. OSCAR!!!! Come! OSCAR!!!! Come here, right now! He backed out of the bush and turned to look at me. Then I saw it…one of Donna’s precious Doves…in Oscar’s mouth! There were tail feathers sticking straight out between his canines and a wing sticking out of each side. Donna started yelling…she was apt to do that when I did stupid stuff. I took off after that little red football on feet and chased him all over the yard. It seemed a lot longer but after a few minutes of chasing he was beginning to tire a bit, unfortunately, I was too. He kept that Dove in his mouth throughout the entire chase zig-zagging all over the back yard, through the roses(OUCH), behind the bushes(DANG-IT!), along the fence(OSCAR!!!). I knew he was quick, but it seemed like he’d somehow become quicker, more agile with that Dove in his chops. Obviously, he was having fun and I was not. I’ve come to find that one has more energy when having fun.
Running out of time and running low on energy I took it to the next level. I slowly approached him, cornering him where the fence meets the house. I faked left and he zigged right. I lept…he should have zagged left. I landed right on top of him, grabbed him around his torso and together we rolled up against the fence. As I lay there holding him I heard a gulp and the wings disappeared into OscarMayer oblivion. The chase was over, I was tired, dog tired, filthy, and sweaty, and the Dove was gone, just like that. Oscar was happy, I’m sure…after all, he’d won that round. He had every reason to be.
Donna was not laughing this time…she was pissed. “Now what are going to do? He’s eaten a whole Dove! It can make him sick…it might kill him!.” Neither of us knew what to do so we called Donna’s work, her vet office. Dr. Lisa told us that we needed to make him puke it up. If you’re not sure how that works, pay careful attention. One bottle of peroxide and a large 100cc Syringe will do the trick. I filled the plastic needleless syringe all the way and slowly fed the peroxide to Oscar. It foamed up as it went into his mouth. He resisted at first but eventually gave in. He drank it all up. I think he sensed my determination. I re-filled and emptied that syringe 4 times. “There, that should be sufficient.”
I impatiently waited as he meandered around the yard drooling and probably wondering what the hell was going on. I asked Donna, “OK, where’s the Pigeon?” She assured me that it would work but I’m one who expects instant gratification for my work. It was not to be. Oscar just stood there and stared at me. I’m sure he was thinking, “why are we all standing out here, looking at each other?” This went on for perhaps 10 minutes…it seemed like hours. “C’mon, puke it up you little fart. I haven’t got all day.” Suddenly, something started happening; a dry heave…a minute later another…then several in a row. Foam drool started coming out of his mouth. So that’s how the peroxide works…it foams up in the stomach and makes the dog puke up everything…amazing. Who the heck came up with this? Who ate the first oyster? Sorry, back on topic. A few more heavy dry heaves were followed by one big one and…it was not dry. That Pigeon, er, Dove came “flying” out…with a quantity of foam and the morning’s breakfast. A couple more yacks and it was over. He was empty. Once the foam cleared from the bird, I noticed something most strange. There was not a single feather on that limp carcass. OscarMayer somehow retained every feather. I can’t imagine how his gut managed to pluck that Dove, but a perfect gutplucking it was. Stranger things have happened in our little Bully world. Strange also were the featherturds that Oscar scattered about the yard over the next 3-4 days. Every time I saw one it brought a smile to my face…same thing with the occasional feather sticking out of his butt. I let Donna get those.
Wherever we were going , we made it on time, I think