Next Chapter: Two-dog nights | Opinion | shelbynews.com – Shelbynews

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Clear skies. Low 61F. Winds S at 5 to 10 mph..
Clear skies. Low 61F. Winds S at 5 to 10 mph.
Updated: September 17, 2022 @ 8:33 pm
Granddog Jax hitches a ride with Grandpaw Brian.

Granddog Jax hitches a ride with Grandpaw Brian.
I know a woman in her late eighties who accepted an interesting challenge a while back. Her daughter had a motherless baby goat in need of a surrogate.
Guess who took in the goat, let it sleep in the house in a laundry basket, and got up to bottle-feed it every few hours for weeks? Yep, the grand-goat’s granny.
A friend and I laughed over the story, finally agreeing that yes, if called to duty by our own offspring, we would likely—if reluctantly—do the same.
We do what it takes for our own: wash and dry the travel team’s uniforms in hotel laundry rooms until midnight so they’re ready for the next game, or make cupcakes for the whole class to celebrate everyone being able to count to 100. So yes, we would likely rise to similar occasions if our offspring were in their sixties, we were in our eighties, and a goat is involved.
The goat grandma inspired me. I hope to have both the health and the spunk to do something so unexpected at her age to help out should one of our sons need a hand with a kid of a barnyard or human variety.
I didn’t have to wait that long.
One of our sons has a new job that comes with a new regimen. His shift spans 24 hours, but then he has ample time to rest before doing it all over again.
The only problem is his beloved dog. Jax, a 45-pound English bulldog, can’t take care of himself for 24 hours, no matter how much time he gets later with his human buddy.
I asked the Lord to help us figure out the best way to unleash support for our son in making his situation work with Jax.
The plan now is to bring the canine home with us for those shifts, then reunite him with his doggy daddy when the shift plus eight-hours of day sleep are complete. By then, we may need a good, long snooze ourselves because Jax and our Boston terrier Reggie like to play, sometimes getting rowdy at the likes of 2 a.m.
We’ll need to work on that and get a good nighttime routine down. This isn’t rocket science, right? Right? (Sorry, I didn’t hear you.)
I know that all parents wouldn’t do this. Not everyone is goat-mama-or-papa material. Not everyone is a dog person. Not everyone is crazy.
It’s our way of stepping in the gap of what is otherwise a great situation for our son. We are retired. Contrary to what you might be thinking, we still do have lives. I think. But they are, shall we say, flexible?
Unique problems call for unique solutions.
What I know is that Brian draws the line at allowing two dogs to bunk with us. So, for two or three nights a week, it will be a two-dog night because Reggie is used to sleeping beside me, and Jax won’t hear of being left out. Two snoring pooches with one that lies crossways in the middle and is too large to scoot, shouldn’t be that bad.
Sleeping at a straight angle in one’s bed is highly overrated. Maybe sleeping is overrated. Everything is fine.
All three of us are light sleepers. If one paw or foot hits the floor, it’s up and at ‘em for all three of us until everyone has gone potty and high-tailed it back to sleepy town.
Jax is too big for a laundry basket (as is Brian), but doesn’t require a night feeding (Brian sometimes likes a little peanut butter), so there’s that.
I’m not a total pushover. Once when one of the boys rented a house with three other guys in college, the parents and fellas met together before signing the lease to hash out details.
One of the moms gushed about how badly the house interior needed painting and how maybe all four of us moms could plan a weekend painting party.
The other two moms were all in, ready to pick out the color. I was the dissenting hard no. I didn’t think the boys gave a hoot about paint, and certainly not about paint colors. Free labor for a landlord’s overpriced house in a college town left me with a big “no way” flashing in neon across my forehead. I didn’t even need to offer a word. My forehead did the talking.
I imagine when the idea settled with the moms, they came to their senses. A decade later, I’d bet the ranch that those walls still haven’t painted themselves and neither have anyone’s mothers.
It’s too early to say how this experiment with our granddog will pan out.
I wonder if the 87-year-old goat granny would consider taking on a dog?
Just kidding. Everything is fine. It is. Really.
Donna Cronk writes this column twice a month. She is the retired New Castle Courier-Times Neighbors Editor. Connect at [email protected].
Donna Cronk writes this column twice a month. She is the retired New Castle Courier-Times Neighbors Editor. Connect at [email protected].
I know a woman in her late eighties who accepted an interesting challenge a while back. Her daughter had a motherless baby goat in need of a surrogate.
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