Rudy Has a Bone to Pick

On a recent aimless weekend where the highlight was a 30-degree temperature differential, with the kind of resulting fog that would have tickled the dickens out of Dickens, Rudy went looking to bury a bone.

Where, oh where...

Where, oh where…

The rawhide bone in question is about the size of Rudy’s head. It was a Christmas present to him from a dear friend, and it’s been torturing him ever since, whenever he remembers he has it. “I can only go on instinct,” he maintains staunchly. “And all of mine are saying ‘bury the sucker’.”

You said a mouthful.

You said a mouthful.

This strongly worded declaration is a far remove from Rudy’s usual stoicism, but every now and then his inner dog asserts itself loud and clear. Most often, telephone poles and sewer drains are involved, along with the occasional dried french fry stuck to the sidewalk. All in all, though, there’s not a lot that ruffles him.

Food station's too obvious...

Food station’s too obvious…

But this bone is really getting under his skin. And the ground, as they say, is frozen solid.

Maybe the back stairs?

Maybe the back stairs?

And so, on the recent aimless weekend in question, when the dark rains and varying shades of gray were torturing the rest of us, I decided to follow Rudy around the house in his creative pursuit of an indoor hole in the ground.

Walk like this...

Walk this way…

I was repeatedly impressed with the scope of his imagination. Locations ranged from tight quarters,

…behind the couch...

Behind the couch

to wide open spaces,

Really?

Really?

to off-limits,

Uh oh...

Uh oh…

to the unexpected,

The audacity

Wow.

and oddly enough, by the time we had explored every possible nook and cranny in the house, I was in a better mood. I even laughed out loud a couple of times.

Come on, work with me...

Come on, work with me…

Still, at the end of the day, you can tell it gnaws at him, the weight of this bone.

Outside is best...

Outside is best…

Hope, however, springs eternal in Rudy’s world—just as spring hopes eternally, and in a few months he will have fresh ground to dig, or else, by then, like all good bones, this one will have disappeared.

Come the spring...

Come on spring…

In the meantime, even though the ground is frozen, the snow is dirty, and the light is still too quickly gone, Rudy reminds me that pretty or not,

Good smell...

Good smell…

there’s always something good to smell.

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22 Responses to Rudy Has a Bone to Pick

  1. c'est la vie says:

    He could come hide it in the store basement and we could regularly add a good old croissant and build his little treasure 🙂

  2. hcz says:

    Prediction: Rudy’s* blog will go viral!

  3. P'nut says:

    rudy…thanks for the good ideas! xoxo peanut

  4. kim says:

    i must love on this dog – SOON!!!!

  5. jane preston says:

    I don’t blog but I love yours! Hope to meet Rudy in the spring when I come up! xo jp jp

  6. Stephanie Wells says:

    Although Rudy is about the size of one of Bodhi’s bones (141 lb. Newfoundland) , Bodhi says he totally relates. Favorite indoor places for Bodhi include sofa cushions and the magazine basket. He thinks Rudy’s plant space is fabulous, but he can’t find a pot large enough to climb into. Smudge, the cat, thinks it is totally ridiculous.

  7. Katina I. Makris, CCH, CIH says:

    Love it Annie!!! Great story telling, charming glimpse into Rudy’s ernest hunt and of course we are all rooting for spring!! Cheers, Kim

  8. peter tuttle says:

    Rudy* still charms.

    *(nom de pooch)

  9. Laura Graham says:

    Discovered this blog by accident, while searching for something Maine related, where I grew up, and am just so very much enjoying these stories about Rudy. Makes me miss Maine too! 🙂

  10. dkf says:

    that is priceless. Rudy is a gem.
    yes, spring is coming with all the attendant smells of fresh earth… I know because I run Sarah, today on the snow covered trail up behind the sheep farm, and we have those extra minutes before heading out knowing that if we dally, darkness will close in upon us. The last snowstorm when we ran, 23 wild turkeys crossed our path, on land and in the air.
    at least our animals remind us to lighten up!

  11. DPG says:

    Well, this is the type of aimless weekend I live for…especially when you’re following this little guy* around!! How he fits that head-sized bone in his teeny little mouth is beyond me, but I am very happy that he thinks it treasure enough to want to bury it. (Love the uh-oh places he finds…complete with the “who, me?” expression.) SO CUTE!!!!!! :-}

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