Tuesday, September 4, 2007

Mud Flap

When Harry was young, every dog we had was bigger than he was. I realize now, this must have presented an impossible situation for him. In the country our dogs live chain free and loose out of doors. Harry was “hounded” the minute he walked out of the house, and as his mother, yours truly, I never quite understood that this could be a problem for him.


Mud Flap was our first dog. We’d just moved to Minnesota from Chicago. She was a four month old blue heeler; a very popular breed in these here parts, what with all the cows and cold weather. Blue heelers are skilled herders by nature. I watched her once move a group of Herefords into a tight knot and away from us when we were trying to feed them carrots over the fence. All most dogs would manage to do is upset and disarray and I’ve seen that happen with dogs too, but not with Mud Flap. She was short legged and compact, not weighing more than 50 pounds as an adult. At the time Harry was about three years old and maybe weighed more or less, nearly the same, but with less strength and less mass. Mud Flap would stand on two legs, press Harry up against the garage wall, give him a smooch and take whatever toy he had, which she did regularly. I remember dressing Harry to go outside. I would bundle him in his sweatshirt and windbreaker with a hood, and then on his signal, like a nurse handing the doctor scalpels on TV shows, I gave him his toys. He would have a toy under each arm and one or two in his hand. I’d open the door and out he went. Sometimes, the minute he was out the door I would hear milk curdling screams, and there would be the dog and Harry locked in a death grip on a toy. Harry was a screamer so I tended to ignore it, or ask him to lower his voice. Like talk about under reacting to something. The dog had a major chew fetish which he applied to all of Harry’s toys and some of our other things as well. So I discovered all the attributes and qualities of various types of tape from electrical, to hockey tape, to duct tape, in order to resuscitate Harry’s favorite play things, being that they were mostly plastic. Other stuff, like my leather gloves never survived. Ufdah, as they say in these here parts, the things we tolerate for a “family member”.

Mud Flap came to a very unfortunate end, but it wasn’t until a few days after the dog was gone, and I was preparing Harry for play outside, that I realized the true nature of their relationship. I had Harry bundled in his sweatshirt and windbreaker with a hood per usual, and on his signal, I began handing him his toys to tuck under each arm. I gave him the dog phone pull toy gift from my dad, (red electrical tape very cleverly wrapped around chewed sections of the phone handset), the dump truck under the next arm (duck tape around the joystick lever for operating the shovel), and then his shovel (black electrical tape all over). I could feel him stiffen with resolve as he faced the door and solemnly nod to me to let him outside. He was ready. And then I realized why the posture. “Harry, Mud Flap is dead.” Harry’s shoulders relaxed. His face visibly lightened. He loosened his hold on his toys. “Oh!” He had this sweetly pitched little three year old voice and a sing song inflection. “Mud Flap’s dead.” And that was it. He went outside. We had been going through this ritual for an entire season and it never dawned on me, till that moment, that I had been sending Harry out to battle everyday. I wonder if he’ll need therapy when he gets older. (The reason I say this is because I am afraid this isn’t the only thing I need to confess.)

6 comments:

alice c said...

My children regularly draw to my attention ways in which I have irreparably harmed their emotional development. Unfortunately, in all cases, I was completely unaware of the long term damage that I was doing at the time. We do the best we can as parents - nobody gives you a manual and says 'This is the correct way'.

MizMell said...

Hindsight is, as they say, always 20/20. You do the best you can...

(Thanks for stopping by...)

Anonymous said...

Hi, Anne! Thanks for visiting my blog. Mud Flap is one of the more unique dog names I've heard. Well-written post!

Unknown said...

Thanks guys. It will be interesting to hear what my son has to say in another ten years. And gosh we went through the same sort of traumas with our own parents. (sigh) You should hear some of the comments from my step children. Anyway, Surcie, Mud Flap was named when we got her. She used to hang on to the mud flaps of milk trucks. She was a pretty fierce car / vehicle chaser. My husband wanted to put a plank on a chain around her neck so she'd hit her shins when she ran. That would teach her! (he's so ooold school). He tried to raise his kids the same way. Thank god there were women in his life.

Heidi said...

Very insightful. I also wonder what kind damage I may done to my kids without meaning to. Time will tell.

jenny said...

My son was very standoffish to dog, even our own lab, because when he was young I left him with a baby sitter who had recently gotten a puppy. A puppy who acted like a puppy and jumped and nipped. Just NOT his style.

We adopted a very old beagle a few years ago and he took to that old dog, Fred, so well...they were made for each other. I feel like I mended his psyche :)