We began to look for a nice park to put our new trailer
in. That can be difficult as trailer
parks are usually squished together, by park owners to make more money on lot
rent. They can also be denizens of human
existence where drugs and crime run rampant.
We finally found a nice park, Peach Tree Hill Mobile Home part. It was run by a police officer in the
community of Ebarb. The lots were
spacious and what crime there was, was kept to a bare minimum. There was also no problem with us building a
pen for our dogs. Hell the old boy
running the place must have had 40 chickens in a coop attached to his
barn.
Our new home was moved in during the first week of December
of 2003. The house was in, but it was up
to us to hook into the sewer system, the water line, and get a pole for the
electricity. Jay is kind of a jack of
all trades. On one of Jay’s days off he
was busy under the house hooking into the sewer system. That day there was a storm moving in and the
wind was just a blowing. Jay doesn’t like
the wind, so he was just a cussing and a fussing at it. I decided I need to take a break from him and
let him cool down. I told him I was
going to go and haul the garbage off and that I would be back in a few minutes. I told him he should take a break too. I jumped in his dark blue Pontiac Grand Am
and headed for the dump.
Now for those of you
who live in the city and have curb side pickup, let me explain. The dump is a country term for a place to
take the garbage. When I was a kid this meant
driving down a dusty road and just throwing it out somewhere. Then there are open landfill dumps where many
people pick threw the garbage on a Sunday afternoon, looking for treasure. A nice dump is one that has a big blue
compacting bin with a fence around it, recycling options and a guard on duty
during the hours it is open. He is there
for two reasons: to prevent people from picking thru the garbage and to stop
people dropping off animals like garbage.
Then you have what Sabine Parish had in the days that we
lived there. On the Sepulvedo Loop, not
far from our house, there were three large open blue garbage bins. People could just dive up anytime day or
night and dump whatever they pleased there.
Often times what they dropped were unwanted animals. Many times we drove up to find the dead bodies
of dogs that had been used as bait dogs in dog fighting rings, or kittens with
their eyes not open yet. Sabine Parish, in those days, had no animal
control. Family pets that were no longer
wanted were simply dumped at these locations, with the hopes that they would
fend for themselves. Some survived, some
did not. I began to make the rounds at
the dumps putting out food and water for these animals. Once I moved to Sabine Parish I began working
with their local human society.
It was at the dump on the Sepulvedo Loop that Prince would
enter our lives. I had come to dump the
garbage. I was not making my rounds that day.
It was just starting to thunder and mist. I opened my door and then WHOOSH! something had climbed over me. I turned and looked in passenger seat and
there was a half starved terrified little soul.
He was black and tan and looked to be half Chihuahua and half Dachshund,
a Chi-Weenie. I said, “Hello!? Can I help you?” He was just shivering. I did not know then that Prince was frightened
of storms. I told him that I worked with
the Sabine Parish Humane Society and that I was there to help him. I excused myself to throw the trash away,
then got back in the car and drove to my house.
I was so excited to have rescued a small dog. I knew of several friends who were in want of
a small dog. I let Prince in the house
while I finished doing something. When I
came in the house I was so excited to tell Jay what I had found.
Jay is sitting in a chair in the kitchen and says, “Momma I
think we have a problem. I’m in
love.” There was Prince in Jay’s arms
and giving him a hug. Jay was smitten.
“No,” I said, “I had already figured out who to adopt him
too.”
“Nope he’s mine now.”
And they hugged and that was that.
I named him Prince because after I left Mike I told everyone
I was going to treat myself like a queen because he never did. My handle for a long time was HMQueenIlse,
Her Majesty Queen Ilse. A queen does not
need a king to rule. She can take care
of herself. Jay had become my King, and
now we added a little Prince to our growing royal family.
Prince had been thru hell.
When we found him he had 3 broken ribs, ringworm, 2 toes that had been
dislocated and had healed crooked, and a BB permanently imbedded in his
back. The vet guessed he was a year and
half old. He was also a wreck
emotionally. While he loved Jay, he
would let almost no other man touch him.
If a man with a baseball cap and a beard came around him, he would lose
it. It took us five years to be able to
take him in public. It wasn’t until the
last few years of his life that he would even let a strange man touch him.
So Prince, Precious, Pumpkin, Jay and I made a little
family. With our new home in place we went
back to planning the wedding. We
intended to have two weddings, like normal people. We did not plan to have three.
Ilsa
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