A Dog's Dog

So, yesterday we went out to meet Kendra. Kendra is currently being fostered by the Alternative Humane Society of Whatcom County. We went to meet her because we're thinking about getting Drake a sister.

Drake is the most dog-crazy dog I've ever met. For a dog he really likes (Emma is the best example), Drake will turn away from squirrels, deer, and treats, just to get a chance to play. When he has to spend too long away from other dogs, he pines and pouts. When he gets to play, he's like a joy generator. We're hoping to keep him on that side of things by getting a second dog.
We've consulted our dog advisors—the humane society, Angi, who runs Tails a Wagging , and other folks who know dogs. They gave some good basic advice on integrating the second dog, and we're combining that with our knowledge of Drake and the family to look for the right second dog. The ideal would be female, at least medium-sized, lively, social with humans and people, and sturdy enough to wrestle a lot.

Kendra may be it, but it's not certain. She was nice enough—a pretty black lab, at ease in her fur and with other dogs--but thus we're missing that spark that we had with Drake. Now granted, I didn't have it with Drake at first, so it may be a first meeting thing. She also doesn't like the heat and it was the hottest part of the day.

We'll bring Drake to meet her, though. And we'll keep our paws crossed.
Greg

Zeus

On Saturday I went to the humane society, where I walked Zeus and had several firsts.

Zeus was a Great Dane/Boxer mix. At seven months old, he weighed in at a cool 97 pounds. I hadn't ever walked a dog that big, so I checked with the front desk. Any issues? Nah. He's a sweetie.

And so he was. Big, friendly (in a cool sort of way), gentle, he was easy to walk. In fact, I could walk him with one finger through the leash handle.

So, what were the firsts?

First dog that big.

First dog markedly bigger than the German Shepherd who guards the helicopter company down the street from the humane society. The shepherd looked at Zeus and kinda froze. Then he hunkered down. Then he rushed the fence anyway, making himself as big as possible.

First recognition. The family of the woman who donated Zeus for adoption drove by while I was walking him. They stopped in the street, rolled down a window, and asked, "Is that Zeus?"

First time I'd seen so many people smitten with one dog (well, one non-puppy). I thought Zeus was nice enough, but two teenage girls in the lobby melted when they saw him and threw themselves on him, hugging and kissing. So did a four year old girl. So did an older woman. My wife kinda melted when I described him, etc. Maybe it's a girl thing.

Greg

the spark

While I was back in Ohio for the family reunion, I took a walk around Findlay. As I was enjoying the old houses and decades of memory, I saw a little spaniel running towards me. Well, kind of loping, kind of tumbling. He was so clumsy that I thought he was a puppy. He was on the other side of the street, and he was ignoring his owner’s commands in an attempt to get to me. He was obvious friendly, and obviously on a mission, so I crossed the street to him.

The owner was apologizing for him, saying he was so old he hardly knew where he was going these days, but all he wanted was to snuffle me, then he was happy.

It may have just been an old dog, but it seems more like I’m getting the spark—the dog spark. It’s not a huge fire, like the famous dog trainers have, where they can calm any dog and understand them immediately. But the mix of taking care of Oz when she was sick, the long walks, the many play visits, and the humane society have sort of marked me. Dogs want to greet me in ways they didn’t before.

Yesterday I stopped by the library. Someone had tied a big Lab /Lab mix outside the door, and she was just unwrapping the leash from the hand rail when I was going by to enter the library. She got the leash free from the rail—and her dog surged forward to jam his nose into my hands. It wasn’t for long, just a quick “I know, hi guy, how you doing,” but he caught her completely off guard. She was apologizing, but it was done and over. I watched. He didn’t do that with the other folks leaving the library.

Now, it may be something really basic, like the fact that since I’ve always recently been near a dog, I smell like dogs, or that since I carry treats in my pockets often, they might smell like treats. But it seems more like they’re reading me. It’s small, but nice.

first day back

So I went out to the humane society the other day, for the first time in more than two weeks—probably closer to three. It was a sunny Saturday, and full of people and dogs. There was a high drama hairball going on, with some woman seizing the moral high ground because she'd "paid good money for a pure breed dog" (only to have it repeatedly picked up by animal control), but I wasn't part of that.

Instead, I walked through the dog holding areas, looking to see who was there. I was struck again by the raw need roiling off these dogs. They are confused and lonely (and these days hot), and they don't know why they're there. I had to fight the urge to hug them all, or to take them all home. The little Boston Terrier was trembling so badly…

When it came time to choose who to walk, I made myself be firm. Instead of walking the loudest dog (rewarding bad behavior), or the one I liked most, I read the records board and selected one of the two dogs who hadn't yet been walked that day. This was Genevieve, who looked to be some Irish Setter/Golden Retriever mix.

Long-haired and gentle, Genevieve was a joy to walk. Except for when we walked past the guard dog at the helicopter yard and she got all protective and challenged the much larger German Shepherd, Genevieve was a one finger walk. I hooked my index finger through the leash handle and away we went.

At first, every few steps she came back to check in, nosing and licking my hand. Then we settled into a rhythm and it was easy. We did about a mile and a half, nice and slow in the sun, and at one point stopped in the shade so she could rest and lick my face in gratitude.

Ah!

Greg

Windows

Oh, I should add that now when we see Emma riding in a car, her humans grab her...because she now assumes she can and should jump from a moving vehicle to see Drake.

Greg

After the Wedding

Last Sunday our daughter Beth got married. This meant that the week before was full of frantic preparations, and that the week since was full of aftermath, cleaning up, details, and hosting my parents.
And oh yes, trying to get back to a regular routine. Whew!

Drake was part of the burden, though a well-behaved part. That is to say, we had to take him to Tails-a-Wagging several days (which he loves!). We had to get dog sitters three other times—the rehearsal, and then two to split the day of the wedding.

The day of the wedding we left him with neighbors who he loves. He loves the mom, dad, and little boy, and they have chocolate lab, and that means Drake's in heaven. Even with that, though, he tried to follow me when I left and pouted afterwards.

It all worked out. He's very social, and had a blast with all of his friends. However, by the end, he was pretty darn tired of having his routine disrupted. He was very clingy/affectionate the first days after everyone was gone, and he's remained so. It is as if he was a little afraid he was going back to the shelter, what with all the time away from us. Now, though, he's all the more loving.


Greg