One of Those Days...

It's been nice out this week (relatively speaking), so on Monday I took Our Best Friend to the park.  OBF gets very excited the minute he gets in the car, and if the kids aren't there to restrain him, he jumps all over the van.  In the three minutes it takes to drive there, he had gotten himself good and tangled.  I had to lean my whole body over the back row of seats in the van, presenting a lovely view to anyone in the parking lot at the time (which, thankfully, was no one), and tug his leash free.

I had exactly 30 minutes before the Eldest got home from school, so I stuck fifty cents in the parking machine and put the parking stub on the dash. That's when I realized I had left my cel phone at home.  As my watchstrap is broken, my cel phone is also my timepiece, and now I had no way to know when the 30 minutes were up.

I went in, hoping there would be at least one person there who a) had a watch and b) spoke English.  Thankfully, I saw one of my friends, a young woman who works at a geriatric care centre. She threw balls for the dogs, and we chatted about her work until her phone said 2:31, when my time expired.  As we turned to leave, I reached for the car keys, only to find they weren't in my pocket.  I immediately realized I must have put them down in the back of the van when I was fighting with the leash.

Now I had to ask this lovely young lady for her cel phone, which she handed over immediately.  (To her credit, she did not make any jokes about seeing enough "senior moments" at work.) I called the Spouse, who of course didn't pick up, so I started leaving a message:  "Hi, it's me, I'm using..." And then I had to ask what her name is.

G-d bless the dog park, where it's okay not to know people's names after knowing them over a year, and G-d bless dog park friends, who understand and accept this.  She just laughed and said, "Yeah, we all know the dog's names!"  (And we do-- she was with her friend's labradoodle Koko; her own dog, an Italian greyhound named Lea, is too fragile for winter.  I knew all that, but I didn't know her name.)  She let me make five calls: one to the house to see if the Spouse was home, one to the friend doing carpool so she could call my daughter and tell her where I am, and three to the Spouse's cel phone. Then I let the poor girl go.

I waited at the park for a bit to see if the Spouse would show up, then walked home to check on the Eldest and get the cel phone. Halfway there I realized I could have at least paid for more parking. Clearly, my brain needs more memory installed: no phone, keys locked in the car, didn't think to replug the meter. By the time I got to the house, the Spouse had gotten the message, so the Eldest and I went back to the park (OBF's best day since winter started).  By some miracle there was no ticket; I paid for more time, but I had to stick the parking stub under the wiper blade and pray no one would steal it and use it themselves.

The Spouse finally came at 4:10.  I was able to drop off the kid and the dog, and still make it to school for the 4:30 carpool.  One of those days where you manage to mess it all up, but it turns out all right in the end. 

And for the record, my friend's name is Denise.

Winter Werewolf

Our Best Friend was in a strange mood when we took him to the park on Monday. Normally he pays no attention to whatever dogs the girls play with. If he shows any interest at all, it usually mirrors ours; he likes the dogs we like. But on Monday he barked and lunged at at a sweet lab who was loving up the girls, not with intent to harm, but to intimidate. The poor dog backed off, shaking. I made OBF lie down and stay, and gave him what-for, but he was unfazed. I, of course, was embarrassed and annoyed. It's bad enough when your dog is obnoxious, but it's worse when you freeze your butt off at the same time. I didn't sacrifice my personal comfort so he could behave like an idiot.

I took him back yesterday, and he did it again. He chased other dogs, running alongside and barking. He didn't snarl, he didn't snap, but there was something menacing about his behaviour nonetheless. Usually he only chases dogs that chase him, and it's clearly in play. This time he gave chase first, and in an-overly aggressive way.

Ronnie came in with Brandy, Zara, and a brown poodle I'd never seen before. ("I was at my buddy's, told him I was heading to the park, and offered to take his dog too." Vintage Ronnie.) OBF sniffed Brandy happily and chased after her appropriately. But when her attention turned elsewhere, he became hyper and out of control once more.

Unlike Monday, yesterday was bright and sunny, though bitterly cold, and there were quite a few dogs by now. For the first time ever, I saw him join a whole pack of dogs, jumping and barking, and not in a fun way. Ronnie was closer, and called him over quite sternly; fortunately, he listened. He almost didn't seem like Our Best Friend: first getting aggressive, then listening to Ronnie, whom he tends to ignore.

I left after that, not because he was acting up, but because I had to pick up the kids. I would have stayed to see how his behaviour progressed, and find out from Ronnie (who knows everything, of course) what to do about it. The snow has done something to our dog; he's become a werehusky or something. I hope he settles down, or we may have to suspend our dog park days until the snow spell wears off.

Winter is Here

As much as Our Best Friend loves winter, I hate it.  We came home two Mondays ago (the 6th)  from a short trip out of town, only  to be caught in a blizzard unforseen by expert meterologists (2-4 cm predicted-- 32 dumped). OBF has barely been out of the house since we got back. In the summer he only runs out of the yard when he sees a squirrel (let's clarify-- a live one); in the winter, he spends much time racing across the hill behind our house that runs almost the length of the street. He can only run one house to the east before hitting a fence (and that one has a small gap), but I'm not sure how far west he can get.  I think it's three houses, but it could be Oregon.

Of course (let's all say it together),the less exercise he gets, the greater the pent-up energy, and the more prone he is to bolting.   I try to make the kids play with him in the back yard, but he insists on stealing their mittens, chewing their sled, and basically losing all control.  On Sunday he tried to eat their snowman. He isn't out there with them five minutes before they shove him back inside.

I hate the cold, I hate the snow, I hate the wet.  But yesterday, my conscience finally kicked in and we took him to the park.  I picked a great day for it.  The temperature had risen overnight, turning the snow to rain. The west side of the park was one big snow-covered slush puddle, which we all discovered by soaking our feet in it accidentally.  (Another lesson I've learned over the years, it doesn't matter what the box says, the salesperson says, the website says, or what materials are used: there is no such thing as a waterproof boot.)

I had two of my girls and one of their friends.  The park was empty except for a toy schnauzer and a black lab.  Not surprising, given the wind, the windchill, and the ice pellets blowing in your face.  I told the girls to go in the bus shelter if they got too cold.  As the black lab was also seeking shelter, the Middle Child and her friend were happy to do so.  The Youngest, in spite of her lack of snow pants, insisted on running through the park with Our Best Friend.  Then they all took turns running with OBF and getting kisses from the lab.

It was obvious that OBF needs "out" in the winter even more than he needs it in summer. He galloped through the park, back and forth, ears flat to his head, clearly in his doggie element.  I always think of him as a German shepherd mix, but in the winter, the husky/malamute comes out, and he turns from a herding dog to a snow dog.  I just turn into an icicle. If he has dreams of the Iditarod, he'd better find himself a new owner.  Winter hasn't officially arrived (as in the winter solstice), but I'm already dreaming of spring.

The "Perks" of Dog Ownership #4

Our Best Friend loves snow. The Middle Child took him out the other day, and he started digging frantically under the hedge between us and the neighbours.  Thinking it was a ball buried under the snow, TMC helped, pushing the snow with her mittens.  The next thing she knew, OBF had a frozen dead squirrel in his mouth.  Horrified, she made him drop it somehow, and brought him in immediately. She was clearly traumatised, but, to her credit, held it together. 

I gave her a big hug, and we talked about life and death and how excited OBF must have been to catch a squirrel at long last.  The critter lay in the yard until I had a chance to go out this morning and bury it on the hill.  The ground is too frozen for a proper burial, so it's under a layer of snow.  We may see it again in the spring-- but I hope I see it first, and get it under the earth before the kids are traumatised a second time.

Another Park

I've been meaning to visit other dog parks in our city, in order to write a snotty comparative review about why our park is better than any other park.  Life, of course, interferes with all my intentions.  Right now we're out of town visiting family.  The Spouse's brother owns a 14-year-old Tibetan mastiff; it's a rare breed, but one of the oldest.  Even though it was -8 (17 F) with the windchill, we all went to see where Zach goes to play.

It's a very nice park, about 3/4 the size of ours.  No walking path, no bus shelter, but those really are elements unique to ours.  The chain-link fence separates it from an adjacent playground; our park is stand-alone. The wind blew pretty hard. The Youngest froze. That's familiar territory.

Of course all that matters is the dogs.  We walked in with Daisy, an American bulldog with a disposition like sugar.  A chocolate lab puppy, maybe five months old, kept trying to lick Daisy's face. Something black with very short legs and a curly tail raced around and around. And there was a large brown and tan dog that played and wrestled with anyone game to play.

In other words, a typical friendly dog park.  Daisy wanted lots of affection, and I was happy to oblige.  My kids kept patting the puppy.  Zach stayed aloof as much as possible, as is typical of his breed.  The Brother-in-Law and Zach stayed for over an hour, but we left after 20 minutes. We had errands to run, and our noses were falling off.  Mind you, it wasn't the end of dogs for the day; later we got to play with a sharpei puppy at a pet supply store. Now everyone misses Our Best Friend, and can't wait to see him tomorrow.