It has been brought to my attention that when I foster and transport dogs, I disappear from human existence. I agree that's true, since I don't leave the dogs home alone. But there isn't an excuse for me not to make plans that they could be involved with as well. So, my friend and I tried for the ultimate task: a lovely afternoon walk with her baby in a Moby (a baby carrier) and her dog Charlie by her side, while Skip and I came along. It would be a wonderful outing. Clearly this is too high an expectation.
Skip does not know how to walk on a leash. I think he was a backyard dog. He can sit and stay, and lay down, and even does Shake. He loves to be groomed. But put him on a leash and he zig-zags in front of you as if he's being shot at and he's trying to avoid the bullets. So, I try to employ the "stop-when-pull" technique. Essentially, if he pulls on the leash, I stop. Once there's slack in the leash, we keep walking. I suck at this, I admit; I'm not consistent enough. But I do try.
Charlie has the opposite leash trouble. He seldom pulls. Instead, he's king of the stand-off. He just chooses to not walk for no reason any human can grasp. So while my friend is trying to get Charlie to not stop, and I keep stopping Skippy, oh and the baby is not falling asleep and is about to get way cranky about it....well, let's just say it was a good idea in our heads, but not so good in reality.
After a valiant effort, she left to get the baby to sleep, and Skippy and I left for the pet store. I had forgotten that the pitties had destroyed all of my squeaky toys, so I needed to replenish. Skip still hadn't played yet, and I thought perhaps he just didn't like rope toys or to play fetch. While I stood in line at the cashier, people happened to stop and say hello to Skippy. It's hard to ignore him really. He's got this fabulous open mouth grin that just makes you smile.
A couple walked in and the woman said hello to him, and was about to strike up a conversation with Skip when she looked up and I said, "Hello." We knew each other! She had no idea I volunteered my time transporting and fostering, and I had no idea she lived three blocks away.
After I checked out and went out to the truck, she and her husband offered to have an impromptu play date for Skip and their dog Odie. Skip really loves other dogs, to the point of embarrassment really. If he sees one from two blocks away, he starts this high-pitched play bark and struggles on the leash, thrashing about as if his life depends on getting to the other canine. So I accepted for him and followed them to their house.
Odie is a Jack Russell/Chihuahua mix, slightly larger than Skip's head. Odie came out to greet us, not giving Skip enough time to go berserk at the end of the leash. Just enough to run up, accept play bows, and then we headed to the backyard so I could take Skip's leash off.
Once the leash was off, it was play time. Watching dogs play is such a fun time. It’s too bad people who raise fighting dogs can't see that watching them play, not kill each other, is a far more entertaining activity. The delicacy in which Skip could play with a dog one third his size is astounding. He still rough-housed, but knew his limits. At one point he even up-ended the little dog. And the dog got up to keep running and playing. The two were having good times until Odie fell back into his own embarrassing habit: humping.
My friends had gotten Odie only a few months before at the South Central shelter. He's already three years old, and although he knows how to play and is clearly dog friendly, he mounts dogs (and even the air at one point) when he gets excited. Skip is way too polite. Humping his side is one thing, but when Odie mounted Skips head, and Skip just tried to politely back away rather than bark, "Get your dick out of my face!", I was a little disappointed.
Odie's guardians are doing their best. They carry a squirt bottle filled with water, and squirt him when he gets into mounting frenzy, but like me, were surprised that Skip didn't stand up for himself. I guess he didn't want to pick on the little guy, especially when it was the little guy's house.
It appears that Skip understands doggie doors--or maybe Odie explained it to him on the spot. Odie jumped through into the kitchen and Skip stuck his head in. We humans watched to see what would happen. I couldn't imagine he'd be able to fit through the Odie-sized hole in the door, but sure enough, with a little flexibility, he got his whole body through and was in the house.
He came back out, and every time we told him not to go back in, he listened. Odie taunted him, sticking his head out from inside, "Come on, dude, come in!" he seemed to say. And Skip looked back with that big grin, and looked around to us. "They said no, man."
After a good while romping, and it degenerating into a hump-fest, Skip sniffed at the front gate and sat by it, calling it a day. "You want to go? You all done?" I asked. He looked up at me, and sniffed the gate again. He came back and sat down, waiting for me to say my thank-you's and good byes.
He had an exhausting day. We had walked for a bit despite our stops and starts, and he got to romp around off leash in a backyard. It was a good day for the Skipsters. And he didn't bark too much tonight. The again, maybe I just wore him out enough that he was just speechless.
the kids had fun, didn't they? Poor Odie, totally socially bizarro. Glad Skip had a nice night's sleep as a result tho.
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