Mickey had brute force and got very excited when a dog came along, but he never barked, thank goodness. I guess he felt he could express himself with his body, and that would be enough. An occasional whine might escape, but nothing like Skippy's high-pitched bark that sounds like nails on a chalkboard as he writhes on the leash, balking and spinning to get to the other dog two blocks away.
In no way did I want to reward this behavior, but I did think perhaps Skippy could benefit from the time at a dog park. He finally has started playing a little bit in the apartment, but not much.
Maybe he's just not into toys (note: this is the last picture I have of this hippo before it lost an ear and was then disemboweled). Maybe he's better at playing with other dogs than by himelf.
One a more selfish reason, since he started eating again (thank you Vita-Gravy and Snausages), he's been waking up before dawn and having enough energy to pull on the leash and be a general nuisance. Perhaps if I wore him out with other dogs, he'd go back to sleeping for 9 hours a night and still no wanting to get up.
On the Way to the Park
The dog park on Whitnall Highway has a big dog and a little dog/timid dog section. I read the reviews on Yelp, and decided to go with the big dog section. I know he had fun with Odie, and I assume he likes little dogs, but with all the pent-up energy he had, I didn't want to upset the regulars if he started getting too playful with the little dogs.
I watched a guy bringing in four large dogs. His dogs sat before entering the first gated area, then after he took off their leashes made them sit and wait for him to open the second gate and then allow them to run into the area. Now that's well-behaved dogs. I didn't think Skip would do that, but oddly, it didn't seem like he was all that excited to go in with the other dogs.
Dog parks are like "pet areas" at hotels. Even though most people clean up after their dogs, there are lingering scents left behind from all the defecation. And all those scents in a small area, is like for us humans walking into an over-stocked second hand store or souvenir shop; it's just too much stimuli. So Skip spent most of his time just trying to take in all the scents in the area.
I've never taken any of my charges to a dog park. I promise to never put them in harm's way and to always protect them, and putting them in a large area with dogs I didn't know didn't make me fully comfortable. I felt like the Mom trying to have that balance between letting her child go off and play and still watching his every move. I couldn't be as relaxed as other humans who sat on benches reading a magazine or talking on their phones; nor did I want to follow him around everywhere. I didn't want the other dogs making fun of him for being a mama's boy. He didn't stick by my side, so I knew he could do it on his own, but I still trailed behind him trying give him space.
There was one dog who latched onto him immediately. A beautiful Staffordshire terrier. (aka pit bull) followed him around everywhere. I wasn't too worried, although I wanted to make sure Skip didn't lock eyes with her and she took it the wrong way. Her guardian kept breaking her focus, because he said that's when things got dangerous (great, thanks for telling me).
I don't know what it is about Skip's head that makes it so damn mountable to other dogs. Poor Skip. I have the kid who keeps getting taunted on the playground. I let it go on for a moment, hoping Skip would get out of it, but he had a hard time. The other dog's owner simply said, "Aw, he really likes your dog."
Um, well, actually my dog isn't having a grand time. Skip started to run away, but having seen him play with Odie (before that turned into Humpfest 2010), I could tell this was not a playful run, but a "Holy crap, get away from me" run. Skip's tail was down, but not relaxed, his ears were back, and his head was low. He was not enjoying that kind of attention.
He didn't play at all. Aside from being chased by the dog who wanted to hump his head, he didn't even run. The pittie ran with him for a time, but after her guardian's words about her focus and prey drive, her guardian stopped her. Skip certainly was not as into her and she was into him.
We only lasted half an hour or forty-five minutes and Skip was ready to leave. Much like with Odie's playdate, Skip sauntered off to the exit indicating we should leave now.
He was panting heavily, but didn't want any water. I sat there for a moment in the truck, sad that he didn't have a good time. I snapped a couple of pictures and you wouldn't be able to guess that he didn't have a decent time. So maybe I was reading it wrong.
When we drove off, I passed by the little dog area, and saw a couple of dogs his size. He was too winded to try at the moment, so I think we'll give it a whirl this afternoon.
Skip did sleep, but not through the night. He still woke me up at 4am adjusting his position, and then at 6am, sort of hinting he might have to go out. Between 6:45 and 7:30 he tried many tactics to get me out of bed, stretching over me, standing over my head, licking my arm, jumping off the bed. I explained to him that had he pooped at midnight when we went out, he might not have to go right this second, but he wasn't listening to reason.
I rose from bed and we went for a walk that was simply awful. He pulled and tugged, he play barked and lurched about on the leash in the middle of a crosswalk when we passed another dog (who, by the way, was polite and just kept walking normally), and worst of all, he rose up on his hind legs and let out a bark at 4th grader walking to school.
I was not happy with him this morning. Maybe he was getting even for taking him to yet another place where he got humped in the face. I know he's a smart dog, which is what frustrates me more; he's got to know what he's doing wrong. I'm beginning to think he might have ADD or OCD or a combo of the two. He focuses so intently on something that he startles easily; which leads to the bark. He's pretty high strung.
But then there are moments like last night. He lay down next to me on the bed, his head by the wall, his butt close to my face. I told him I would appreciate it if I could have his head, not his ass in my face. His farts aren't as bad as they were, but now they're noisy. I'd rather they make noise than smell bad, but either way, I don't want it near my face.
He refused to move on his own, so I moved him myself, he never even rising to assist me. I made sure his butt was closer to the end of the bed, and his head was up by mine. When I snuggled back under the covers, he rolled onto his back and shimmied his way closer to me. My arm was already acting as a pillow for his head, and he shimmied closer and closer to where he could lean into me, his head resting on my shoulder and his right front paw draped across my waist. I looked down at the scruffy muzzle on my shoulder and couldn't help smiling.
He let out a little sigh, his jowls flapping, making him sound like a tiny horse, then readjusted his head to burrow it farther onto my shoulder and chest to be as close to me as possible. Yes, the walks are frustrating; yes he wakes me up way too early; and yes, he lacks some social etiquette are times. But in a moments like this, how can I not forgive his flaws and love him anyway?
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