Jake was in the dog world, what Fabio was in mine. His coat of ruddy soft waves and perfect
layers of feathered back legs made him a vision of the breed standard. He was the soul mate of Coach's family and I had a couple of years employment with them. Coach was the high school football coach. I was the mom of a sophomore center lineman.
Jake was three or four years old and in prime health when we met. His back yard had been interrupted with a two swing and teeter-totter set. Jake needed more exercise than his fenced yard could accommodate. He also needed a team of wranglers to manage him on a simple leash.
Coach and I reached a compromise. Jake was to wear a body harness for maximum control and I was to teach him how to walk on a leash.
The retriever is a good-natured breed; often the companion of young families. They are overtly friendly and not known for aggressive behavior. He was an easy-going fellow. I never had to repeat a command. We adjusted to the new routine after a couple of mis-starts. Once the garage door opened,
seventy plus pounds of enthusiasm darted for the driveway. The rubber on the bottom of my sneakers left a trail on the concrete floor as evidence of my trying to keep him calm.
A dog will train to the voice and gender of the trainer. If the owner is not the one training the animal, obedience may not come naturally. Thankfully, Jake was already accustomed to voice directives and we began our regimen by practicing a handful of basic commands.
Every couple of houses, we would practice "sit", "lie down", and "come". Introducing the "heel" command confused him. Being on a leash confused him. He was used to his neighborhood and the minimal supervision he had with Coach.
I didn't see Jake frequently, but when I was hired, we would practice twice each day. He was never allowed in my car so any idea of taking him to an enclosed park, baseball diamond or
other secured area was not an option. We walked the streets of the neighborhood. When we jogged, the narrowness of the sidewalks required us to move to the street as the curbing dipped at each driveway. Sometimes too many cars were parked fender to fender and the rear bumper of the last car seemed to always have a trailer hitch. Leashes can get tangled on them. . . I'm just saying.
Being a football mom, I was required to know the jargon. I was required to attend all home games and most importantly remain anonymous when seated with all the other football moms. As in any sport, the moms take all the credit. You'd suspect the dads were the rowdy proud ones. Well, I'm here to set the record straight. You don't mess with a football mother.
Coach and I had a code of mutual respect. I didn't advise him on the strategy of the I formation and he didn't interfere with my efforts to keep Jake safe.
To keep our exercise times stimulating, I would change directions mid-block. Sometimes I would cross the street, other times I would simply reverse which was perfect for the "heel - stay" combination. We never got to the stage where I am supposed to release the leash and allow him
to respond just on verbal instructions. Having witnessed Jake's excitable stage when a cat appeared, I didn't dare separate from him.
Our calm, predictable routine ended abruptly one afternoon. Rounding the last corner before crossing over, two dogs rushed us. They meant harm; all teeth, all muscle. They just appeared, streaking at high speed from the front of a house. Jake stopped, and then he froze and growled.
We were in a dangerous predicament and I began to scream. The owner rushed toward us, yelling
at the pair. They retreated, but not before Jake crossed the lawn. I got cussed out for trespassing!
What? Not my fault. Not Jake's fault.
My companion was trembling and admittedly I was wobbly in the knees. Once we felt safe to continue, I pulled out my phone and dialed Coach. I gave him the address, description of the dogs,
attitude of the dog owner, and that we were fine. I wanted to file a dangerous dog report with the local animal control. Coach asked me not to. He'd confront her.
Future walks with Jake were always a little tense. I tried my best to forget the experience. Jake had his mind on other things. His calmness was reassuring.
He learned to "heel". I learned to forgive.
Wednesday, January 30, 2019
Monday, January 21, 2019
Fish Tales
My neighborhood is the "east" subdivision. There is a "west" one on the other side of the lake.
When we moved in twenty years ago, there was a rumor of an alligator living in the lake. If I remember it, the casual warning issued us by the realtor was, "just make sure your kids fish from the north bank. Gator doesn't USUALLY cross the midline of the lake." Are you kidding?
My client needed a quick weekend getaway. I don't remember many of the details, but as I was available and they were within walking distance. I took the job. Their home was lakeside. A cairn terrier, named "Pepper" and his cat, whose name escapes me, would be under my care and supervision for a few days.
On the afternoon of the interview, I watched as the terrier was let outside and he didn't seem to
be interested in the water. The owner and I sat on the deck and concluded the q and a. She offered me some sweet tea and gave me the key. Funny, I don't remember asking the client about the reptile.
The back yard was sloped and only fenced on three sides. Neighboring backyards and those across the lake all had full perimeter fencing. THAT made me nervous!
Their pets were territorial. The cat had the entire house. Pepper had claim to one easy chair in the family room and a spot on the kitchen floor with a placemat bordered in black paw prints. The scales were balanced because he also had the whole back yard. The master bedroom door was closed and locked, so I never found out who claimed that space. The cat's litter box was in the laundry room and her food bowls were atop the clothes dryer. When I tucked them in, I just said goodnight, made sure the nightlight was on and closed the door.
Day number one, I was excited to bond with them, but after observing Pepper's non-stop scratching, I picked him up for a closer inspection. Holding Pepper and seated in his easy chair, I found fleas! Checking the cat, I found more fleas! That's fixable. I couldn't find any dog shampoo, so I put the dog in the tub and gave him a long soak in Dawn dish soap. He'd be okay for a couple of days. The cat, however, was totally water repellent. The claws came out, she hissed and I gave in. As evidence, I put a couple of the drowned fleas in a ziplock.
When the dog went outside, so did his pet sitter. He never went to the water's edge. I stayed close and followed behind him, keeping one eye on the center of the lake. I tried to focus on the south
bank, but the overgrowth would not reveal its secrets. I thought I saw linear movement in the
very hot afternoon of day number two.
The last day of this job began about thirty minutes past my snooze alarm. I showered, put on scrubs and a light jacket and headed up the street, around the cul-de-sac, and through their garage door. Breakfast had options as there were two leftover canned cat foods in the fridge. I chose fish. I don't think the cat had a preference. I scooped one-third cup of kibble for Pepper and sat down at the table to keep him company. The sprinklers were on, so we waited for the cycle to advance and the two of us went out and stood on the deck. There's a lot to investigate when the lawn is soaking wet, especially when the frogs are frolicking. That little cairn was on a mission to catch the frogs! He was simply outnumbered and gave up the hunt.
Back inside, my hour's visit was up and I picked up the pet food bowls, washed them and left them to air dry on the counter. After leaving a quick note as to the morning's activities, I headed out the garage door and pressed the garage keypad. Something in my gut told me to go back inside. The door was locked. Patting my pockets, I found my phone but not the house key. I had two options.
First, call the owner and hope there was a spare key in the garage. Second, call the owner and tell them I called a locksmith.
I walked home to get my purse and car. The twenty minutes I was quoted by the dispatcher at A to Z Locksmith turned into an hour. The doorknob was rekeyed and I paid the quoted rate, put the new key on my keyring and went back inside to check on Pepper. He was visibly agitated and I let him back outside to run off his excess energy.
That morning didn't go as planned! Thankfully the rest of the day was uneventful. Our last
visit was scheduled for just after dinner. I decided to take Pepper on a long walk, this time past MY house which gave my herd of dogs quite a surprise!
My client was expected around dinner anyway, so I vacuumed, put the freshly laundered dog towel back in the cabinet and said goodbye. Lights on both their front porch and in the kitchen were switched on. I left Pepper to monitor from the front windowsill and the cat, being the official sentry, curled up and went to sleep in the middle of the hallway.
I enjoyed working for my neighbor. I recognize her walking Pepper now and again. They prefer to keep across the street from my house. I suspect it is Pepper's choice.
Maybe the thought of seeing that gator gave me a new appreciation for just letting things be and trust the wisdom of Mother Nature. Mutual respect is the basis of a community. Does a fence keep us in or does it keep us out? Maybe we don't need one. Pepper never thought he did.
.
When we moved in twenty years ago, there was a rumor of an alligator living in the lake. If I remember it, the casual warning issued us by the realtor was, "just make sure your kids fish from the north bank. Gator doesn't USUALLY cross the midline of the lake." Are you kidding?
My client needed a quick weekend getaway. I don't remember many of the details, but as I was available and they were within walking distance. I took the job. Their home was lakeside. A cairn terrier, named "Pepper" and his cat, whose name escapes me, would be under my care and supervision for a few days.
On the afternoon of the interview, I watched as the terrier was let outside and he didn't seem to
be interested in the water. The owner and I sat on the deck and concluded the q and a. She offered me some sweet tea and gave me the key. Funny, I don't remember asking the client about the reptile.
The back yard was sloped and only fenced on three sides. Neighboring backyards and those across the lake all had full perimeter fencing. THAT made me nervous!
Their pets were territorial. The cat had the entire house. Pepper had claim to one easy chair in the family room and a spot on the kitchen floor with a placemat bordered in black paw prints. The scales were balanced because he also had the whole back yard. The master bedroom door was closed and locked, so I never found out who claimed that space. The cat's litter box was in the laundry room and her food bowls were atop the clothes dryer. When I tucked them in, I just said goodnight, made sure the nightlight was on and closed the door.
Day number one, I was excited to bond with them, but after observing Pepper's non-stop scratching, I picked him up for a closer inspection. Holding Pepper and seated in his easy chair, I found fleas! Checking the cat, I found more fleas! That's fixable. I couldn't find any dog shampoo, so I put the dog in the tub and gave him a long soak in Dawn dish soap. He'd be okay for a couple of days. The cat, however, was totally water repellent. The claws came out, she hissed and I gave in. As evidence, I put a couple of the drowned fleas in a ziplock.
When the dog went outside, so did his pet sitter. He never went to the water's edge. I stayed close and followed behind him, keeping one eye on the center of the lake. I tried to focus on the south
bank, but the overgrowth would not reveal its secrets. I thought I saw linear movement in the
very hot afternoon of day number two.
The last day of this job began about thirty minutes past my snooze alarm. I showered, put on scrubs and a light jacket and headed up the street, around the cul-de-sac, and through their garage door. Breakfast had options as there were two leftover canned cat foods in the fridge. I chose fish. I don't think the cat had a preference. I scooped one-third cup of kibble for Pepper and sat down at the table to keep him company. The sprinklers were on, so we waited for the cycle to advance and the two of us went out and stood on the deck. There's a lot to investigate when the lawn is soaking wet, especially when the frogs are frolicking. That little cairn was on a mission to catch the frogs! He was simply outnumbered and gave up the hunt.
Back inside, my hour's visit was up and I picked up the pet food bowls, washed them and left them to air dry on the counter. After leaving a quick note as to the morning's activities, I headed out the garage door and pressed the garage keypad. Something in my gut told me to go back inside. The door was locked. Patting my pockets, I found my phone but not the house key. I had two options.
First, call the owner and hope there was a spare key in the garage. Second, call the owner and tell them I called a locksmith.
I walked home to get my purse and car. The twenty minutes I was quoted by the dispatcher at A to Z Locksmith turned into an hour. The doorknob was rekeyed and I paid the quoted rate, put the new key on my keyring and went back inside to check on Pepper. He was visibly agitated and I let him back outside to run off his excess energy.
That morning didn't go as planned! Thankfully the rest of the day was uneventful. Our last
visit was scheduled for just after dinner. I decided to take Pepper on a long walk, this time past MY house which gave my herd of dogs quite a surprise!
My client was expected around dinner anyway, so I vacuumed, put the freshly laundered dog towel back in the cabinet and said goodbye. Lights on both their front porch and in the kitchen were switched on. I left Pepper to monitor from the front windowsill and the cat, being the official sentry, curled up and went to sleep in the middle of the hallway.
I enjoyed working for my neighbor. I recognize her walking Pepper now and again. They prefer to keep across the street from my house. I suspect it is Pepper's choice.
Maybe the thought of seeing that gator gave me a new appreciation for just letting things be and trust the wisdom of Mother Nature. Mutual respect is the basis of a community. Does a fence keep us in or does it keep us out? Maybe we don't need one. Pepper never thought he did.
.
Monday, January 14, 2019
Good Ole Boy
He was seventeen when I met him. His mistress was the relative of two clients. Being sisters, I expected the women to be similar. Not even close. One was redhead and introverted with daughter exhibiting the same social phobia. The elder was blond with a long career in banking. My client for the weekend was the middle sister and she was raven-haired and a local celebrity artist, who lived on the Intracoastal Waterway.
Her dog, Charlie was a white lab. He loved his routine and his people. They loved him too and knowing he would be happiest at home, called their veterinarian for a referral.
When I received the phone inquiry, I was asked, "Do you do nails?" I replied that I did not offer grooming services and further explained that I scheduled multiple home visits during the day,
through the patio, around the corner, through the half swing gate, and onto the lawn. The green
extended right to the shoreline and he headed to the dock like he had done all his life. On the way,
he stopped and looked for the squirrels and was hopeful that they had missed some of the peanuts
under the oak tree.
I let him off the leash and went back to the patio to grab a handful of dried corn cobs. The previous days supply needed replacing. He waited and stood looking at the water. I imagined his long memory was his closest friend. We spent maybe fifteen minutes before heading back inside. Charlie had enough fresh air and was anxious to return to his nap. Being able to stay with him for most of the day allowed me to monitor his activity level. I was prepared for the inevitable, but he gave no sign of declining health. He would look up to see if I was there and finding that I had not moved to another part of his house, continued to drift in and out of dreams.
The few days we were together, that first job\ gave me a new appreciation for the ordinary life.
Charlie loved his routine; it was comfortable. We were a good fit. He was needing an understanding pet sitter. His physical challenges did not define him. He had integrity and patience. We spoke the same language and it came from the heart.
He had another full year of predictable days and I had the great privilege to care for him. He was a gracious mentor; his life lessons stay with me still.
From the 1895 Poem "Judge Softly" - by Mary T. Lathrap
Her dog, Charlie was a white lab. He loved his routine and his people. They loved him too and knowing he would be happiest at home, called their veterinarian for a referral.
When I received the phone inquiry, I was asked, "Do you do nails?" I replied that I did not offer grooming services and further explained that I scheduled multiple home visits during the day,
His life was quiet and at the time we met, he was asleep in the middle of the family room. He woke up long enough to check me out and went right back to his nap. During my first minutes of the interview, she asked me, "Do you mind cleaning up after him? He has lost control and has accidents; especially when he gets up from sleeping." This complication comes with caring for very old dogs like Charlie. I answered that I didn't mind as long as cleaning supplies were available.
After the first meal, Charlie wanted to go out. Being somewhat wobbly, we walked togetherthrough the patio, around the corner, through the half swing gate, and onto the lawn. The green
extended right to the shoreline and he headed to the dock like he had done all his life. On the way,
he stopped and looked for the squirrels and was hopeful that they had missed some of the peanuts
under the oak tree.
I let him off the leash and went back to the patio to grab a handful of dried corn cobs. The previous days supply needed replacing. He waited and stood looking at the water. I imagined his long memory was his closest friend. We spent maybe fifteen minutes before heading back inside. Charlie had enough fresh air and was anxious to return to his nap. Being able to stay with him for most of the day allowed me to monitor his activity level. I was prepared for the inevitable, but he gave no sign of declining health. He would look up to see if I was there and finding that I had not moved to another part of his house, continued to drift in and out of dreams.
The few days we were together, that first job\ gave me a new appreciation for the ordinary life.
Charlie loved his routine; it was comfortable. We were a good fit. He was needing an understanding pet sitter. His physical challenges did not define him. He had integrity and patience. We spoke the same language and it came from the heart.
He had another full year of predictable days and I had the great privilege to care for him. He was a gracious mentor; his life lessons stay with me still.
From the 1895 Poem "Judge Softly" - by Mary T. Lathrap
"Pray, don’t find fault with the man that limps,
Or stumbles along the road.
Unless you have worn the moccasins he wears,
Or stumbled beneath the same load."
In this case, paw prints will do.
Or stumbles along the road.
Unless you have worn the moccasins he wears,
Or stumbled beneath the same load."
In this case, paw prints will do.
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