Let the Games Begin

Not all dogs are pets.  Let’s be very clear on this subject.  There are companion dogs, show dogs, working dogs, and sporting dogs.  “Sport, “Buck” and “Fred” are fine examples of the last category.  They are Pointers, bred for hunting and they are owned by a gentle man, retired from his first and second careers, with ample time to hunt. George and I met last year; an interview quite unlike any

other I have ever had.

He has one companion dog, “Boomer”, and a resident cat, “Sylvester”, in addition to his outdoor gang.  I had never met a sporting dog, let alone three.  His property looks pretty much like the neighbors from the front.  His back yard, however, is occupied by kennels and runs for his sporting trio.

I had just settled down at his kitchen counter, ready for the question and answers to begin and he said, “Let me introduce you to THEM”. He brought me through an enclosed porch, down the hill, to the kennels.  I’m sure that the whole introduction was less than 5 minutes total. Individual meet and greets as each was ordered from the kennel, allowed to run the perimeter of the yard and ordered back to the enclosure.  I made quick mental notes on the size, color, and markings of each dog and hoped that I would remember the details to write them  down.

“Just let them out for a few minutes to run, give them a treat and put them back in, please.  Can you come 3 times each day? Boomer travels with me and the cat is not much trouble” George rattled off at me.

“Yes”, I replied and wondered what I had gotten myself into…”Oh, there is an alarm that I want you to activate except for the days my maid comes in” he continued.  More note taking.  He handed me his door key, shook my hand and gave me dates and times.  That was pretty much the whole scenario.

Once I got home, I relaxed with his notes in hand and re-read my do’s and don’ts.  Okay.  Seems easy enough.  No meal preparation for the dogs (kibble in self-feeding stations in each pen).  Sylvester is pretty self- sufficient and the maid is coming. Got it.

First time through the door and deactivated the alarm with no problem (not always the case).  I had remembered to ask him for the “password” just in case I tripped it.

Cat okay, raised his head and went back to sleep on the top of the very high custom cabinetry in the kitchen. Out to the kennels, muttering my instructions in a low voice “Out to exercise, treat, back in, lock kennel, repeat”.

They were all out and having a ball, running amuck and peeing on everything that stood still.  Yep, I have 3 unneutered healthy sporting dogs.  Thankfully, they came when called and were gentle in my hand when feeding them their biscuits.  We were all enjoying the whole experience when I noticed that my pants leg was soaking wet.  Huh?  No sprinklers and I did not remember leaning against anything.

I had been so busy spinning around to keep them all in my line of sight that I neglected to look behind me.  Apparently, while two were busy in front of me or along a side fence, one remained and marked my pants.  I call the game “Hydrant in the Middle”.  The game lasted until I got all three returned to their individual spaces; two together, one by himself. Buck and Sport are incompatible as roommates.

I laughed as I returned inside to his laundry room, where I stripped the offended garment off and washed and dried it.  I am always prepared and had a change of scrubs with me.  My stay was longer than usual due to unplanned laundry detail.

I left George a note explaining their “game” and that I did not understand the rules.  My payment was in the mailbox the following day and included in the envelope with my check was a hand written note:  “Dear Laura, perhaps it’s part of the initiation ceremony”.  Now THAT I understood.

Hunting seasons change, something I was not aware of (until I eavesdropped on a conversation while standing in line at IHOP). Deer season leads into hog season which leads into pheasant season, etc. or something like that. But whenever the three are not on the road with George, I care for them.  Once or twice Boomer has been home, too.  He’s not much of a game player, Thank God.