Dorothy Does Dogpark

Last Friday, when it was a cool and humane 80 degrees instead of the 102 it is today (oh when we were young and times were merry!), Dorothy and I set out on an evening walk.  It wasn’t going to be an ordinary walk, I decided; instead, we would head towards the dogpark and see how far we got.  The dogpark is a fenced-in area about 7½ blocks from my apartment.  There’s a small area for small dogs and a large area for all other dogs and small dogs with a napoleon complex (you know who you are).  The small dog area was where my pug, Tulip, had her monthly pug meet-ups, and the first few years we often walked down just so she could be off-leash and “socialize” (and yes, for those of you who knew the middle-aged and then elderly Tulip, by “socialize” I mean walk around greeting the people and begging for treats).

Anyway, the walk to the dogpark is very do-able for a normal dog; but as readers of this blog know, Dorothy is not too keen on an outdoors walk.  So I thought maybe we’d go halfway and then each time hereafter walk farther.  But the evening was cool and fine for walking.  And I had the clicker with me, which always makes Dorothy concentrate a bit more on the task at hand.  So we got closer and closer to the dog-park, until we were only a few blocks away and I knew we were going to make it (cue "Chariots of Fire" music here).

Lo and behold we were at the dogpark gates!  Dorothy was suspicious.  I had to carry her through the gates, because she was having none of them.  However, once we were inside, she was curious.  The area is actually pretty big, although its surface is a mixture of pebbles and dust with the occasional shade tree here and there, and benches around the edges (unfortunately, when the wind blows, clouds of dust billow around the park, so it is not unlike taking one’s dog for a romp in the Sahara.  Note to self: don’t wear contact lenses to park Ever.)  After a few dogs had greeted Dorothy and she seemed comfortable, I took her leash off.  

And did Dorothy immediately go check out the dogs, or start to run, or pay attention to the dogs who had come up to check her out?  No, no she did not.  What she did do was go around to all the benches, and scramble up on the bench if there was room, and if there wasn’t room, she scrambled up on the people who were sitting on the benches.  And once there:  she gave kisses.  So while the big dogs galloped and the medium dogs trotted and the small dogs scurried and gamboled, Dorothy sat on benches and smooched.

After about twenty minutes, however, she began to be curious about what her fellow creatures were doing (and no doubt began to be a bit dry-mouthed and chapped-lipped from all the kissing), and ventured forth to join their ranks.  She was very savvy about it for the most part.  She was interested in the dogs who had sticks, and she was interested to see if they would give their sticks to her.  So she would tentatively and politely nibble on an edge and see what the reaction was.  If negative, she would go on her way; if positive, she would tighten her hold on the free end of the stick!  At one point she started running around going crazy and letting out all her energy – and Dorothy, I discovered, is a fast runner!  She left many a dog in the dust, until she was finally overtaken by an Irish Wolfhound named Rocco.

There were a lot of nice dogs there, too: a very low-to-the-ground Basset Hound, a friendly fat blue pitbull named Benny, who was wearing a spiffy orange bandana and whom all the people there seemed to know well, many labs and retrievers, some viszlas, a pair of fat puggles, and many more.  Dorothy had a good time, all in all, and she especially enjoyed getting fed water from a nice lady’s water-bottle.  That was fun!

Our return walk home was at tortoise speed, but that was to be expected, since a good hour and a half had elapsed since we left home.  I did have to carry Dorothy on the penultimate block, where she lay down panting, but after such an excursion, I was happy to do it.  Now if the temperature would only drop a bit, we’ll attempt dogpark trip #2!

Dorothy, ready to go to the dogpark again:

Dorothy Enjoys a Puzzle

Dorothy had her first home playdate yesterday.  It seemed like a typical toddler playdate to me, in that she didn’t love sharing her toys or her crate, she had an accident, and her older brother was quite disturbed by all the ruckus.

The evening began with a 30-minute training session with Dorothy’s trainer, Perry.  I find it very interesting to watch Dorothy interact with Perry, because the moment Perry walks in the door, Dorothy is all business.  (Well, after she gives Perry an uber-greeting and then attacks her knapsack for treats, that is.)  She gets in a down-stay and then immediately tries to figure out what Perry wants her to do.  You can practically see her thinking, and she clearly likes to do it too—she likes to puzzle things out and then get rewarded with a treat.  Perry will generally only have to show Dorothy how to do something once or twice, and then Dorothy gets it.  

Last night we worked on the stay command, with Dorothy staying while we walked around and even stepped over her.  Then Perry thought I might want to start working on the “off” command.  This one is a bit tricky for Dorothy, because so many people who come up to meet Dorothy on the street squat down and want her to jump up on them and kiss them.  So we figured we’d go with an “off “ command, so that I can use it if Dorothy is about to jump on someone who doesn’t want to kiss her.  Strange though that may be….

After thirty minutes, we then walked a few blocks to pick up Perry’s foster dog, Puzzle.  Puzzle is a 10-month old mix, who was found down south and thought to be blind.  Her blindness was only temporary though, and she has turned out to be a really nice little dog.  She is believed to be part cattle dog, part Jack Russell, and part beagle.  I would call her a small medium-size dog, or a large small-size dog.  She is looking for a home, if anyone wants her!  She’s great with kids and other animals, and having spent the last three months living with a professional trainer, she is very well-trained and quite low key.  She’s cream and blonde in color, with a lot of spots and freckles, and one cream-colored puzzle piece-shaped spot right in the middle of her back.

Puzzle was very good with Dorothy, who was really having her first one-on-one play situation since she left Maine.  Dorothy, I’m learning, is all about the jowls—which I’m told is a bulldog play trait.  Puzzle wasn’t quite sure she wanted to play with Dorothy at first, so Dorothy just relentlessly went after her jowls.  I guess Puzzle finally figured she could either play with Dorothy, or be torn to pieces by her, so she went with play. 

I tried to document the play, but they moved quickly!

And here the two of them are in an almost perfect down stay!

And here is Dorothy, completely exhausted, after Perry and Puzzle left.  She couldn't even make it to a bed or couch, but had to collapse in the hallway:

Dorothy is ready for another friend to come visit!

Dorothy: A Prizewinning Plankster

If walking were a sport, Dorothy would still not be winning any medals at it.  You won’t be seeing her pretty face on a Wheaties box, say; she won’t be going to Disneyland anytime soon from her winnings; and there won’t be a new Nike “Dorothy” walking sneaker released.

She does have her good moments.  She is often quite good at walking through the very crowded park, and charming people by her intent gazing at my face—which onlookers mistake for good training, while I know it is all about the treats in my hand.  Every once in a while she will surprise me and be up for exploring a few new blocks, and last Friday, she even made it for the first time all the way down to the dog park and back.

In general, however, our walks are the walking equivalent of a speaker’s stutter:  we stop and start, and stop and start, and stop and plead and start, etc. 

Sometimes I think she goes on strike a bit—my own little leftwing beatnik.  I picture her with a little placard, chanting something like “Non-walkers, united! Will never be defeated!”  And I rather admire her stick-to-it-tive-ness.

In the last week or so, however, Dorothy has upped the ante.  She will still sit when she doesn’t want to walk, but four times out of five, sitting is for sissies and not for Dorothy, nosiree-bob:  Dorothy lies down.  She lies down flat on the sidewalk, and she puts her chin between her outstretched paws, and then rolls her eyes up and looks at me (and all the stopped passers-by) and lets the cute wash all over us.  At this point, there is not much I can do, and Dorothy knows it.  Have you ever tried to pull a dog who is in pancake mode and one with the ground?  Take it from me:  pulling doesn’t work.

I can and do use treats to get her up and walking, but frankly, she seems to like the resulting attention she receives from people as much as the proffered treat.  Naughty Dorothy!  I’ve really become quite zen about it, though, because what are my options?

Then the other day I came across an article about a new phenomenon called planking.  Planking, for those of you not in the know:

is an activity consisting of lying face down in an unusual or incongruous location.  The hands must touch the sides of the body, and having a photograph of the participant taken and posted on the internet is an integral part of the game.  Players compete to find the most unusual and original location in which to play.  The location should also be as public as possible, and as many people as possible should be involved.”

Here are some examples of people planking:

You know where I’m going with this, right?  Yes!  My Dorothy is not lying down in the middle of a walk out of laziness, stubbornness, or orneriness…she is planking!  It is oh so cutting edge of her!  So hip!  So outré!  No matter that she’d come in last in any sidewalk derby!  When it comes to planking, she is a champion!  And that sure is something, no?

Word on the Street 2

Couple on bench in park.  Male says to female:  "That has to be a mutt."  Male says to me:  "Do you know what breeds she's mixed with?"

Elderly man to elderly woman as they passed us by from behind:  "Oh look, another pug."

Two girls, one says:  "Can you please hide your dog before my boyfriend sees it?  Otherwise it is going to end up in our apartment."

Woman passing by:  Look how she is gazing at you! [pointing to Dorothy].
Me:  She's gazing at the treat in my hand!
Woman:  I thought it was because she was in LUURRRVE.
Me:  [....]

Three boys on the street at 6:00 a.m.:  "That's the prettiest pitbull I've ever seen!  Can I take her picture?!"
Me:  Sure!

Squeeeal!  [Sounds of footsteps running across the street].  Woman arriving breathlessly:  "I was eating dinner across the street but I had to come say hello to your boxer pup!"  [We chat awhile.]  Woman:  "Well, I need to go back to my meal, my husband will be mad at me."  [More sounds of footsteps.  Looks up.]  "Oh wait, here's my husband!  He wants to say hello to the puppy too!"  [Waiter across the street stands by empty table looking worried.]

Man on street to me:  Is that a pretty girl? [pointing at Dorothy]
Me:  Yes!
And then as he walked off I realized he had just asked me if Dorothy was a pitty girl, as in pitbull.  And I had agreed.  Oops.

Dorothy lies down flat on the sidewalk in the blazing sun and refuses to go any further.  I hear much laughter from people in a car waiting for the light to change a few yards over.
Man in car:  Your dog is hilarious.
Me:  [Smiles, not finding it all that funny.]
Man in car:  I feel just like your dog today!  That's what I want to be doing, lying down in the sun!

Woman to me:  Is that a nice one? [pointing to Dorothy]
Me:  Yes!
Woman kneels down and gets kisses from Dorothy.  Asks:  Why was she sitting before and not walking?
Me:  Well, she's stubborn.
Woman:  I guess that's the terrier in her.
Me:  ?

Square Peg, Round Hole, Comfy Dorothy

I thought I would post a series of pictures I like to think of as showing a square peg in a round hole.  Dorothy has a penchant for cat beds, and doesn't seem at all perturbed that they are too small for her.  In fact, the smaller, the better!

As you can see, it is very hard, tiring work being Dorothy!

Dorothy is 5 Months Olde Today

On May 31st, actually.  She is getting big, too!  She weighs 24 pounds, and is about the size of a beagle.  I can't get measurements, because Dorothy's decided that the tape measure is Scary, and will run away from it when I open it up.  Bulldogge = Melodramatic, apparently.

Now she is beginning to get tired of the photo session, and is voicing her displeasure.  Go away, paparazzi!  Enough!

Oh so exhausted!

Moving Right Along (Dubby Dum, Dubby Dum)

On Memorial Day weekend, Dorothy went on her first car ride since driving back with me from Maine to Philadelphia.  I would not call it a rousing success.  My friend, Heidi, picked us up right outside of my apartment, where I was standing with Dorothy, her bed, and a roll of paper towels, Just In Case.  I loaded Dorothy into the back seat, putting her bed behind Heidi, the driver, so that I could reach back to her if need be, and so that she could see me.  And off we went!

Understandably, Dorothy was a bit concerned about the experience.  First, she barked.  A lot.  And when Dorothy does an upset bark, it is not, shall we say, an inside voice.  The car practically shimmered from the decibels packed into Dorothy's bark.

We drove a few blocks, with Dorothy sort of shifting around in the back seat.  I was periodically reaching back to give her a soothing pet, when all of a sudden I noticed that poop was shooting out of Dorothy's rear end.  Now, for the record, I feel the need to interrupt here and say that I was aware that Dorothy was about due to leave a gift, shall we say.  And to try to get her to do so BEFORE the car ride, I had taken her out four times in the previous hour and a half--but to no avail.  So there Dorothy is, pooping what seems like a whole week's worth in the back seat of Heidi's car, all over a pair of pants Heidi was taking to the cleaners, her bed, the seat, etc.  We pulled over; I got the roll of paper towels and cleaned it up to the best of my ability.

Dorothy, while I was cleaning, had jumped up to the far back ledge, and was perching there like a brown brindle parrot.  I had to force her to get down from her precarious position and back into her bed so that we could start the second leg of the journey.

Here is Dorothy, exhausted after the whole pooping in the car debacle:

On the way back at the end of the afternoon, Dorothy still didn't seem that pleased to be in the car.  She was very whiny and barky, and here is where I made Error #2.  I plied her with kibble.  I had a bag of kibble in my purse, and I kept giving her pieces of it to keep her quiet.  And partly because it was an hour and a half past her usual dinner time, so I thought she must be very hungry.  We drove for about twenty minutes, and were literally a block from my apartment when I thought Dorothy looked a little green around the gills.  Yes.  Yes, she did.

But!  Whipping out my roll of paper towels heroically, I was able to tear a towel from the roll in time to catch Dorothy's vomit with it and tuck it all handily into a baggie!  It was all quite athletic of me, if I do say so myself.

Heidi, at this point, had decided to forego the extra two blocks to the parking lot in favor of getting us out of her car as soon as possible!  She deposited me and Dorothy at our front door, before driving off to find a parking spot without having to worry what other bodily fluids might be about to sully her car's interior.  Dorothy walked step by step by step, sloooowwwwwly into the apartment, where she immediately collapsed into a small cat bed, looking sick as sick could be.  Poor baby!

So, hmmmm.  Not the best re-introduction to the wonders of the automobile.  I'm hoping this was just a wee mistake that not giving her kibble next time will fix.  If anyone ever lets us into their cars ever again.

Dorothy, post-poop, pre-vomit: