Being a Doggy Mama - 2 exhausting hours
Sunday, October 17, 2010 at 3:42PM 
Today a wonderful local lady who does massage and Reiki on dogs offered her services at a reduced rate to raise money for a local dog shelter. She did it in partnership with our local pet food store, so I booked Puppy Dog in for a half hour session.
Our Chocolate Labs are both very active, so I decided to take Puppy Dog for a walk to the pet store - about 40 minutes away - to wear him out before we got there. So off we went.
He was reasonably well behaved, although he has a different definition of our outings. I'm walking, but him? At this time of year, he's hunting.
He's on an extendable leash, zig zagging on the sidewalk and the grass verge, tracking. He's pretty good at staying within the extent of the leash, and he always waits for me at streets and crosses on heel.
It was cold but sunny, autumn leaves on the trees, and a few houses decorated with spiders and spiderwebs, ghosts and pumpkins for Halloween. We were having a really good time.
But then I see a huge white dog ahead of us, off leash. And when I say huge dog, I mean it. It must have weighed 110 pounds. It was sniffing things here and there, and I couldn't see it's owner. I stopped Puppy Dog from going any further. The dog hadn't seen him yet and Puppy Dog was too busy sniffing around to care about the fur covered horse.
I kept looking, trying to figure out what was going on. And then I saw him: the owner. Walking at least half a block in front of his dog, talking on his cellphone, completely oblivious to what his pet was doing.
Now, see, this kinda thing pisses me off no end.
There are laws here about having your dog on a leash. I'd love to let my dog run around and sniff about, but I don't. If I have to adhere to the law, so do you, Fuckwit.
Secondly, having your dog wander around on suburban streets is dangerous. You only have to be in Washington State for half a day to realize that the worst drivers in the world have chosen this place as their home. Let your dog wander around and there's a pretty good chance it's going to get run over.
And so we waited. Waited for the man to pause in his conversation, remember he had a dog, turn around to look for it and call it. Waited for the dog to take it's sweet time to listen to him and trot to catch up his master.
That little annoyance overcome, we walked on.
Puppy Dog peed on bushes, telephone poles and fire hydrants, sniffed patches of grass and rubbed his body along decorative grasses that hung over from flower beds.
I strode along, burning calories and breathing fresh air.
And then, the dreaded squirrel.
I have come to regard squirrels with a deep and burning hatred that pulses red hot within me. Why? Because they don't run.
We're halfway across a street and there it is, a little fluffy-tailed critter sniffing about on a grass verge. Puppy Dog is straining on the leash, panting, his back legs quivering with the hunting instinct. I can barely hang onto him.
I give him the "Leave it" command, but his wolf DNA is overriding his cerebral cortex.
I wait, holding on. Puppy Dog waits, straining.
And the squirrel does not move. It looks up, sees us and just keeps on doing what it's doing. It's on a grass patch, no trees nearby. Any escape would be difficult. But it just ignores us.
Eventually I have to turn around and choose a different street to walk along. Incredible.
The rest of the walk is uneventful.
We get to the pet store and Puppy Dog has to be held at heel to get him past the enticing displays of Bully Sticks, dried yam and frozen bones.
We met the Massage Therapist, and she was lovely. We were taken into the back, Puppy Dog had some water and she started to massage him. She had a very gentle energy about her, this woman. Her voice was soothing, and she worked with our dog, not against him. If he moved, she followed him. She gave him treats. She spoke to him in soft tones.
But Puppy Dog spent the entire half hour panting frantically and trying to hump her.
And not just little humps.
No.
Full lipstick, slobbery chops humping. He grabbed her around the leg. He jumped up for full frontal. He even managed to throw his 70 pound weight onto her back when she was in a kneeling position.
It was mortifying.
The Massage Therapist remained calm and gracious throughout the whole thing, and I tried to remain calm too. I mean, it was supposed to be a healing massage. There's no point freaking Puppy Dog out by yelling. Being in the back of the shop - staff coming in and out to the bathroom, inventory everywhere and Nirvana (give me a break!) on the sound system - was bad enough.
Puppy Dog was clearly freaked out. He panted and humped and moved and sniffed and humped and panted and humped and moved and humped and moved and sniffed and panted and panted and panted.
And this poor woman was doing this for charity! She wasn't taking any money for her time and expertise!
The half hour took forever.
At the end of it all I was out of that store and on the phone to Fluffy Bear so fast I think I left flaming tracks on the shop floor.
When I told Fluffy Bear he started laughing, of course.
"Well," he said, "come on! She touched him first!"
Yes, yes, very funny.
If you'll excuse me, I need a nap.
To see more in the Being a Doggy Mama series, click here.
Reader Comments (2)
OMG! Was she the Dog Whisperer in disguise or what?
I'm in total agreement about the assholes that walk their dogs unleashed & pay no attention to them. Hey dude, get a clue. A dog is not an accessory. Get it? Got it? Good.
Hey, you just have a horn dog, okay? Life is still good & you are still funny as hell. I'm just thankful that I don't have to walk the damned cat...
Hello Snooty darling!
I am about to head off on vaaay kaaay so I will get a lot of rest time. Unfortunately I already know that I am going to miss my babies sooooooo much!
Have a great weekend!