Time To Let The Dogs Out!

The kids are on vacation, this time for two weeks and that means I am on dog duty.

I live in a separate house below the big house. To go upstairs means going outside, through my yard and up the hill to the deck. That is where the big dogs live. Three large tail wagging, mongrels who guard the kingdom when everyone else is gone.

First came Eben, an Australian Shepherd who arrived as a tiny puppy nearly six years ago. She is Einstein in a dog suit. Eben could carry on a conversation with me if her teeth and lips were only designed to do so. She is fickle and a bit spoiled.

Next came Duke, an English Springer spaniel mix with thick bones and eyes that could melt the hardest heart. Except for his former owner who mistreated him terribly, breaking his legs and starving him until my son and his wife rescued all ninety pounds of him. An alpha male, he is an awesome dog who Lennon fell on and over as an infant without any problems at all, he sleeps whenever and wherever he chooses, oblivious of bouncing beach balls, or flying super heroes.

Last came Joplin, a large pit bull, pointer mix who was dumped on the highway and brought home by two very soft hearted new owners. Terrified of men in the beginning, she won her place when a rat got into the house and she pounced on it snapping its neck and laying it at my son’s feet. She is big and strong and still a little fearful, so that makes her a slight risk. Sometimes she has to wear a soft muzzle to remind her not to snap at the other dogs, or us, but she is always very apologetic and heartbroken when she forgets.

All three are trained to follow certain commands and to never defy Lennon. Before he was three he could order them to the bedroom and close the door, but they are dogs and they are excitable and right now they get lonely for their people. That’s where I come in.

Duke is getting senile and tends to piddle on the kitchen floor if I wait too long to go upstairs. Then it takes piles of paper towels to soak up that river--not fun. Joplin and Eben become very competitive for attention and tend to play games about whether or not they want to go out. I use random reinforcement with some liver treats to keep them on their toes.

Still when I first open the door of the laundry room and step in, all three tear towards me leaping and barking like giant puppies, sometimes nearly killing me with kindness and joy. I’m getting smarter, now I walk in with one knee out, shouting, “Down!”

The only real problem is me. Schedules are not my thing and this requires some regularity if I don’t like floor mopping.