Category: dogs

Posted in dogs

We are safe and sound

Posted on by William Douthwaite

The barking was incessant. Yip, yip, yip, yip, yip. What in the world is going on out there? I looked out the window at the little dog (Winston, the White West Highland Terrier) aggressively yapping at a spot in the grass.

I had to go out and see. It was probably a lizard. Or part of one. Wrong. It looked like a mouse. How in the world did he catch a mouse? Wait. That’s not a mouse. It’s a mole. Winston had caught or found a squinty-eyed, pointy-snouted, long-clawed mole somewhere in our backyard. A mole? I’ve never seen a mole in our yard. Where in the world did you find it? I scooped it up and tossed it over the fence. You’re not going to torment him (or her) any more.

I got back into the house to find the big dog (Willow, the Great Dane) barking and scratching at the porch floor. Now what? I called her away only to find a dead lizard on his back, covered in drool. Great. Just what I need. I tossed him (or her) over the fence.

Suddenly, these dogs who spend most of the afternoon snoozing have channeled their inner hunter and pursued the latest predators in our yard. They have successfully protected their home from invaders!

Posted in dogs, Life

The teeny, tiny service dog

Posted on by William Douthwaite

There was no one in line at the paint counter at Home Depot. Sweet! With paint chip in hand, I knew exactly what I needed: two gallons of interior flat.

Just before I described what I needed, a woman held out a white electrical outlet and asked, “Where do I find the paint to paint this?” Caught a bit off the guard, the paint guy pointed and said, “Down that aisle on the right.”

“What kind do I need?” she asked.

The paint guy took a close look and said, “Gloss. Down that aisle.”

“Is it OK to paint this?”

“Sure,” he said.

Her service dog was watching the whole exchange. Her service dog was a five-pound Yorkie, wearing a tiny “Service Dog” vest. I looked down at her. She nervously looked up at me. Neither of us was interested in the situation.

I said, “That is a tiny dog!”

I do not believe English was her first language. She simply smiled at me. I said, “I have a Great Dane.”

Her eyes got big and she said, “I saw one when I was four years old. I remember looking way up at him.”

“Yeah,” I chuckled, “She’s about a hundred pounds heavier than your little one!”

That little dog weighed less than the amount of food I feed my big dog in a day. I now know there’s no minimum weight requirement on being a service dog. That little canine shook so much when I looked at him, I think he needed an emotional support dog of his own!

If he can do the job, more power to him. However, if it were me, I’d want a large dog to be watching out for me. But that’s just me.

Posted in dogs, Life

A new dog park

Posted on by William Douthwaite

We (the dogs and I) checked out a new dog park yesterday.

The one we usually go to was still closed for repairs and maintenance. The work was supposed to be completed two weeks ago, but the gate was still locked. The dogs know when we’re getting close. They start woofing as we turn into the parking lot. Sorry guys, you’ll have to be patient. We’ll try out another park on the south side of town.

The one we ended up at was adjacent to a racket sport complex. There were no other dogs in the large open area beneath some imposing power lines. A small canopy provided some shade for a few benches. Other than that, we were out in the sun.

Both dogs did a quick run around the area and drank from all the water containers scattered around. Before long, a few more dogs arrived. We greeted Captain, a Norwegian Elk Hound, Vinnie, a handsome German Shepherd, Bo, a black Labrador retriever, Rocky, a spaniel mix, and Nico, a Belgian shepherd with long, beautiful, cream colored fur.

Temperatures were in the 90s, so after a little running and lots of drinks, the dogs all found shady spots to lay down. I tossed a few balls and a frisbee, but no one was interested in running. With long tongues hanging out of their mouths, their look said, “Are you kidding?”

I chatted with the owners as the dogs got to know each other. Everyone is a dog expert with plenty of unsolicited advice to share. The dogs were all people experts, greeting and treating us all as their new best friends.

A small brown curly haired puppy watched from the neighboring small dog enclosure. He so wanted to run with the big dogs, but his owner was off talking on the phone.

One thing is certain. After a half and hour at the park, my dogs are tired. They crash as soon as they get home. It is definitely worth the time and the trip to let them run with a pack.

Posted in dogs

How dare that storm come into our yard!

Posted on by William Douthwaite
This isn’t Winston, but you get the idea

Suddenly, it’s thunderstorm season. After a dry early spring, daily showers soak the yard, and everything is turning green again. However, our small white dog Winston takes umbrage at the loud rumbles echoing across the sky. With a endless barrage of barks, he waits at the back door, ready to take on the storm.

“Hey, it’s pouring rain. You don’t want to go out there.”

Yes he does. He doesn’t give up. Finally I give in. “Alright. Go get ’em!”

I open the door and he sprints out into the pouring rain. In less than a minute, he’s soaking wet, running along the fence, giving the storm a stern barking lecture about getting too close to our yard.

I didn’t realize it was raining so hard. “Hey, get back in here.” He didn’t even glance back at me, determined to get to the source of that thunder. I whistled. No response. I closed the door. He’ll let me know when he’s ready to come back inside.

Ten minutes of torrential rains later, I heard a yip at the back door. Finally. I grabbed a towel and caught his collar as he scooted inside. I dried him off as much as I could. I released him to roll around on the carpet for a bit.

The next thunder came right on the heels of a big flash of lightning. It was very close. Winston returned to yapping at the back door. “No way. You’re not going out there. Cool it.”

Ten minutes later, the storm had moved on, just distant flashes of lightning over the ocean. It was quiet. Winston was fast asleep on his side. He had given that storm what for. Another job well done.

Posted in dogs, Life

Water adventure at the dog park

Posted on by William Douthwaite

While the dogs were delighted, we were horrified when someone opened the gate and two of our three dogs got into the pond.

We usually only have two dogs, but we were also watching my daughter’s older dog. The dog park surrounds a fenced-in pond populated by turtles, snakes, fish, and no doubt a gator or two. A couple of gates provide access, but I’ve never seen a dog in there.

Until that day. A gentleman with an Irish setter and some kind of terrier opened the gate for them, and two of our dogs eagerly followed. My daughter’s dog, an eleven-year old lab mix spotted a tennis ball in the lake, jumped in, and swam to get it. Her hips are a little stiffer, but she could still swim! And then she wanted someone to throw it back in so she could swim some more.

Our Westie is not a swimmer, but ran around the lake, yapping at the swimming dog, turtles, and fish, and lapping at the murky water.

What about our Great Dane? She didn’t get through the gate, but ran around the outside of the fence, woofing at everyone inside.

Once in the pond enclosure, there was no getting them out. In and out of the water and around the lake, they got wet, dirty, and had the time of their lives. A lady grabbed a few dog biscuits from her car, but our dogs weren’t interested.

After about half an hour, I positioned myself on the bank and waited for them to run by. Once they were distracted by water and a ball, I grabbed each by the collar and ended their water play.

The dogs had fun, the van smelled like wet dog for a while, and they all took good naps when we got home.

Posted in dogs, Life

He never saw it coming

Posted on by William Douthwaite

On a recent walk with my Great Dane, I shocked a young man back to reality.

Our two mile loop isn’t far from the community’s middle school, and on this day we were walking right around afternoon dismissal time.

I would guess the young man was in 7th grade, weighed down with a substantial backpack, head buried in his cell phone. As we closed the gap, I shook the leash to jingle her Dane bling, her large metal prong walking collar. He didn’t look up, absorbed in digital conversation.

We stopped, waiting for him to pass by, but he didn’t notice us until he was one foot in front of us. But then he did notice and jumped a foot up and back when he saw the beast staring at eye level, tail whipping back and forth, excited to greet a new friend. He was terrified, nervous, and shouted, “Whoa, I didn’t see you!”

It’s hard not to notice that 115 lb. of dog from 50 feet away. Whatever was on my phone would have to be amazingly absorbing to isolate me from every other reality surrounding me.

When he jumped, I couldn’t help laughing out loud. Sometimes we really worry about who’s watching us and what they think about us. Guess what? They aren’t watching you, they’re not thinking about you, and they don’t even know you’re there.

Not until they come nose to nose with that nose!

Posted in dogs

Is that the biggest size you have?

Posted on by William Douthwaite

I was getting ready to ship my dogs out to some pet sitters for our trip to Hawaii. Twelve days away meant sending a lot of food with them.

So loaded up my Walmart cart with small, medium, and large bags of dry chicken and rice kibble, An eight pound bag would be plenty for the Westie. He only eats one third of a cup twice a day. I needed a fifteen pound bag for a few days at home and the first few days away for the Great Dane. Then I needed to drop off a forty pound bag at her second home away from home for the final week of our trip. She consumes a lot more food: eight cups a day.

I pushed my sixty-plus pound cart to a long but quickly moving self check out lane. Finally, a register opened up and I reached for a scanning gun to check out. But there was no gun at the end of the wire.

Great. Now I have to wrestle all the bags onto the scanner. Alright, this is why I work out. Let’s do this. The eight pound bag is easy. Fifteen pounds? I only needed one hand. The forty pound bag was tough. The bag is big, floppy, and constantly shape-changing. I was so happy when I heard the beep as I wrestled it onto the scanner.

Like I said, this is why I work out. So I can have a giant dog and toss around giant bags of food.

Posted in dogs

A dog as big as me

Posted on by William Douthwaite

As we got back from a long walk with the dogs, our across-the-street neighbors were out front. Their three-year-old daughter had a big smile on her face as she edged her way towards our dogs. As I always do when kids are around, I not only asked, ” Would you like to pet our dogs?” but also insisted, “Check with your dad to make sure it’s OK.”

It was fine and once I got the heavily-panting Great Dane to sit with her tongue hanging way down out of the side her mouth, the little girl came over to reach up and ever so gently pet her head and back.

Our dog was a few inches taller than the girl, and I thought to myself, “What an experience to meet a dog who’s so much bigger than you!” It’s a Clifford the Big Red Dog experience. I’d be a little nervous. The young girl just giggled. An adult friend of ours who is on the shorter side will have that chance when she stops by to visit next week.

Our puppy is nowhere near done growing. In the course of time, the top of her head may be up to my shoulders. Many more will have the experience of reaching up to pet a giant dog.

And ours will not even come close to the largest Great Danes out there. While some of them flirt with two hundred pounds, ours will probably max out around a buck twenty.

That’s plenty big for us. She already fills up the tub at the do-it-yourself dog wash. It took two of us to hold her while a groomer trimmed and dremeled her nails. When she stretches out, she can reach both sides of our king size bed. She doesn’t grab food off our plates, but once in a while her tongue comes very close to licking our meal.

Posted in dogs, Food

A delicate balance

Posted on by William Douthwaite

I did a double take as I passed by the kitchen and saw a pile of homemade Loaded Chocolate Peanut Butter cookies balanced on a teetering plastic container lid. What could possibly go wrong?

What could possibly go right? A lot of dump trucks have been rumbling by our house on the way to construction sites up the street. Wire baskets in the kitchen from time to time, nudged little by little towards the edge by traffic vibration. The house shook when a neighbor brought down a dead tree in the lot next door. I think our dogs are aware of this. I’m certain they were thinking, “Just one more truck and those are ours!”

That’s one scenario. Here’s another. I can imagine the smaller, older dog encouraging the taller pup, “Just go over there and take a sniff. Just a little one. No one will know.” Just in case you’ve forgotten, our taller pup is an eight-month old Great Dane, whose chin is as tall as that island countertop. Her sniff is more than enough to send that stack flying across the kitchen floor. The little dog is quicker. I figure he’ll get four while the big dog grabs two. And just like that, everyone goes back to their respective sofas happy.

Neither dog has figured out how to open the kid gate that keeps them out of the kitchen. I saw the cookie stack long before they did and stabilized the pile for the low, low price of just one cookie. So you can still order some from the Backseat Grace Bakery.