Tag: dog

Posted in dogs, security

Intruder alert

Posted on by William Douthwaite

“Person walking by on the street. Do not approach the house. Keep moving.”

The robotic voice jolted me out of my early morning walk meditation. I look up as I pass an ordinary house. Nothing special about it. No reason to think anyone would want to break in. Yet they have a state of the art security system to deter the likes of me, a suspicious man walking a dog down the street.

That door-to-door security system salesman who tried to convince me our neighborhood was rife with break-ins must have gotten through to these folks. They purchased all the camera, sensor, light, and voice alert options.

I wonder, does their phone ping for every dog-walker, delivery, cat, truck, and squirrel who pass the driveway? That would drive me crazy. After a while, I’d turn it off. Which would negate the benefit of having a security system, right?

The next time that voice threatens me, I’m going to stand at the foot of their driveway, next to my Great Dane (my security detail) and just stare. Maybe I’ll talk back. Something like, “You’re scared of me?” Then I’ll look at the dog, then look back and say, “You should be!”

Posted in dogs

Wait. What is that?

Posted on by William Douthwaite

It’s just a dark spot barely visible at dawn in the middle of the road. But it’s different. It’s out of place. From fifty yards away, the big dog’s radar chirps and she’s on high alert. From a lazy walk to Defcon 5 in seconds. She stands up straight. Ears are up. Brow is crease. Nose is working at top speed. Tail sways. Hackles don’t go up. She saves that for other dogs.

What is it? Is it a small animal? Is it dead, or just leisurely crossing the road? Is it someone’s fast food trash bag? Or recycling that blew out of the bin? This is exciting!

I see the reality long before she does. It’s just a piece of palm tree that blew into the road during last night’s thunderstorms. It’s not till we get a few feet away that she gives up the thrill of the hunt. Her posture relaxes. Ears hang back down. She’s already looking down the road for the next target.

More specifically, she’s looking for the next bunny. She never misses one by the side of the road or on a lawn, even in the pre-dawn darkness. A pull or a pause signals she’s spotted one. The bunny sits perfectly still, as if that equates to being invisible. Spoiler: it’s not. She smells and sees them all.

She loves to follow birds and airplanes that fly overhead, too.

Even though it’s a familiar route, it’s always an adventure.

Posted in dogs

The nose knows

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Megan Dujardin on Unsplash

Most of morning walks with the big dog (the Great Dane) are routine. We greet the garbage collectors, students on the way to the bus stop, and other dog walkers.

But today’s encounter was unique. I knew where this couple lived, but hadn’t seen them for a while. They were walking a Yorkie and saw us from about fifty yards away. When the woman caught sight of the beast on my leash, she picked up her dog and covered his/her eyes.

Really? So what would happen if the little dog caught sight of the big? Would it be terrified, trembling like the little Chihuahua we often pass? Would it consider the big dog a challenge, like the little Rat Terrier on our street, who always wants to mix it up?

Most dogs run on scent. Their enhanced sense of smell tells them everything they need to know. My dogs smell the bunnies before they see them. They find tiny spots on the road worthy of five minutes of sniffing. Why? I have no idea. It’s all about the aroma.

So when you see us coming, plug up the nose. Then you’ll have nothing to worry about.

Posted in dogs

Zig-zagging through the neighborhood

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Klim Musalimov on Unsplash

We (my Great Dane and I) see her most mornings. A woman, probably in her seventies, walks her small dog (maybe a miniature schnauzer?) on a similar route through our neighborhood. I can see by the still-lit street lights that she’s wearing a yellow zip hoodie and a baseball cap.

She’s usually talking. She’s talking to herself, the dog, or someone on her phone. It’s hard to tell. We always say, “Good morning” to each other as we pass. Or an appropriate seasonal greeting like, “Happy New Year.”

Even though it’s still dark, I can tell she’s approaching from fifty yards down the road. She never walks straight down the other side of the street. She zig-zags from one side of the street to the other. I assume this is her way of getting in twice the distance or double the steps on her daily walk. More bang for the buck, right?

Until she sees us. Then she passes by on the other side, a safe distance from the beast at my side. The little dog acts like we’re not there. The big dog always wants a closer sniff. But we’re not doing that today, or any day for that matter.

I’d never thought of the zig-zag strategy for packing in more miles. I can picture my dog walking down the center of the road, letting me zig-zag, wondering what I’m doing.

Posted in dogs

The center of attention

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Pixabay: https://www.pexels.com/photo/adult-tan-great-dane-532310/

When we take our Great Dane to the farmer’s market, we’re the center of attention. Not only does everyone want to pet the dog, but everyone has a Great Dane story.

After we got some Kenyan coffee, we sat in a sunny spot to people watch. A woman sat near us and shared that she had owned a Great Dane when she lived in Washington state. His name was Ares, he was a fawn, and he weighed in at… wait for it… 220 pounds! That’s twice as big as our big dog!

Susan told us that when she got Ares, the breeder told her he would only live five years. She had him for ten! She cooked all of his food since he ate so much. He filled up the entire back of a Toyota Forerunner with all the back seats folded down.

On a hike in the woods, a black bear suddenly appeared on the trail ahead of them. They froze and stared at the bear. The bear froze and stared at the dog. After a moment, he turned and walked the other way, intimidated by the size of the beast.

While waiting in traffic caused by an accident, a state highway trooper approached her car, looked in the window, and wondered out loud, “What is that?” The sheer size of Ares not only piqued curiosity, but commanded respect.

The pictures she showed us of Ares were amazing. While our big dog takes up any one of our love seats, Ares stretched out the length of a sofa, filled up the back of an SUV, and needed a king-sized bed to get comfortable at night.

I’ll bet Ares was the center of attention wherever he went!

If you want to see more of our big dog, check out her Instagram.

Posted in dogs

We (should have) brought our dog

Posted on by William Douthwaite

We opened a bank account for our small business, a task that involved actually talking to a senior relationship specialist at a local credit union. Since I do most banking online or at an ATM, I rarely go in person unless I need some smaller denomination of currency for a garage sale or vendor market.

On this day, lots of people were there at the bank. A receptionist greeted us and made note of our arrival for an appointment. A line of people waited to see a teller while others waited like us to talk to one of the specialists.

As one young lady finished up, I saw her walk out carrying a fuzzy white dog. I told my wife, “We should have brought our dog!” I would not have been carrying my Great Dane into the bank, but I would have enjoyed the reactions from everyone who saw her. She has a way of attracting attention.

So when we headed out to a farmer’s market this morning, I knew we had to take her with us. I was not disappointed. Vendors and customers alike greeted, pet, complimented, and ooohed and aaahed about her size, color, and the silly look on her face. Lots of folks had little dog biscuits for her, told their Great Dane stories (everyone has a Great Dane story) and showed me pictures of their dogs.

She loved the attention. To be honest, we loved the attention. One of the reasons we got a Great Dane was to be the center of attention and a topic of discussion wherever we went. She can’t talk, but she’s a conversation starter.

Posted in Life, walking

Intense walking and talking

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Image by Susanne from Pixabay

Every morning as I’m walking my dog, I pass a woman walking her dog. She’s memorable because she zig-zags down the street. She walks from one side to the other, effectively doubling the distance they walk each day. She’s also talking to someone every morning through her AirPods.

It’s dark at this time of the year when we pass each other at 6:30 in the morning. My Great Dane shows no interest in her Schnauzer-ish dog, and he’s not interested in us, either. But she always says, “Good morning” to me. I always reply, but she doesn’t always hear me, because someone else’s voice is in her ear. So she’ll turn up the volume and repeat, “Good morning,” and I’ll repeat my reply.

Who does she talk to every morning? I picture someone else, a sister or child walking their dog at the same time, catching up on whatever happened since yesterday. I imagine it to be someone in Eastern Standard Time, since everyone else would still be asleep. But maybe it’s a friend in Europe, where it’s at least six hours later.

By the tone of her voice, it’s intense. A serious conversation. No nonsense. Almost aggressive.

I talk to God and the big dog when I walk. My words are upbeat, light-hearted, and at times, silly. (When you’re talking to a goofy Great Dane, it’s easy to be silly.) I have never had an early morning phone conversation. I don’t know who I’d call. All my friends are still sensibly sleeping at that time of the day.

Posted in dogs

It’s a bird…it’s a plane…it’s the moon

Posted on by William Douthwaite

My wife and were sitting out back admiring the half moon hanging out in the southern sky. The evening was just a few degrees cooler and a bit less humid, so it was a beautiful evening on the patio.

We weren’t alone. The Great Dane was with us, sitting on the stone pavers, looking up at the moon. She did not simply look up and then head off to sniff something, but saw there and gazed up for a few minutes.

I never thought dogs saw the world two-dimensionally. She is usually focused on what’s in front of her, or at least what’s in front of her nose. But she notices birds sitting up on utility poles and wires. She hears and watches single engine planes pass overhead. She scans the pine trees at dawn, hoping to catch a glimpse of the owl hooting overhead.

l’m fascinated by what our dogs notice as we walk through the neighborhood or a nearby park. I don’t think her eyesight is all that great, but she never misses a motionless bunny by the side of the road, a tiny lizard stuck to the side of the house, or a hawk gliding just overhead.

Posted in dogs

The big, ferocious dog behind the window

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

He either smelled us coming or he heard us. All I know is he was big, had a substantial woof, and was not happy that the big dog and I dared to walk on the road in front of his house.

My Great Dane was mildly interested in what he had to say, but was quickly distracted by the brave bunny sitting very still by the side of the road.

I was entertained by the beast in the house, wildly jumping, barking, and pawing at the window. With each lunge he got hold of some curtains, pulling them from the rod.

I asked my dog, “What’s he saying?” And, “Why is he so upset?” I assume all dogs speak the same language, but none of my dogs have been willing to translate for me. I can only assume it’s a fierce warning to move along and never, ever return.

We’re soon out of sight, but we’ll be back tomorrow. And I have feeling we’ll have the same conversation.

My big dog isn’t concerned by neighbors walking their dogs. But she hears the beep when someone pushes a key fob or starts up a truck or opens a garage door. Then she’s got something to say. Probably a big woof that means, “Who’s that? What was that? Did you hear that?” Thankfully, she doesn’t paw at the blinds. She just leave a bunch of nose prints on the window.