Tag: dog

Posted in dogs

A hot afternoon at the dog park

Posted on by William Douthwaite

I’ve often said, “You can tell how hot it is by the length of their tongues.” Today’s 90-degree afternoon prompted lots of long-tongue panting after just a few minutes of racing around the dog park.

A beautiful black lab and a friendly springer spaniel greeted us at the dog park gate. They had been there a while, so they were a little tired from the heat. Before long a couple of airedales joined us, but they were all about swimming in the pond.

Two five-gallon buckets and a small bowl of water were under the pavilion. All the dogs lapped up what sounded like quarts of water every few minutes.

The spaniel was on high alert, racing after electric bikes and scooters on the other side of the fence. Our great dane joined him for a few chases, but soon tired of that game. The same spaniel jumped the fence and took a dip in the pond, too.

The lab must have been there for a while. He laid down in a nice cool spot in the dirt and watched everyone else run around. His owner shared that the far gate to the pond was only held shut by a bungee cord. His dogs knew how to push their way in and out when they felt like taking a dip. I told them not to teach my dogs any tricks like that.

A Disney-themed birthday party was in full swing in a pavilion just outside the dog park fence. Partiers were surrounded by pink and purple balloons as familiar movie songs filled the air.

When I took a walk around the pond to prompt our big dog to sprint and burn off energy, I saw no dogs in the adjacent small dog park. Zero. Too hot I guess.

My two happily trotted to the gate when I said, “Ready to go for a ride?” Half-an-hour was enough to wear them out. When we got home, they continued to pant for another thirty minutes, before stretching out on the cool tile floor.

I’m glad we went for a short ride across town to the dog park on a steamy afternoon. They’ll crash for the rest of the night, tired and content.

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 Uncategorized

How close is close enough?

Posted on by William Douthwaite
So what do you think? Do you want to get close to this big girl, or not?

A “through the bible” devotion from Exodus 19.

When I’ve got the Great Dane on the leash, a lot of people take a step back from her hundred pounds of puppy energy, her tail whipping back and forth, and scorching-hot panting. Except for the kids. Kids line up to pet the dog, get a sloppy kiss, and gaze into those huge brown eyes.

At the base of a mountain, Moses and the people encounter what anyone else would call a volcano.

“Now Mount Sinai was all in smoke because the Lord descended upon it in fire; and its smoke ascended like the smoke of a furnace, and the entire mountain quaked violently. When the sound of the trumpet grew louder and louder, Moses spoke, and God answered him with thunder” (Exodus 19:18,19).

The one true God isn’t a statue. He’s no inanimate object made out of stone or wood. The ground is moving. There’s fire, smoke, and unbearable heat. The sound is deafening. Everyone takes a step back. You dare not get too close!

Unless you’re one of the kids. It’s the same God, just in human form. Later on, he takes the children in his arms and blesses them (Mark 10:16).

So what do you think? Do you want to get close to this God? Or not? And I suppose the answer is, “Yes.” I never want to forget the God of Mount Sinai. Nor do I want to forget the compassion of Christ.

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, Travel

Dogs are welcome at the Hampton Inn

Posted on by William Douthwaite

When we drive to Dallas to visit my son and his family, we typically spend the night at the Hampton Inn in Richland, Mississippi, a few minutes south of Jackson. It’s about two-thirds of the way there, so it’s a long first day. But day two is a pretty easy drive across Louisiana and east Texas.

On our last trip at the end of March, we stayed in a first-floor room all the way at the end of the hall. Walking back to get things from the car, I did a double take as I passed by the elevator alcove. I saw what looked like a bowl full of dog bones. When I went over to get a closer look, I found a dish filled with Milk-bone dog biscuits in a dish on a small table. They were the good ones, too, the big five-inch large breed variety. A sign on the table announced they couldn’t wait for your dog to spend the night there.

How the world has changed! I vividly remember driving from Iowa to Florida to start my new job there. Michael our chocolate Labrador Retriever rode in the back seat, tranquilized for the long ride. I don’t remember how far I got the first day, but I remember sneaking him up the back stairs after dark to a second-floor motel room. I didn’t ask, so I don’t know if dogs were permitted or not. We left before sunrise the next day so no one would see him. However, I’m sure that he left plenty of dark brown hair on the bed for someone to find.  

Back to the Hampton Inn. I didn’t see any details about extra charges for a dog. I saw no size limitations, either. I would just love to check in with my Great Dane. King room? That should work. Breakfast at 6? I hope you’re serving bacon tomorrow morning! I can imagine her catching a whiff of the bone bowl, knocking over the table, and scattering bones across the lobby before eating them. How would you like to ride the elevator with us?

Chihuahuas and poodles stroll the aisles of Home Depot. People lined up in Walmart to take a picture of a guy with a mastiff in the meat section. They enjoy sitting under outdoor tables at restaurants. Pet stores have always welcomed them. I know our dog would enjoy a night at the Hampton Inn.

Posted in dogs, Great Dane

Everyone has a (Great Dane) story to tell

Posted on by William Douthwaite

Everytime we take a walk around the block, our five-month-old Great Dane puppy, Willow, is a little bit bigger. The puppy food is doing it’s job; she gains about a half a pound per day. She gets a lot of attention from young and old who want to pet her. Once they confirm her breed, many have a Great Dane story to tell.

The latest tale came from Kevin who lives just up the street. He told me that he worked for a telephone company before he retired. He was working on a cable into a home and had to go into the back yard. As he came through the gate, two full grown, frantically barking Great Danes threw themselves against the sliding glass doors in an attempt to either greet him or eat him. He said, “I jumped about three feet back, praying that those two didn’t break through!”

When I take Willow to the veterinarian for a monthly weigh-in and heart worm pill, one of the vet techs always comes out for a cuddle. She’s small, no more than ninety pounds, but has two Great Danes of her own at home. She owns a 130 pound fawn female and a 170 pound black and white male. They aren’t little for very long, so our visits gives her a much needed puppy fix.

While we were watching runners finish a race Jacksonville, we stood next to a young man with a black and white Great Dane. This dog had to have been at least 150 pounds. He told us, “I had to train her to only jump up on me. She can easily knock someone over.” Note to self: work on training her to not jump up at all.

At a rest stop on a drive home from Texas, we met a truck driver with a black and white Great Dane named Chloe. She was gentle and friendly, with just a little gray around her snout. The driver told us he’s always had a Great Dane with him in the cab. He took out the passenger seat and installed a bed for the dogs, who just loved to travel with him.

After meeting Chloe, we began to toss around the idea of getting a Great Dane one day. That day has arrived, and now we are accumulating our own catalog of stories.

Posted in dogs

“Where’s Willow?”

Posted on by William Douthwaite

It seems like only yesterday that Where’s Waldo? was a popular book in our home. We play a new game now: “Where’s Willow?”

I didn’t think it would be hard to keep track of a four-month-old fifty-five pound Great Dane puppy. But around our house, we ask, “Where’s Willow?” several times a day. She’s both quiet and curious, so she could be anywhere.

  • She might be in the backyard, behind a shrub chewing on mulch or trying to lick grease off the back of the grill. If she’s lying in the sun up against the side of the house, you can’t see her from the window. Sometimes the wind blows the back door shut and she’s stuck out there.
  • She’s still small enough to curl up in a chair for a nap, so she could be in a bedroom or the living room.
  • But she also likes to stretch out on the Nugget (grandkid’s play sofa) or the bottom bunk in the back bedroom.
  • She has nosed her way into closets and nudged the door shut behind her, trapped until we go around looking for her.
  • She knows how to duck behind the kitchen island if she knows you are looking for her.
  • She will follow me out into the garage unnoticed, and then get stuck out there when I come back in the house.
  • I have even found her in her crate taking a nap on a lazy afternoon.

Willow is growing at a rate of one-half pound a day. Each day it gets harder for her to disappear around the house. But for now, if I don’t have time to check out all her hideouts, all I have to do is open up the Milk-Bone canister in the kitchen. If she isn’t trapped somewhere, both dogs will be sitting at my feet before I have finished lifting the lid. Works every time.

Posted in dogs

The treats were good: my visit to the veterinarian

Posted on by William Douthwaite
My first visit to the veterinarian

Today was Willow’s first visit to the veterinarian since we brought her home on January 2. Willow is our eleven-week-old Great Dane puppy. My grandson came along with me so she would have someone to sit with in the car. Otherwise, she would probably be in my lap.

When we arrived, I had her sit on the scale, curious to see how much she had grown in the last four weeks. She was thirteen pounds when we picked her up in Ocala, but weighed in at twenty-four pounds today! We were told she would double in size each month, but seeing is believing.

One of the vet techs saw Willow and immediately came over and sat down for snuggles and kisses. She has two Great Danes of her own. I asked, “How big are they?”

She said, “My female is one hundred and twenty pounds, and the male is one eighty.” So that is what we have to look forward to!

We were one of the first appointments of the day, so another tech took us back to an exam room right away. I took the leash off and she eagerly sniffed out every corner of the room. I let her sample the array of treats on the counter, and she loved every one. Most of our dogs turn their noses up at the vet’s snacks, but Willow devoured them all.

Willow was her wiggly self as the tech and vet examined her. She thought it was all a game as they peered into her ears and mouth, listened to her heart and lungs, and got a temperature via the ear (thank goodness). We only needed one injection today, and Willow didn’t flinch. We only bought one heart worm and parasite pill, since she’ll be in the next weight class next month. And we made an appointment for a booster in a month. The veterinarian gave me some advice on spaying, and we were out of there.

As we left, I realized that the exam room was the same one where we said goodbye to Samson, our shepherd/lab mix, exactly seven months ago. Since Willow’s coloring is the same as Sam’s, I’ll catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye. She’s got big shoes to fill. But given the size of her feet, that shouldn’t be a problem!