White Trash at Flat Rock

“I got a call from Suzie last night,” Ken said to me one morning as the pit bulls fought to the death over their stick. It was a good stick; it looked thick enough to last for at least 5 minutes.

“Oh, what did she have to say?” I asked. I knew Bubba counted the dog officer as one of his facebook friends. Ken liked to say he had the best-connected dog in Fitchburg.

“She got eight calls yesterday complaining about the pit bulls up here.”

 “But why? Nothing has happened.”

‘The caller told her Dolly was the problem. She also mentioned you by name.”

“Who was it? Did she say? Did she say anything about Bubba?”

Ken answered the most important query first. “The caller said Bubba was a good dog. It was just that Dolly and Anne.”

I groaned. “It must be that woman who Dolly took the glove from. She knows my name. Is that who it is?”

“She didn’t leave her name. Suzie said she left eight messages before work yesterday.” 

“It must be her. She’s whacked,” I said with all the aplomb of a frustrated social worker.

“Errr. Errr.” The dogs echoed my frustration. Of course they were just playing tug with no concern for larger social issues.

“She knows me too,” Ken said. 

“Yeah, but she said Bubba was okay,” I countered. “I’d better call Suzie today.”

 How could Suzie not be able to identify a caller? “Doesn’t the city have caller ID?” I wondered. “I would think so,” Ken said.

“As far as I’m concerned you are doing everything ight,” Suzie the dog officer told me the next day.

 “Your dog is licensed and vaccinated. You have her under control.”

 “Well, mostly,” I hedged. “She’s still learning.”

 “I might go walk somewhere else for a few days, let things calm down,” I thought out loud.

That’s a good idea, just for a few days,” Suzie said.

“Ken said you didn’t have the lady’s name. Don’t you have caller ID in the city?” I can be a little obsessive when I want.

 “She had a blocked number.”

“I think I know who it is,” I said. “That woman who works at the museum. She’s afraid of Doll. I don’t know her name though. She knows mine.”

 “Yeah, I know,” Suzie harumphed. “Try to get her license number. I’ll track her down.” Suzie instructed.

A week later Suzie showed up at Flat Rock in the animal control truck. The dogs were all happy to see her. She must give off good dog vibes.

 “She’s following me around,” Suzie said. “She called my supervisor to say I wasn’t doing my job.”

 “Is she threatening you? Are you afraid she’ll do something?”

 “Oh, no,” the five foot nothing dog officer declared. “I have police training.”

 “Her son had to take a restraining order out on her to keep her away from his kids. They won’t let her pick them at school,” Wendy told us.

 “Do we know it’s her?” I asked. The dour golem-like woman was starting to take on epic proportions.

 “I’m trying to get her license plate number,” Suzie said. “My supervisor told her unless she left her name and number we couldn’t do anything for her.”

 I marveled. When did the woman find time to make all these calls? She sounded in desperate need of a life.

 “I’ve been up here a few times. I know everyone will vouch for Dolly being a good dog,” Suzie said. “Everyone up here likes her. You don’t have to worry about anything.”

 Dolly was doing her hardest to charm. She hadn’t moved more than a few inches from Suzie’s leg since we started talking. Did she realize she was in the eye of a storm?

If you read any article about being a successful (fill in the blank – writer, athlete, bar tender, whatever) efficiency and organization are sure to top the list of desirable traits and habits. The two really go hand in hand. Like, do you know where your stapler is?

Dolly the pit bull knows my traits. Her morning goes something like this. We get up any time between 4:30 and 7:30. She gets breakfast and goes back to bed. So far, pretty tough. Phone rings, it’s Ken seeing if the Doll is ready to go to Flat Rock and play with Bubba. By now she is snoring again.

Here’s where the lack of organization on my part comes in. She knows it is not time to leave until I have gone out into the front entry hall at least three times: once to find my boots, another to look for keys and the third to find her leash and jacket. Any of these items may or may not actually be there.

Then she gets dressed and goes out. Usually just as far as the hall while I turn back to look for yet another misplaced item. This morning the keys are missing…

A dog of leisure

The continuing story of Dolly and Bubba – next episode March 7

“Ken,” I gasped. “He can’t swim!”

“I  know.”

We looked at each other. We looked at Peter. We looked at the dark, empty space where the black dog used to be. His face was just visible, a white blaze floating beneath the surface.

After what seemed an eternity, but in fact about the time it took us to say all this, Bubba popped his head out of the water and skedaddled to the safety of dry land.

“Oh, my,” Peter said. “That was scary.” 

“Bubba, are you alright?” I asked. Some dogs like to be addressed in complete sentences. Given Ken’s general formality, Bubba was probably used to being addressed like this.

“He’s fine, he’s fine,” Ken reassured everyone particularly himself. “Come here, Bubba.”

“Oh, here. Here’s a treat.’

“DOLLY! Don’t jump.” Quickly things were back to normal although we now had new things to talk about.

“I don’t think pit bulls can swim.” Ken said. He postulated even further. “They don’t have enough fur to hold air and help them with buoyancy.”

“They can too swim. I saw them on youtube,” I responded. “Maybe some just don’t like to.”

The next day was Dolly’s big test. I took her up to the reservoir alone when no one else would be around to distract the social animal she had become.

I casually lured her down to the beach. Once there, I took off my sandals and walked into the water to just over my ankles. As nonchalantly as possible I called Dolly.

“Dolly, come here. Good girl, come on.”

Dolly, cookie! Cookie!”

Nope, no fooling that one. It was a nice spring day to go for a wade fortunately. I wandered around about a foot from the shore, scoping out rocks, holes and yucky spots I wouldn’t want to step in. Once I figured she had forgotten I called her, I went back to dry land. 

Dolly can be a trusting soul, and she bounded over to see what I was up to now. It was safe; I was no longer in the dog devouring water.

“Dolly, come on,” I pleaded. I tried reason. “I just want to see if you can swim. You don’t have to stay in.”

My pleas fell on deaf, or just uncomprehending, ears. Never one to be thwarted, I reached down and grabbed the ingrate by the collar. 

I harangued her a little just so she’d know who’s the boss. “You’re coming with me. Like it or not. I really don’t care.”

Walking cautiously because of the small rocks underfoot, I dragged her to the waterline. The front paws went out to brace against further forward motion.

Although she’s remarkably strong pound for pound, she’s no match for me and I accomplished my mission. By the time I hauled her to knee deep water she was in over her head. Recalling my childhood swimming lessons, I put a hand under her belly and swam her around me.

I released her and she was off like a shot, running to the land like trident-bristling Poseidon himself was after her. But I was happy; she could swim enough so she wouldn’t sink like her buddy.

Little did I know the dangers we were facing weren’t coming from anything nature could throw at us.

Dog life vests are available  like the ones here. http://www.kooldawgtees.com/fido_float_extreme_dog_life_vest.html

Dolly gets ready for her busy day.

It seems like we all have a proper name and then the name that people call us. Same thing happens with dogs.

Dolly’s real name is Dorothy Ann O’Connor. We call her:

•  Dolly
• The Doll
• Dollie-o 
• Dollster
• Duckie- this seems to embarress her
• Ding-Dong
• Sweetie
• Sweets
• Fierce One
• Trouble

and a few I won’t list here.

Please chime in. What do you call your best friend?

Come back Sunday, February 21 to learn Bubba’s fate.

Here’s a fun link about naming dogs. http://www.dog-names.us/database.asp

Remember to scroll on down to the first chapter if you need to catch up with the adventures

“Jennifer and I taught a class together a few years ago. And didn’t you tape some of the bike race events for us last year?” I reminded Ken. The Fitchburg Longsjo race has been a major international cycling event for half a century.

 “Oh, of course. Didn’t you have a place downtown for a while?”

 “Yeah, the coffeehouse. We had some excellent performers.”

 “I remember that. My wife Jennifer and I used to go there.”

 We were good to go. Dolly and Bubba soon had regular play dates. Everyone in the group took to Bubba, seeing as he was such an amiable fellow. Most of the time we got together up at Flat Rock, sometimes, if we were feeling adventurous, we’d go on a field trip to a different park. The dogs let us go along for the treats we provided. Besides, we had the car keys.

 Flat Rock is a magical place for dog walking. The reservoir is ringed by piney New England woodlands. The “beach” is accessible through several narrow pathways most of the dogs loved to run down. Many of the dogs were most excellent swimmers, chasing sticks thrown way out into the water from the shore. Some went down to the water more reluctantly, not caring too greatly to get wet.

 It took Dolly awhile before she was willing to put her front paws in the water to get a drink. Bubba was pretty cautious also. As spring turned into summer, the dogs got hotter and thirstier and trips to the water happened more frequently. Kody did the water buffalo, submerging himself to slightly deeper than belly deep and standing still. Star swam around, just a bit. The goldens in the crowd became enthusiastic seals. Two chocolate labs, not yet in touch with their inner water dogs, took swimming lessons with their human father.

 Dolly and Bubba cautiously remained on the outskirts of this but each day became a bit bolder in their water explorations. Soon they were standing in the water up to their elbows. One day Dolly got her belly wet. Big news on the pit bull front.

 “Look,” I said to Peter and Ken, “Bubbs is almost over his head.”

 “Oh, good boy,” Peter encouraged him.

 As we watched, Bubba disappeared under the surface. There was a slight sucking sound as he disappeared a few feet from shore.

 “Oh, my god, oh, my god,” someone said. Maybe it was me or maybe one of the men. Most likely, all of us.

 “BUBBA!”

 I started hitting my pockets, searching for items that could be damaged in water, preparing to use my decades old lifesaving skills. Ken and Peter jumped around frantically, probably checking their pockets for valuables too.

 The two are remarkable similar in body type. Both men are tall and rangy. Peter is a yoga instructor, but absolutely exercise phobic. Ken is a former rugby player with two replaced hips to prove it. They were in their shorts, leashes wrapped around their necks and wearing caps. Neither was usually an excitable type. Except when it came to their dogs.

 “BUBBA! BUBBA!”

To be continued…

Note: Prevent this from happening to your dog. check out http://www.dogtrainersearch.com/blog/2009/12/dog-swimming-teach-your-dog-to-swim/

It’s blue moon Sunday here at Flat Rock and I promised a treat. So smile already.

Lately I’ve been noticing that if I smile at someone, they smile back. Amazing, huh? I remember a classmate in college whose natural expression was a sort-of grin. I always assumed we were more or less friends until one day, apropos of nothing, he walked up to me and said, “You are basically evil.” Who knows what I did. Frankly, I don’t really care, but the incident obviously lurks in the back of my mind.

Pit bulls have a wonderful smile. It stretches from ear to ear right across that giant jaw. I hadn’t seen Dolly’s smile and began to wonder if she had less pittie than we thought. Until, one day, she ran full-out at me. Her paws were sending out little puffs of dust, she roared past me with not an inch to spare. On her face was the biggest grin you could hope to see.

I’ve never been able to get a picture of this expression; my camera is just not up to the task. There are some lovely pit-smiles at a website I found. http://www.pbrc.net/ There’s lots of information on the site.

The smiling idea came to me as I drove past the Mazda dealership on my way to Townsend this morning. They park the cars facing the state road, and some of the models have a grill that imitates a smile. I always find myself smiling back. Good design. In the interest of full-discloser, I admit to having an RX7 habit. No longer made, but what a car. I’m enjoying my 1987.

 These are Miatas, not the venerable RX7, but still – a cheery sight on a bleary day.

A row of smiling Miatas

Dogs who are busy and well-adjusted will be happier animals. They will have happier owners. Sometimes it can be a challenge to keep your dog busy, especially if she is young and active. It helps if they have a like-minded friend. Try as you might, walking with your dog on a leash for 45 minutes will not get all the naughtiness out.

Dolly and Bubba love to play tug-of-war. Yes, that play is frowned on by vigilante trainers, but hey, they like it and it tires them out. Both animals have lost 10 pounds each of unwanted flab over the last year, this play is important.

A deceased tug tire rests inside a not yet used tug tire.

 Be creative in your choice of toys, there is no need to enrich your local pet store. An old Kevlar bead bicycle tire is one of the dynamic duo’s favorite toys. A great use for something we haven’t figured out how to recycle yet. So be ecologically correct; reduce, recycle and REUSE!

Some people are much  more organized with tire re-using. http://www.greatgreengoods.com/2008/02/26/recycled-bicycle-tire-rug/comment-page-1/#comment-333676

I just had to share this site. Way cool.

http://www.etsy.com/shop/deanrussoart

Dean Russo pit bull

Whenever someone new shows up at Flat Rock it is cause for both joy and caution. Joy, because a new friend is always a good thing. Dogs don’t acknowledge human inhibitions; they cut straight to the butt sniff and chest butt. Within moments of meeting they determine who is boss bitch, who plays how and who prefers to walk alone. This system is virtually foolproof until well-intentioned humans butt in.

Thus, the cause for caution. A new dog, or more accurately, dog/person unit, may or may not integrate into the group. The butt sniffing and chest butt protocol entails growling, barking and snapping; behavior that can be alarming for anyone not expecting it. Fortunately it doesn’t usually mean trouble.

 Common knowledge at Flat Rock holds that a new pit bull can be an exception to the general dog way of fitting in. Some are just “dog aggressive” and must be avoided at all costs. You never know. Better safe than sorry.

“Here come some new dogs,” Wendy said. “Better leash Dolly. It’s a pit”

 Two goldens and a heavy black dog came bounding around the corner followed by two men. “No, no. It’s okay,” one of them called out. “He’s very friendly. Let them go”

 We were cautious. Dolly was still on the leash, Wendy, Peter and their dogs surrounded us.

 “Bubba, come here,” the man with the thick eyebrows called.

 “Wait a minute. I know them,” I said. “Ken? Ken Jones?”

 “I think they are okay,” I said to the others. “I’ve heard about Bubba. He’s a marshmallow.”

 Paul, that friend who said me and a pit bull bitch would be a perfect match, told me about this dog. He was very impressed with the black pit bull cross. The Bubbs spent lots of time sitting on the couch and snarfing cookies from guests. I’d known Bubba’s mother for years. We taught a class together at the local college and I teach in an after school program she runs.

 I decided to let Dolly go when everyone arrived and the dogs were starting to calm down. After all, Bubba came from a good family. It turned out to be a most excellent decision.

Immediately Dolly recognized Bubba as one of her own kind. She growled and snapped and jumped all over him. Bubba growled and snapped and sat right down. He already knew to take advantage of his superior size in the never ending games of strength the two dogs would come to play. Dolly, younger by a year and a half and much more svelte, overcame his weight advantage with energy and enthusiasm.

“Oh, boy,” I warned. “Stand back.”

Dolly raced to the edge of the woods and grabbed a stick. It was as if none of the other dogs or people existed. She ran straight to Bubba and stopped. Front feet extended and tail up in the air. The budding coquette looked up under her eyelashes at her new conquest and said, “Errr.”

Well, that was it for Bubba. He was completely enchanted by the pit bull temptress. He grabbed the other end of that stick and the rest, as they say, was history. For the next 20 minutes they tugged and growled, periodically racing keeping to catch up with the others. The other dogs ignored them; the owners seemed enthralled by the single-mindedness of the two pits. By the end of the walk the stick was history and Dolly and Bubba firm friends.

 “We’ll have to do this again,” Ken said. “But how do you know me?”

 Turns out the humans still needed to do some sniffing and butting.

For a more serious look at dog socialization vist: http://site.bigpawdesigns.com/blog/?p=508

It is safe to say owning a dog is not free. However, with a little creativity, you can get your money’s worth out of your best friend.

Save gallons of hot water. With proper and consistent training, most dogs will come to accept if not relish a job as a dishwashing prewash cycle.

No need to purchase reusable grocery bags. You will need the environmentally unfriendly plastic sacks to remove the “doo” your dog will deposit in the most public of places. And – be honest with yourself. How often do those reusable bags actually make it from your kitchen to the car and into the store?

Dolly assists in heating bills

Lower your heating bill. With a normal body temperature of over 100 degrees and the ability to sleep 16 hours or more a day, a dog or three can help get you through the coldest night.