White Trash at Flat Rock

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.

“Dolly jumped up and tried to take my glove,” the dour woman with a gang banger’s watch cap declared. Somehow, this woman knew my name. I didn’t ever remember meeting her before. She was large; tall and bulky. Her moves were awkward, like a golem come to life or a small child wrapped in too many outside clothes. Any conversation was stilted; seemingly she had to remember how it was reasonable and appropriate to talk to someone else. Always she was alone when she went on her walk. The sounds her car made as she pulled out of the lot indicated new ball joints were severely overdue.

“Did she get it?” I wanted to know.

“No.”

“Well, that’s good.”

I thought no more about the incident. I was preoccupied with more the more demanding issues in life. My parents were showing the effects of over a combined 150 years of good living. Since I’m the only kid in the area, I’m the one getting those scary “Your father fell down and can’t get up” calls in the middle of the night.

Other than that things in general weren’t too bad, just busy. Work was interesting and absorbing for the most part and even better, didn’t usually require suits, silly shoes and a pair of nylons. Getting everything squeezed into the day was a challenge, between work, parents, my new duties in dog care, working out and keeping two old cars running. I need the extra one for when the other is in the shop. Besides, I have a thing for Mazda RX7s. Perhaps it was a good thing I had no significant other hanging around asking for another bit of my time. Of course having someone with a sizable income would be an entirely negative thing. A freelancer’s income is never steady.

I thought things were going well overall in the dog department. Not one “accident” in the house. Nothing had been chewed up and annihilated in months. Dolly had met all kinds of dogs and lots of different people and seemed to like everybody. Then one day at Flat Rock the man with two Bassett Hounds said, “There’s a woman over there who’s afraid of Dolly. Don’t worry, she turned around and went the other way.”

“Huh?” First of all, Dolly was friendly to all. In the second place, if someone was afraid of dogs, they could go walk somewhere else. The dog walking all happened on a single mile-long trail. There were at least 12 miles of trails in the conservation area. I knew. I’d mountain biked almost all of them at one time or another.

“It’s not all nice people up here,” Wendy said. “Sometimes they try to get rid of us. Have you met mean man? You have to be careful of him.”

“He’s a homophobe,” Peter said. I had figured out that Peter was the tall thin man in the raggedy sweat suit and Kody, the ambling shepherd mix. “You should have heard what he said to Eric.”

“Who’s Eric?” I asked, once again confused. “Is he gay?” Peter would know, being unabashedly gay himself.

“No, but he’s odd,” Peter clarified.

I decided to steer clear of these troublemakers as much as possible. The last thing I needed was an altercation with some whack-job in the woods. After all, I was trying to raise Dolly to be as non-confrontational as it was possible for a dog to be. Instead of cursing loudly and inventively at one of the myriads of idiots on the road I tried to grit my teeth so Dolly wouldn’t learn to get aggressive in the car. Did dogs understand “the finger?” Maybe non-verbal venting might work.

Most of the dogs Dolly played with were happy-go-lucky and well-behaved. They set good examples for her. Jumping was rare, and most of the animals stuck close to their people without too much calling. What was missing was a dog who would play rough with Dolly. I was still adhering to Pit Bull Commandment #6, no tug of war.