White Trash at Flat Rock

The next chapter in the Life of Dolly 

“You’d never believe,” I said to Peter and Wendy one day. They’re always good for exchanging a little dirt.

“Ken sat beside that woman who hates me at a lecture. He said he talked with her for almost an hour about what good dogs pit bulls are. For an hour,” I emphasized.

“Leave it to Ken to be nice to Crazy Lady,” Wendy groused. “It won’t do any good, she’s nuts.” 

“I’m sure it did no good. She already said Bubba was not a problem. Why doesn’t she just walk in another area? It’s not like there’s a shortage of trails. What do we use, a mile and a half out of at least twelve?” I asked.

“She loves the thrill,” Wendy claimed. “Why else would she come up here if she’s afraid of dogs? No one should come here if they are afraid. She gets off on it.” 

Peter was quiet. He kept an eye on Kody and meandered along the trail. Kody doesn’t believe in excess movement. Dolly was plowing through the woods at top speed, periodically barging in front of Star to see if he would play. Star was trying desperately to preserve his standard poodle dignity. 

We humans were all in our summer dog walking finest; sloppy tee shirts, knee length shorts and scruffy sandals. Each person had a leash wrapped around his or her neck and each dog sported just a collar. No fancy bows or outfits on this crew. 

“Well,” Peter finally said, dragging out the “l” sound. “Ken should sleep with her. That’s what she wants.” 

“Peter!” Wendy reprimanded him. 

“I think Ken’s wife might put the kibosh on that,” I said. 

“No, I bet she wouldn’t mind,” Wendy chirped. 

We considered this in silence for a few steps. None of us were in a committed relationship. None of us particularly seemed to mind our single state. 

“I gave up men,” Peter said. “I’m celibate. It’s a lot easier.” 

“Sure,” I commiserated. “Who needs men if you have a dog?” 

Wendy didn’t weigh in on that discussion. She had other things on her mind. 

“Look. Those stupid people were up here again,” she said. 

“What stupid people?” I asked. 

“Those ones who come up with their kids and go swimming. They leave poopy diapers all around,” she said. “Right where we send the dogs in swimming. It’s posted. Henry gets really mad at them when they go in the water.” 

Wendy often uses the authority of Henry to prove her points. He’s a dog-loving employee of the city water department. His business card lists him as reservoir security. 

“They are idiots,” Peter agreed. “I was really mad at that guy. I told him. They have a pit too.”

 “That doesn’t mean they are bad,” I said, ever aware of slights against pit bulls in general.

 “Oh, the dog is fine,” Peter said. “It’s him.”

It seems like everyone has a digital camera now. They are wonderful for taking huge numbers of pictures of other couples when you travel. For the freelancer, they offer the option of easily including photographs with your articles. Your editor will love you. Even if you are not an accomplished photographer, you should be able to get something useful simply through the number of pictures you can take. These inexpensive, lightweight cameras usually do just fine in as long as the lighting is good and the subjects are static. Taking pictures of moving scenes can be a challenge because sometimes there is quite a lag between when you press the shutter and when the camera takes the photo. Perhaps the camera is thinking. Ever so slowly.

1. Make sure the batteries are fully charged. Some don’t last very long, especially if it is cold.
2. Leave it on the automatic setting. If the picture requires anything but that, it is probably beyond the abilities of the $89.99 special you bought at the box store anyway.
3. Just accept that you will need to take your photos in well-lit areas. It can require thousands of dollars worth of equipment for lighting to take a good photo in less than ideal situations.
4. Download your photos to your computer frequently. Create carefully named folders for each date, topic or locale so you can find what you are looking for at a later time. The camera creates files with names like IMG102556 and IMG103554. Even if you figure out how to preview them, it can take forever to find that shot you were looking for without some clues.
5. Never ever send emails with huge picture files. You’ve received them; those emails that take 45 minutes to download on your expensive broadband and turn out to be 5 blurry photos of your aunt’s cat. Some email programs will reduce the file sizes for you.
6. Consider learning to use a photo editing program like Photoshop Elements. Graphic programs have a steep learning curve in general, but I’ve found the courses at ww.lvs.online to be helpful. They are also cheap.
7. Don’t drop the thing or let the dog get it.

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…

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.