Puppy Swimming Lesson 1

Now, I would have guessed that swimming, especially the 'dog paddle' would come naturally, instinctively to dogs.

Unless my dog is unusually odd, I guess that's not the case.

As he learned to swim, he'd set out into the water, his front legs stiff as boards, stretched in front of him. As he'd get excited, his rigid legs chopped through the water creating quite a commotion of water in his face. Then he bit at the water, chomping away and proceeding to swim frantically, in a tight circle, snapping at the water madly.

Only after he tired did he notice I was calling to him, well, after laughing at him for a while.

Lake Washington is now snow melt, and so very cold, but that does not much deter Joe, who truly can hardly bear not to be in the water, despite having no idea what to do with it.

He gallumps about, splashes and churns and then bounds onto the shore to quiver, tongue hanging out, smiling and shivering.

Tearing off the Easter Bunny’s face

I bought B. an Easter Bunny as a present, despite the fact that Easter is an uninteresting mystery to him. The Bunny was remarkably cute, soft long lop ears, a sweet face with big eyes and a soft heavy body.

I left it on my desk and then let Joe the pup outside to take care of business. It was a rare, fine day here and so the door stayed open as I worked at the computer. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Joe dash past. Dangling from his mouth were the lop ears of B’s Easter Bunny. I jumped up, yelling and gave chase. This convinced Joe that an exciting game had just begun so he hurled the bunny in the air and then pounced on it in the muddy grass.

The Easter Bunny’s face had been ripped off and he was smudged with mud. I gave it to B. anyway.

There was no way to be angry at Joe, the only stuffed animals he’d ever seen were his puppy companions, the last of which lasted 3 minutes. I’d forgotten about this but Joe remembered as soon as he espied the Easter Bunny on my desk.

Joe’s got a bone

Whenever I give Joe a fresh, meaty bone he is delighted. He dances about, his eyes alight in a way that no other object causes, not even dog food.

Then after he’s worked on getting the bits of meat and sinew off the thing, whenever I come near he hovers anxiously over the bone. He looks worried, as if I might realize that I’ve given away the most wonderful thing and reclaim it.

Every time I look over, I can’t help but to laugh at his greedy fearful expression. It reminds me of Gollum hissing about his precious. It’s the only time my easygoing, friendly puppy evinces any negativity. And it cracks me up.

The Dog of War

Well, the title is an exaggeration, but my relationship with B has suffered more conflict after Joe than pre-Joe.

A dog is another relationship, with it's own demands, discomforts and joys. As an unrepentant dog-lover it’s easier for me to simply accept all the changes that come with a dog in the house. I grew up with dogs, so I know that Joe is easy-as-pie, even as a puppy.

(Actually, in a fit of pique I had wished Joe was more difficult as it would make it easier to construct “Marley, the bad dog” narratives.)

That’s not our lot, though, if Joe were more well behaved he’d be an ottoman. Well, except for the excessive energy. But a run and an hour’s walk deal with that relatively well.

I love his dog smell, the active awareness in his speckled brown eyes, the softness of his fur and his devoted nature. When we leave for a few hours, he nudges open the bedroom door and retrieves the stinkiest piece of clothing he can find from each of us. Then gently carries and lays them in front of the door, and sleeps on them ‘til we come home. How can you not love that?? He doesn’t chew them to pieces, he just loves our dirty socks. It’s touching to be that well loved, in that ineffable dog way.

So, long story short he’s a source of conflict, but I would choose even the conflict as the price of ownership.