Category: Hot Dog

Call me a busy body, but call me, okay.  I notice, well…things.  And my nose and ears….they should be insured, like a fighter’s hands because the slightest whiff or noise can tantalize and torment me.

You may ask, ‘What ya talking bout? Who gives you these grandiose ideas?’ Well, it’s the truth.  I can be sound asleep, in another room, in another time zone, frolicking with my lost canine family and Wonder Boy stealthily opens his bag of beef jerky and I am so on it.  My senses awaken, my eyes fly open, my nose pops up, and like the US Department of Homeland Security’s Shadow Wolves, the department’s only Native American tracking unit, I am on a mission, to hunt, to  find, to ravish.

The good news is Momma taught Wonder Boy to share but…..never enough, if you ask me.  And Wonder Boy is not only sneaky, he is a wily only child so sometimes when he is not in a loving and giving mood, he takes the bag to his bedroom and locks me out. What is that all about?  All evening (okay, when he is home), I sit as close as possible to him (and try to keep the cats out of bound- okay, more for my sake than his).  At night, I sleep faithfully beside him, protecting him from all manners of evil.  I will put in twelve hours straight, not moving a muscle, for fair of disturbing him. And he won’t share his beef jerky.  Blame Momma.  Isn’t it always the mother’s faulty?

But my talent is not all about me.

Take for instance, Momma and I are out on a walk. My Shadow Wolf Native American tracking radar feels any negative energy approaching, even innocuous looking sources and I stop dead, sitting down like a ton of bricks. Nothing Momma can do will  make me continue, not even a stick of dynamite will entice me to move.  I sit my ground and look around for the culprit.  Is he on the other side of the street or approaching me or coming up behind me or even  walking in the other direction on an adjacent street and will not come near us?  Once I have established the location, a decision is made. The bearer of the negative energy  must pass us, taking his destructive cloud of harmful vibes out of our space, before I give the all clear and Momma and I can move again.

It came to pass on a sunny, summer afternoon, Momma and I were walking up our street, looking at the lovely old homes, set on expansive lawns, some with circular driveways.  All of a sudden my fur stood up, I looked around and felt, saw, heard trouble, walking up behind us.  I plunked myself down, it (he) passed and meandered up the driveway of our neighbour. I sensed what it was about.

They have a classic convertible that car aficionados drool over and Mr. Could-Be-Trouble bent down, peering in the windows. Now I love these people, Miss Lawyer, Mr. Doctorate and Beautiful Baby Combination. They are so good to me.

They looked after me when RIP Daddy passed away and Momma was otherwise occupied.   I even forgive them for having two border collies, one that jumps and snarls at me, the other one that totally ignores me.

And so I sat, giving this interloper the Stinky eye, growling deep in my throat, looking as menacing as a twenty pound Havanese can look.  And…it worked.  If I had felt his vibe, he definitely recognized mine. He looked at me, back at the car.  He looked at Momma, then back at the car.  Time to move on.  Everyone has a cell phone these days, the owners might come out with a shot gun.  He had no worries about the police.  He was good at leaving them in the dust. His Spidy sense said move on.  Mr. Could-Be-Trouble ambled on down the gateway and headed back to the park.

I stood up and Momma and I headed home.  I wonder if I will get recognition for a job well done.  Not likely….  Who is going to phone city hall to tell them about my relentless pursuit of the bad apples?  Not Momma.  She is too busy writing blogs.

Now I have been told everyone has a talent and well, I am Jakita, so I have plenty.  I can be sociable,  a BFF, or even an at your command Robodog, always ready for whatever action is required at any given moment.  If it sounds frightfully demanding to keep all those balls in the air at one time, deciphering what I should do when, well, I am the Ultimate Earth Dog, remember:

One of my tried and true skills (which I have been told many dogs share) is that I can tell time.  I know to the minute when it is walk time and should Momma find herself busy doing something else, I don’t let her get way with it.  I speak right up, I register a complaint. I run back and forth from her to the door until I am dizzy.  You’ll be happy to know it works.  Momma puts aside her project, grudgingly it seems to me, all the while talking about art of compromising but I don’t listen. It is all good…. I got my way.

In the park we meet up with all sorts of Two Legged on the way from loving dog owners to the visually impaired soul that is guided with not one but  two Caregivers, one on each side of him. Sometimes he takes off on them.  He is very fleet of foot although he probably has no clue where he is headed…. do any of us really know what time it is? Now when I dart off, I stop and let Momma catch up with me….the things you do for love.

On our way home we pass a small flower parkette, that has a Memorial to honor those who lost their lives in Hurricane Hazel. Insignificant as it is, that little strip sees lots of shenanigans.

Sometimes the Ladies of the Night hang there, waiting for, well, maybe a ride home, while the police sit in their cars, in the parking lot not two hundred feet away watching, waiting for the next catastrophe to send them, sirens blaring, on duty.

Other times we may see a bicycle, propelled at maximum speed, whizzing past Momma and I on the sidewalk, no less, approaching a customer sitting on the little brick wall across from the parkette.  Faster than the eye can see, hands press together, an exchange completed. The biker, like a mirage disappears, the customer casually, stands up, hops the wall and Momma and I are left thinking, ‘Did we imagine that?’

So my dear Watsons, it is a  marvelous place to live because it stretches your mind, forcing a body to have its senses sharpened because otherwise you might miss something…and that is the whole idea….you don’t want to miss anything.

Just today Momma was reading that Alzheimer’s is more likely to strike an idle body and mind.  Momma and I do not have to worry about that because we are a tad too nosy for that to happen….

Most pet owners are by-the-book-law-abiding citizens but there are those we must call out for the sake of their pets and well… just because Momma and I are born this way.

It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon.  My only complaint and I always can find something, was that this kind of not hot, not cool, just right temperature, brings all those owners out that walk their dog once a week, if the sun shines, if nothing more pressing is on the immediate horizon and goes without saying, if the creek doesn’t rise.

Momma says these poor dogs do not know how to even walk on a leash.  They are so excited that they are jumping and bucking like wild stallions, saddled for the first time ever.  The owners are oblivious, since like their children, their dogs can do no wrong.

In a fit of pure love (laced with buyers regret) some owners decide any park is an off the leash zone (NOT)  and their well-behaved (in the eyes of the beholder) should be free, like the wind, to run hither and fro, jumping in front of bikers and joggers, knocking down toddlers, terrifying the old folks, who are leaning on their walkers, with trepidation, waiting for their next broken bone to happen.

And the owner….well,,,, he / she is checking their messages on their iPhone, texting, starting long drawn out ‘he said, she said’ conversations, probably with another deadbeat dog owner who has unleashed their dog in another park.

What this means is that as an Ultimate Earth Dog, I have to be on high alert and have my 360 degree head swivel tilt in place to avoid crossing path with this poor creature who thinks the whole world wants to play with him and doesn’t mind being slobbered on.  Well, call me crotchety, but I like to choose who I play with and no slobbering, p-l-e-a-s-e.  You never can tell what kind of canine germs could be passed on and with my immune system being so rickety, there is no end to the diseases I could end up with.

After every walk Momma sanitizes me head to toe with baby wipes.  Knowing Momma,  next step would be quarantine if I had a relapse and I enjoy my walks, so please, you ignore me, I will gladly ignore you.

Then there are dogs who yank at their leashes, growling ferociously because they are scared to meet up with me, I suspect – all twenty pounds of might. On a good day, I might lick you to death…. like I am a real threat…. an out of control hand grenade. Their dog never acts like that at home, they claim…and we believe them….nod…wink.

Here’s a free tip.  Train your dog to realize a leash is a good thing. It is not a restraint to fight.

If you want the dog off leash, take it to the designated Off Leash Dog Park. A dog is a commitment. With patience, time, and training, we will give back even more than we receive. I hate to admit it but I was quite the tough case myself. I would be gone with the wind every time I saw the opportunity. Now, even given the opportunity, I don’t bolt, because well, someone has to look after my Clumsy Mumsy. It is never too late to start.  Hey, NOW works.

So lay a little training on me (us).  Honey, doggone it, I (we) depend upon it, so lay a little training on me (us).

I love the Two Footed…..well, mostly…but on our street, in our neighbor hood, I come alive…and, no thanks, Momma, I don’t want to leave.

I am very comfortable on Mama Give-Me-What-I-Want’s step.  It is the best vantage point in town to watch over  the neighbors.  My head swivels left to right, right to left, up and down, round and round. If Mama Give-Me-What-I-Want is inside and I take a notion to visit her on my own, I go back to the sliding glass door, whine and paw until I get her attention.  Mama Give-Me-What-I-Want has had dogs and she totally understands me. Guaranteed she will give me a blissful massage before she returns me home.

Next to Mama Give-Me-What-I-Want lives the Martha Stewart Family.  Every blade of their green, green grass is the same length.  There is never even a bloom on the flowers to be dead headed.  Perfection resides here.  I love running up their driveway, through the open garage door,  out a side door to their back yard oasis because….

They have a man-made pond and God made frogs of all sizes, cricketing, jumping, like molecules in constant motion. I sit there mesmerized, watching their antics.  Then it is off to find Mr. and Mrs. Martha Stewart who treat me like, well, an honoured guest.

Right next door to us is a couple just older than Wonder Boy, Little Miss and Master Millennium. I already was crazy about them, then they brought home a Baby Boy Millennium and I just love babies. 

I am just mad because I have not been able to get very close yet but the day is coming and I guarantee you, Baby Boy Millennium and I are going to be closer than white on rice.  Every time Master Millennium comes outside, I dash through the flower bed that divides our driveways, run to back of their property, just to confuse him, then charge back to Master Millennium’s  feet to get a head scratch.

However, if the Little Miss comes out as well, it is like I have blinders on.  I race straight to her because it is like part of my heart belongs to her.  Don’t ask me to explain.  Thank goodness Momma’s not the jealous type.

Oh, there are plenty more who love me, the Dog Treat Lady, (it would be rude to not accept a treat from her), the Scooter Man, who I like better than his little Black Dog and of course, the Generation Y family who have not one, but two dogs. (No thanks to two…I like being the ‘only’ dog)….

Some time I got to tell you about them because are way awesome (well, they like me…but fight other dogs….works for me).

They are my responsibility (because everything is…or so I think)…as well….because if we don’t help others, who will lend a hand when we need help….I am just saying…think about it!

I admit, I am not perfect.  I am wilful, hard-headed and sensitive…. a bit like my Momma. I don’t know exactly what my transgression was on this particular occasion. Well actually, I do.  Wonder Boy was talking to Momma and, since I am the centre of the universe, I started bugging Momma, pushing her hand to indicate, ‘Pay attention to me, NOW.’

Apparently, I had done it one too many times that day because, Momma said to me, rather sharply, ‘Lay down, Jakita.’ Somehow, Wonder Boy took exception to Momma trying to discipline me, since he said, well, that I only respond to his                                                                                                                          command.

I know, I know, dogs understand words, not sentences but you better believe, I understood, that my needy self shone a light on Momma’s weaknesses.  I meekly lay on the floor beside her, my head on my paws, hoping she would look at me and see through the love in my unwavering stare that I meant no harm.  So the moment passed, the night rolled out as usual, me sleeping blissfully beside Wonder Boy, dreaming of succulent doggie treats to devour and bones to demolish, but the next day, a new regime began.

It seems like all the hours of training Momma spent in order to make me perfect, had not quite paid full dividends.  Momma says there are a multitude of things I get right but then there is that Quite Contrary side of me (inherited no doubt from Momma) that makes me buck the system.  Apparently, I am a Work-In-Progress.

Momma started with the easy stuff, like sit, lay, stay, rollover, pray, count, beg, come, stop.  Blue Ribbon, all the way…..On to the stuff that unnerves me…a knock at the door, a doorbell rings.  It could be anyone at that door with malicious intent.  It is my job to both warn the family of potential danger and frighten the interloper in to beating a hasty retreat. No??? You know the person at the door so when you say, ‘Jakita, lay down. Stay’, I am not supposed to move a muscle, until further command. Really, like REALLY?  Just lay down?  Everyone knows a dog laying down can not bark.  I got to go through my Policies and Procedures for All Creation.  I am sure Momma is wrong.

Okay, I got it.  It is okay to bark, say one woof, if it is legitimate, like the cat is on the table or wants outside or to sound an alarm if no one is expected but someone is here, say poking around in our garage. But Momma and Wonder Boy are Control Central.  I am to take the lead from them. Gotcha!

That leaves the annoying attention seeking behaviour.  I solemnly do swear I will cease and desist to the best of my ability.  If sometimes I forget, remind me.  After all I don’t run away any more.  I am perfectly house broken.  I try, I really try.

I mean, when I was a puppy, it was easier to resist training but now, with every breath in my body, I want to please  Momma and Wonder Boy. Their approval means everything to me.  And you know the best part of the Retraining Program?  It is the treats for performance.  So bring it on, Momma! Especially those Kitty Cat Temptations. They seem to awaken the beast…I mean, the best in me.