Taking the Double Dog Dare

I should have known better. Why listen to someone who walked her three yorkies simultaneously and think that it would work well for my dogs? Most important, her dogs weighed slightly more than a tissue box, while each of mine pushed 50-plus pounds.

Jasper (left) & Darcy

But my colleague with the yorkies made a compelling case.Her mile-long walks sounded pleasant and meditative. Plus by walking her dogs together, she did not have to make multiple trips home to retrieve the next one. For me, that meant not having to listen to the one left behind bark incessantly, whine and scratch at the door until I got out of earshot.

In retrospect, maybe I also wanted to believe that after the dollars and time spent training my two dogs they could behave during a joint-jaunt around the block.

So one day, when my husband/walking partner, could not join me, I decided to take both dogs for our two-miler. I saddled up my little girl dog, Darcy, with the choke collar and my big boy, Jasper, with the gentle leader. Both received training on their respective collars and while they did not pass obedience school with flying colors, they did get through the 10-week program.(Darcy got the label of the happy piddler,because each time she got excited, which was virtually every moment she was there, she peed).

The Cheshire Cat by John Tenniel

Now, as adult dogs, I figured they had the maturity to walk well together. They did OK alone, so why not? Our route took us on three laps around the block and my confidence grew after circling twice without a hitch. I felt relaxed and at peace, loosening up on the leashes a bit. I failed to note that during those two laps we did not see a thing, meaning a human, a chipmunk,a squirrel, a deer, a moose,  a car, a cat, a dog or a blowing leaf.

The Longest 100 Yards

The scenario changed near the conclusion of the third lap. With only 100 yards to go and home almost in sight, I felt cavalier, confident and worst of all, relaxed. I failed to see the stealth cat hidden in the tall grass,just past the ditch.

But my eagle-eye dogs spotted her and they lunged. With my smooth-soled sneakers (a poor choice for walking, especially when walking two dogs) and my relaxed hold, I found myself dragged across the macadam like a water skier skimming the lake surface. When I hit the berm of the road I lost my balance and landed with arms and legs splayed. But I held the leashes. Looking up I saw my dogs within two feet of the cat, who just sat still contentedly enjoying the spectacle.

I got into table-top position and gradually rag-dolled my way to an upright stance as I uttered numerous expletives at my dogs. But to my surprise, the worst was yet to come.

Now totally excited and razzed by the cat, Darcy circled my legs, wrapping the leash tight around them. With Darcy behind me and Jasper making a frontal assault, I now fell backwards into the ditch, landing like a turtle on its shell. I still held the leashes making it difficult to untangle myself. Flailing around while I tried to turn over, I uttered audible sounds, kind of like moans. (Thankfully no one saw me although I did need rescue).

My dogs meanwhile cared less about my plight and stayed focused on that feline grinning like a Cheshire cat. They made multiple lunges,and although a part of me wanted to just let go of the leashes, I knew the cat and I would regret that decision. So I held tight.

Finally, I applied the skills I learned from taking numerous downhill skiing falls and managed to turn on my side. Gradually I untangled from the leashes, stood up, yanked my dogs, dusted off my scraped knees and elbows,brushed off my bruised ego, and began the slow 100-yard walk home. 

When I hobbled into my house, disheveled and disgusted, I swore I would never do a double-dog walk again.

…Well, never say never.

Years passed and memories fade. This week I took them for a double-dog walk, another two-miler. With no human, chipmunk, squirrel, deer,moose, car, cat, dog or blowing leaf in sight, we had that pleasant, meditative stroll my colleague told me about years ago. Miracles can happen and sometimes fantasies become reality.

Nothin’ Says Lovin’…

About once a month, when you enter my home the smell of fresh baked goodies greets you. But as my husband knows, I barely cook and never bake…with one exception. I make treats for my pups. 

Now you may ask why someone who disdains cooking goes through the trouble of making dog biscuits when virtually every supermarket and box store on the planet sells them at a reasonable cost.

 

Here’s why:

·      They are easy and mindless to make.

·      I know what ingredients go into the treats and the fact that I can pronounce each one.

·      I can make any shape and size I want. (I really like little ‘bits’ that are ideal for training, even though my mutts are long past that stage).

·      And, my customers (meaning my dogs) love them and never complain. Their gratitude, attention and scarfing up of each morsel makes me feel like a great chef.

My recipe came from my sister who knew my cooking challenges and assured me of its simplicity. She explained that you can quickly mix up the four ingredients, roll it out, cut the shapes you want, put it on the cookie sheet and while it bakes kick back and enjoying a cup of java.

 

What you will need:

2/3 cup water

2 cups whole wheat flour

½ cup cornmeal

6 Tablespoons of oil (I use olive oil or a combination of olive and peanut oil)

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Get a bowl and mix all the ingredients together. Take a portion of the dough and roll it out. (I roll it on a baking sheet or parchment paper because I am too lazy to have to pick out the cut out shapes, meaning bits or bones, and place them on the cookie sheet).

Cut the shapes you want. I use a dog bone cookie cutter. For my bits, I use a pizza cutter and simply cut strips of dough that I then cross cut to make little squares. I do not worry about consistency in terms of size and shape. Who cares? My dogs eat them regardless of what they look like.   

Bake for 30 to 40 minutes. Let cool. Serve to your pups and revel in the adoration. 

The Great Escape

Palms sweaty, heart pounding I drove in circles looking for my two renegade dogs. They slipped the electric fence, braving the shock collar to taste freedom. Shannon got off the school bus, flagged me down and told me she had seen them on Beechdale Road, about a mile and half away. I raced to Beechdale and soon spotted my wayward pups nibbling grass along a driveway, bearing no resemblance to ours at home. Jumping out of the car, I ran to them overjoyed to find them safe and unharmed, only to be greeted by low growls and a series of barks. When I yelled,  “Idiots,  get in the car!” they hung their heads, slunk over and complied.

Red Is My Favorite Color, Although I Am Colorblind

The room remains dark but I want out. I carry on like a child throwing a temper tantrum until the bedroom door opens. Then I run out making a mad dash for the back door. I wait for my exit and leap into the cool crisp air at 6 am. I can smell the seasonal change. Fall has arrived.

I have one goal in mind…to find the perfect place for my morning ritual. I look around, pretending to search for the ideal spot. But regardless of the season, I always choose the elderberry bush.

The lush green foliage of summer has passed and I can no longer hide behind the leafy bush or nibble on the tasty berries. I do not have to contend with the soft spring elderberry flowers that leave their downy white on my fur. And the skeleton branches of winter that provide no privacy has not yet arrived.

This elderberry bush, during this autumn season, offers just the right amount of leaf cover. I love this spot, convenient to the house, just past the porch steps. And it’s my spot, with my smells. The perfect place for me to take my first morning pee.

Every Adonis Has His Achilles Heel

Bartholomew moved with us from Pennsylvania to New Hampshire. I quickly learned that my Adonis of a dog had one major flaw. He got car sick virtually every time he set foot in a vehicle, whether we drove 400 miles or around the block. To say travel with him was a challenge is an understatement. It was more like a drag and a nightmare combined.

Bartholomew

We quickly learned that if we got on the highway and traffic flowed, Barth felt fine. The local traffic with its stops and slow-downs, really turned his stomach and resulted in a major clean-up of the car.

So as my husband and I made our long drives and got within walking distance of our final destination, we developed a strategy. I readied Barth for the great escape, affixing his leash. The car slowed and the second it stopped I jumped out, grabbed Barth and walked with him the last half mile or so. 

With adrenaline flowing and heart pumping Barth and I met up with my husband about 10 minutes later. I felt like I had gone through the gauntlet but arrived a victor -- sometimes sweaty, sometimes drenched from the rain but always grateful that the car remained clean.

Needless to say, we kept road trips with Barth to a minimum.