Do you have a dog in your life? I have. She’s not the same one I’ve talked about previously. She crossed the rainbow bridge a couple of years ago. Our current girl is another ‘mature’ rescue.
You know how they say that dogs become like their owners? Or is it vice versa? Or is it that dogs and owners are similar… I don’t know. Well, thought I’d add my vampiric penn’orth/two cents to this.
I don’t people. You know that. I know very few vampires that do. Scratch that. I don’t know any vampires that do. Actually, scratch that too. I don’t know any other vampires. So that’s a lot of scratching.
Anyway, it turns out that our pooch doesn’t pooch either. Initially, she couldn’t be in the same postcode as another dog without her becoming so upset that we weren’t sure whether we needed the services of a dog trainer or an exorcist.
She’s not bad around calm dogs but she can’t handle bouncy dogs that come bouncing up to her. “Don’t worry, he’s friendly!” the owners always call, while the Girl transforms into a furry spinning top of anxiety. And those dang bouncy dogs never have any recall, so dog owner is standing there, screaming their dog’s name with increasing volume and frustration.
But I get it. How would I react if some over-the-top hyperactive human stranger came haring over to me, insisting on bear-hugging me? I’d be interested to know if there’s anyone out there who would welcome that invasion of personal space?
Two years on, she’s calmed down a lot, and is immeasurably more confident, but we are still working on her training daily.
We have a number of set routes for when we’re not feeling adventurous. Or when it’s raining, and we need to know we’re not going to end up mud-skiing (like waterskiing, but – you get the picture).One of these is a 40 minute round trip I call The Microgreens Walk. It consists of a road walk around our hometown, with stops for sniffing and toileting at three small commons. These three geographical areas are as follows:
Poo Corner
15 minutes away, this luxurious patch of grass offers all the amenities required, including long grass, trees, tufts of weeds – ideal for that enthusiastic sniffer, and a conveniently placed bin. Nestling at the intersection of two busy roads, Poo Corner offers the perfect vantage point for anyone who may need to scope out the area mid-walk.
The Bermuda Triangle
So-named because of its shape, and its delightful propensity for the sudden appearance and disappearance of eminently sniffable objects, the Triangle boasts an ideal position. Set back from a relatively quiet main road, it is flanked by houses on two sides, offering protection from harsh winds. Long, tufty grass comes as standard, with the welcome addition of a large wooden post, offering toileting and additional sniffing opportunities.
Gallery Green
Named in homage to the art gallery that once stood on this now verdant patch of grass. Gallery Green has a number of desirable features, such as trees, bushy hedgerows, and a well-appointed bin.
Today, it was raining, so I thought we’d be quite safe. There wouldn’t be too many people around. Because, as we all know, dogs can’t go out in the rain, in case they get wet. Oh, no, wait – that’s mogwai.
We get to Poo Corner and a vaguely familiar guy with his Cockawawa appear out of nowhere. It’s on one of those retractable leashes that scream ‘I’ve given up trying to control my dog.’
My girl starts getting a little anxious because, you know, there’s another dog in the same patch as her, but as we were playing a game, she carries on with that, with only the occasional whimper – I talk her through it, praising her whenever she turns her focus back to me.
That’s when I hear a voice.
“Are you talking to me or your dog?” It’s Mr Cockerwawa.
Umm.
Good Girl?
I’m talking to my dog, I reply, explaining that she’s a rescue who’s reactive and nervous of other dogs. Satisfied with my answer, Mr Cockerwawa spots another dog owner across the road and starts chatting with her. Meanwhile, Miss Newcomer’s dog is staring at us. He’s an overly curious boxer with an expression like Samuel L. Jackson before his morning coffee.
Mr C and Samuel’s walker then shoot the breeze while Cockerwawa gets ever closer to us, thanks to the seemingly neverending dog lead. Meanwhile, Samuel is still staring at us with the kind of focus that I can only dream of. And I swear, he’s not blinking.
The Girl has also spotted Samuel but, thankfully, she doesn’t bother too much because – game. And back she goes to sniffing. Samuel’s walker and Mr C finish their small talk with some small talk goodbyes and off she heads, back to walk her other dog.
So now it’s just me, the Girl, Cockerwawa and Mr C left on Poo Corner. the Girl is continuing with her game, while Cockerwawa is going round and round in circles, doing The Dance Of The Download. The Girl decides to follow suit.
I thought I was indecisive until I watched my dog trying to pick a place to poop.
Then that moment comes. The moment that all dog parents (and owners or walkers) eagerly await, little black plastic (biodegradable, obvs) in hand. Looking over, Cockerwawa has chosen The Spot. He’s popping a squat, keeping his beady eye on Mr C.
The Girl does likewise.
And that’s when the cringe happens.
Looking over at Mr Cockerwawa, I cheerfully call out,
“Synchronised pooping, eh?”
Mr. C stares at us, horrified. Luckily, a retriever on the other, other side of the road distracts the Girl enough to send her over her comfort threshold, giving us the opportunity to beat a hasty retreat.
So you see, my dog and I are very similar. We don’t play well with others. And when we try, it tends to go sideways.
Do you have a dog? How like you are they? Let me know in the comments!
For anyone wanting to read all my rants in one place – including all-new exclusive stuff, then click below!
Volume 1 of my diary – why not start at the very beginning?
Volume 2 – more rants, musings and fairly useful advice
Volume 3 – things are afoot! The thot plickens…
The Everyday Vampire 