Lura Thoughts

Chip and Scout and Marley and Me

Is there anybody out there who hasn't either read the book, seen the movie, or at least heard about Marley and Me?  John Grogan, the author, found fame and fortune in the antics of his "incorrigible" yellow lab, making all of us other lab owners slap our heads and say, "D'oh!  Why didn't I think to write that book?" 

  

Because, after all, Marley really just isn't that different from any other yellow lab, or at least he's not that different from my guys, Chip and Scout.

Chip is happy-go-lucky, always ready with a smile and a wag, and always ready to cause trouble.  The only reason that he doesn't just continuously eat our couch, as Marley does in the movie, is because he's never left unsupervised in the house.  That, and I walk the two dogs until my legs fall off every day.  Chip learned at an early age that every stranger is a BFF just waiting to be discovered.  Admittedly, he was pretty cute, and everybody opened their arms and leaned over to cuddle with him.  Now he's a 75 pound dog, and he still expects everybody to greet him the same way.  Some would say that he's overly friendly.  We had to close the door to the bathroom because Chip would roll out the toilet paper. Chip steals things off the counter to get attention, and the more expensive the thing is, the better, because the Maui Jim sunglasses and the mortgage payment get a much larger reaction than just the shopping list. 

 Scout's entire body wags when his tail does, which is almost all the time.  Scout is maybe a little easier because he likes to play with toys and likes to chase balls, so it's possible to tire him out by throwing a ball in the backyard about a hundred times.  Scout likes to lay on his rug and hold a squeaky toy in his mouth and just squeak it.  In the winter, it's fun to throw his squeaky toys down the stairs and let him go get them.  It's sort of like a Stair Mill for dogs.  Scout's a little more adventurous than Chip -- he jumped into the hot tub twice before figuring out that that wasn't a good idea, and when we go hiking he likes to duck under fences to see what's on the other side.  I bring treats with me to call him back, and when he comes back he and Chip both get a treat.  Now, whenever Scout even gets close to the fence, Chip comes over to ask me for his treat.

Before I had my boys, I would see a sweet Golden Retriever walking down the road carrying its stuffed animal and think how cute that was.  We had to stop buying our guys stuffed animals.  When given one, they go in through the nose and rip out all of its stuffing.  It's a little scary.  The local pet store won't sell me the stuffed animals that are gauranteed to last anymore.  It takes Chip and Scout less than 30 seconds usually to completely eviscerate them.  It's not pretty.

I had lunch with a friend the other day, and as we were watching an adorable one year old eat it's lunch, she asked me if I missed having babies around.  "No," I answered.  "I still have two of them at home."

Labs come into your life as puppies, cute and sweet.  But even at 8 weeks old, they're serious trouble.  They're challenging and fun and happy and energetic.  It's a total cliche, but it's true:  they're overwhelmingly happy to see you every time you walk into the room, even if you were only gone for a moment to use the bathroom.  John Grogan may have made his millions writing about the antics of his lab, but I guess I don't really need the millions.  Just having the company of my boys makes me feel rich.  Okay, I do wish I had the millions, too.

The Things Dogs Do

Probably one of the most exciting things, at least for people who already have kids and have no life, is to get a puppy.  You imagine all of the fun things you're going to do with your dog -- he'll ride in the car and be your buddy, he'll chase a ball, he'll hike with you.  You imagine fun times with him licking your face and lying at your feet. 

You know when you first get that puppy that it means being up all night with a puppy that has a bladder the size of a pea, and you know that you'll probably be needing to get your carpet cleaned in a couple of weeks.  But that all seems like a small price to pay for the kind, sweet best buddy that always acts like you're the most amazing thing in the world every time you walk in the door, even if it's only been a minute that you've been gone taking out the garbage.

But, just as with kids, having a dog has challenges that you just didn't imagine when you got it.  When my dog Chip was only 6 months old, he came down with a 6 month case of clostridium, which is a fancy word for diarrhea.  Lots, and lots, and lots of clostridium.  I never in a million years imagined that I would be collecting "samples" and driving them across town to the vet for analysis.  I could just imagine what the police officer would say if I got pulled over for speeding:  "Do you know how fast you were...Whoa!  What's that smell?"

Dogs also come with a variety of other problems, such as when they get little doggy viruses and can't keep their dinners down.  That's when it's an advantage to have little dogs, and unfortunately I have yellow labs, which aren't the largest breed going, but it sure seems like it when they have little doggy stomach viruses.

My latest challenge, though, came today when I took the dogs up to Dry Creek, which I've blogged about before.  Dry Creek is a beautiful place where the dogs can run off-leash.  I like to go there when I want to get a jog in and I don't mind them getting a little wet.  Contrary to it's name, Dry Creek has a very wet creek running through it, which is perfect for keeping the dogs cool on hot days.

I was coming around to the end of the first lap, and then noticed that sticking out of my dog's mouth is the front end of a dead prarie dog.  It looks recently dead -- not too stiff yet or greyed, but clearly not too fresh.  I stopped and yelled at my dog, "Scout!  Drop!  Bad Boy!  Drop!" to which he completely ignored me.  I discovered that by stopping, he had more opportunity to crunch and work the thing into his mouth more.  Right then I had a choice.  I could either reach over, grab him, and with my bare hands pull the thing out of his mouth, or I could continue to yell and pretend that maybe it might work.  I'm sorry, I couldn't bring myself to touch the dead little critter.  Then it occurred to me that my dog couldn't eat it if I kept him moving, so I started running again, calling him after me.  I have to admit, that did make a difference.  He was having a hard time running, holding on the the prairie dog, and chew it at the same time.  Not too much of a hard time, though.  He eventually got the thing down, claws and all. 

This was perhaps the single most gross thing I've ever had to witness with the dogs.

The vet said that there would probably be no side effects with the prairie dog, but he gave me antibiotics to give him anyway.  We kept an eye on him, and I was surprised to see absolutely no ill effects.

Tomorrow we're going to the Lafayette Dog Park.  And it's going to be a long while before I let the dog give me any kisses.