Dog Therapy

I have encountered an unusually large number of dogs during the past several days. I like this very much. I love doggies in all their furry waggy joyful gleeness. I wish I could have a few of my own; since I can’t, I thoroughly enjoy the time I get to spend with other people’s pooches.

A few days ago I got to take Jen’s dog to the beach. Since Ken (yes, he has a people name, which should amuse those of you no end who are acquainted with my brother) is a retired guide dog, he sometimes has trouble getting in touch with his doggy side. This trip to the beach was the very first time ever I saw him actually approach another dog. He did great--tail wags, butt-sniffing, wide-mouth smiles, the whole routine. I’m so proud and happy for him. He even played once. It was amazing. He crouched down on his front legs and did that spastic backward jumpy “come catch me” thing while woofing and grinning foolishly. It was such a joy to see him enjoying himself so much. He played in the water and even chased a few other dogs around for a while.

And then he peed on some guy’s shoes. It turned out ok; the young man was very nice, as was his girlfriend, although she was laughing her head off the whole time. I myself was having an immensely difficult time not laughing through my profuse apologies, but I felt it would be rude to laugh more than his girlfriend did. The whole thing happened in slow motion. You see, Ken’s favorite thing to do at the beach is to run around to all the piles of seaweed, sniff them in several places, and then pee on them. Evidently he also sometimes has a little difficulty discerning what is seaweed and what is not. I looked up at one point to see him standing over this couple’s belongings in his “I’m gonna pee on this!” stance. I ran over as fast as I could, yelling at him to stop, as the girlfriend attempted to gently pry him away, but he’d already pretty much nailed one of the shoes. At least they’re washable. The boyfriend even sat down and gave Ken a lot of good-natured rubbing and kisses after the whole incident blew over. What a nice guy.

Friday night we were at a pub for a small going-away party for Molly from Stone. We will miss her terribly. Who am I going to make movies with now? At any rate, a couple in the "beer garden" area brought their two goofy-cute Basset hounds with them. They were awesome-- all wrinkly and pudgy and floppy-eared with the most soulful deep doggy voices ever. They apparently are regulars at the pub, and are quite vocal about their excitement about being there. At one point the boy dog just sat within a circle of about five of us and bayed his head off. It was adorable. The owner lady kept apologizing for the noise, but I told her not to worry, that he was making a valuable contribution to our conversation.

And then, early Saturday afternoon during the beautiful rain that had woken me up that morning, I looked out the window and saw a couple walking a very playful medium-sized beagle mutt dog. The best part was that he was wearing a black raincoat. With a hood. Holy crap, it was awesome! He was such a happy raincoated doggy. And then yesterday, to top off all the gleeful puppy-ness, I met the most amazingly sweet and cuter than hell Boxer puppy at the bagel shop. Her name was Sadie, and she was the adorabalest most wonderfullest dog ever. Ever. I’ve always loved Boxers--they are so damn goofy and silly and they have a tendency to lie down on their tummies with their back legs splayed out like frogs. Oh, how I love them!