A doggie reminiscence

 

Jordan and Pierre
Note the unusual eyes--on the dog, not the girl

 Last night on their way home from taking Jacob to camp, Jordan and Christian stopped to see Christian’s college buddy, Gary—and made me jealous. I like Gary, but the jealousy comes not from wanting to see Gary but from getting to visit with his new dog, Pierre. Gary’s a real dog person, and he has lost two dogs in rapid succession. Still, we were surprised when he announced he had gotten a new puppy almost immediately.

Pierre is a doodle dog, a cross between a poodle and an Australian shepherd. I’m partial to doodles because Sophie is a bordoodle, a cross between a border collie and a miniature poodle and you don’t have to read this blog many times to figure out how much I love my dog. But I also have a huge place in my heart for Aussies. My last dog before Sophie, Scooby, was a rescue Aussie and had perhaps the sweetest nature of any dog I’ve ever loved (Shhh! Don’t tell Sophie I said that!). He came with problems, partly because he was an Aussie and partly because of his background.

Scooby had been a back yard dog, confiscated by the city for violation of the code that says three pets per dwelling—apparently, he was one of many kept in a back yard, with food occasionally thrown to him but no affection. He had been abused—if you grabbed his collar, he would cringe. And he was always always hungry, a terrible counter thief. Once I watched him put his paws on the kitchen counter and delicately take a leaf of lettuce from one of three salad bowls being prepped for dinner. The salads were for me and my daughters, both of whom immediately yelled, “That’s your salad, Mom!” Another time, I found him standing in puzzlement over a banana he had scarfed from the counter. The look on his face clearly said, “Okay. I got it. Now what do I do with it?” And there was the time he did a high jump to grab an apple out of granddaughter Maddie’s hand which she held high in the air to keep it away from him. Maddie swore he tried to bite her, but that wasn’t it—he wanted that apple.

Scooby

Scooby was as enthusiastic about people as he was about food, and he alarmed more than one guest with his rowdy, jumping affection. He was so anxious to give a doggie kiss to one friend that he made her lip bleed, and she swore he was a danger around my grandkids. She just didn’t appreciate his brand of affection. But if it was just me, Scoob would lie by my desk—there is actually a spot where the surface of the wood floor is worn away from him lying there. And he always slept by my bed. I loved that dog.

Aussies are, by nature, energetic, and that's putting it mildly. When I first got Scoob, I hired a trainer to help me calm him. The biggest gift the trainer gave me was to teach him not to jump on people. We did that by always keeping a leash on him in the house when I was with him to be sure he didn’t get caught. If he jumped, I jerked on that leash and gave him a firm, “No.” Aussies are as smart as they are energetic, and he got the message. I asked the trainer when he would calm down, this three-year-old dog who was new to me, and the answer was, “When he’s about ten.” I didn’t believe him, but it turned out to be an accurate prediction.

So, I wish Gary luck with his pup. He says he’ll bring Pierre to Fort Worth next time he visits, and I have promised to cook Chicken Divan for him—Gary that is, not Pierre. Gary and I have a retro food thing going. Last time he was here I made him tuna casserole. He and I loved it. The rest of the family not so much

I also did a sort of retro thing for happy hour tonight. A friend I hadn’t seen since quarantine came for happy hour, laden down with wine and chocolate. What a welcome kind of friend! I guess I pretended we were having tea instead of wine, because I fixed finger sandwiches. Trimmed the crusts and cut them in shapes, just like the fancy places do. Square ones were cucumber and seasoned cream cheese (just the right amount of dill); triangles were egg salad with capers. I thought they turned out well. We had a delightful visit—Mary Kay had lots of good stories to tell and insight into city politics and social causes. A pleasant evening.

And I got lots of work done today, have lots more on my desk for tomorrow. Life is just the way I liked it—busy.