Thursday, October 14, 2010

Unloading a batch of cigars

Nearly every morning starts off the same way.
I roll out of bed with a groan and feel Helen’s tail start whapping away at my ankles. She’s excited to start her day and heads straight for the bedroom door to wait patiently for me to get my bearings.

This is how we attack our first hour of the morning.

Me, bathroom to relieve self and make sure I haven’t lost all of my hair or grown a wart. Helen sits patiently in the doorway watching me as I sit on the commode, her tail still swishing back and forth.

I wash my hands, brush my teeth and then tell her it’s time to go downstairs.
She then heads down in a rush, zooming and trying her best not to brush against or knock over the cats that are littering the thoroughfare.

Through the living room, through the dining room, zipping through the kitchen and ending up at the glass doors that go out onto the backyard patio.
Poncho and Jake are downstairs waiting for her, hyper as little dogs are – prancing and scrabbling around in their doggy palace (i.e. crate trained for bedtime).

Everyone touches noses, discuss what they dreamt about the night before and bound outside onto the grass to tumble and roughhouse for a few minutes. I sit down into one of the patio chairs, take a deep breath and enjoy the cool morning air and enjoy watching my threesome play.

I let them goof for a minute, watching as Jake and Poncho have a field day pissing on everything in a 20 foot radius. If I’m not careful, Poncho will come over and give my ankle or the chair I’m in a good whizzing.

The world must know “She’s Mine”!

After I feel they have satisfactorily emptied their doggy bladders it’s time to remind Helen to do the same. She’s a good dog, smart really but when it comes to her hygiene she’s a bit of an idiot. Quite literally she’d hold her pee all day long (poop too) until she was busting her britches. You have to tell her to go or she’ll just run and play, goof around and then come back inside and realize..OH NO I DIDN’T PEE!

That said, I give her the command, “Helen- Go PeePee”

The neighbors probably think I’m a raving lunatic by now, hearing that a few times a day.
She waddles about until she finds just the right spot; she has already dedicated a 6x6 area as the toilet and doesn’t like to stray far from it.

Squats and then runs back to me when I praise her with a “Good Girl”.
Those “Good Girls” will get me doggy wiggles, tail wags, tongue licks and lying on her back to have her tummy rubbed. She will do just about anything for a “Good Girl”

Now I will attempt the more difficult command…in a moment.

Let’s let her run it out a little bit more.
Play, play..and play.
”Get her Poncho”

This is a great activity though I think that some people would frown upon it. Tough shit I say. This command sets the dogs into a spin, ‘round they go about the yard weaving this way and that through the obstacles. 2 BBQ grills, stack of lumber, chain-link dog kennel that wasn’t set up.

I would have thought it impossible because of Poncho’s age (10) but that little stinker runs at Roadrunner speeds, tackles Helen, pulling her down and she lovingly falls onto her back to expose her throat as he mock-kills her. She absolutely WANTS him to maul her throat and face.

While he’s going to town on her, nipping and pulling at her ears and wrapping his needle shaped muzzle around her thick neck, Jake is bouncing around the 2 of them and pawing like a kitten with a giant ball of yarn.

He’s so tiny compared to Helen and he’s quite small even compared to Poncho but the 2 of those bigger dogs let him in to play and are forever gentle with him. It’s as if they know they could damage him but they do want him to be involved.

Sometimes Poncho will let Jake do all of the attacking, the racing around the yard is a lot slower, seeing how Jake’s legs are about as long as my thumbs. Once he gets the chance to pounce on Helen he is a vicious little shit, much rougher than Poncho ever is but I suspect that his bite feels like mosquito’s to her.

If Helen makes any move to toss him or be a little too aggressive while Jake’s doing his business Poncho sounds his alarm and starts barking at her.
I’m quite the lucky little dog owner, all 3 of these dogs are quiet.

QUIET! Not toy breed yappers that go berserk when they hear a mouse fart. They are nice and quiet and only bark when it’s necessary. A finger to my lips and a shush will quiet them in moments.
It’s come in handy when a few wankers have been at the door knocking.
Go away Jehovah, I don’t want any!

The few minutes of rowdiness is allowed and then I give the poop command. Helen gives me a look of “awww Mom I’m still playing” but stops, wanders over to toilet square and squats.
If she can’t muster a turd, she’ll look guilty and scuttle around working her way back to my seat waiting for the praise she knows isn’t coming. I will still pet her but not reward her with the G.G.
She also knows that it’s time for the best reward of all, time for a run.

You know damn well that I’M NOT RUNNING! Holy shit, the very idea of me running, arms pumping up and down and chest heaving, air rasping through my tight lungs is just giving me a fit thinking about it.

We walk back inside and go back through the kitchen towards the treadmill which I have set up facing the flatscreen in the living room.
Yes, this is an excellent motivator. I can put in a movie that is 1.5-2 hours long and sweat it out a few times a week.

“Helen, On!”
She willingly steps onto the belt and sits waiting for me to reach up to the keypad and start punching in the numbers and time for her workout.
Helen is a working dog mixed breed, I figured out the hard way that if she didn’t get worn out daily she would take up to being destructive around the house. Since I don’t have 10 acres for her to run and plan on, which would be best suited for a dog like her – she will have to settle for the NordicTrack.

The belt starts moving, her grin widens even more and she starts trotting along looking this way and that. The cats come up and sit on the deck to watch her sometimes, not sure if it bugs her but she seems to tolerate everything and takes it in stride.

Here’s the deal, if you go back to a past blog you’ll know that we’ve had an issue about flying objects from the treadmill. I have now resorted to placing paper towels at the foot of the machine each day of her run.
Now if she’s dropped her dung, pinched her loaf and blasted a dookie outside I feel 100% safe that the house will be deuce free. But, even that 100% can be destroyed if she’s been withholding and the next thing you know she’s makin’ gravy and her audience will come a’running to see what the stink is all about!

She never breaks stride though – a true athlete.