Reunion

I got up last Friday and told Stella it was her lucky day. If she were a teenager, I'm certain I would've gotten the full blown eye roll right then and there. It was a long busy day and she was surprised when I produced her leash again at 5:30. We drove for a little while and then turned onto a winding road bordered at the back by a creek. I turned the rear view mirror in her direction. She was about to scratch off a ticket worth more than five dollars, I wanted to see her face if I could. Her nose went straight out the window. A minute later we pulled into a driveway we hadn't been in since early January. A familiar black dog headed up to the gate toward us. He blinked, looked behind him and again at us, as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

I waved at him. He knew then, who and what he was looking at. As did his former girlfriend, Stella. She jumped into the front seat, which she never does, and then back to the backseat again as I slowly drove down the driveway and into the parking spot. Now if this were a movie, we'd be at the part where we're all running toward each other through a field of daisies in slow motion. The love fest that followed was so sweet it would rot your teeth. Diesel jumped into the back seat of my car and sat down facing forward, like it was yesterday and when I told him to get out he simply moved over to the other seat and sat down again. It was hysterical. There's no question he's having the time of his life at the farm. He has all he needs there to fill up his days with the things dogs love most. Toys, treats, canine friends, feline friends, love and attention, livestock, a horse trough filled with water. He's still the same lover boy that he always was and although we probably overstayed our welcome (having too much fun - you understand) I still hope we get to do it again sometime. Many thanks to Diesel's mom for the invitation and great DINNER.

Diesel update

Here is a great update from Diesel's new mom Debbie (who we're officially crazy about): 

Diesel and Maggie are good friends now – Maggie’s still the boss but they do play together.  He’s used to the routine now, he goes out in the morning and stays out until night unless the weather is bad…Maggie is scared of lightning and thunder so I always bring her in and it’s not fair to leave him outside so he comes in also.  He’s very good about going to his bed and laying down when he’s in the house although sometimes he gets very excited and runs around like a goofball. [ed. note: I find this incomprehensible.]

I got Diesel a toy that he’s absolutely gaga over – it’s just a squeaky ball wrapped in canvas with several canvas tails so you can play tug of war.  He’s so obsessive about it and it just cracks me up when he squeaks it – he’s loves it.  I have discovered that he keeps it safe by burying it then digging it back up so it’s always muddy and nasty but he will carry it around for hours and hours.

He’s laying out on the deck in the sun right now next to Maggie.  He won’t go near the horses and when I let them in the front yard, he stays under the carport and watches to make sure they don’t come anywhere near him (they couldn’t really care less about where he is anyway).  I’ll be interested to see how he handles the farrier when he comes to do my horses because I bring them under the carport for the farrier so Diesel’s  safe place will be penetrated by those evil horses – what will he do?  So far, he’s a pretty happy guy.

I wonder if you trained Diesel to run on a treadmill.  The first nasty day that he was here and I couldn’t play ball with him to spill some of his energy – I put him on the treadmill and he immediately knew what to do.  It’s wonderful because now if he’s too full of himself and I don’t have the time or inclination to go outside and work it out of him, I just stick him on the treadmill and let him go for a mile or more and then he’s just fine.

He’s a good dog and I’m glad to have him.

How does it feel to only have one dog to contend with? I bet you find you have a lot of extra time on your hands and a lot calmer life.

First, thanks to Debbie for the update. We really appreciate it. Second, as I told her in a return e-mail, I did (in a fit of exhaustion) teach Diesel to run on the treadmill. I hadn't mentioned it here until this very minute because I wanted a good video of it which necessitated moving furniture and setting up a light, but I ran out of time over the holidays. It was a lot of fun and to be honest, I didn't have to do that much teaching. I just had to figure out the logistics of it and say "good boy" a few times and he understood. I held the leash and pretended to walk or jog along next to him.  He did it without second guessing me, without an explanation and with zero experience. It was beautiful. 

Stella, on the other hand..did not master the treadmill. Stella analyzes everything and she thinks way too much. She'll walk up onto anything I ask her to but you let the floor start moving and Stella is going to pick up her marbles and go straight home.

Lastly, life is definitely more calm with just one dog. Especially since the two of them used to play the canine version of Smackdown in my office twice a day. Initially, I encouraged this behavior - in order to teach them  to "stop" on command but they burned some good energy that way too and never once broke anything or turned over a piece of furniture - which I still find amazing. 

Nothing much new

There isn't too much new to talk about here. Things have been pretty quiet. I think Stella still misses Diesel (or maybe I'm just thinking of me haha separation anxiety(?). We went over to new friend Chuy's house to spend the day yesterday. Chuy's make and model are unknown but he's a puppy and he leans toward the herding, I have more energy than most dogs on the planet - variety. Stella is mostly annoyed by him but she's working on it. One day we were over there (oh yeah) to get our picture made for Coffee and a Canine. Chuy was doing exactly the same thing to Stella that she used to do to the dogs in the dog park at that age. Basically you go up to the biggest dog you can find and punch it in the side repeatedly with your nose until it chases you. Chuy did this to Stella that day a dozen times and each time, Stella told him to back off. The final time he did it, Stella taught Chuy the same lesson the horse taught Diesel. There was no real contact but he thought there was. Hysteria ensued.

Here's a shot of him in a little behind the scenes action from that day taken by my friend Beverly. We were trying to situate the dogs and he took it upon himself to drink the coffee (bad dog!). I was only pretending to drink it in the picture. Once we finished - I forgot (of course) and drank out of the cup right behind him.  blech.

Goodbye and hello!

Thanks to  Coffee with a Canine for having us over for coffee and featuring Carny Dog on the blog today. Welcome to any new visitors that might happen along. Feel free to take the tour, join in and comment. We love to hear your stories too!

This is a photo of my most excellent friends Beverly and Carr having one last conversation with Diesel before he went to his new home on the real farm. They were kind enough to take Diesel in during the first week of his rescue/liberation.

 

The girl

Here is the first day report courtesy of Diesel's new mom:
(editor's note: Maggie is Diesel's new female companion)

Did you know that Diesel buries his food?  He’s a hoarder.  He buried a dog biscuit in one of the stalls and later took a mouthful of food from a bucket and buried in the vegetable garden.

He has met two of the cats and doesn’t seem to want to bother them, they don’t seem to be worried about him either.  He has been outside with them now – I wanted to make sure he wouldn’t chase them but he was too busy checking out everything else to pay much attention to them after he gave them a good sniffing.

You are right about his obsession with the red booda ball…I had to hide it but I think he’s getting the same way about the truck now…he can’t stop looking at it anytime we are outside and he can’t wait to get back in it.

I discovered that he’s pretty good at chasing a stick and bringing it back to me but it’s only because he doesn’t realize that he can be a couple of feet away from me and I can reach the stick…it’s not like a ball where you have to get right next to him to get it…I think it was a big surprise to him that I could get the stick from him.

The fence is completely working now much to his chagrin so he’s been outside on his own while I watch from the house.  He didn’t even get shocked but he’s smart enough to know that it’s on…he can hear it snap.  He hasn’t wandered far from the barn without me but he’s exploring a little on his own.  He hasn’t gotten over the horses yet, they came up to the deck a minute ago to be petted and he was entirely put out by that.

I worked the tractor for a while and he did go a little postal about the tractor…he tried to climb up to the seat.  I had to get my piaffe whip to make him stay far enough away from the tractor to keep him safe…after a few minutes he settled down and just trotted next to it but he wouldn’t take his eyes off of it and kept barking at it.

Maggie thinks he’s Satan.

This was written Friday. Three days have passed and things have begun to settle down, word has it that all is well and that Diesel and his new mom are having fun getting to know one another. He has his own bag of tennis balls and new girl Maggie - though still reserved - may be reconsidering her options. I'm pretty sure it's a done deal. We'll have updates periodically (thanks Debbie) and a few leftover pictures from last Thursday coming before long.

Meanwhile, is Stella pathetic or what? She got to visit the farm too and run in the pasture with Diesel before we went home Friday. He gets to keep his name, by the way, which is great. She's  obviously missed him but I'm certain she'll be fine too. We've gone back to walking in some of her old favorite places  - which is way more exciting for both of us than our standard romp through the neighborhood.

Oktoberfest

Stella made it out to Oktoberfest a couple of weeks ago where she was able to charm a whole new crew of admirers. It was really too big a crowd and she was overstimulated (probably by the smell of brats and other roasted meaty delicacies. She kept diving under people and food tents to get some little bite of bread they dropped or licking God-knows-what off the pavement. It was pretty exhausting and I was mad from trying to hold her back all day. This weekend is Barktoberfest. Not sure if we're going to make it there or not. Honestly it would be a lot more attractive if they would include something for the humans there too. Fifteen minutes of organic dog treats and useless swag and I'm pretty much ready to go home. We may go just to check out the costumes though. Could be fun.

If dogs could laugh

Boot camp

I do not have a fenced in yard at my house so after summer camp there was/is Boot Camp. He's been here two weeks now so I feel compelled to give you all the Cliffs Notes version of how things have progressed. We do after all, need to get busy finding him a permanent home and I'm happy (and a bit relieved) to say that behaviorally, he has a ton of good qualities working in his favor.

The first forty eight hours (after the honeymoon week at Beverly's) we were attached by a leash, he and I. If he made a move, I knew it, even during the night. What with all the regular exercise, he slept through the night from the beginning and once he recognized the routine - house training and crate training were a breeze. Mind you he isn't all that excited going into the crate but he doesn't mind it once he's in there, even sleeps there voluntarily during the day. Stella taught him about the crate and the "going outside" as well. All I did really was dole out leashes and open the door regularly for a few days.

Walking them together is a challenge but we're managing pretty well. I started out with short distances. They outweigh me by ten pounds and since Diesel has been walked very little in the past, it's conceivable that I could get caught off balance and wake up in Wilson County so I do try to be cautious. Also, for those who believe in karma, I once laughed at a woman who went cartwheeling into a ditch behind two out-of-control dogs chasing a squirrel, so there's that. I figure I'm getting a skinned elbow for that at the very least and for the record, I shouldn't have laughed, she could have been hurt very badly - it just looked so much like a cartoon I had no choice. Anyway, together or separately, the two of them have done remarkably well in just a short period of time.

Maybe the best news of all is that my dear friend Christine, the one with the oh-so-well-behaved dog pack, has offered to sponsor eight weeks of obedience school for Diesel. Hooray! We start next Tuesday and I'm really excited because he appears to be such a quick study. If he gets adopted and moves to Rhode Island - maybe we can donate the remaining classes to some other needy mutt.

Here is a wonderful poem about dogs by Charles John Quarto.

Here again, is the link to Diesel's Petfinder page as well. I suppose I should just put it in the sidebar until that kid moves on to greener pastures. Let me know if you all hear of anyone looking for a new best friend.

Summer Camp

Late in the day, I brought Diesel back home to my house and snuck him in the side door. It appeared my contact for emergency shelter that night was a no go, which worked out for the best. Leaving him in a pen somewhere totally strange would have been unnecessarily traumatic and I would've spent the night worrying about him.

We came into the house through the basement and the very first thing he did - the very first thing - he did after seven hours of exercise and more stimulation than he'd had in years, was pee in my brand new chair. It was the first upholstered chair I ever bought new. I put it together with my bare hands a couple of days earlier. He's tall too so it wasn't just on the side. It shot straight into the seat and ran down onto the carpet. That was the moment I learned I could scream and twirl at the same time. Stella couldn't get in her crate fast enough.

He slept like a baby that first night. He didn't want to go into the crate at first but sliced turkey is a powerful motivator. I woke him up at three-thirty in the morning. It was cruel I know, but I wanted him to understand from the very beginning who was running the show. We started day two with a long ride in the car and an even longer walk at Spring Hill Cemetery and ended up at my friend (and savior) Beverly's house around seven-thirty that morning.

I apologized. Not only for arriving so early but for bringing along a big giant dog that she and her husband hadn't planned on having as a house guest. They already have two elderly dogs but offered to let him stay since his owner was still across the street, tying one on. I ended up calling the six days that followed "Diesel's Summer Camp period". It would prove to be a big slice of the life Diesel craved, the freedom to run around a big (secluded) yard, rest where and when he wanted to, mark every last chain link in the fence as his very own, have multiple humans loving him up and dog friends, for the first time ever.

There was just one hurdle.

Smiley.


Smiley

If Smiley were a guy he would drive a rusted out LTD. He's a beefy dog, a wire-haired mix of Terrier and Whupass. Rest assured no strange, mega-he-man type dogs are invited over to Smiley's house unless they understand and abide by the rules. There's a test and apparently a hazing period. It's easier to pass the test if you are a female, of course because Smiley likes him some girl dogs but if you happen to be a big beautiful manly dog who stands around looking like (as Beverly called him) Captain America AND you're still what they call "intact" - Smiley has news for you. With no fear whatsoever he's going to stand up on his hind legs like a bear, rest one paw on your back and threaten to tear off your left ear. He's going to peel all of his lips back and show you a nearly complete set of rotten teeth, while he curses the day you were born. In front of everybody. Smiley is from Texas. The best thing to do is just stand there and take it.

At first Diesel looked at us like: "Is he serious?"

It got heated a couple of different times and lasted longer than any of us would've thought primarily because Smiley's girlfriend Pepper showed up and Diesel felt compelled to express his dude-ness with her and old Smiley went off like a rocket once more.

Fortunately, Diesel's man parts weren't the only things intact. His survival skills are multi-faceted. Instead of launching an attack the likes of which might have caused no telling how much chaos and destruction not to mention all of the humans going haywire, he chose the high road, soaked it all in, put up a low level defense and went galloping off around the yard. Eventually, the two of them decided that collusion was the perfect option and by later that night they were patrolling the yard together on some real or imaginary squirrel hunt, with Diesel as the extra muscle to Smiley's worldly ways.

That week Diesel and Stella got to play together for the first time in three years. Diesel went to the vet and got "tutored". He returned drunk and confused but a grill full of chicken brought him back to reality, good as new. He is listed on Petfinder at Critter Cavalry Rescue of New England. There, I'm told, people are more likely to appreciate his magnificence. Active dog-lovers in any state are welcome to apply. Of course, there may be a test to pass. And some hazing... :)
(continue)




After three years of small-time bickering, Stella and Diesel finally had the chance to play together.

Birds of a feather

Soon after I got Stella I realized I wasn't the only one who was ignorant about her breed. Several people (including my mother) suggested that I save myself and the lives of countless four-year-olds and give the dog away as soon as possible. I'm sure each one of those well-meaning advisors had a different picture in their mind of the guy they thought would (or should) own such a dog.

Six months later, when Stella had to have her knees operated on Mom and I were talking on the telephone one night and knowing it would be a huge financial burden, she declared: "You need to just have that dog put to sleep." A few cold seconds went by and she added, "or give it away before you get attached to it."

That is when the Patron Saint of Irony airlifted a dog out of some neighbors yard and set it down right on my mothers back patio.

A month went by before she mentioned it.

"There's a dog that's been hanging around here but we aren't keeping it," she said.

"What kind of dog is it?"

"Well we don't know yet but she looks a lot like Stella, in her body."

"I don't think it's a pit bull though", she said adding:

"It doesn't matter because we're not keeping her."

"What's her name Mom?"

"Dolly."

Well of course Dolly stayed and she's even allowed in the house now and I never miss a chance to tell Mom that maybe she ought to have that dog put to sleep before she gets too attached. Now she shames me for suggesting such a thing. Dolly has exactly Stella's body. It's almost a mirror image although the thing about Dolly is that she gets most of her exercise CHASING DEER through the woods. Her muscles are more well-developed than Stella's. They're a perfect match for each other although I believe Dolly might be the product of a Boxer and a Jack Russel Terrier, which if you think about it in relation to the pit bull, is a similar combination of genes. Willful, hard-headed, strong, tenacious dog. They met briefly back in the winter but had never officially hung out together until last Saturday and their friendship got off then to a rocky start.

When I get Stella out of the car, there are three adults and a dog on the patio waiting for us to walk between two Biggie-sized cars. Think of the view (not to mention the exhilaration) athletes get running out of the tunnel onto the field and you see where I'm going with this. Eight pairs of eyeballs, one if them a strange dog, all trained on her. And basically, because everybody thought they were going to fight - they felt compelled to. There was a lot of trash talk but no puncture wounds. We got them apart and mom announced that Dolly was going to have to be put in the basement for the rest of the day.

"No," I said, "Dolly is NOT going to be put in the basement. If we do that, then they'll hate each other forever. I think we should just keep them on their leashes and give them a chance to sniff around and figure each other out."

I can't remember who did the play bow first but right after that, it was on. I let Stella off her leash first and after a few minutes Dolly was also liberated. It turns out they both like to wrestle. Over the course of the day, they had six or seven different rounds of Smackdown. It was so easy to see how a bunch (idiot) humans could have cajoled them into a real fight. People sometimes get nervous about this particular style of play because it's rough but the dogs always seem overjoyed to find one another. Stella's only encountered a few playmates who really fit that description, one of them was the German Shepherd, Sampson, another a white Labradoodle named Zoe. Both really gave her a run for her money and they ended up exhausted and lying in the dirt next to each other. Dolly fit the bill too and I think it's safe to say that she and Stella are officially BFF's.

Shave and a haircut

Walter being entertained by Stella and Smiley, waits to get his summer haircut

A little over a week ago we picked up our old friend Walter and headed over to Beverly's house to hang out for a little while and get him a haircut. He and many of the other folks he lives with at the group home have gotten to know Stella well enough that it's a big deal whenever she stops by. If it's a nice day and they're all sitting outside, they come over to the car and ram their collective arms in my back window to pet her. She responds by wagging her tail and slobbering all over them and the glass. I haven't mentioned it but she's been a lot better about letting people pet her lately. Early on, she was overwhelmed by the attention and would often lunge in the opposite direction but somehow (maybe just through repetition) she seems to have overcome it, even with little kids, I'd say eighty percent of the time.

Anyway, we picked Walter up and made it over to Beverly's house whereupon we were greeted by two notorious Texans, Smiley and Pepper. This bunch (some of you may remember) used to live on a giant farm in Kentucky. Now (hooray), they're just across the river. Both dogs are seniors and Stella seems to understand that although they're friends, they aren't the rough and tumble kind of friends we normally encounter. Meanwhile, Walter got his hair cut and she had a great time just romping around the yard scouting butterflies and squirrels.

Pepper, looking almost like a puppy again, already got her summer haircut

Pack Therapy

We've enlisted a few friends to help Stella retrieve her charming social skills. There were featured here a few months back. In order of appearance, they are Linus, Arthur, Opie (way in the back of the group shot) and Fiona Tina (not pictured; who can barely walk these days at sixteen, but still likes to walk the perimeter of the cemetery looking for rabbits. She also manages somehow to get light on her feet when she sees us coming and never fails to sidle up next to me for a little love) Stella seems to know she's elderly and doesn't give her even the slightest bit of guff. I love to hang out with this bunch because they are their own pack. Stella's a guest and she knows it.

The ever lovable Minnie Pearl was finally adopted this week, a mere six months after I liberated her from madness. I hope her new owner gives her the love and respect she deserves.

United road dogs of America

This one is an old shot of Lucky and James taken in 2005. Lucky isn't with us anymore but James is (last I heard anyway).

One of my very own New Year's resolutions (this time around) is to locate and photograph as many carny dogs as possible over the next year. In years past I haven't made the dogs a priority, focusing instead on the owners and their lifestyles but it's always fun to change it up a little and the fact is, for a lot of carnival workers/showmen, just like the rest of us, their dog is family. In many cases, maybe more so because on a carnival lot, you can't just let your dog out in the back yard and forget about it. You have to be engaged and thinking of the dog's welfare twenty-four hours a day or things can go downhill fast. I've known a few guys that backed over their own dogs with a truck or left them tied up too close to one of those oh-so-delectable power lines. Talk about having your day ruined..

Many of you already know, there are all variety of dogs that travel with the carnival. Owners too. Some are spoiled rotten and some fend for themselves. They can be overfed, underfed, silly, angry, bored, and happy; happy to be bored, neurotic, athletic, entertainers. There are thoroughbreds and mutts and everything in between. As I've said before though, they're generally the most social dogs you'll ever meet. They have friends galore.

Having said that, I'm off to make them their very own Facebook Page. Please go over for a visit and "Like" it (them) and pass the link along to anyone you think might also like to see some magnificent road dogs from time to time. If you are one of those special people who actually owns a carny dog, we'd love to have you post a photo on the page as well and tell us in the caption a little bit about your dog. You never know, Stella and I might very well show up and photograph your best friend for next year's Carny Dog calendar!

Note: The calendars arrived last night and they are brilliant. My arm is cramping from patting myself on the back over it. In case anyone wonders, they start with February and go through next January. That way when you forget to get a new one next year, you'll still have an extra month of knowing what day it is ;-) Giveaway rules are forthcoming.

Thankful

Yes, I am aware. Thanksgiving came and went. I've deprived you my friends, of countless wandering ethnographic tales (tails?) of clever canine adventure long enough. I won't bore you with the details of why we went on our hiatus (unless of course the effort proves fruitful in which case I probably won't shut up about it for months to come) however I do want to pick up where we left off with the general frolic that occurred on Thanksgiving Day and go from there.

We made a return visit to the cemetery with Christine and Professor K.'s dog pack. We parked a short distance away and when we walked through the gate Stella snapped to attention as her nose and eyes went into overdrive. She scanned the area, presumably hoping for movement, a sound, a tail flashing in the distance or a familiar bark. A few minutes later she got her wish and as the six of them (four dogs, two humans) filed through the gate she bucked like a little pony a couple of times before I could get her leash unclipped. There was no foolishness, no vandalism, all good, clean fun (and wild abandon) for the dogs, the humans and some of Nashville's oldest residents. We were thankful and remain so.

Some of you may remember that last time I neglected to include a photo of Linus. Some years back I got a call from Christine when a stray pit mix showed up in their neighborhood. She asked me to stop by and take a photo of him for Petfinders. They had no intention of keeping the dog. When I arrived she had already begun calling him Linus...

The double-dog dare

There's a three-toed cat next door who answers to the name of Millie. She came with the new neighbors who moved in not too long ago. Her siblings include two look-a-like cats, one junkyard dog on a chain (a pit boxer mix I think), a little boy - barely walking and a baby on the way. Prior to their moving in next door to us, the cats lived in an apartment and now they live outside 24 hours a day. Their owners leave food out for them, as far as I can tell but they've quickly learned (Millie in particular) to get their loving from other sources. She and the other two cats have developed a thing for Stella. Whenever we go outside, they parade over to our yard and start rubbing up against her until she begins to vibrate. Occasionally, she's overwhelmed by it but mostly she just enjoys the attention and goes about her business with them in tow. Here's a sneak peek.



A couple of nights ago, I headed out the door with Stella and as we exited the house, Millie ran in the door. She wasn't around when we returned and I actually forgot she was in the house for awhile. Later on, when I went looking for her, I found her, sound asleep - in Stella's bed. Stella walked into the room, sat down in front of the bed and put on her dejected face. I half-heartedly told her get in bed with the cat. She wasn't enthusiastic about such a request despite my double-dog dare and a short lecture about the potential of added warmth and companionship. She finally did get in it but chose to sit instead of lie down. I could see the whites of her eyes the entire time so it wasn't very long before I let her off the hook. She sprang out of the bed like one of those Calaveras County frogs and barked at the three-toed cat.

Thoughts on the origin of the "double-dog dare" from Michael Quinion.

Pooch Plunge 2

Since we're on the subject of water (and way behind), this last Sunday we went to the Pooch Plunge at Nashville Shores. It was a benefit for Nashville Public Television (NpT). Some of you may remember we tried to go last year and the weather didn't cooperate for them and it was eventually canceled. This year though, was another story altogether. There were tons of dogs. Stella had a lot of fun although for the first hour it was like chasing a delinquent kid around.

As usual, before we went I took her for a long walk to (presumably) expend some of her energy but this time, under such stimulating conditions, the long walk just didn't take. Once we got into the gate and I let her off the leash, she went tearing off around the outer perimeter of the event like a freight train. It was basically harmless but managed to score her lots of attention. By far, it exceeded the efforts of any and all herding type dogs in attendance. When she finally burned off the top layer (believe me there were six or seven left to go) she discovered that the sponsor tables had treats on them and that if she ran up to the table and gave them the look, they would give her a treat. Now, you might ask yourself what happened when they finally cut her off? Well, she either stood up on the table and demanded one or waited until they looked away and rammed her whole head off into the bucket and helped herself (ahem!) Very unladylike. Very unStella. Bad. Dog.

Once I was finally able to get her to understand that there were consequences to this sort of foolishness, she gave up on the food and crashed the Flyball demonstration. I looked away for two seconds and heard someone yell "Wait! Where did that dog come from?" When I followed their gaze she was chasing the Flyball dog and I had the urge to just say: Jeez, I don't know but somebody needs to get control of that thing. Again, harmless but totally disruptive. She did the same to some pups taking the Canine Good Citizen test. It was a good chance for her to experience the fact that not all dog interaction involves playing. Understand - her version of playing goes two ways-- Chase and Smackdown Wrestling. She's as happy to be chased as she is to be the chaser and she'll adjust her speed if it's a little dog that she could easily overcome; those are the ones I love to watch.



She got into the water a time or two and was very curious about the dogs that were busy retrieving things but never actually made an effort to swim (basically killing my theory that if she saw dogs swimming, she'd copy them.)

Then she found two playmates one after the other who thanks to their owners, gave her the work out she was really after. The first was a young Great Dane named Bella. She was pretty gentle but not intimidated (as some dogs are) by her rough and tumble approach. The second dog was Sampson and for the record, if Sampson was our neighbor I have no doubt he'd be Stella's new boyfriend. The two of them wore each other out. He was a young (competitive) dock-diving German Shepherd. After several rounds of full-throttle playing which I might add, scared the crap out of some patrons, and the life guards, he was the only dog there able to lure Stella into the water. She still didn't swim - but just like all the girls with a bad boy crush, she followed him right in there against her better judgment.




Needless to say, this all culminated in one big satisfied snooze complete with snoring all the way home. We had a great time (minus the initial craziness and if any of you Flyballers should happen by here - we apologize again) and hope the folks at NpT made a big wad of dog-friendly cash. Thanks for the swim.

Atlantic City: gamble vs. gambol

When all else fails, ask you waitress. There isn't a thing online about any dog beach in or near Atlantic City. Stella and I took our chances and looked for local dog lovers. It was tricky to find it but once we got there, I just wanted to pitch a tent. We went three times and three times Stella forgot all about her Bulldog side and tapped into the Terrier for a change. She'd eyeball the ground suspiciously and launch herself into the sand, digging as hard and as fast she could go. She would then freeze and snap her teeth a couple of times (possessed) and have another go at it. It was better than any casino.

Bear, the smaller of the two dogs above was a big dog trapped in the body of a small dog. He gave Stella the wrestle of her life and it was wonderful to watch. He had the best moves. His owner and I just stood there laughing the whole time. The other dog, Seamus had a pretty good time too. He was the only dog that manged to lure Stella into the water deeper than she would've normally gone. She still never got the hang of swimming out there but she was totally curious about the dogs that were able to.