Last month, I volunteered to watch my son Jason's dog, Porter, while Jason and his wife Sarah went on a much overdue honeymoon to Hawaii. I thought, what the heck, it's a free ticket to Napa and seven days of alone time with nothing to do but work (remotely), eat some great food and drink some great wine. Who wouldn't want to do that? So I volunteered my amateur dog-watching services and my son booked my plane ticket for Napa. Dog watching duty would commence Oct. 30 and continue until Nov. 5. Piece of cake.
Or so I thought.
Oh sure, I knew, from Jason's various tales, that Porter was a bit of a handful but I thought, being the owner of three dogs myself, that I knew a thing or two about taking care of a dog. I chuckled to myself when my son questioned if I was truly going to be able to handle Porter and his long list of do's and don't's. After all, I'd given birth and raised three children. Again, no problem - I thought.
Let me tell you a little bit about Porter. He's a nearly year-old chocolate lab and weighs in at a hefty 83 pounds and has a head the size of a shovel. He actually reminds me very much of a small brown bear. In fact, as I was being licked to death last night when I arrived, I felt a bit like I was being mauled by a bear and I was tempted to use a bear attack protection move by just "playing dead."
Porter's a well-educated dog. He's been to "puppy school" and an advanced "manners" class and all things considered he's very smart (when he wants to be). He's got the whole gamut of commands (sit, stay, down, leave it, go to your bed) down pat and thank god, because the idea of a dog this large being an uncontrollable canine just gives me goose bumps.
My son warned me Porter would need a lot of exercise and fortunately for everyone involved, there's a wonderful dog park about a mile up the road from Jason and Sarah's house. No problem. I had visions of Porter and I happily wandering the trails of Alston dog park a couple of times a day; Porter, running and gamboling with the other dogs off leash while I looked on adoringly, marveling at such a wonderful dog.
Jason also warned me that Porter liked to "counter surf" and whatever wasn't nailed down on the counter would quickly find its way into Porter's massive, drooly jaws and then a favorite game of 'chase Porter around the dining room table' would ensue in order to retrieve whatever it was he was trying to ingest.
Luckily, Porter could be easily distracted from whatever bad behavior he might be indulging in (or even considering) by offering treats and was, as my son called him 'a treat whore.'
Armed with all this knowledge, the number of the 24-hour a day vet service, and a cupboard full of treats, I wished Jason and Sarah 'bon voyage' this morning at 6 am when they departed for the airport in Sacramento to catch their flight to Hawaii. Porter was sleeping in his crate so I headed back to bed for another hour's sleep. I woke up again at 7:30 a.m (8:30 a.m. in Idaho, so I truly did feel like I "slept in") and released Porter from his crate, put on his leash and we headed out to the back yard for a quick potty break. Then it was back inside for breakfast. Two cups of dog food for Porter and a bowl of oatmeal for me. I decided to unpack a few of my things and put my little bag of toiletries and my comb in the guest bathroom. I swear, I turned my back for just two seconds and the next thing I knew, Porter had my comb in his mouth and was headed for the dining room, where he thought it would be fun to start our morning off by running around the dining room table. I tried, in vain, to retrieve my comb without resorting to a treat to distract him but, in the end, I had to give him a small milk bone as ransom for my comb. I wasn't upset. It was no big deal. Just a little slip up (on my part and his). We were going to be just fine.
After a couple of cups of coffee to get me going, I got dressed for our walk and loaded my sweat shirt pocket with plastic poop bags (Jason said people really frown on those who don't pick up after their dogs) and a couple of treats. We headed down the street, Porter heeling nicely beside me (although it still felt like I was trying to rein in a small horse). All was good with the world (even though it was a little chilly and misting just a bit) until we came to a discarded plastic cup buried in the bushes near the sidewalk. It quickly found its way into Porter's mouth, despite my repeated commands of "leave it." He carried it for a couple of blocks and then lost interest in it.
We met up with an old couple walking on the sidewalk and I experienced my first feeling of apprehension. Would he lunge at them, ignore them? I just didn't know, so I moved us off the sidewalk and told Porter to "sit" and "stay" which he did just as commanded. The old man commented 'well, look at that. I wish our grandchildren would mind that well." I joked that Porter was my "grand dog" and the old man said "you've done a great job with him. Could we send the grandkids over?" I felt a little bit smug at having such a well-behaved dog (even though I truly had nothing to do with Porter's training) and we headed on down the street.
The parking lot of the Alston dog park was filled with cars containing dogs of all shapes and sizes, all just chomping at the bit to get out and run. Alston has about 30 acres that are "off leash" and the trails border a nearby vineyard. The trails are nice and there are some thoughtfully placed doggie drinking fountains as well as trash can/poop bag stations. I would love to see something similar in my little town of Payette (where it's actually against city ordinance to have your dog in the city parks. ?????).
I struck up a conversation with a very nice woman named Laurie who was exercising her two dogs and she gave me the low-down on the park and said she'd be happy to walk the trails with me.
I let Porter off the leash and he was off in doggy heaven, running, rolling, and sniffing the other dogs. I was a bit apprehensive about how well he'd mind me when I called to get him to "come" but he did pretty well and didn't go too far out of my sight. Although he resembles a small bear, he's very submissive when it comes to the other dogs and just flops down on his back and rolls over whenever he gets challenged by another dog.
The only real problem I encountered was when he happened upon a tennis ball that belonged to another lab who wasn't quite as quick on the "fetch" command when his owner threw the ball. Porter was there in a flash (or more like a really fast lumber) and snatched up the ball and ran away with it. It actually took a team effort of Laurie's two dogs and then three other various dogs who wandered by to distract Porter enough to drop the ball while one of the other little dogs fetched it up and brought it back to the lab's owner. It was pretty comical.
And then there were the mud puddles. It's been a bit rainy in Napa the last week so there were a number of really fun mud puddles for Porter to drink out of (never mind the nice fresh water at the watering stations). As I knew he would, he eventually just couldn't help himself and had to get down into a puddle for a good roll in the mud. Thank god we hadn't driven up there in my rental car....
After about two laps he finally started to slow down a bit so we said goodbye to Laurie and her pack and headed back home. He was much better at heeling on the way back because he was one worn out pup. He did find an abandoned Starbucks cup that he insisted on carrying the better part of the way home. By the time we reached home we were both panting so I guess I can consider that my work out for the day.
Or so I thought.
Oh sure, I knew, from Jason's various tales, that Porter was a bit of a handful but I thought, being the owner of three dogs myself, that I knew a thing or two about taking care of a dog. I chuckled to myself when my son questioned if I was truly going to be able to handle Porter and his long list of do's and don't's. After all, I'd given birth and raised three children. Again, no problem - I thought.
Let me tell you a little bit about Porter. He's a nearly year-old chocolate lab and weighs in at a hefty 83 pounds and has a head the size of a shovel. He actually reminds me very much of a small brown bear. In fact, as I was being licked to death last night when I arrived, I felt a bit like I was being mauled by a bear and I was tempted to use a bear attack protection move by just "playing dead."
Porter's a well-educated dog. He's been to "puppy school" and an advanced "manners" class and all things considered he's very smart (when he wants to be). He's got the whole gamut of commands (sit, stay, down, leave it, go to your bed) down pat and thank god, because the idea of a dog this large being an uncontrollable canine just gives me goose bumps.
My son warned me Porter would need a lot of exercise and fortunately for everyone involved, there's a wonderful dog park about a mile up the road from Jason and Sarah's house. No problem. I had visions of Porter and I happily wandering the trails of Alston dog park a couple of times a day; Porter, running and gamboling with the other dogs off leash while I looked on adoringly, marveling at such a wonderful dog.
Jason also warned me that Porter liked to "counter surf" and whatever wasn't nailed down on the counter would quickly find its way into Porter's massive, drooly jaws and then a favorite game of 'chase Porter around the dining room table' would ensue in order to retrieve whatever it was he was trying to ingest.
Luckily, Porter could be easily distracted from whatever bad behavior he might be indulging in (or even considering) by offering treats and was, as my son called him 'a treat whore.'
Armed with all this knowledge, the number of the 24-hour a day vet service, and a cupboard full of treats, I wished Jason and Sarah 'bon voyage' this morning at 6 am when they departed for the airport in Sacramento to catch their flight to Hawaii. Porter was sleeping in his crate so I headed back to bed for another hour's sleep. I woke up again at 7:30 a.m (8:30 a.m. in Idaho, so I truly did feel like I "slept in") and released Porter from his crate, put on his leash and we headed out to the back yard for a quick potty break. Then it was back inside for breakfast. Two cups of dog food for Porter and a bowl of oatmeal for me. I decided to unpack a few of my things and put my little bag of toiletries and my comb in the guest bathroom. I swear, I turned my back for just two seconds and the next thing I knew, Porter had my comb in his mouth and was headed for the dining room, where he thought it would be fun to start our morning off by running around the dining room table. I tried, in vain, to retrieve my comb without resorting to a treat to distract him but, in the end, I had to give him a small milk bone as ransom for my comb. I wasn't upset. It was no big deal. Just a little slip up (on my part and his). We were going to be just fine.
After a couple of cups of coffee to get me going, I got dressed for our walk and loaded my sweat shirt pocket with plastic poop bags (Jason said people really frown on those who don't pick up after their dogs) and a couple of treats. We headed down the street, Porter heeling nicely beside me (although it still felt like I was trying to rein in a small horse). All was good with the world (even though it was a little chilly and misting just a bit) until we came to a discarded plastic cup buried in the bushes near the sidewalk. It quickly found its way into Porter's mouth, despite my repeated commands of "leave it." He carried it for a couple of blocks and then lost interest in it.
We met up with an old couple walking on the sidewalk and I experienced my first feeling of apprehension. Would he lunge at them, ignore them? I just didn't know, so I moved us off the sidewalk and told Porter to "sit" and "stay" which he did just as commanded. The old man commented 'well, look at that. I wish our grandchildren would mind that well." I joked that Porter was my "grand dog" and the old man said "you've done a great job with him. Could we send the grandkids over?" I felt a little bit smug at having such a well-behaved dog (even though I truly had nothing to do with Porter's training) and we headed on down the street.
The parking lot of the Alston dog park was filled with cars containing dogs of all shapes and sizes, all just chomping at the bit to get out and run. Alston has about 30 acres that are "off leash" and the trails border a nearby vineyard. The trails are nice and there are some thoughtfully placed doggie drinking fountains as well as trash can/poop bag stations. I would love to see something similar in my little town of Payette (where it's actually against city ordinance to have your dog in the city parks. ?????).
I struck up a conversation with a very nice woman named Laurie who was exercising her two dogs and she gave me the low-down on the park and said she'd be happy to walk the trails with me.
I let Porter off the leash and he was off in doggy heaven, running, rolling, and sniffing the other dogs. I was a bit apprehensive about how well he'd mind me when I called to get him to "come" but he did pretty well and didn't go too far out of my sight. Although he resembles a small bear, he's very submissive when it comes to the other dogs and just flops down on his back and rolls over whenever he gets challenged by another dog.
The only real problem I encountered was when he happened upon a tennis ball that belonged to another lab who wasn't quite as quick on the "fetch" command when his owner threw the ball. Porter was there in a flash (or more like a really fast lumber) and snatched up the ball and ran away with it. It actually took a team effort of Laurie's two dogs and then three other various dogs who wandered by to distract Porter enough to drop the ball while one of the other little dogs fetched it up and brought it back to the lab's owner. It was pretty comical.
And then there were the mud puddles. It's been a bit rainy in Napa the last week so there were a number of really fun mud puddles for Porter to drink out of (never mind the nice fresh water at the watering stations). As I knew he would, he eventually just couldn't help himself and had to get down into a puddle for a good roll in the mud. Thank god we hadn't driven up there in my rental car....
After about two laps he finally started to slow down a bit so we said goodbye to Laurie and her pack and headed back home. He was much better at heeling on the way back because he was one worn out pup. He did find an abandoned Starbucks cup that he insisted on carrying the better part of the way home. By the time we reached home we were both panting so I guess I can consider that my work out for the day.
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