Surfer dude

Howdy blogaroos. Squirmy here. We’ve been off the radar for a few days – not because anything is wrong – things have been pretty mundane here at the asylum. Which, given our usual lives of chaos, craziness and catastrophe, is not really a bad thing!

I did training with the Borzoi babes the other day and that was good fun. At the end of our training session, the Warden thought for about a millionth of a second about allowing me to have a little run around with one of the girls. And then she reconsidered. She had visions of me flying over or into one of the Kremlin cuties and ruining our currently great relationship. Those girls may not know how to dodge a rocket – so best we keep them safe.

The other night, after my training session downstairs, the Warden took the Boss down to do some work- because he had been incessantly yelling that it was HIS turn. So they did some fun training and they came back upstairs. So then, she figured she would try to work with the Coyote. The dude got all excited and raced downstairs. He doesn’t know many commands, besides sit, down and stand and even those three are performed “at his discretion.” Now he WILL chase after a fetch toy like a bumper outside, and he MAY bring it back. The chances are kind of as good as winning one of those Powerball Gazillion Dollar prizes. I mean you CAN win. But the odds are not super. But still – she tries and he may do it.

But the other night, she didn’t have a fetch toy like a bumper on a rope. The only thing she had was a dumbbell.

Let me begin by saying her BIGGEST mistake was in not have her phone handy to video the performance. Retelling the story won’t do it justice, but we’ll try.

First, before she tosses the dumbbell, she tells the Coyote to sit. He looks at her. She repeats sit. He lies down. She tells him to sit up. He rests his head on the floor. He doesn’t have a collar on so she can’t lift him up. She gives up on the sit and tells him to wait while he’s lying there and she tosses the dumbbell. She tosses it and tells him to get it.

Like a deer who hears movement in the woods, he springs up and races to the dumbbell. He throws himself on the floor and stares at it. He examines it like a geologist who just found an interesting rock. He nudges it with his nose. He gets up, does a play bow, nudges it again and barks. She tells him to get it. He pushes it with his nose about three feet, lifts it up and hurls it in the air. Narrowly missing a lamp. He races to it, does a play bow and pushes it again – about 5 feet. Meanwhile the Warden is saying “get it, get it.” Like he knows what that means. And even if he did, he was doing his own freestyle version of retrieves.

The Warden finally gave up and retrieved it herself. NOW he wanted it and grabbed it from her hand – unwilling to let go. She looked him straight in the eye and said “drop it.” He held tighter. She said “DROP IT.” And he slowly let go.

For some God forsaken reason, she thought she would give the retrieve another try. I’m not kidding. This time he actually sat when she said sit. He didn’t stay, but left his post before the dumbbell hit the ground. And again he hit the ground when he got to it like he had been shot. And the entire pushing and hurling ritual was repeated. While the Warden watched the entire routine.

She finally retrieved the dumbbell again and went upstairs to get some other object for retrieving. The Boss and I watched as she sorted through some stuffed toys in the closet. She found a stuffed turtle – which squeaks. The Boss and I were enthralled, but we had to stay upstairs.

The flattened green stuffed reptile wannabe was of great interest to the Coyote. This time when the toy was thrown- he quickly picked it up- and incessantly made it squeak – as if he was putting the stuffed toy out of its misery. He dashed back with the noisy toy to the Warden who praised him for returning and then played a game of tug with him – as if poor Mr. Turtle had not been tortured enough. She was able to pry open the Coyotes iron-clad jaws to toss the green guy again – and they repeated the performance- squeaking and tugging included.

After several rounds of kill the turtle, the Coyote who had earlier been distracted by the dog outside (his own reflection in the patio door), indicated he wanted to go out to see the dog. The warden let him out and said “go pee.” Now when the Boss and I were training we had also gone out and we quickly returned for more play. Not the Coyote. He put his nose in the air and stood and looked at the woods. The Warden told him to come in. She tried to entice him to come in. He said “nah.” And he went to wander in the yard. The Warden closed the door, turned off the lights and went upstairs.

The deck door upstairs was open. It had been open a bit most of the day. We go in and out that way.

So she comes upstairs , expecting to see the Coyote any minute on the deck. No Coyote. She goes out on the deck – and there he is downstairs- staring at the door to the now dark rec room. She shouts to him to come up the deck stairs. He just sits and stares at the other door. She finally tells me to go and get him and I race down the stairs right to him. He follows me up the deck stairs like it’s a whole new experience. That guy is something else.

He was all happy to see the Warden as if she had been gone for a week.

Yup. He was a freestyle surfer dude in another life who lived on the beach in a VW camper. Think of a cross between Owen Wilson and Matthew McConaughey in a beach movie. That’s the Coyote in a canine version. Life is cool. Life is laid back. Life is about smelling the flowers. And the trees. Every. Single. Tree. And life is about leaving your mark. On every. Single. Tree. Sometimes you listen to humans. But you also hear the voices of the wind. And the squirrels. And the mushrooms. Maybe that’s his issue – he gets into the mushrooms. (Just kidding). He likes the “idea” of playing- but he has his own rules. Which nobody else knows. And which change daily.

The Warden occasionally thinks he should be in some “sport” like rally – but after a session like that, she quickly changes her mind. He’s happy just being him. He likes walks. And rolling in leaves. And sniffing. That’s fine by him. And he’s content to sit by her side as she scratches his ears and pets his head with one hand while she eats her breakfast with the other hand. He likes staring at the lake from his rock. He likes hanging out in the dog bed. And guarding against bunnies.

Yup. He was a surfer dude in another life. And that’s just fine because every house should have a surfer dude. They add a whole different flavor to the recipe of life. And they sure make it interesting…

Have a good one. Peace and paws up.