Our Dog Days of Summer

Our Dog Days of Summer

By Mark Leitheiser

It’s a boy! Sweetums and I are proud to announce the latest addition to our family. Max arrived a month ago, weighing 64 pounds sporting four paws, a head full of black hair, a salivating tongue and a tail that wags when he is happy. Sweetums and I are doing well.

The first thing we discovered about adding a dog to the family is that Max, like our actual children, is expensive. Water dishes, food dishes, dish matts, food, treats, toys, and collars add up in a hurry. Yet there was little debate about these purchases. They were simply necessary.

The color of the collars, however, proved to be a point of contention.  Sweetums thought Max would look cute wearing a flashy collar; something green or yellow or pink would look sharp she said, but I was having none of it.

My dog is a manly dog and only a bright blue collar will do! Can you imagine the humiliation some poor male dogs go through being forced to walk around in pastel-colored collars? You can almost hear the sniggers as other, more masculine dogs raise their hind legs to salute.

Of course, Sweetums has found her way around my demand. Doggie neck handkerchiefs printed with her favorite teams’ logos and colors have quietly started to appear on my manly dog. You can imagine my distress but hey, there’s only so much I can do. At least he isn’t wearing a pink collar.

Another thing we discovered about our new baby boy is that he is a cold-blooded thief. He proved this during his first weekend in our home when our other baby boy, Bubba, stopped by for dinner. Sweetums wanted to go all-out so she carefully arranged four raw steaks on a plate before briefly turning her back on the steaks. Moments later, she had three raw steaks on a plate while Max eagerly devoured the fourth on the kitchen floor. Apparently he likes his steaks pink.

If that isn’t bad enough, Max is also an escape artist. During his second week, Sweetums and I decided to do a little shopping and left him in his outdoor kennel with the door and latch securely fastened. He didn’t seem very happy with the arrangement and, in truth, I think we both felt a pang of guilt as we drove away.

We needn’t have worried. When we arrived home, there he was, sitting in the yard, tail wagging, with a look that said, “Hey guys, where ya been?” Somehow, Max had figured out how to use his nose or paw to lift the latch and open the kennel door for quick, easy escape. Sweetums and I were impressed with our baby’s industry and creativity but we agreed sterner steps would have to be taken.

A few days later, we decided another unnecessary shopping trip was in order and we would once again leave Max in his outdoor kennel only this time, there would be no escape. After closing the latch, I cleverly used a Zip Tie to secure the gate to the fence. Again, we felt a (lesser) pang of guilt as we drove away, knowing this was the best thing for our little fella.

We needn’t have worried. When we arrived home, there he was, sitting in the front yard, tail wagging, with a look that said, “Hey guys, where ya been?” A quick inspection found a broken Zip Tie and an open gate which led to another effortless escape. Now it was getting personal.

A couple days later I did something I had never done before and have never done since: I demanded we go shopping. We didn’t need a thing but I was gonna show this dog who was boss. This time, after searching Max for a hidden box cutter or knife, I fastened the gate with two Zip Ties, and, for good measure, placed a huge block of wood in front of the gate. Harry Houdini couldn’t escape this time.

I don’t know if you could call it a win, but when we arrived home, Max was still in his kennel with two freshly broken Zip Ties under the door. Apparently a block of wood did what a Zip Tie could not; it managed to keep him in his kennel until we got home.

Exactly how he managed to break these things remains a mystery. I’ve questioned him extensively but he’s not talking. We talked about putting up cameras but somehow that seems unfair. Everyone loves a good mystery and ours slobbers when he eats.

Routines are important for dogs and we are slowly establishing ours. The final ritual of the day involves taking Max outside for a bathroom break before bed. Since Sweetums usually retires early, it falls to me to take him out to try to convince him to relieve himself.

I encourage him by saying something like, “C’mon, boy, go potty.” When this doesn’t work, which is often, I resort to repetition. “Potty, potty, potty!” All of this, of course, is based on the premise that Max can understand language. As a teacher of the English language, I don’t think it’s too much to ask to have my dog understand, “go potty.”

Alas, at times, even clear language fails. As a final act of desperation, I resort to sound effects and example, standing in the dark yard on one leg like a drunk flamingo making “pssssssssssss” sounds in order to demonstrate the task at hand. Max typically responds with a look that says, “ten thousand dog owners in this state and I get stuck with this clown.” When this humiliating ritual fails, and it always does, I accept defeat and walk my dog to the house for a treat before bed.

As you read this fine article, I hope you are enjoying the last of the dog days of summer. Sweetums and I certainly are but in our case, our “dog days” are just beginning. Max is 64 pounds of good-natured hound and a welcome addition to our family.  Living with a thief and an escape artist should be interesting. Stay tuned . . .