Anne Banane, WHERE RU?

Thursday morning and I’m out of bed at 5:40 AM to get ready for an 8:30 assignment at Homer High School. Fortunately the hordes of dogs are not coming until later today so I just have my six and one guest, Cheyenne, a lovely Weimaraner that is a regular. By 6:30 I’ve had my shower and am ready to feed the dogs. I make the bowls and pick up Anne’s and RockDog’s to deliver them to their respective crates. They are the two biggest chowhounds in the group, pushing and shoving and whining so they eat first to get them out of my hair – rewarded for bad behavior, I know. They race me to their crate, normally. Well RockDog is ready, but where is Anne?

I can’t believe it, she is nowhere to be seen which only means one thing, she has escaped. I remember the dogs barking when I was in the shower at 6 AM, it must have been when she jumped off the deck and took off. My mind is creating a scenario that soon becomes reality. . . We have tons of snow with a large pile-up by the gate that is the perfect spot for doggies to climb up and jump over. Anne’s been watching the big dogs do this for days. In fact when Forty-West arrived for daycare on Monday he came to the back door and Anne was with him. I was flabbergasted! His owner said Anne had been in the driveway. She had finally figured out she too could jump off the deck anytime she wanted, and I didn’t even know it. After that incident she has only been allowed on the deck alone while connected to a lead.

So now my mind is reeling as to how she possibly escaped? I remember letting Woody and Luce in the front gate, and leaving the sliding glass door ajar when I did so. Okay so Anne must have slipped outside and once we went in the house, she was off and running and that’s probably when the dogs started barking (the fabricated scenario continues). Never mind how she did it, I just need to find her. I take a bowl of food outside and call her while jiggling the kibble in the bottom of a metal dog dish. No response, except from the inside. My hair is wet, I’m in my PJ’s, and it’s dark outside as I put on my boots and coat to go look for her. I walk up the road to all our familiar places, and no Anne. I surmised she is either in someone’s trash and totally distracted, OR she has run off down the hill – heaven forbid! I return to the house and realize that before I can look for her in the VW, I have to thaw it out which will take at least 15 minutes. The windows are frosted over. I start the car and go back inside and get properly dressed for the substitute assignment that I will probably miss.

I call my neighbors (waking everyone up), I call the vet clinic, I call the radio station, I call the police department, I call the animal shelter, and I call the rescue group in California that Anne came from. I call everyone I can think of. I freak out while still reminding myself I need to stay calm. Of course it is 6:45 AM so nothing is open except the police department so I left messages everywhere. I call the administrator at school to tell her I cannot come in because my dog is missing – I don’t have to be there until 8:25 but just in case. I am obviously frantic. How can I possibly sleep without this little wiggle butt on the pillow right next to my head? How can she be gone, and WHERE IS SHE? Normally if she does escape, she stays in the neighborhood.

I get in my car and can only see out of a hole the size of a quarter on the windshield – I have no time to scrape! I’m frantic. I drive the neighborhood with the windows down yelling, “Anne come.” Nothing - not even a trace. I proceed to drive down the hill, across the ridge, through neighboring subdivisions, everywhere I can think of. I beep the horn and call her name – I’m sure anyone watching would think I was a crazed blonde (I was) in a green VW roaming around neighborhoods at this ungodly morning hour.

By 7:45 it is beginning to get light outside. My intuition tells me I am missing something, I need to think about this situation, but how can I focus when I am distraught? I know Anne is fearful of strangers and can’t imagine that anyone could pick her up even if they wanted to. But WHERE IS SHE? In between driving around and making phone calls, I check in at the house to be sure she has not returned home. I say a prayer to the Universe to keep her safe.

If she got out as I predicted she had been gone for over an hour, and it’s cold out here. I can’t imagine where she might have gone. I drive north, I drive south, I drive east, and I drive west - I call her name, I honk the horn. Finally I return to the house to forward my landline to my cell phone just in case someone finds her. I have been driving around for almost two hours by this point but my intuition tells me she is okay. I listen to that inner voice most of the time in between bouts of franticness (is that a word?). I arrive back at the house and as I enter the front door I once again have the feeling I am missing something. Could she be in my upstairs walk-in closet? I doubt it because of course I got my clothes out of it after she went missing, but I checked anyhow. No Anne.

As I return to the downstairs it hits me like a brick, you know the slap on the forehead when the light bulb goes off? I was in the broom closet getting dog kibble this morning and the light in there burned out days ago so I had fumbled in the dark. . . As I approach the closet now I see the yellow part of the dust mop peeking out from under the door – now that is weird. I open the door. . . the bag of dog food has fallen on the door so when I open it, the bag falls toward me. And there in the dark sits my little darling looking at me. OMG, relief and laughter came at once. She had not run off at all. She had merely gone into the closet when I was filling the kibble can and I had shut the door before she got out. And, she didn’t make a sound not even when this frantic woman was running up and down the stairs, putting kibble in a pan and shaking it around while calling her name, running in and out of the house like a lunatic. I wonder if she had made a sound would I have heard it through all the commotion in my own head? I’m sure she just sat there silently wondering why I left her there alone.

So now I have made all these phone calls and have all these people concerned. I called the school and told them I was on my way, called the vet clinic, the police department, the California connection, the animal shelter and the radio station. Of course it is 8:20 AM and everyone is now at work and when I tell them Anne has been found they all ask the obvious question: “where did you find her?” and my response was the same “do you really want to know?” as I proceed to tell them the story and apologize for the early morning drama. And they all laugh! Sure it’s funny now, but at the time. OMG!

I am exhausted and delirious at the same time – that’s what an adrenaline rush will do. Now all I need is a nap and it’s only 8:35 AM! As it turned out I was only 5 minutes late for class. This is the start of my spring break and the last day of substitute teaching for a while. Anne Banane is sleeping on her new plush pillow as I write this blog - the perfect ending to the morning drama.

I promise not to accuse her of escaping again unless I know for a fact she has done so. And, I promise to get the light in the broom closet fixed!

Woof! Woof!

Bonded at the Throat

Today is Wednesday but the way it started this morning I could swear it is Monday. . .

Forty West comes to dog camp three days a week for day care. His best buddies are Mikke & Bear, the two sheep dogs that are regulars at TBTB. When Forty is dropped off at 7:30 AM, the three of them always go out for a morning run to burn some energy before breakfast.

This morning they were running up and down the driveway, rolling in the snow and having their usual chaotic good time. When it was time to come in I open the door and call them but only Mikke girl shows up at the back door. Where are the boys I wonder? I wait a few more minutes and open the front sliding glass door and see them in the driveway. “Come on you guys,” I said. No one moves a muscle, or even looks my way. That’s weird.

It’s still a bit dark out at 7:45 AM so I venture out onto the deck to get their attention by reminding them it is time to eat. Still, neither dog budges an inch; they just sit there like stone. Bear was actually standing like a statute facing north and Forty was sitting very close to the right side of his face just looking up at him. What the hell? “Come on guys, let’s go.” Nothing. And then it dawns on me, “are you stuck?” I ask – although I can’t imagine HOW. Wearing only my PJ’s I hop over the railing in my sock feet to investigate. What I find gets my adrenalin pumping more than any caffeine in a double espresso.

Forty West has somehow gotten his entire bottom jaw underneath Bear’s collar and is stuck there with his mouth open. He can do nothing but stare at the side of Bear’s face. Of course the collar is so tight that Bear is gasping for air. Whenever Bear moves even a smidgen, it is excruciating pain for Forty. Being such a good buddy, he stays frozen to the spot, panting. I try prying Forty’s jaw loose but that is not possible because the collar is way too tight.

The mind creates incredible scenarios while in the fear mode. Should I scream for help and hope my neighbor hears me? Should I get some scissors and cut the cloth collar – but how would I get the blade under the collar without hurting Bear? Plus, I don’t dare leave their side. All the while I am frantically looking for the clasp, which isn’t easy in the mass of sheep dog hair. I’m wondering if it’s possible to make the collar just a bit tighter in order to open the buckle when I find it? Finally my fingers feel the buckle and I separate the long hair and find to my surprise, a snap collar! (thank God) In one quick movement I press the release button and the collar falls to the ground along with Forty’s jaw. OMG, relief spreads throughout my body as I begin to realize my feet at this point are frozen. Funny, I didn’t even remember that I only had my socks on until now.

The dogs are reluctant to move at first – they both look at me as if to say, “what the hell was that all about?” Neither one of them has any obvious injuries. I pry Forty’s mouth open to be sure he still has all his teeth and he does, plus there is no blood. That’s a good sign. I then look at Bear’s neck and inside his mouth. All clear, they are both okay just a little stunned. I hug them and race back inside the house past the crowd of fifteen dogs waiting at the door, cheering us on. Forty ran straight to his crate looking for breakfast with Bear close behind.

As quickly as it happened, it is over. Dogs truly live in the moment, and at this particular moment it is time to eat! The drama that just happened is already forgotten – at least for them. I still get weak in the knees just thinking about it! Shortly after breakfast they were back wrestling and rolling around like always. And me? Well it’s finally time for my first cup of coffee and a breather. Just when I begin to think my life as a dogsitter is predictable something happens to change that thought. There is never a dull moment at TBTB Dog Camp.

Woof! Woof!

A Twelve-Pound Intimidator - Seriously?

A friend of mine called while I was on vacation to see if she could drop a dog off at TBTB Dog Camp. Cindy had graciously agreed to keep JackDog for a friend that had to fly back east at a moments notice. Once Jack arrived Cindy quickly found out that it was going to be more work than she bargained for since Jack decided to take over as top dog in her house of two laid back females. Well, that wasn’t going to work because Bette is submissive anyway and was simply allowing Jack to push her around. Poor Bette Cocker!

I did not want to impose a problem dog on my brand new dogsitter, so I told Cindy I couldn’t do it. This was on Friday and I was coming home on Monday evening and would gladly take Jack off her hands if she hadn’t found a solution by then. She was sure the problem would be resolved sooner than that. However, on Monday I received another call saying yes, she still had Jack and he needed to go as he was seriously pushing the girls around and causing chaos in her home. He had taken over the household and she didn’t know what to do about it. No problem, bring him over on Tuesday morning.

Cindy called at 9:30 AM on her way up the hill, thrilled at the prospect of having this dog out of her hair, so to speak. Jack got out of the car at TBTB and was obviously very bonded to her. I’m sure he was frightened because his mom had left in such a hurry and he had no clue what was happening. Cindy brought him in the house, all 12 lbs. of him. He is a Jack Russell mix and has an adorable look with one ear sticking straight up while the other one flops over.

He seemed friendly enough. I had put most of the dogs in the bedroom so that Jack could get in the house before being swallowed up in the pack. Only a few of my spaniels were at the door to greet him. Cindy put him down on the floor and Bunny went up to shake his hand (via a butt sniff) and he immediately attacked her at Cindy’s feet. Cindy of course tried to stop the snit by putting her boot in the middle of the chaos. I grabbed Jack up and told her that she needed to leave so I could get Jack incorporated into the mix of dogs quickly. Jack watched her leave and even whined at the door for her. He immediately went for Bunny again and I let them go for about 10 seconds before sternly yelling my favorite line: “KNOCK IT OFF,” and they did.

I told Jack there would be no fighting in the pack and put him in his crate for a timeout. After a few minutes I opened Jack’s crate door, and slowly introduced all 11 dogs to him. He was extremely fearful, not knowing what to think and doing lots of growling at all potential butt sniffers. Normally I leave the dogs to work things out for themselves after establishing my position as Top Dog. Things appeared to be going pretty well when Jack lunged at Bear, an Old English Sheepdog weighing over 70 lbs.

Well Bear would have none of this nonsense and immediately took Jack Boy to the ground with lots of growling. Jack was squealing like he was really hurt, when I told them both to knock it off. Of course all nine other dogs were gathered around in the cheering section. Jack was fine, without so much as a scratch on him. Bear had simply made his point and Jack immediately changed his attitude. He no longer seemed fearful and had a better understanding of where he fit into the pack.

It has been five days now and Jack is a new dog. He loves all the pack members and especially likes to wrestle with RockDog and Mocha. We now have fourteen dogs in camp and needless to say there has been no more snits in the group. Jack is a quick learner and figured out that sniffing butts is a lot more fun than getting into a scary altercation. He never really wanted to be the intimidator but that’s what he knew when he came here. He has a whole different attitude now and is actually having a blast at dog camp. He came here needing to be on a leash but not anymore. He loves being in the pack so much that he runs, plays and stays with all of us on our walks. He’s a happy boy, well actually a tired boy as I write this - fast asleep in his crate with the door wide open, after a day of running and wrestling.

It’s important for a new dog coming into a pack to find his place in the social order of the hierarchy. Jack realized early on that he does not have to be a pack leader and it’s much more fun and a lot less work, to just be part of the team. He is perfectly content with me as the Pack Leader at TBTB Dog Camp!

Woof! Woof!

Eyes Without a Face

It’s Christmas time at TBTB Dog Camp. We have a total of seventeen dogs in camp and feeding time is a wild circus of dancing, barking canines guaranteed to wake the neighbors at 7:30 AM.

As I make breakfast for the horde of dogs, I put the big guys on the deck while I dish up bowls - this keeps the chaos somewhat under control. I'm scooping up oatmeal at the sink and look out the dark window to see a pair of eyes staring at me. OMG! The jolt caused me to drop the spoonful of oats onto the counter and jump back. At the same time the realization hit me that it is canine eyes staring at me, and not human ones. It’s the eyes of the biggest chowhound of all, 40-West! Damn you 40, you scared the crap out of me!

He apparently jumped off the deck and climbed on a snow berm by the kitchen window to look and see what was taking me so long. I’m sure his job was to report back to the other dogs watching him from the fence. I burst out laughing and totally forgot the oatmeal. Instead it was banana nut pancakes for the 17 doggies at TBTB Dog Camp, and me. Hey, it's Christmas time and we deserve it! Especially with all that adrenalin flowing!
Woof! Woof!
Nom! Nom!

Sleeps with Dogs

Yep, that’s me. On any given night I have a six-dog night – five cocker spaniels and a basset hound that insists on stretching her body across the entire width of the bed. For the most part she is my footrest. I have resisted the sad eyes of TBTB visiting dogs accustomed to sleeping with their owners because there is absolutely no more room for a lab or sheepdog on a queen-size bed. Occasionally one sneaks up in the middle of the night if they get past Luce, who guards the bed passionately against after dark invaders. I have however relented and allowed the smaller Yorkies, Poodles and a few Terriers into the sleeping area since they are not big enough to sleep with the big dogs – or so they tell me.

Needless to say it is extremely crowded with dogs on either side of me, covering my feet, on the pillow above my head, and anywhere else they can find space. BunBun and Luce like being on top the covers, making it difficult to move around when one is under them. A good night’s sleep is something of the past but I can’t bear to tell them no, herein lies the problem. I’ve thought of sleeping on the couch but as Zachary my grandson reminds me. “But MeMa, they will just follow you,” and of course he is right. When I go on vacation and have an entire bed to myself it feels a bit odd but I must admit I sleep like a baby on my own.

Zippy DoDog the Basset has always marched to her own drum no matter what the other pack members are doing. When they go outside for their final pee of the night, she refuses – only to want out at bedtime and then she’s off for a run while the rest of us are waiting to go to sleep. Often times I am almost asleep, actually in the REM state when I hear the familiar ARF at the backdoor. I unwind myself from the others, get out of bed and let her in the back door and up on the bed, causing everyone else to adjust their positions to make room. Chaos, this routine is exasperating but I allow her to do it again and again. The definition of insanity is “to do the same thing over and over and expect different results.” Well so be it, I must be insane.

Currently we do not have a roommate at TBTB Dog Camp. This allows me the luxury of sleeping in one bed or the other, depending on my mood. The upstairs loft bed is next to the large A-frame window where I can look up at the stars or have an Alpine view with an occasional moose, that I hope the dogs don’t see. Otherwise it’s an utter bark fest while they woof their hellos across the tundra. It’s lovely up here particularly when it’s snowing outside.

The other choice is the downstairs bedroom that has the feel of a rustic, cozy cabin with log walls, perfect for nestling in the pillows with a good book and glass of vino. Both beds have flannel sheets and down comforters with lots of pillows for lounging. Last night the rustic cabin bedroom was calling me. I got the treats out and all 11 of us claimed our spot when I realized Zippy was missing. She had gone upstairs earlier assuming we would sleep in the loft since we did last night. I called her offering a treat for her to come but she ignored me, as usual. I decided to leave her up there, knowing when she realized we were downstairs I would hear the familiar ARF at the bedroom door and once again get up to let her in while everyone rearranged themselves to make room on the bed. Sigh. . . Oh well, so be it. DoDog is like a sack of potatoes if you try to move her when she’s sleeping.

Imagine my surprise when I woke up the next morning and my legs were still stretched out fully in the bed with room to spare, and no Zippy. OMG, is she okay I wondered? Okay is not the word. I went upstairs to find a basset hound stretched across the width of the bed, snoring under the covers. Apparently she thought having a bed of her own was such a good thing that she slept through the entire night alone. Wow! This could be the beginning of a good thing if she decides to sleep alone from now on. I will have so much more room in my bed. Fat Chance. Last night she insisted on getting in the downstairs bed with the rest of us, on her time of course. Apparently she totally forgot about having a bed of her own.

And so it was, another six-dog night. Sometimes I wonder why I allow them to rule my bed. The only thing I can say, “it’s for the love of the dog,” absolutely no other reason. I’m a pushover, at least where canines are concerned. And, I really do love my life with them. Otherwise, why would I bother? I will continue to do the same thing over and over but without any expectation of a different result.

Perhaps that means I’m not insane after all?

Woof! Woof!

Dogsitting in Paris

Tails-by-the Bay has gone international! I have a dogsitting gig in Paris for two weeks in September, and again for the better part of December. Now how you might ask, did I manage that? Well, it’s one of those networking deals – a friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend thing.

When people ask why I am going to Paris – do I really need a reason? – I tell them I am dogsitting and they are for the most part, flabbergasted. The Alaska Airlines attendant asked the question when I checked-in and was so amazed that she shouted to her coworker at the next desk – “she’s going to PARIS to dogsit!”

Well okay it’s not a paid position. But it is a trade for an apartment on the Boulevard de Grenelle a stone’s throw from the Eiffel Tower in the 15th Arrondissement. To explore and live like a Parisian with a dog to show me the way, can it get any better? Needless to say I am thrilled for the opportunity to hang-out with a black and white Dalmatian named Bella in the City of Light where we will become Tails-By-The-Seine for a time.

Life continues to be amazing for the dogsitter extraordinaire!

A Tribute to LeeLoo

The hardest thing about this job is saying goodbye to the dogs that cross the Rainbow Bridge. If dogs have a single fault it is that they just don’t live long enough. But of course that’s not something they have any control over, it is the law of the Universe. They are sent to us as messengers of a better way of thinking, living and loving. Our job is simply to observe and listen.

I said goodbye to LeeLoo, one of my favorite labs of all time by giving her a big hug and thanking her for spending time with us at TBTB Dog Camp. Her tail was still wagging. The sweet face with the chocolate brown eyes gave me an all-knowing look that she was ready. Driving down the hill a short time later, a heaviness suddenly filled my heart that I knew was her final goodbye. A few minutes later her mom texted me to say she had gone peacefully.

LeeLoo struggled with grief over losing her dad last winter. Her mom shared an amazing story about the strong bond she had with him. A few weeks before he actually passed away, he coded at 2 AM at an Anchorage hospital, over 200 miles north of Homer. LeeLoo was staying with a family friend who later said that at 2 AM she became distraught – pacing and whining, unable to be consoled. Apparently LeeLoo did not settle down until around 4:30 AM – about the same time her dad’s condition was stabilized. At the time the friend was unaware of what was happening at the hospital. But LeeLoo knew.

LeeLoo was an institution in her own right. Serving her family for over 12 years and being a regular at TBTB Dog Camp, she will be greatly missed by many – both humans and canines. She was a happy dog – always coming to Camp with her tail wagging and a smile on her face. All dogs responded to her positive energy and mellow ways. After a recent diagnosis of lymphoma, LeeLoo arrived at Camp only a week ago with the same good attitude, appetite and a determination to go on trail walks with the rest of us. We sent her home thinking she had improved with the steroids and would beat the odds of this dreaded disease. But, it was not to be. After only a few days she rapidly started going downhill and it was obvious that she was suffering, albeit with a smile on her face.

It is never easy to say goodbye for those of us left in the physical world. Her presence will be missed at TBTB especially when her siblings come without her. I loved her like my own and will always remember her sweet disposition and beautiful face. LeeLoo you were sick and now you’re not. You are once again whole and free of all suffering. You are now with you dad, OgDog and other friends over the Rainbow Bridge. RIP Sweet Girl. Your job at being a Great Dog in this lifetime was well done.