Walking the Dogs

Practicing social distancing means we don’t get out much. However, now that the chicken feather guy’s lady dog is no longer in heat, our doggie walks again encompass the entire block in La Yacata. 

Walking The Puppers and walking Terry are two completely different experiences. We can’t walk them together because George and Terry still haven’t made peace with each other. So two walks it is.

All of the dogs have learned to spell w-a-l-k. Their excitement when it is time is evident. Fred and George start racing around the back yard. Terry starts whining. 

The Puppers get the first walk. Sometimes they are so excited they forget to wait for my son to clip the leash on. When everybody is hooked up, out we go. Fred clearly has the superior nose. Sniffing the air when the coyotes have been by, sniffing the corners for new pee messages, sniffing the grass as it starts to grow. He even sniffed out a 6-foot long snake the other day.

George is the point guard. He takes his guarding and pee spraying the parameter very seriously. Sometimes, he checks out what Fred is sniffing, decides if it is worthy or not, and then pees all over it. 

Occasionally, a happy white lady boxer dog is in La Yacata. More often than usual these days since everybody is tired of their own company and head to La Yacata to congregate clandestinely. White Lady Dog is so excited to see The Puppers. She bounds up and stands nose to nose. Everyone is completely still except for furious tail wagging. Then she bounds away. 

Every day, they look forward to the corner where sometimes they see Lady White Dog and her “come up and see me sometime boys” invitation. Fred whines, sniffing away for any trace of her while George scans the horizon. 

Then we circle home and switch out the dogs. As soon as Terry sees the leash, he begins this high pitched barking that only ends once he’s at the front door, ready to go. He leaps out of the gate like some sort of racehorse. Sometimes, my son isn’t fast enough for him, so he grabs the leash and tries to walk himself.

He sprints as far as the leash allows him to go, which is pretty far because I bought him a longer leash recently. When he reaches the end, the abrupt stop jerks him and my son’s arm. This happens every single walk. 

As we head up the incline, Terry seems to believe he must pull my son up the road. Maybe he’s not satisfied with the speed. We used to think that maybe he was hot on the trail of something, but have learned that’s not true. There isn’t anything pressing ahead that he is interested in investigating. He just plows on ahead. 

Now the terrain in many areas of La Yacata means jogging isn’t an option. I told my son that if he had a pair of skates (and a level area) Terry would pull him along for miles. Not gonna happen here though.

So my son and Terry have a miserable walk, each fully convinced the other is misbehaving. My son, for going to slow, and Terry for trying to race ahead. Terry is oblivious to everything except George’s pee spots, which he makes his own. 

The dogs at the corner don’t bark at The Puppers when we pass. However, perhaps because Terry looks like some sort of wolf or coyote, they sound the alarm, which Terry ignores. 

The White Lady Dog came up to Terry the other day and I swear, Terry had that look a 10-year-old boy might have if a girl came up and gave him a kiss. EWWW! Cooties! 

Soon enough, we arrived back home. Terry is still in command of the front area, while The Puppers have the back. My son must go through the back to reassure The Puppers. They’ve started this strange ritual where they just have it as if they are gladiators in training trying to impress the master when my son arrives after his walk with Terry. This free-for-all goes on until the moment my son goes into the house. Then it’s back to lounging under the trees in the shade, waiting for the afternoon walk.

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