Going commando, doggy style

Let me preface this by saying, “Albert” is my dog’s first name; his full name is Albert Dammit.

He’s a good natured, but slow-witted chap of the Labrador persuasion. If you were to crack open the Albert brain, you’d find the words "Tennis Ball" stamped in the Northern Hemisphere and "Kibble" in the Southern Hemisphere, with a small lobe in between reminding him to breathe and swallow.

There’s certainly nothing in that noggin configured to hear, capture, and interpret my verbal commands. So “Heel, Albert,” “Stay, Albert,” and “Get down, Albert, Dammit!” are all met with the same blank, tongue-lolling stare.

That is only one reason why, when we go hiking, Albert remains clipped to the leash.

I don’t think many other owners are as clear-eyed about their dogs’ limitations as I am about mine. They think their dogs actually listen. Such a mistaken belief results in lots of, “Mollie, come here. Come here. Here. Did you hear me? Mollie come. Now. This time I mean it. I won’t say it again. Mollie, come here. Come”

I’m of two minds regarding dogs hiking off the leash. If the dog obeys the owner’s commands instantly, then I’m ok with it. Rather, I’m sure I’d be okay with it if I ever were to see such a thing.

Usually the leash-less come charging up the trail to meet the leashed, and in the case of Albert and almost any dog I’ve ever owned, such manners are rarely appreciated. A little scuffle ensues, with lots of rude doggy language included; well, rude language all around, for that matter.

To head off a confrontation, I’ll shout to the owner, “Please call your dog, my dog isn’t friendly.” But that normally results in, “Rocky, come. Rocky! Rocky, Rocky! ROCKY! ROCK-EEE!" We only have a five-second window, so by the second “Rocky!” it’s already too late.

Albert’s a coward. You know those little scarecrow dolls people prop up in the front yard around Thanksgiving time? They scare him; he drags me, with a look of doom and dread in his eyes, to the opposite side of the street, and we have to jog to safety. Even then, Albert looks over his shoulder to see if the Children of the Corn are in hot pursuit.

So you can imagine... More on Patch.

(Ok, I'm off Patch duty for awhile, so this is the last time I have to split my posts. It's a copyright thang, believe it or not.)