Denied

On Tuesdays and Thursdays Liam, our youngest at 4 years old, goes to a MDO program at a local church while his older sisters are in school.  It's pretty much Kindergarten Lite with a basic curriculum, play time, snack time, lunch time and rest time.  It starts an hour after and ends an hour before "real" school.  And it is a thriving program, so there are a great number of children, all under kindergarten age.

Given Maxwell's impeccable behavior the last few trips to Petsmart, (sitting on command, and then staying in a sit to greet new people) I thought my son's classmates might be the perfect next level.

It took me a few days to work my courage up to try it.  I mean, a 13.5 week old puppy and a horde of sweaty, squealing 3 & 4 year olds--what could possibly go wrong?

We pulled into the parking lot of the church, and Maxwell was pretty excited.  He was acutely aware that this was somewhere New, and could hardly wait to put nose to ground.  I got him out of the car and he did his "excited dance", prancing around and wiggling his butt faster than his tail can keep up.

It's remarkable how much this resembles the "potty dance" in toddlers, but I digress.

We struck off for the entrance with a purpose.  We were going to make people smile.

"Awwww," came the signal that we'd been spotted.  First customer in line was a tank of a 3 year old.  Belly hanging over the edge of the diaper sticking out of his waist band, he walked right up.

I had Maxwell sit, (he need a gentle tush push for his behind to actually contact the ground, but once he was there, he was money), while mom instructed the boy to be gentle and careful.  With serious eyes only a small child could muster and tongue sticking out in concentration, he very deliberately patted Maxwell on the head.  Maxwell lifted his nose, and gave the boy's forearm a lick. 

After this very sweet interaction, the little boy was done--mom mentioned as we moved on that he was "terrified" of dogs.

We then headed for the entrance.  As we neared the doors, I scooped Maxwell up and tucked him under my arm (getting harder to do now that he weighs so much) and headed for the hallway towards Liam's class.

It was then that he pounced.

This guy--he must be the facilities manager or something.  I call him the MDO bouncer (coined previous to this encounter).

"Excuse me! Sir? Sir! Sir!!," he barked.  "You can't take her in here!"

Now, I get it.  I really should have asked permission beforehand.  But honestly it didn't even cross my mind.

Dejected, we headed back out to the car.  Lucky for me it was very pleasant out, only in the low 60s.  I was able to leave my windows down 5 or 6 inches and Max had plenty of ventilation.  I dashed in and grabbed my son, praying the whole time that dog-nappers don't choose church parking lots to hang around.

So we went to Petsmart where at least we're welcome.

The employees there are starting to get to know us.  We got several, "Oh, he's getting so BIG!" comments today.

$35 worth of toys later, I think our my wounded pride was somewhat smoothed.

Conversations With Orion

Image Credit

One of my very favorite times of day I've come to discover, is Maxwell's last potty break of the night.  Since Maxwell gets excitable while any other activity is carrying on outside his crate, this last trip to the backyard usually occurs after everyone else has retreated to their rooms for the night.  I generally put the house to sleep before taking him out back, so it's almost exclusively alone time.

Now make no mistake, I live in the heart of the 3rd largest metro area in the United States, so this could hardly be labeled quiet time.  The ambient (and sometimes not so ambient) sounds of the city are all around.  However, the back of our house faces west by southwest which is essentially away from the more developed portions of the Metroplex, and so we do have some degree of lessened light pollution, if nothing else.

It so happens this orientation--at this time of night, during the winter months--also grants an unobstructed view of the Orion constellation.

And so I find myself, night after night, lifting my eyes to these familiar stars while I wait for Maxwell to do his business.  By chance and propinquity, Orion has turned into an old friend, a companion, a confidant, a paragon.

I admire him for his stoicism.  No matter my mood; no matter the subject of conversation, he greets me with the same affable silence.  He's not ever cranky.  He doesn't ever mock me, or belittle my feelings.  He listens with a quiet attentiveness.

I admire him for his tenacity.  Night after night he traverses the sky, always in pursuit of his mythical quarry. I have never heard him complain.  Solemn he stands, a bastion of perseverance.

Of course I know that Orion is little more than a grouping of gaseous stars hundreds of light years away.  In fact the light I'm seeing now was emitted well before I was born.  But he's been an unassuming constant in this life where so often I feel utterly lost.

Soon Orion will slip behind the blinding curtain of our own sun's daytime glare for the duration of the summer.  I will miss our unpretentious whisperings, and I look forward to picking up where we left off come Autumn.

A Little Dog and His Boy

After last night's thunderstorms, we woke up to cool April showers.  It's in the 40s outside, but between Maxwell and my son cavorting in the backyard, you'd never know.

They make the ultimate team.  Maxwell digs the holes for the puddles and the rain fills them up.  Then my son dons his "fireman boots" and jumps in them, much to Maxwell's delight.

Of everyone in the house, Liam is the one I was most worried about adjusting to having a puppy.  He is only 4, and with an acquired nickname of Destructo, you might understand my reservations.

In the beginning, Liam was excited about the puppy coming home.  But soon after he seemed to lose interest a bit; it may have had something to do with those sharp puppy teeth.  And Liam, the smallest in our family and being nearest to Max in size, was often the target of those teeth as Maxwell engaged him in play as a litter mate.

However in just the last week the boys have really taken an interest in each other.  Liam loves to sit on the couch with Maxwell.  And it is the sweetest thing to watch Maxwell slow down and interact with Liam.  Where there were nips, and tugs, and snagged clothes before, things have given way to gentle play and snuggles.  Maxwell and Liam have now connected far and away more than any of the other kids.

Beautiful really.

Maxwell Comes From Conformation Lines...

...but maybe he has some field blood in him too?

I was immensely proud of Maxwell today. The sheer number of distractions is what usually does us in, and in the beginning, he was all over the place.

All the other hunters, the other dogs, every tasty morsel at nose level in this big, beautiful world he's just beginning to learn about...

But lo and behold, he started to settle in. He listened to my commands, most especially the one we've been working so hard on "Sit, stay.", (yes, quivering from tail tip to muzzle, but sitting nonetheless) and resisting all urges to yield to the sheer anticipation.

Then, it was time.

We were released to do our thing. We moved to the edge of the group, and systematically started working our assigned grid, row by row by row.

It was then that Maxwell first heard the call that awakened some pure-blooded instinct from deep within his ancestral DNA. A call he had never heard before, but knew so well.

And again the pheasant crowed.

Maxwell's head came up, ears at attention, chest puffed out, legs braced wide in their confident stance, his tail flagging high and proud in the breeze.

And his eyes.

Oh, his eyes:

Pure, unadulterated intensity.

It was easy to tell that in that very moment there was only him; me, his master; and the marked prey--hearts all beating in unison as a primal, pulsing drumbeat.

Time stood still.

Then everything went into slow motion as the proud bird began to fall from his lofty flight, colors glistening in the light. Inexorably being pulled to Earth, no longer free of the grasp of gravity itself.

Maxwell, begged, pleaded, implored to be released, straining against the nylon of his harness.

So we went.

And when Maxwell claimed his prize, a prouder retriever has never been seen.

I caught a quick picture.


 

  

What? Oh, surely you didn't think...

By hunters of course I meant bargain hunters at Petsmart. And row, by row, I meant the store aisles!


But seriously, do you think he might have some field drive? 

Maxwell's Big Adventure

After a very exciting and well behaved trip to Petsmart the other day, I decided to broaden our horizons a bit and we headed out to a local walking trail/park.

When we got there we started down the trail practicing our sits to greet everyone and we were getting all kinds of attention. Max was soaking it up--the sun was shining, the breeze was cool, the birds were singing, the squirrels were playing...

And...enter that mom. You know which one I mean--the one pushing the fully loaded double stroller with three other kids under the age of 5 orbiting like drunken moons around a wobbly planet.

You know, "Tommy if you don't get your bottom back here so-help-me-I'm-gonna...!!!"

Yes. That one.

I see you know her.

I saw them before they saw us and started looking for an escape route--our options were ankle deep mud on one side, huge puddle on the other.

And then the next thing I knew, they were upon us.

"EeeeeeeEEEeee, a PUPPPY!!" one of the kids shrieked.

And then like a voracious band of jackals they surrounded us.

Briefly the thought flashed across my mind to unhook Max's leash so at least he had a fighting chance.

"Be free Maxwell, run like the wind, don't worry about me, save yourself!"

Actually Maxwell did amazingly well under the circumstances. He got between my legs and laid down, keeping calm, even as the monsters circled and pounced and squealed and sneezed, all the while breathing their putrid stink of destruction in our faces.

"Sorry about that," mom mumbled, "There's just so many of them..."

After several minutes the mom made some halfhearted attempts to drag the demons...err children away from us, so I went ahead and picked Maxwell up, and we made our escape, clinging to the frayed threads of our very lives...

And that was just the beginning.

Man it's a rough world out there!

Just sayin...

[This post made possible by the owner of a brace of unleashed Jack Russells ("They bite me if I try to put their leashes on..") and the City of Mansfield Dept of Parks & Rec whose spring mowing has converted all the winter windfall dead sticks into convenient puppy size bites.]

Here's a few photos from today, taken while we caught our breath before jumping back into the fray to head back to the car:

Eleven Weeks

More Photos

Coming to check out the camera.

Quite the dapper young fellow.

Sad that the mowers cut his favorite patch of long grass.