My dog, the natural sidekick
A month or so ago we went on down to the best little winery, River Run, out on Rogge Road in Watsonville. For the first time we took Truffle, because we thought it would be a good outing for her. And it was. The dog there -- whose name I remembered until just this minute -- was a little grouchy with her at first, becaause she is an elderly dog and didn't want no young'uns getting no rambunctious ideas. But Truffle, who can seem pretty well dominant on the dog field, knows how to kiss ass, and the old dog tolerated her well after the first moments.
However, their relationship cemented when a couple of neighbor dogs went walking through the fields just below the winery (deeply plowed with square tops to the rows, so I think it's going to be berries). Their person was heading for the beautiful Pajaro River at the other side of the field. The dogs were fun to watch, especially the poor dachshund who kept disappearing into the cuts and reappearing with his ears all a-flutter.
Ginger, that was her name (she's a mutt but she looks -- and acts -- more like a Chesapeake than any other thype of dog), didn't take these dogs well at all. She had some harsh words for them. Truffle took her cue from her new-found friend, and barked her fool head off in the classic lieutenant position -- a little ahead on one flank, but clearly oriented to pick up any more cues.
So yesterday at the goodbye party for lovely Rosemary, Truffle met a lovely white white standard poodle named Nicky. They sniffed butts and declared amicability. They did not declare association, as I discovered when Truffle's prior friends Andie and Bradlee (expensive dogs, both. I wish I made in a month what one of those dogs cost). Andie's a Wheaton terrier, a lovely apricot thing, and Bradlee is a very expensive dry mop. Andie, who will always remain clueless and juvenile, rushed Nicky with her head in a submissive drop, working that tongue to inspire kindness, but Nicky took offense to something about this action -- maybe the suddenness of it, and maybe the fact that Nicky's twelve-year-old girl was behind Andie -- and roared quite definitely, raising her front feet to push Andie down.
Andie was also alarmed by this turn of events -- again, the unexpected response to her approach, or maybe the crowded quarters there in the kitchen doorway, and instead of rolling over like she might usually do, she talked back, making Nicky angrier. Just as the people were leaping to separate the dogs, here comes Truffle -- who moments before had been delighted to make Nicky's acquaintance -- ready to defend her friend against the relative newcomer. She actually pulled back her lips in a true snarl, which I've seen maybe four times in seven years. I've seen the half-snarl which means "pretend you are Darth Vader, and I'm Inigo Montoya! This pull toy is the key to the kingdom of Westsylvania! You'll never get it from me, you dastard!" But that's clearly different if you know dogs. If you don't know dogs don't assume a damn thing. Yell and flap your jacket, and then go away calmly from a snarling dog the same way you would from a mountain lion. Seriously. The domestic dog is prone to all sorts of dysfunctional upbringing, most of which is not at all dangerous, but don't count on catching the subtleties of dog communication. For one thing, people who raise dysfunctional dogs are unlikely to be effective at recusing you if things go awry.
On that note, I'll return to my stated theme: my dog is a natural sidekick!
However, their relationship cemented when a couple of neighbor dogs went walking through the fields just below the winery (deeply plowed with square tops to the rows, so I think it's going to be berries). Their person was heading for the beautiful Pajaro River at the other side of the field. The dogs were fun to watch, especially the poor dachshund who kept disappearing into the cuts and reappearing with his ears all a-flutter.
Ginger, that was her name (she's a mutt but she looks -- and acts -- more like a Chesapeake than any other thype of dog), didn't take these dogs well at all. She had some harsh words for them. Truffle took her cue from her new-found friend, and barked her fool head off in the classic lieutenant position -- a little ahead on one flank, but clearly oriented to pick up any more cues.
So yesterday at the goodbye party for lovely Rosemary, Truffle met a lovely white white standard poodle named Nicky. They sniffed butts and declared amicability. They did not declare association, as I discovered when Truffle's prior friends Andie and Bradlee (expensive dogs, both. I wish I made in a month what one of those dogs cost). Andie's a Wheaton terrier, a lovely apricot thing, and Bradlee is a very expensive dry mop. Andie, who will always remain clueless and juvenile, rushed Nicky with her head in a submissive drop, working that tongue to inspire kindness, but Nicky took offense to something about this action -- maybe the suddenness of it, and maybe the fact that Nicky's twelve-year-old girl was behind Andie -- and roared quite definitely, raising her front feet to push Andie down.
Andie was also alarmed by this turn of events -- again, the unexpected response to her approach, or maybe the crowded quarters there in the kitchen doorway, and instead of rolling over like she might usually do, she talked back, making Nicky angrier. Just as the people were leaping to separate the dogs, here comes Truffle -- who moments before had been delighted to make Nicky's acquaintance -- ready to defend her friend against the relative newcomer. She actually pulled back her lips in a true snarl, which I've seen maybe four times in seven years. I've seen the half-snarl which means "pretend you are Darth Vader, and I'm Inigo Montoya! This pull toy is the key to the kingdom of Westsylvania! You'll never get it from me, you dastard!" But that's clearly different if you know dogs. If you don't know dogs don't assume a damn thing. Yell and flap your jacket, and then go away calmly from a snarling dog the same way you would from a mountain lion. Seriously. The domestic dog is prone to all sorts of dysfunctional upbringing, most of which is not at all dangerous, but don't count on catching the subtleties of dog communication. For one thing, people who raise dysfunctional dogs are unlikely to be effective at recusing you if things go awry.
On that note, I'll return to my stated theme: my dog is a natural sidekick!