I am ashamed to admit that I came in last place in this weeks K-9 Kamp challenge. Daddy said he wanted me in the Kamp to work on my discipline. I don't know if it was my failure to curb to the discipline or my fear of Daddy's unnatural acts that conquered me on this challenge. but during it our family was plagued with two questions. Why is Daddy lunging, and why is he vicking in the front yard?
I was really psyched when I heard that that this weeks challenge involved a tug of war. I am excellent at tug of war. The way we play is that Daddy kneels on the ground, I pick up the tiny pull rope that fits in my little mouth, and he pulls it gently. I make this very ferocious growling sound. Sometimes Daddy pulls the tug toy too hard and it comes out of my mouth. Sometimes I hold on and he swings so hard he swings me and I let go and fly into the couch, if I am lucky.
Daddy always sits on the floor when we play tug of war but for this challenge he was standing up which means he had to lean way over to play with me. I was very worried about him falling on me, but I am an agile dog and even if he had fallen I could have scooted out from under him. But then he did something he never did before. He lunged. I ran from the living room where we were playing into the kitchen.
"What the hell is he doing?" I asked Foley who was sitting in the recliner.
"He's lunging, Foley said.
"Come on Pocket, don't be afraid," Daddy said. He picked me up and brought me back to the play area. He moved the chew toy back and forth so I became interested.
I bit down on it. He stood. We were playing. The he lunged.
I ran back into the kitchen. Mommy came out of the bedroom. Both Foley and I were barking loudly. "What is going on out here?" she asked.
"Daddy is lunging!' Foley said as I stood in the living room and barked.
"Why are you lunging?" Mommy asked him.
"It's part of K-9 Kamp," Daddy said huffing. "I am supposed to play tug of war with Pocket while lunging."
Mommy said that Pocket was too small to play Tug of War with a lunger. She gave me the toy to chew on and she sent Daddy into the bedroom to go lunge himself.
After he was done he realized he could have stopped tugging and let me chew and lunge on his own but he was done lunging which we were all happy about. He then told me it was time for us to run. Since Mommy does not want me outside because of the birds of prey and we do not have a cellar we would have to run on our one floor.
This I liked. We ran from our bedroom, to the front bedroom, through the living room, kitchen and hall past Mommy who was making Monday morning breakfast when, after the second passing, she asked Daddy what the hell he thought he was doing. Daddy told him that we were to run for two minutes between exercises. "Not in my house," she said.
Daddy began to say it was part of Kamp but Mommy still said no. He asked if we could go outside with a leash and she said yes. Daddy put the leash on me, we sat in the driveway, and we played tug of war with no lunging. Then Daddy and I started walking in the thick soup late September humidity. Then Daddy began running. I dug in my heels and said "are you drunk?" Daddy kept running , dragging me behind him, going, "come on Pocket, come on Pocket, oh please Pocket come on." Unh-uh. It was 85 degrees, hot, humid, and Sunday was my day to rest. Plus I hadn't even had breakfast. Daddy dragged me to the end of the street. When he turned around he picked me up and carried me back to our lawn
Daddy was breathing hard, his face was red. He put me down. He grabbed the toy and weakly waved it in front of me. He then began to get into a sitting position, then stopped and I realized what was happening. I pulled the leash from Daddy's limp wrist and ran to the porch barking for Mommy "Daddy is taking a vick on the front lawn, Daddy is taking a vick on the front lawn, and now he's fallen in it.
Before Mommy could respond Daddy was back, picking me up and running through the humid air carrying me up the street and then back down again. I asked him why he vicked in the yard and he said he was doing squats. Right, and next time I pee on the rug I will say I am just squatting. Humans. He made it to the end of the street, and the staggered back to the lawn. He fell down on his hands and knees, then lay on the ground. He grabbed the chew toy in one had and told me he was going to do push ups while playing with me. I backed away from him because he looked very pale. "Fine I will just do the push ups alone," he said, he did one, then collapsed on the lawn. Then something wonderful happened. Mommy said it was time for breakfast and I ran to the door while Mommy yelled at Daddy's prone body about not holding on to my leash putting me at risk of being carried off by a misguided carrier pigeon.
The good thing about living in the prune village is every 20 minutes or so someone needs an ambulance. A spare one stopped by to pick up Daddy and dropped him off later in the day. He slept again all day Monday. I will try to do better at Kamp next time. Sorry that Daddy scared me.
I have to go now, Foley and I need to recharge Daddy's defibulater.