K9 Kamp Part Four: One Step Up Two Steps Back

It took us a long time to begin this week’s challenge. First, Daddy needed days of therapy after last week’s challenge. Also the weather was hot and humid. After a steady rain last night it had finally cooled and we were ready to begin the next leg of K-9 Kamp.

I was excited to hear about the jumping portion of this week’s challenge. I love jumping. But Daddy does not. It brought up bad memories.

When Daddy was in middle school he had a fitness test. Part of the test was jumping rope. Daddy was not very good at it. To compound the problem his teacher kept yelling at him “Come on Gay boy jump rope, jump rope.”

In this week’s instructional blog Koli gave us good news: Daddy did not have to jump rope. Koli said how great it has been for him to learn to exercise with his Mom. Except for the walking exercise Daddy and I haven’t done well with that, unless you count his stumbling, running, and carrying me a joint exercise.

Daddy thought we were supposed to jump on a curb. But here in the Village of the Pruned we do not have curbs. They are the number one cause of Prune People falling and not getting up. So Daddy had a brainstorm (Daddy’s brainstorms are like summer showers with the sun out, it doesn’t produce much but it’s rather pleasant.) We would open the screen door and jump from the enclosed porch landing, over the threshold, and on to the kitchen floor.

Daddy got my leash, took me outside to pee, he brought me back inside, gave me a treat, and I waited to be unleashed so I could go lie down, but I did not get unleashed. Daddy brought me back to the porch landing. “OK, Pocket, let’s jump!” he said as he jumped over the threshold into the house. And I watched.

Daddy sighed. He told me to do it again. When he jumped I went in. And kept going pulling him forward to the treat jar, because I had been out again and was deserving.

Daddy was frustrated. He went back to Koli’s blog. He realized that he should have picked something that was appropriate to my size to jump over. Koli, a large puggle jumped over a log. Daddy figured my height and weight, compared them with Koli, and found the equivalent jumping challenge for me: a dime.

Oh we had fun. Up and over the dime. Back and forth. What a work out, and it only cost ten cents, ten cents people, order it now!

Well we completed that challenge! Score one for us. Then we started on Stepping Out. We went back to the enclosed porch and this time Daddy stepped over the threshold and I watched.

He tried to get me to step up. I wouldn’t, and when I did, I would walk forward. I got very confused. For months I would walk in a house and get unleashed then get a treat. But now I was walking in the house and then going back out like a stuttering mess. In Goodfellas Joe Pesci shot a guy for this type of thing.

Daddy got a new toy Leo sent us that squeaked and I did a few up and downs because I wanted it but I lost interest. Daddy took the leash off since we were inside. He got some kibbles and fed them to me each time I stepped up, but when food becomes involved Foley gets involved and she kept getting in Daddy’s way trying to nibble the kibble. When Daddy ran out of kibble Foley and I went to the Lovekibble Seat and watched.

He then leashed me up, we went outside, and we ran to the end of the street, and then Daddy began running back and I sat down with no amount of coaxing getting me to move. So I got carried back: quickly.

The we went back to the doorway. Daddy began stepping into the house with a high leg kick like he worked for the ministry of silly walks

As he did it he kept giving me instructions: Sit, down, stand. Heavens! Make up your mind. I did it a couple of times but did not want overdo it. That last thing I need is a Daddy with delusions of grandeur.

He then took me off the couch, leashed me, we went outside, and I ran with him to the end of the street. When we reached the end of the road Daddy stopped to tell me what a good job I had done, looked down the road, and saw, separated about six feet each, were my poo droppings. Hey, I’m not the one who fed me all the kibble. And he had not brought any poo picker uppers.

Nothing brings the prune people outside like poo near their lawn. It’s like zombies hearing a gun shot. They come stumbling down their driveway chanting “poo poo poo poo.” Daddy hurriedly carried me back telling the prune zombies he would clean the mess then, after putting me inside, grabbed some paper towels and walked back up the street picking up the poo. (May I suggest for next year’s challenge the human poo pick up is very good, bending, squatting, cursing, cleaning, it’s quite the aerobic work out.)

We did finish the challenge by jumping over the dime again which was fun. I thought it was quite a good challenge for me, I got fed, I got to run, I relieved myself, and I made a dime. I hope everyone else had as successful a Kamp.