Wednesday, July 31, 2013

How to Humor two dogs..

 I’m totally exhausted two days after festival and in no mood to cater to dogs. Don’t get me wrong I’m dog man – love the friendly smiles and belly scratches but at the moment have the reduced strength of a posse of inebriated fire flies.

I entertained a big outing to High Park but decided Hillcrest Park was within a few hundred feet much more conducive to my current lack ...of interest and strength.

All I have to do is think park and the critters open their sleep crypts and stare me down. I love those faces – the sincerity of campaigning politicians. How they know what passes through my brain is still a mystery. Honest to Zeus – dogs hear your brain talk. That’s why I try things like thinking about equations just to screw them up – but that rarely works. One of the two will always come forward and say something like – pi R in the bread box.

I drag my dogged ass up hill while they sniff their way through a small wooded gulch to main land. Then they quickly abandon and piss on everything green. I suspect they are reminding all forest inhabitants they are great Danes posing as Yorkies. A squirt, squirt here a squirt, squirt there – everywhere a squirt, squirt!

I’ve never lowered my snout to catch a whiff of the magic potion but I’m thinking it’s Chanel for dogs.

Across the way I notice officials installed a picnic bench – oh yes – why not a cot?

The eyes scan and notice a red ball stuffed in a patch of green. Salvation!
I pocket the large ball and walk back to bench – wave in front of dogs and off we go. One solid hour of tossing and I whittle those little feet into chicken pegs.

The ball was more than a mouthful but Samson reminded the ball what teeth are for – deflation!

Now, I’m easily humored – I laugh at crime dramas. Just watching these two wrestle and roll this ball is worth the price of double admission. I got Suzie to nose the ball back to bench for a re-toss. The longer I sat there the closer my chin hovered above weathered planks.

I had enough time between tosses to check email, FB, Globe & Mail and conversation with a woman with a large standard poodle.

I used the underhand toss as a way to avoid aggravating my rotator cuff. Over the shoulder, flat roll – anything to keep them occupied.

Dogs get all jumpy happy – they smile like babies. There is magic in repetition. I get bored – dogs – inspired. I tried tossing left – right – center – high grass – near plants – nothing but joy and dog laughter.

The hour passes and I notice they have had enough and long for coma time. We depart and I look down – they both look up with appreciative eyes and relay, “You the man – our main man dog!"

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