#39 PUPPY – TWO FAULTS AND A FACT

If you live anywhere near my home, perhaps you heard it, on Thursday, July 1, a booming sound at 5:40a.m. July First. Not the Fourth. Barking. Not explosives. Loud barking. I’m responsible. I, Scooter Sublime, have a massively impressive voice, and well, hello! A squirrel was in a tree just out of my reach from the balcony, but not out of the reach of my powerful voice. 

“Scooter! No!” came my mom’s hissed whisper as she shot through the door and ordered me back inside.  It could be that this is when she decided to own up to what she refers to as my “faults.” Her word. Not mine.

Let me state right from the get-go—Perspective is Everything. Just say’n.

I’m not sure how many months old I was when my soprano puppy voice gave way to a most melodious baritone but imagine for yourself what I discovered – not only am I gorgeous, as José Plácido Domingo Embil is gorgeous, but the tone, the quality, pitch, and emotional affect and effect of my voice matches his! Imagine it! I did. How then, can I help but use this amazing instrument?

One of my “faults,” to quote detractors, is this compelling, albeit occasional, need to bark. On one recent occasion, I was minding my own business, and that of the world around me, when I saw something moving my direction on a sidewalk, and that something did not fit in my scheme of acceptable. 

“Warning!” I shouted, then shouted again, and a few more times before my mom literally lifted me off the ground by my harness, hushed me with her finger to her lips, with that look that communicates disapproval, and one low, intense command, “Quiet!” And then another, “Bad!” She unceremoniously ushered me to a sidewalk spot away from the object of interest, had me lie down, scolded me (against which my pathetic look of injury was useless), said ‘Stay!” then turned, and walked away from me; temporarily, of course, but how would I know. That she has chosen for us to state this openly feels like she’s borrowed Step 5 from AA: “Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.”

We are in discussion about the phrase “exact nature of our wrongs.” Just say’n.

I offered here to let my human mom take the conversation and disclose not a fault, but a little “Fact” about me, having to do with what I’m like as a houseguest, but she has declined, saying “Another time,” which admittedly worries me some . . . I fear she may well get to it “another time.”

 Meanwhile, let me get right to the second fault I prefer calling a ‘concern’ exposed in this True Confession. Since I’m speaking here, I plan for a gentle and brief disclosure.

Briefly: I Jump Up On People. 

Yeah, right. It’s a Capital offense. I’m crazily happy to be in the company of people who smile at me. It is so in my nature to be close to the part of a person that displays expression—the face. It’s dog natural.

I want to tell you that being dog, I have several ways of learning about people that differ from how I learn about other living things. I watch your face, your body language, your posture, energy, and the tone of your voice. I probably know more about your frame of mind in an instant than you know about your neighbor through a casual greeting. I know the difference between good and bad people. This is scientifically supported, you know. For one thing (Look it up), I have the vomeronasal organ just above the roof of my mouth that lets me sense through chemical communication what cannot be seen (your bad attitude, for instance).

When you know these things about me, you might appreciate how difficult it is to be told to “stay off!” I’m connecting. However, because I want to be your friend, and not a bother, when we meet, push the palm of your hand toward the ground and say to me, “Off!” I’ll try. 

Perhaps you need to be reminded that Goldendoodles are “High maintenance” animals. Our puppy energy lasts a long time. Look, we like to play. A lot. Some supposed authority wrote that those of my ilk are, forgive me, “silly.” That statement must be corrected. Happy? Oh yes, happy dogs we Goldendoodles are. Smart as whips, sharp as a well-tended chef’s knife, brighter than the three-way incandescent bulb we tend to be, strong as an ox, sweet as a pussycat, clever as a fox, as committed in relationships as a boy’s boot in soft cement, and given to cliches. We Goldendoodles are easily bored, energetic, friendly, affectionate, stubborn but highly trainable.  

Let it be known . . . the very fact that I exist at all is the result of some human who thought it good to breed a poodle and a golden retriever, and “let’s see what we get.” Well, you “got” me. A very intelligent, highly social, curious (therefore, easily distracted), affectionate pack animal (not as in mules) that needs to be with family, needs activity, needs training, and frequent grooming. And, in my case, I am slightly (quite) fearful; which, believe me, is why I bark. A lot. I notice things. I am easily startled by things. I don’t trust all things, so I use my amazing voice to warn, to keep my family safe. As well, in my case, I am hyper-happy to connect with people, so I jump up. 

As I said from the get-go, Perspective is everything. Just say’n.

“Not Everything,” says she who types for us. ‘Just say’n.’ 

My viewing/barking position