P-Dog Tales (The World According to Isabella)
Backstory
This is a story about my dog, Isabella. She was a rescue dog that my mother adopted in what turned out to be the last year of my mother’s life. I then inherited the dog. She was really shy and had never been outdoors. She continued as an inside dog, but I introduced her to walking in the outside world. Now we go out three times a day. Isabella is much more social, although she is still very attentive and will probably always be a cautious dog. With that in mind, it took her awhile before she told me her story. I’d like to share it with you.
My name is Isabella. Most people call me pup dog, despite the fact that I’m five years old. However, my BFF and my besties call me P-Dog. That would be Ms. P-Dog to you.
I broke down one day and finally told my alpha my story. I figured he might be curious. I said, “My job is simple. I eat, sleep, scratch, sniff, bark, squat, and drop. That’s what I do. That’s my entire job, my complete job description-you can confirm it with HR.”
Now I do have some hobbies. I’m a squirrel ranger, kitty wrangler, and bunny buster. I really just want to play with them, but they don’t get it. I’m fast, but they’re faster. They always run up a tree or down a hole. It takes all the fun out of it. But I keep trying. I go up on three legs and point at them sometimes, just so they’ll see me. Or, I hop around, sometimes six feet or more, only on my back legs. I’m so excited to play with them. But they never want to participate.
I have two alphas, a big one and a small one. The big one is more fun. He lets me wander and sniff, study the horizon, stop long enough to let smells drift in on the breeze, survey grasses and leaves, and rocks and street drains. We have a good time. He lets me led. Actually, I just signal to him which way we are going and that’s the way we go. Who’s the real alpha? The other shorter alpha, she just wants to walk fast in circles. It’s not that much fun, but I am outside. I have to keep it moving with her. But, she plays with me inside the house. We roll around on the rug and wrestle. It’s fun.
We have a routine, me and the alphas. We walk and they wait for me to squat and drop. A squat only is called an “SOS” or a “squat only situation”. The alphas are not always happy about that. They want what they call a “SAD” walk. That’s “squat and drop.” They feel better that way. So do I, but it’s not always time. There are also combinations of the walk, as sometimes it is time. When you got to go, you got to go. Like the “2SAD” walk, which is two squats and a drop. Or the “SAD2” walk, which is a squat and two drops. And of course, the ultimate, “SAD Square” walk, which is two squats and two drops, in the same walk. That one’s rare.
I call it “TCB,” and “PDB,”. That’s “taking care of business-pup dog business.”
In code it would be something like this, it’s “IB looking for the DZ to TCB the PDB, DD.” That’s Isabella looking for the drop zone (Squat) to take care of business, pup dog business, done deal! Me and the big alpha talk in code a lot.
It’s always an issue when it’s raining. The Alpha’s still want me to go outside. I don’t like getting wet or putting a paw in the water. I don’t do rain! It’s a struggle.
The little alpha, I call her Mom; she gets excited sometimes and tries to hurry me in my business. But you know a squat spot or a drop zone is a special place. Look to the left, look to the right, sniff the air in both directions, check the wind velocity, make sure there’s no strange or stray sounds going on, so you can concentrate, then you take care of your business. I mean, it’s simple enough. I don’t know why she don’t catch on.
The big alpha, I call him Dad, tries to get me to TCB in my own yard. I’m not much on that. I prefer to spread it around. You could call it the “Bank of Isabella” with all deposits and no withdraws. Some people in the hood don’t really care for dogs. So if I hit the “DZ” outside my own yard, Dad has to “pick up the pooh!” He doesn’t seem to care much for that, but he does it. Sometimes you just can’t tell where and when you got to go.
When we’re inside the house and one alpha has to go to the bathroom, I always go with them. We have a family meeting. I like to make sure they get everything taken care of. I mean, turnabout is fair play, right? It’s a little tough on my olfactory senses sometimes, but you got to do what you got to do.
The big alpha likes to mess with my tail. I warn him, “mess with my tail and you’ll lose a finger. If you don’t stop messing with my tail, I’m going to OUAISCOWA on you!” That’s code for “open up an industrial size can of whoop ass.”
I know it’s hard to believe, but sometimes they tell me I smell a little doggish. Imagine that. That’s when they send me out for spa day. I get the Mani and the Pedi, get my teeth brushed, a shampoo and a cut, spend a few hours chilling with my girls, and then back to the house. We go for a walk in the neighborhood afterward and I put on the IBS, that’s the Isabella strut! From behind, I am sporting what they call the sanitary trim; aka, I’m rocking the butt cut.
Once in a while, when me and the big alpha are walking, I’ll stop and sniff. The wind whips across the sky, the clouds float out on the horizon, the birds circle by overhead, and if I listen for the call of the wild, sometimes I hear my name.
I get three walks a day, one in the morning, one midday, and one in the evening. Occasionally we’ll even get out late at night after dark. I’m on a schedule and I don’t let the Alphas forget it. I got places to be and things to see. I got no time for no tomfoolery. Let’s get to walking.
One evening me and Dad went out for a stroll in the moonlight. We were down at the end of the road that leads to the woods. There was a real high wind and a storm coming. There was only a little moonlight, and it was really dark when I heard it. Soft at first, but then louder, so Dad heard it too. It was coyote. They were howling. We listened for a minute. It was a terrible racquet, and I noticed it was getting closer. I tugged on the leash and made the turn for the house. The big alpha had to high step it to keep up. I don’t truck with no coyote.
I know a few of the Alphas’ words. Like bacon, chicken, steak. They throw out some dog food too, but I don’t truck with it much. I’m not a dog. I’m part of the family.
Of course I know “walk.” The big alpha will ask me, “do you want to go for a walk?”
“Do I want to go for a walk? Does a bear poop in the woods? I’m always ready to go for a walk.”
I sleep at the foot of the bed, so I know “bed” when they say, “want to go to bed, P-Dog?” Well of course I do, I got to get my seventeen hours of sleep a day. I need my beauty rest.
I tell them when I need to get down for water or TCB. I can jump up, it’s a tall bed, but I don’t care nothing about jumping down. Dad usually launches me into space on the way up and airplanes me to breakfast in the kitchen in the mornings. It’s nice, being door to door to your food. Bacon and chicken are what I eat for breakfast, mostly.
I got my own couch. Most days I get my seventeen in, but sometimes they keep me up. All in all, it’s a pretty good life. When things go well, the tail goes up, when not down it is.
Sometimes the big alpha, Dad, tickles me and I have to raise up a leg to fend him off. Then he tickles me on the other side and I have to raise that leg too. If I’m not careful, I’ll fall on my butt with both legs in the air. I tell him to stop tickling me all the time, but he doesn’t listen. Good thing he only does that inside the house. If any of my buds in the neighborhood saw that, it would destroy all my street cred.
One day me and Dad were out in our yard chilling and the two little wiener dogs from next door ran up toward us. They were barking and carrying on. They are mostly behind their fence and they make a lot of noise, being protected and all like that. They got severe cases of little man's disease. Anyway, they came toward us yapping all kinds of nasty stuff and it surprised the big alpha because they are not usually loose. Mostly we just ignore them. But there they came, and I thought to myself, I’ll take care of this. I tugged on the leash slightly and the alpha turned and with some slack in the leash I hunkered down and let out a long low growl, something to the effect of “bring it, fat boy.” Well, you should have seen him put on the brakes. He couldn’t get stopped. He was scrambling so hard that his little buddy behind him couldn’t get stopped either, and they tumbled right into each other and went sprawling all over the ground. Then they jumped up and hightailed it for their yard and behind their fence. I thought Dad was going to fall over laughing. I put those bullies down. Who is the real alpha in this neighborhood? It’s the P-dog, that’s what I’m saying.
We watched a movie on the big-screen TV the other night. It was “The Secret Life of Pets.” When the main character in the movie barked at me, I barked back.
Sometimes Dad tells me things and I just have to turn my head sideways, open my big brown eyes really wide and give him “the look.”
When Dad leaves the house he tells me, “Watch out where the huskies go and don’t you eat that yellow snow.” Like I would do that! What is wrong with him?
One last thing, there’s a vicious rumor that I ate the homework. But that’s a lie. It needed salt.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it!
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OR
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