Dixie Ducks out the Door … Darn it

I feel like I need to be writing an apology to the neighbors and the dog catcher … animal control lady. Let’s just get it out in the open. I’m not a very good dog mother. I have always thought I had the best dogs in the world. They were pretty. They were smart. They were well trained.

All of them … and there have been a lot over the years … have learned the meaning of the word “cookie” early on. Because of this, they also learned to sit on command. The latest dog, Dixie, came to me from the shelter knowing “sit,” “stay,” “find your baby (toy),” and “get down.” In the three years I’ve had her, she has learned to roll her eyes at me, ignore everything except the squirrels in the back yard, and to beg for the last of every meal. She has big, soulful eyes, and can stare down the guards at Buckingham Palace. There is just something about that last bite of a hamburger, the first bite of a hot dog, and the inside of any bowl which has held pudding, ice cream, or gravy. I know I should have never given her that first bite of human food.

In the last year, with Covid, we’ve had a house guest. He brought his dog, Brandy. She has been turned to “worldly ways” by Dixie … and me. She and Dixie get along great. She’s twice as tall, twice as long, and probably weighs twice what Dixie weighs. But they both weigh a lot more than they did when they started this friendship. If one dog staring longingly at your plate is bad, two dogs rolling their eyes between the food on the table and the “sucker” who is probably going to give them the scraps is worse.

I knew Dixie had gained a little weight. But during the last couple of weeks, a number of my clients have commented on how “well-fed” she was. FAT. Poor dog, when she came to my house, she was svelte. She was thin and lean and could run like the wind.

Well, she can still run like the wind. That’s the problem. It seems she and Brandy have gotten a taste of freedom and have been sneaking out the front door when clients come in. Some nice people pause when they see the two dogs … maybe in fear (Brandy barks) … maybe just in awe of how fat a little dog can get. When they pause, Dixie takes the lead and scoots past them and out into the neighborhood … heading for parts unknown. Nope. She knows the parts. She’s gotten out so many times lately that she knows them well. And the neighbors know her.

When both of the dogs get out, it is party time. They run together up and down the block. I usually tell the clients not to worry, “They’ll come right back.” And as we sit in front of the window in my office, we see the big white dog and the little black dog streak past the house going north, then south, down the alley and onto the neighbor’s porch. They do come back. They are not stupid. They know who feeds them … too much.

Today, I was determined to train Dixie to stay away from the door. I put the coffee can of pennies beside the door. The sound … when kicked or shaken … scares her and she backs up. Well… she used to. I even tried tying a barbell to her leash, making her drag it around the living room in hopes it would slow down her “lift-off” when the door was opened. I felt so bad about the barbell that I took it off after about three minutes.

I guess I’m going to have to go back to rewards for staying back inside the room when a visitor comes. Maybe I’ll give them one of those cheap wieners I bought on sale last week. Maybe when I get them broken from running out the door, we’ll work on a diet.