Saturday, March 20, 2004

• sportsgoddess asks: okay, i've been wondering, why do you board your dog during the day?

   

  Well, sportsgoddess, the short answer is, my dog is crazy. And, unfortunately, she's much smarter than I am.

   

  The long answer is this essay, which was published last August, and appeared on this blog in November.

   

  I planned to post a new photo, because Riley had a bath today, and she's all pretty and shiny. Unfortunately, my camera needs batteries, so you'll have to settle for this old one.

   

  Riley is a lab mix, and currently I think the "mix" might be Newfoundland.

   

  

  The Culprit

   

   

  Life With Riley

   

  "Know what you’re looking for?" asked the shelter worker.

   

  "Lab," I said. "Older if possible."

   

  "We have plenty of those," she said. "They tend to stray, and not many people want the older ones."

   

  "I need a low-maintenance family dog, and I figure an older one would be less likely to have behavioral problems."

   

  It's funny how you can be so right and so wrong at the same time.

   

  I chose a black dog and named her Riley. After out first outing together--a trip to the pet store for a new leash and collar--realized that Riley hadn't only charmed me. She could--and did--charm pretty much everyone, which I guess is essential if you're a sporting dog who doesn't fetch or swim.

   

  It didn't take long for me to realize that not only was her charm stuck in overdrive, but also incredibly sweet and gentle with my kids--who may have been somewhat less than sweet and gentle with her--and our two cats. I decided that Riley was sort of like Gandhi in a furry black suit.

   

  As it turns out, Riley wasn't so much the canine equivalent to Gandhi, but more like a Labrador version of Houdini.

   

  Riley spent much of her time jumping over and squeezing under the fence, and learning to open the gate. In response, I became the Martha Stewart of home repair. I poured cement, mended fences, and installed latches. She learned to open the latched gate within a few hours, so I installed a padlock. To this day, I wouldn’t be surprised to find her twisting the dial in her teeth.

   

  Her success in the yard inspired her to tackle the lock on her crate, where I often put her while I cooked. She can now pop it open in a matter of seconds. I found that a cable, anchored to the leg of my desk--long enough for Riley to roam, but not quite long enough for her to reach the kitchen--was a much better solution.

   

  Our veterinarian recommended some techniques to relieve Riley’s separation anxiety, but none of them worked. We were left with a choice between medication and day care. I wanted to use medication only as a last resort.

   

  I found a veterinary clinic offering day care just a few minutes from my office. For the past couple of years, Riley has had several playmates to keep her busy during the day. As an added bonus, she comes home happy and exhausted.

   

  Not that it’s all been smooth sailing.

   

  Even in the safe environment of day care, Riley has had some problems. After a few weeks she learned how to unlatch her dog run. She would let herself out and follow the attendant around. This endeared her to the daycare staff, and Riley was allowed to accompany them throughout the day.

   

  That is, until she started opening the door to let the dogs in during outdoor playtime. The dogs would rush in, creating chaos for the staff. During the confusion, Riley would lie quietly in the corner. At first the manager thought one of the employees was letting all the dogs in at once, and it frustrated her to the point of wanting to fire that person, but then she caught Riley in the act. From then on, Riley had to be supervised much more closely.

   

  A few weeks later, while the kennel attendant was outside cleaning the play area, all the dogs were in their runs. Riley, apparently in the mood for an afternoon snack, let herself out of her run, then and opened her neighbor's door. When the dog ran out, she went in and ate his food, then moved on to the next run. She continued until all runs and bowls were empty.

   

  The kennel attendant was nearly knocked down by the dogs rushing at her as she opened the door to come inside. At first it was a mystery as to how the dogs had escaped, but then the manager caught on.

   

  "Wait a minute," she said. "Was Riley there?"

   

  "She was just lying in the corner," said the attendant. "She didn’t do anything."

   

  The next day, Riley was caught opening her neighbor's run. There was no longer any doubt, not that there ever really was, about who the instigator had been.

   

  Fortunately, everyone at the vet clinic thought Riley's antics were funny, and they weren't the only ones. Every time I have dinner with friends, they ask me to tell Riley stories. One of my friends has declared Riley the MacGyver of dogs.

  Fortunately, there's never a shortage of material, even though Riley's slowing down a bit in her old age. Something happened last spring that threw everything into chaos again.

   

  One afternoon, I got a call at work from the daycare.

   

  "I just want you to know everything’s OK."

   

  "Uh huh," I said, sure that Riley was in trouble.

   

  "We had a fire."

   

  “Oh!” I said, a little too happily, quite relieved that my dog hadn't been causing trouble.  Then, after the news sank in, something occurred to me.

   

  "Riley didn’t have anything to do with it, did she?"

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