Sometimes when your puppy wants your attention, he means it.

I was organizing some collector cards on the couch.  They were spread on the coffee table, at my feet, and everywhere else.  Winston came up to me, stepping on the cards.  "Go." I said.  He went a little ways.

Then it started.  Quietly at first.

*Unk
*Unk

It built in speed and intensity.

*Unk!
*Unk!
*Unk!

Finally I realized, barf is coming!  "Go! Go!" I yelled and Winston bolted for the door.  I flung it open only to see my sprinkler had gotten stuck and was spraying the entrance to the home.  Winston hates sprinklers.

He came to a screeching halt and barfed on the carpet.  Then he ate it.  I went back to organizing my cards.

The Puppy: 6 Months Later

Right before I got a dog my mother told me that pet owners have less stress and live longer.

At times with Winston, that seems impossible.  Right now he's making noises like he might barf.  All this week he's woken me up at 4 to go to the bathroom (better than the alternative).  I come home, and he's chewed the deck.  He knows he's not supposed to do it.  I know this because as soon as I open the door he starts his guilt walk, a low, scooting waddle like a ferret on rohypnol.  Or like a cobra trying to charm me.  So I look around for what he did wrong, find the chewed wood, and take him over there for some firm "No!"-ing.  

Now dog people might tell me won't know what I'm talking about if I didn't catch him in the act.  But Winston is smart, I think he knows.  Or at least has some idea.  Now he gives me puppy dog eyes, head cocked to one side, tail wagging.  He wants forgiveness.  I pet him and all is well.

Now scratch my belly!

People say labs are people pleasers, and that side of Winston becomes more apparent each day.    He attends my every move, to the point of annoyance.  Sometimes I just watch him watch me.  In all things he wants to make me happy.  Not being able to do what I ask stresses him out, like when I tried to teach him roll over.  He pawed here and there, snorted and turned in circles.  But once he did, he jumped for joy seeing how happy I was.

The bottom line with Winston is this: I clean up a lot of his poop, and I'm sure glad I have him.  He eats my deck, but he loves me unconditionally.  All in all, I'm probably getting the better end of the deal.

Though I'm 29, this is the first time in my life I've been the sole provider for any living thing bigger than a gold fish.  Yes I had dogs and cats growing up, but my mom took care of those.  I've never had a pet since then.  No kids either.  And though he is just a dog, Winston has helped me understand a little better the meaning of unconditional love.

I never intended for this blog to be about dogs.  I've looked through blogger, it seems like every other blog is dedicated to some four legged creature.  When I started this blog I was in the middle of starting a teaching career and running a non-profit.  It was about social change, changing the world, etc etc.  And now, about Winston pooping on deck.  There is probably some significance to that, but I am too tired to find it.

Winston's Fathers Day Gift

On a walk, Winston started pooping in someone's lawn.  So I drug him to a field across the street, and holding his leash he began his poop spins.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed.  Answering the text I didn't even notice it.  Slowly I became aware of the faintest sensation of something on my foot.  Something barely noticeable, as if it had been heated to near body temperature.  I looked down and saw it.  A turd.  On my foot.

Triumphant, Winston walked the rest of the way home with his head held high.  

Then he taunted me with this face.

Next time it'll be more than your foot!

Happiness is Ham

Winston found a piece of ham on the playground.  He is eating it beside me as I type.  A number of large chunks have fallen out of his mouth, but he is oblivious and blissful.

Winston is my 6 month old yellow lab.  He grows at an amazing rate, and is still not half his full grown size.  He can sit, shake, and lay down.  I'm trying to teach him to roll over.  We have a sequence:

"Sit!"  He sits and wags his tail.

"Lie Down!"  He lies down and wags his tail.

"Roll over!"  His ears go back and he looks at me, confused and worried.

So I roll him over, praise him lots like he did it on his own.  He wags his tail!  And we repeat.  We did too much today and he promptly barfed when he was finished.  Luckily he at the barf back up.

So far he hasn't destroyed anything by chewing.  If he gets lonely, the only thing he tears up are magazines I leave out.  The first one he got was the Sports Illustrated swimsuit addition.  While disappointed he does have good taste.

I have learned to read his language and moods a little bit.  Jumps-while annoying-mean he his happy.  Bring the leash or chuck-it out and he starts bounding.  When he has to poop he begins sniffing the ground.  Slowly at first, then faster and faster.  What he is sniffing for I don't know.  When he does find a spot with an appropriate scent for his poop, he then starts whirling around and around like a helicopter, tail kinked and in the air.  Poop circles are a tell tale sign Winston has been there.