Pete at the Dog Park - Sue

I took Pete to the dog park this morning.

Pete was supposed to be a replacement for Peevey. I had lied to myself said that wasn't so, because no dog could ever replace Peevey. But still, I wanted that void to be filled with another dog I could love just as much, maybe for different reasons, but I wanted to love like that again.

Pete was a severe disappointment. Not only did he not fill the void, he made a bigger one. Try as I might, I couldn't help the obvious comparisons. Peevey's goal in life seemed to be to want to please me. It seemed to make her happy. She studied me, looking for clues as to what I might desire. Lie still and be quiet? No problem. Go chase the ball and bring it back, no matter how far it's thrown? Sure thing. Wait for you to open the gate, and then walk out and climb up the ramp to the truck, no leash needed. You got it. All of that made me want to please her as well, and I am sure I would have taken a bullet for her.

Pete redefined the definition for "strong willed." He let me know from the start that he didn't need me, didn't care what I wanted and was 100% concerned with pleasing himself and no one else. He was the Emperor of his domain and wanted to make sure everyone gasped over his dashing, invisible new clothes. If the sound of the food processor disturbed him, one of many sounds that disturbed him, he didn't need me to comfort and console him. He just ran to the furthest back corner of the yard and stayed there, self-reliant, self-absorbed, self-indulgent, needing no one.

I hadn't taken him to the dog park in at least six months, maybe more. I had grown weary of his dog fights. It was true that he only fought if another dog came after him first, but the dog owners at the dog park cast their looks askance anyway. If Pete was the only dog their dogs fought with, it had to be Pete's fault.

So I have been giving Pete his exercise by harnessing him to the bike and going for a ride nearly every morning. I give him commands like, "right, left, wait, and easy." He knows what they mean and is forced to follow my lead, since my sitting on the bike, ahem, far outweighs him.

But today is Sunday. And it was early, and there was a crisp fall chill that begged a good romp. I loaded him up and headed for the park, hoping there wouldn't be many dogs. There weren't, and after I took off his leash, Pete found a ball and was ready for work. He ran out, wide to the right, as if making a large outrun to gather a flock on a far hill. I chirped a quick, short whistle, and he cut to the left, full gallop. Another quick, short whistle, and he slammed on the brakes, facing me in a crouch. With the flinging thing, I hurled the ball so that it sailed through the air like a golf ball, and he was there, ready. It bounced and he scrambled after it, brought it back. He was in his element, shining like a champion. This is what he lived for.

Then the trio of dogs came chasing him, and I thought, "Here we go." Pete dropped the ball near me and backed off, ready for more work. The dogs circled him, and he couldn't see the ball. That's when the snarling, growling and frenzied fur flying began. It only last three seconds or so, just long enough for the dogs to get the message that he did not want to play their silly dog games. He was there to work and they'd better leave him alone. They all took off.

I threw the ball a couple of more times and then noticed a man walking up to me. He asked if everything was okay. I thought he was going to say my dog was a trouble maker. But he thought his dog had started a fight with my dog. I explained that my dog didn't want to play, and he was just letting the other dogs know. He said he was still sorry about that. And I said that it was all good, and threw the ball again. Pete had made another great outrun and was right under the ball. He caught it! The man said, "Nice catch!"

Pete was different than he used to be at the park. He didn't fight me for the ball. He was completely focused on me and the ball. When he dropped it, I told him to go back, and he went. He obeyed my whistles and worked his heart out. When it was time to go, I walked towards the gate, and he ran up behind me, so that when I opened it, he ran right into the little staging area and waited for me to attach his leash.

He is going to be two in November. Maybe he just had to mature a little bit. Maybe he has a little Peevey in him after all, or maybe he has just settled into his own, and has decided on his own that being a good working partner is more fun than being completely self-absorbed. Whatever the reason, I think maybe I love him.