Say Cheese

After two years, we've yet to get a good photo of Coda. We’ve tried outdoor shots with him lying on the grass and pictures by the fireplace with his stuffed duck. What can I say, Coda's just not photogenic. Until recently, I thought he was just leery of cameras. Turns out Coda’s just leery of us.

The other day Coda was playing with Vienna. Vienna (Black Lab) lives across from the park and is the sweet dog that trots about the neighborhood on her own. Everyone knows and loves Vienna. But on this particular afternoon, Vienna wasn’t out by herself. Vienna’s family was having a reunion.

Thirty people were gathered on the front drive, laughing and talking. They looked like the kind of group you’d love to have at a Bar-B-Que. While the family exchanged greetings, Vienna and Coda merrily played in the park. Then Vienna’s owner called for her. The family was lining up for a group photo and wanted her in the picture. Vienna, the good dog, went right to her owner and sat down where instructed. Then, yet again, Coda shocked me.

Coda ran over to the family, turned toward the camera, and plopped himself right next to Vienna. A professional photographer couldn’t have staged it any better. I called for him, but Coda was suddenly Cindy Crawford and wouldn’t budge. Why wouldn't they want me in the photo? At least everyone was laughing when they took the picture. I tried to convince them the photo was proof Coda now belonged to them, but there were no takers.

Of course Coda still grimaces at our camera and even tried to steal it the other day. No, he hasn’t changed his ways. And now we have to add poser to his growing list of "traits." We’ve yet to determine if this is a passing phase, but at least we finally have a decent photo of Coda.

Next, I'll tell you about Coda's first time at the "Bark-N-Splash." Every summer the community pool is set up so doggies can go for a dip. Labradors are known for their prowess in water, and there were so many Labs in the pool I almost couldn't find Coda. Almost. I didn't even have to look when the man next to me said, "Whose Lab is that? He looks like a drowning victim." Yep, it was you know who.

Stop Thief!

I'm convinced if Coda had thumbs, by now he'd be behind bars in an orange jumpsuit trading favors for cigarettes. There's no way around this...Coda is a thief. His life of crime started early with misdemeanors like lifting socks from the hamper. My husband and I hoped his pilfering was a passing puppy phase, but after this last incident we've lost all hope of our boy having a clean rap sheet.

It might be faster to give you a list of items Coda hasn't stolen. I don't think he's managed a T.V. yet, but he did get at least two cell phones and a set of car keys. If I hadn't stopped him, he'd probably have driven to Mexico. I've lost count of how many toys he's nabbed out of unsuspecting hands. His favorite grab are those plastic Chuckits to throw tennis balls, not to mention the balls themselves. Coda also has a reputation at Dog Park for taking leashes and dumping over a very large water tub and then dragging it around. I don't think he thought that caper through. But by far, Coda's best steal was a shoe. Now you're probably thinking, big deal all dogs steal shoes, but this is Coda we're talking about. If there's one thing Coda's got, it's flair.

Picture Coda at Dog Park on a sunny day. It isn't crowded, but there's a nice gathering. Dogs are happily playing while owners stand in small groups to chat or sit comfortably at benches in the shade. All is peaceful and even Coda seems content chasing a Boxer. That is until Coda spots a lady on a bench and hatches a plan. Why he chose her is still a mystery, but he wags and wiggles right up to her. She is sitting with her legs crossed, wearing a nice pair of leather flip flops. As she reaches down to pat Coda's head, Coda smiles. Then instead of a waiting for his pat, Coda pulls the flip flop right off the lady's foot and makes a dash for it.

Everyone (except of course the lady now missing a shoe) chased Coda around Dog Park while I worried he was slobbering and ruining the nice leather. But why worry about slobber when there's a mud puddle in the corner? Yep, he gave up the chase and dropped that shoe right in the mud. I had to wonder - does Hallmark make a greeting card for this?

I offered to pay for damages, but the one-shoed woman was nice and accepted the flip flop once I rinsed it with the hose. I still wonder if the shoe was completely ruined, but I haven't seen her at the park since. Who can blame her? It's obviously a dangerous neighborhood riddled with hoodlums. Of course, even hoodlums have their softer side.

Just the other day Coda posed like a real gentleman in a beautiful family photo. Too bad it wasn't our family.

Coda and the Cat

A few months ago Coda and I were enjoying a lovely morning walk. He was a true gentleman - didn't pull on the leash, sat at the street corners, and even kept his attention on me when another Lab passed. But then Coda spotted something he'd never seen before.

At first Coda watched the cat from across the street. It was a big, orange Tabby that stared back at us without blinking. "Don't even think about it," I said, knowing Coda didn't stand a chance. But Coda was back to his old self. He lunged forward, yanking the leash right out of my hand, and darted across the street. Thankfully there were no cars. As Coda approached, however, the cat didn't budge.

I suppose a better Mom might have run after Coda, but I stayed back and muttered for him to stop. I was Willy Wonka in the scene when Augustus Gloop falls in the chocolate river (no…stop…don’t…yawn). So I watched as Coda ran up to the kitty and wiggled. He wanted to play. The cat didn't wiggle. The cat stood up on his hind legs and assumed the position.

There was hissing and spitting, following by rapid swatting. Coda was dumbfounded for a few moments, then he began to yelp. Motherly instincts took over, and I did go to Coda's rescue. Coda came right to me without a chase game, and I saw he was bleeding just under his left eye. Another half-inch up and this would be a different story.

The walk home was slow. Coda stayed right by my side and let me dab at his wound with a Kleenex. When we got home, I cleaned him up and put on Neosporin. (Yes, the people kind. My sister's a vet and they use this all the time.) The cut wasn't deep and the bleeding had stopped. I gave him a few kisses on the muzzle and told he was fine. Knowing Coda, I assumed he'd leap up and go run amuck in the yard. You know what they say about assumptions.

Coda stood up and slowly walked into our bedroom. He went into his kennel and curled up into a little ball. He slept all afternoon.

Since the incident, Coda hasn't gone after any more cats. I think what shook him up most was that the cat didn't want to play with him. This made no sense to Coda, who loves everyone.

Still, Coda doesn't seem to have any deep psychological scars. Yesterday he stole the watering can and chew it to bits. Perhaps it's time to tell you more about Coda's thieving. Maybe there's a support group.

Ironic, isn't it...Coda's a bit of a cat burglar.

Happy Birthday, Coda!

Today is Coda's 2nd birthday. To celebrate I gave him a good belly rub and took him for a nice long walk. Now that he's an adult dog of sorts, did Coda thank me with a tail wag or quick lick? Not quite.

During his walk he flopped down on the front lawn of a house with their sprinklers on. He rolled around in the water until soaked and then found a comfortable spot and wouldn't get up.

Maybe he'll mature by his 3rd birthday...but we're not getting our hopes up.

Table for Three?

Coda Cleetis loves to eat. He’s your typical chow hound or anything else hound for that matter. His favorite midnight snack is plastic. When he was just a puppy my husband and I decided we should start taking him to outdoor restaurants. We had always enjoyed taking our previous Labrador out to eat with us and we wanted to teach Coda to stay relaxed in any setting. Surprisingly, Coda was a natural at dining al fresco. He loved being outside and his continued disinterest in humans meant he didn’t try to say hi to anyone. At last, we had found at least one redeeming quality in our Coda. Or so we thought.

One sunny spring day, not too long ago, we took Coda to Rubios. The Rubios by our house has a big outdoor seating area with a fountain. We found a nice spot in the shade and Coda flopped onto the cool concrete. My husband and I had a great chat and didn’t even think about Coda again until our burritos were gone. Then I decided to check on how Coda was doing. We'd never seen anything like it.

Coda was still stretched out, sound asleep on his side. One might think this a good thing, but as you’re getting to know Coda you’re probably already cringing. Coda was sound asleep alright – on the foot of a lady at the next table! He was even snoring. Luckily the lady was a dog lover. I apologized to the woman and woke Coda up, to which he stretched then looked annoyed I was disturbing him. So much for Coda guarding the pack.

We still take Coda out to eat but now were keep a better eye on him and warn the neighboring diners. Not long after the Rubios outing, we took Coda to a local sandwich shop and he went belly up - sound asleep with paws in the air and tongue flopped out. I don’t know about you, but I think that’s just a little too relaxed!

Next time I’ll tell you about Coda and the cat. I’ll put it this way, the cat won.

How Did I Forget Sierra?

In my last post I forgot to mention Sierra. I’m not sure how this is possible since Sierra is the instigator of Coda's clan. She gets Coda in trouble. See, like a good mom I always think it’s the other kid.

Sierra is a Yellow Lab mix. You can usually find Sierra bounding through the neighborhood after slipping her collar. She and Coda are great friends and love to stir up mischief. Case in point – the yard incident.

Coda and Sierra were playing at our neighborhood park. They like to rummage through the bushes to pick up empty water bottles and ticks. One minute they were playing tug with a tree branch and the next they were gone. Sierra’s owner and I started shouting out their names but we didn’t hear anything. We weren’t worried about the danger of a car (our area is very secluded and lends itself nicely to off-leash playing) but where did they go? We were just about ready to start knocking on doors, when all of sudden we heard yelping following by Coda and Sierra running towards us. Something was wrong. At first we couldn’t tell what it was. Then they got closer.

Both dogs were soaking wet. The buddies decided to go snooping and merrily let themselves into a neighbor’s yard. They just didn’t know about the workmen. When the unsuspecting workmen saw two big dogs coming their way, they reacted. Their weapon of choice? The garden hose they were using to water new grass. Coda and Sierra each got a good shot in the snout before turning tail.

Sierra’s owner and I had a good laugh, but the workmen weren’t smiling. We apologized and vowed to discipline our dogs. Of course trying to put a dog in time-out doesn’t really work. So we just had to hope the dousing would teach them their lesson.

Coda and Sierra have since been in four yards, two garages, and a front hall. I think the Labradors are looking for more water!

The Don

Coda plays at our neighborhood park every day. This is where he hangs with the Gambinos. You might think Coda’s the pack leader, but he’s actually the sidekick tripping over his paws. The real Godfather is Grandpa. Dogs run up to him, sit, and lick his ring finger. They know and respect Grandpa’s place. They also know Grandpa carries biscuits.

Grandpa is my father-in-law, and he loves Coda. Because Big G and Coda go for three walks a day, they know everyone in the neighborhood and everyone knows them. Still, only a few friends make up The Family.

Coda’s best amico is Mi (pronounced Me). They met when Coda was a year and Mi was just four months, but Coda was so gentle with his puppy playmate. He’d roll on his back and let Mi jump on his belly and bite his ears with those sharp baby teeth. If there was a yelp, it was from Coda. Today Mi’s all grown and the two of them ambush each other, pin each other by the throat, and knock into each other so hard there’s always yelping.

Capone (yes, Capone) is an Italian Mastiff. At 11 months he’s already 130 pounds! When he puts his giant paw on Coda, he pushes him right to the ground. Luckily, Capone is a sweetie who thinks Coda's a good pisan. Vienna (Black Lab) and Cocoa (Golden Retriever) are the ladies of the group. They’re usually up for a good game of chase but leave the wrestling to the boys.

And where is The Don in all of this? Grandpa sits alone in the gazebo, shadows hiding his face so you see only his eyes watching and waiting. When it’s time to leave, the Godfather signals.

Coda being Coda, when Grandpa calls for him Coda acts like he doesn’t understand English and continues playing. This could go on indefinitely but Grandpa knows the game and makes Coda an offer he can’t refuse. Leave the gun take the rawhide bone.

It’s great my father-in-law gets so much exercise and enjoys spending time with Coda. Plus getting to know our neighbors is an advantage of having such a friendly dog. One of the many disadvantages of Coda’s goofball enthusiasm is often seen when we take him anywhere else but a park – like, say, for example – an outdoor restaurant.

Just a Wee Pup

Like most dogs, Coda’s favorite place is Dog Park. Unlike most dogs, Coda shows his love for the doggy Magic Kingdom by stealing, vandalizing, and defacing.

Our Dog Park is segregated. Small dogs have the front of the park, their area filled with lush grass and a spotless gazebo. From the parking lot, visitors can watch fluffy little bundles trot about in sweaters. Large dogs are forced to a side lot that hasn’t had a blade of grass in years. It’s a dirt pit where water buckets are knocked over, remnants of mud-caked tennis balls line the fence, and park officials removed the shady bench because it was “claimed” so often they grew tired of cleaning it. When Coda was small he played in the garden. The little dogs’ owners thought his smashing into friends was cute. As Coda grew (three pounds a week), his ramming quickly lost appeal and we were tossed, literally, into the dirt.

At this point Coda was only about 30 pounds and ran by kicking out his right hind leg like a palsy victim. I was asked five times if there was something wrong with Coda. Yes, but not with his leg. On Coda’s first day with the big dogs there were other Labs and several medium-sized mutts, so I felt okay about unleashing my little guy into the mayhem. I opened the gate and Coda surged forward like a linebacker. This was when I spotted Max. Max is a beautiful Great Dane. When Max is at the park he’s surrounded by people making a show of patting his head without bending over. Can you guess where Coda went first? Yes, Coda ran right past a wagging young Golden Retriever to crash into the park giant. Hello, Max.

Coda greeted Max by chewing on his leg. Standing beside the huge dog, Coda looked like a wee pup – wee being the operative word. Max stood like a gentleman while Coda tried to get his attention, then just as quietly Max lifted his leg and peed right on Coda’s head. Everyone laughed while I shook my head and said, “My husband picked out this dog.” As usual Coda was unfazed and shook off like he’d just had a bath. I think Max respected Coda’s reaction because Max then played with Coda. They’ve been great buddies ever since.

I began by saying Coda is the Dog Park Hoodlum, and he is. But every criminal came from somewhere and his baptism on that first park experience set the tone for more adventures to come. You see, Coda has lots of friends in the neighborhood and at the park. They grow so fast, and well, before we knew it Coda was running with the bad crowd. I think it’s time you meet Coda’s gang.

Ready, Set, Hike

When I told my six-year-old niece about Pass the Puppy she burst into tears. She was imagining little 18-pound Coda as a football. Coda had just chewed a hole in the carpet (padding and all) so I admit I considered the idea. Of course Pass the Puppy has nothing to do with tossing dogs. From Coda’s reaction to this right of passage; however, I think he would have preferred going airborne.

The trouble began on our third night of class. While setting our chairs in a tight circle the trainer explained Pass the Puppy was used to socialize our dogs to other humans. I was just glad I was actually getting to pet a puppy. Our little bundle of sweetness still preferred sitting alone outside. We gathered up our dogs, or at least the other owners did because by this time Coda was whimpering and struggling to dive in the toy box, and the trainer said to begin. Coda had other ideas.

First passed to me was a Cavalier King Charles. As soon as she was in my lap she began licking my face. I snuggled her and did my best baby talk all the time wondering if we had enough in our savings account for a switch. This was about the time I was distracted by something bumping into my leg. Guess who? Not enough in savings - not even close.

Coda was supposed to be visiting with the Norwegian Elk Hound’s owner. Instead the nice lady was desperately trying to rein in Coda while he strained against the leash, his paws flailing as if he were on ice. When the trainer said to pass again, the lady threw Coda’s leash at the next victim and swiped the Cavalier out of my arms.

In the course of Pass the Puppy Coda wiggled out of hugs, howled like a tenor at Carnegie Hall, tried to pounce on his Lab buddy from the last class, and got too close to the toy box. The instructor wrestled Coda for a stuffed frog. Coda won. After class we waited to get kicked out but the instructor seemed satisfied with giving us the evil eye.

Classes continued with Coda running amok and earning the class nickname Crazy Coda. But then something remarkable happened on graduation day.

After the final exam of leading a gentlemanly Coda down PetSmart’s food aisle and adorable photos in a mini mortarboard, all of the shy puppies played with Coda. He won them over and taught them there was nothing to fear. We were very proud of our little graduate and since then Coda has helped other shy dogs come out of their shell. Encouraged by Coda's victory we felt he was ready for the big leagues – Dog Park. Coda was ready. My husband and I still have nightmares.

Coda Cletus Goes to School

Coda's full name is Dal Capo Viene la Coda di Biscayne. This is Italian for from the head comes the tail of Biscayne. Coda's father was named Chief, or the head, and Coda is a musical term for "tail." Get it? Yes, my husband got a little carried away. Of course after a year of folly, Coda has earned lots of nicknames. My favorites are Knucklehead and Cletus. Coda Cletus (said in the high-pitched drawl of the Appalachian south) was given to Coda after what happened with Max the Great Dane. But I'm getting ahead of myself. The Max Incident is a story in itself, so I'll save that for a future blog. Right now you need to know a little about Coda at puppy class.

Coda's first puppy class was terrific. This was because it was an orientation without the dogs. A group of red-eyed puppy owners sat on uncomfortable plastic chairs in the glass front "playroom" at PetSmart waving at gawkers and learning the class goals. Goal #1 - to socialize the puppies so they learn to play well with other dogs. Goal #2 - to socialize the puppies so they learn to play well with other people. Well, we got one out of two.

The following week the puppy class met again - this time with our pups. We noticed right away Coda looked as if he'd been held back a grade. He was huge - even larger than the black Lab cowering in the corner. Next we noticed all the other puppies were quietly shaking while Coda was hopping around and yelping. Was Coda so terrified he had worked himself up into a puppy dither? If only that were so.

The trainer began by cleaning up a small accident and giving us a few potty training tips, then she called out, "Unleash the hounds." Okay, so she didn't say that exactly but she should have. Coda took off and made a beeline for a toy box tucked under the trainer's shelf. How he knew it was there is still a mystery. He pulled out a tennis ball, turned to face his classmates, and began ramming his new friends with the ball. Now you should know that Coda's classmates, the other Labrador, one Cavalier King Charles, a Norwegian Elk Hound, a Boxer, and a floppy-eared mutt, were still cowering. Coda's excitement wasn't catching, but Coda was undaunted.

He dropped the tennis ball, raced back to the treasure chest and found a crusty stuffed chicken. He shoved the bird in the Boxer's face, wiggled, and waited. The Boxer's response? He looked as if he was cursing his bad luck not to have thumbs. If only he had thumbs he could have dialed 911 and reported a crazed beast on the loose.

I'd like to say Coda got the hint after a few minutes, but we're still waiting for that. Coda continued in this manner - pulling toys and poking "friends" - until he had pulled out every last toy in the box. I counted 21. He was fearless, overjoyed with happiness, and determined to play with anyone who would have him...at least anyone with four legs.

By the end of the play session the other Lab decided they shared a common heritage and tentatively gave the tug rope a pull. Coda barked - success. Then the class ended with us dragging Coda away from his "friends" while the instructor insinuated we had somehow over-socialized our new dog. Over-socialized? He still wouldn't even let us pet him. If we learned anything from Coda that night it was tenacity, so we vowed to endure five more puppy classes no matter what. What, unfortunately, happened the very next class.

Next up "Pass the Puppy" or what my husband and I call, "Help, they're touching me!"

Are you done with the paper yet?

When we brought home a Yellow Labrador Retriever Puppy (soon to be named Coda) we knew he had big paws to fill. A month prior we had lost our 14-yr old Labrador, Jesse. We were grieving and stupidly thought a puppy would fix everything. Hindsight is a terrible thing. Our new bundle of joy was wrapped in the towel I made my husband bring to the breeder's just in case and we told our new pup that although his brother "died in the war" we would love him just the same. Now you're probably thinking this is a Marley story, but it isn't. For the most part Coda is a good dog. But when he isn't, Coda is complete goofball.

The first sign of trouble was when our 12 pound pup woke up. He'd fallen asleep during the car ride home and was so cute cuddled in my arms. Once awake, however, he wanted nothing to do with us. He wiggled out of my arms and explored his new digs with a gunfighter's swagger. Okay, so he's a confident little guy, I thought. It wasn't until that evening we pegged the personality of our independent 8-week old.

My husband and I were on the sofa watching our new puppy destroy a stuffed duck (the first of too many to count) when at last Coda looked up at us. He cocked his head and stared at us with big brown eyes. Did we see affection or playfulness in those puppy eyes? Nope. He was looking at us as if to say, Are you done with the paper yet?

That was a year ago - a year filled with gnawed table legs and evening puppy classes. As long as Coda gets plenty of exercise he doesn't chew the furniture or eat remote controls anymore. His favorite snack was the Comcast sampler. He also walks on a leash like a gentleman as long as he doesn't see one of his many many friends. And that's where this blog is really going.

Though Coda still looks at me and my husband like we should mind our own business, Coda's the Walmart Greeter of the canine world. He absolutely LOVES other dogs. I've never seen anything like it. He even shares his rawhide bones. Of course this gregarious personality isn't without folly. Like I said, Coda is a goofball and goofballs get into lots of mischief.