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!"
The adventures of an adorable Labrador Puppy who looks at his owners like..."You done with the paper yet?"
