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.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Monday, April 19, 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
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.
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.
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