My husband and I are fortunate enough to run our own business, so we bring Coda to our office every day. You might assume we run a warehouse or maybe own a pet store. Nope. We work in a Class A building beside engineering companies and Realtor offices. Coda prances through the glass entrance and even rides in the elevator. Of course, Coda is all business on work days. Well, almost.
When Coda was a puppy, we knew taking him to the office had to wait until he stopped chewing table legs and nearby toes. Our employees are dog lovers, but there's a limit. The job requirements for Coda were straight forward. So once we thought he was a well-trained, quiet Labrador, we brought him in for an interview.
The interview consisted of letting Coda sniff the carpets, and staff. He was about five months old and still wiggly, but he knew his commands and responded to them most of the time. Early on, Coda charmed everyone. He sat for a quick petting, didn't bark at the UPS driver, and even flopped on a makeshift bed in my office. "He's a natural," we thought. I should have known it was too soon to order business cards.
At first I watched Coda like a hawk. He did well. The moment I turned my back, however, I heard, "He's got an envelope!" I peered out my office and saw Coda jumping around with a giant padded bubble envelope. Our reception area is a great circle track - great for a dog playing keep away. After several laps, I wrestled the envelope from Coda and dragged him back to my office. But it was too late. The real Coda was unleashed.
Coda bounded into cubicles and found sections of wall to nibble. He discovered where we kept the paper reams and was quite good at pulling out sheets and tearing them to bits. When we moved the paper, he moved on to trash cans. I was ready to give up and leave him home, but my husband was more patient. I seem to recall the words "Maybe the puppy will listen to his father." We still laugh about that.
It was a normal workday and Coda was lying quietly in daddy's office. At first I thought there was something to the old adage - wait till your father gets home. Then my husband asked, "Did the network go down?" The system was fine. So what happened? Can you guess? Coda had been quiet in daddy's office all right; quietly chewing through all of the network cords. They were in pieces beside Coda, now with a satisfied grin.
Coda eventually matured and is good at the office now. Once in a while he still steals an envelope and runs around as if longing for his youth, but mostly he plays with his toys and lets Grandpa take him for walks. It's a good arrangement, and it keeps Coda off the streets. Yes, there was a time when, well, we thought Coda might end up a gutter pup. Maybe it was when he literally ended up in the gutter.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Friday, January 28, 2011
Making A Splash
One of our best doggy outings is the Bark-N-Splash. Just before the City closes the community pool for the winter, they put up extra fences and let dogs run amok. It’s great fun to see hundreds of romping dogs in all shapes and sizes. The bulldog in his orange lifejacket is still my favorite.
As you can imagine, Coda-the-water-hound loves this event. He’s been twice. The second time he did quite well if you overlook his sudden compulsion for Frisbees. He somehow got it in his head that every plastic disc, including a rogue clipboard, belonged to him. Coda’s first time at the pool, however, was another, more interesting, story.
At just over a year old, Coda had only been to the lake where he busied himself eating sticks at the shoreline. He had never tried a pool, but Labs are born swimmers. So when Coda bounded through the Bark-N-Splash entrance and plunged in with his usual abandon, I never considered Coda would find himself, quite literally, in the deep end.
I remember watching Coda do a belly flop, but then I was distracted by the pandemonium. There were dogs everywhere. When I glanced back to the pool, Coda had bobbed up to the surface with a smile. I was impressed. He was carrying a ball and swimming toward the edge with speed and grace. It wasn’t until he got closer that I saw he had changed his collar. As I searched for Coda, I also realized the water was teeming with Yellow Labs. But then I spotted my boy and cringed. Coda was flailing about, trying to swim using only his two front legs.
There was no way I was jumping into the mayhem to rescue Coda, so I coached him from the sidelines as if he could understand my yelling, “Use your back legs. It’s called dog paddling.” Eventually Coda made it to the edge, but he couldn’t get himself over the lip. In his thrashing about he failed to notice the huge lagoon entrance where dogs were walking in and out of the pool. Nevertheless, he had his paws on the edge and a nearby Samaritan fished him out. I was grateful until the man commented on the drowning victim and said, “I’ve never seen a Lab that couldn’t swim.” What could I say? Neither had I.
Once out of the water, I wasn’t surprised that Coda didn’t jump back into the fray. Still, Coda wasn’t too fazed by his near-death experience. Alongside the pool was a grassy area where vendors set up small booths selling toys and treats. Coda went to check it out. This was when I noticed the display tables weren’t very high, and Coda-the-thief was already tall for a Lab. Houston we have a problem.
Coda decided to “sample” the biscuits. After he had stolen untold numbers of treats, plus a rubber chicken I managed to return undamaged, the vendors got wise and moved their wares to higher ground. Even so, these naive sellers thought Coda’s antics were adorable and kept giving him treats. I finally had to tell them my little “chubs” was done. With the treats stopped, Coda started back toward the pool. I tried, but it was no use. I just couldn’t get Coda to wait 30 minutes before going back in the water.
We spent two hours at that first Bark-N-Splash. By the end, Coda found the lagoon entrance but not his back legs. At least he was easy to spot. Still, my husband and I decided we needed to teach our Labrador how to swim. I had visions of Coda in floaties with his paws wrapped around Daddy’s neck. Thankfully it never came to that.
At our next lake outing Coda remembered his retriever heritage and finally figured out using all four legs was much easier. He’s a swimmer now, though I can’t say he’s a good swimmer. I’ve never seen a big dog swim so slowly. But he loves it as much as he loves going to our office. Have I mentioned Coda’s a working dog? He goes to the office with us everyday. Coda may not be fast in the water, but you should see him with a bubble envelope. Yes, I think it’s time. I think you’re ready for Coda the co-worker.
As you can imagine, Coda-the-water-hound loves this event. He’s been twice. The second time he did quite well if you overlook his sudden compulsion for Frisbees. He somehow got it in his head that every plastic disc, including a rogue clipboard, belonged to him. Coda’s first time at the pool, however, was another, more interesting, story.
At just over a year old, Coda had only been to the lake where he busied himself eating sticks at the shoreline. He had never tried a pool, but Labs are born swimmers. So when Coda bounded through the Bark-N-Splash entrance and plunged in with his usual abandon, I never considered Coda would find himself, quite literally, in the deep end.
I remember watching Coda do a belly flop, but then I was distracted by the pandemonium. There were dogs everywhere. When I glanced back to the pool, Coda had bobbed up to the surface with a smile. I was impressed. He was carrying a ball and swimming toward the edge with speed and grace. It wasn’t until he got closer that I saw he had changed his collar. As I searched for Coda, I also realized the water was teeming with Yellow Labs. But then I spotted my boy and cringed. Coda was flailing about, trying to swim using only his two front legs.
There was no way I was jumping into the mayhem to rescue Coda, so I coached him from the sidelines as if he could understand my yelling, “Use your back legs. It’s called dog paddling.” Eventually Coda made it to the edge, but he couldn’t get himself over the lip. In his thrashing about he failed to notice the huge lagoon entrance where dogs were walking in and out of the pool. Nevertheless, he had his paws on the edge and a nearby Samaritan fished him out. I was grateful until the man commented on the drowning victim and said, “I’ve never seen a Lab that couldn’t swim.” What could I say? Neither had I.
Once out of the water, I wasn’t surprised that Coda didn’t jump back into the fray. Still, Coda wasn’t too fazed by his near-death experience. Alongside the pool was a grassy area where vendors set up small booths selling toys and treats. Coda went to check it out. This was when I noticed the display tables weren’t very high, and Coda-the-thief was already tall for a Lab. Houston we have a problem.
Coda decided to “sample” the biscuits. After he had stolen untold numbers of treats, plus a rubber chicken I managed to return undamaged, the vendors got wise and moved their wares to higher ground. Even so, these naive sellers thought Coda’s antics were adorable and kept giving him treats. I finally had to tell them my little “chubs” was done. With the treats stopped, Coda started back toward the pool. I tried, but it was no use. I just couldn’t get Coda to wait 30 minutes before going back in the water.
We spent two hours at that first Bark-N-Splash. By the end, Coda found the lagoon entrance but not his back legs. At least he was easy to spot. Still, my husband and I decided we needed to teach our Labrador how to swim. I had visions of Coda in floaties with his paws wrapped around Daddy’s neck. Thankfully it never came to that.
At our next lake outing Coda remembered his retriever heritage and finally figured out using all four legs was much easier. He’s a swimmer now, though I can’t say he’s a good swimmer. I’ve never seen a big dog swim so slowly. But he loves it as much as he loves going to our office. Have I mentioned Coda’s a working dog? He goes to the office with us everyday. Coda may not be fast in the water, but you should see him with a bubble envelope. Yes, I think it’s time. I think you’re ready for Coda the co-worker.
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