Friday, September 27, 2013
Rack, The Rubber-band Dog - Picture
All the sudden you feel a presence.
Are you being watched?
Yes, by Rack The Rubberband Dog.
He sleeps by using his own back as a pillow, bent into a donut shape. If he were a cat, I'd expect that. Looking up from what I'm in the middle of and being stared down by 42 plus pounds of mostly black dog with white opera gloves, who is bent into weird shapes leaves me with a smile on my face.
Once he's fully asleep the weird shapes morph into other improbable actions. He's taken to running in his sleep like every other dog, so now I have an excuse for being groggy until after my coffee. Some days as much as 3 mugs in the morning. The constant taptap of paws on the inside of a plastic crate will keep you just outside of REM sleep if you're not careful.
I now have an explanation for that Mid Afternoon Nod Off. No, it's not a siesta, it's the result of a dog that thinks he's running through a field and sounds like a valve tap on a 1973 Chevy Nova.
Inline 6 cylinder motor, of course.
The other problem with having a rubber-band dog is that they are definitely psychic. I write way too much about having him, he's very entertaining as he stretches in the most inconvenient spots in the house. He'll do that in order to take up every last square inch in the middle of the one short hallway I have here. When I ask him what he's doing I get two short wags of his tail, the Shepherd's Light on the tip flashing lightly, then he'll roll over into another rubber-band pose simply because he can.
There must have been a square inch more he could take up.
My camera is stuffed with pictures of Rack in improbable poses. My writing fills with cute stories about What My Dog Did Last.
The puppy who was completely shut down now will do fearful but assertive barks at people he wants to see, but doesn't quite know how to meet. Other dogs are now something that he will spring into the air to say hello to, while their owners think I've taken leave of my senses if I think that they're going to let my crazy-dog say hello to their precious.
We've got to work on that one, Rubber-band Dog. At least now, he'll get crazy, listen to correction, then sit down and dust the pavement.
Yes, my dog dusts concrete with his tail, doesn't yours?
All of this happening before 6 in the morning when the sun is a distant gloom over the Bahamas to the East.
Yes, we have work to do. It takes time. He's still a puppy. Lettie was like this when she was small, and one day after she turned 18 months, she decided I'm done with this and acted all grown up.
I have another six months of this.
At least for now, he'll walk with Ellie across the street, and loves meeting other dogs. The owners, not so much. He'll wrap himself around my feet in order to make himself small as possible.
That doesn't work, but you'll bounce back.
After all, you're a Rubber-Band Dog.