{"id":15582,"date":"2014-08-22T20:20:41","date_gmt":"2014-08-23T00:20:41","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.saratoga.com\/waynesword2\/2014\/08\/dog-day-acquisition.html"},"modified":"2014-08-22T20:20:41","modified_gmt":"2014-08-23T00:20:41","slug":"dog-day-acquisition","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.saratoga.com\/waynesword2\/2014\/08\/dog-day-acquisition\/","title":{"rendered":"Dog Day Acquisition… Dawg Ownership Begins"},"content":{"rendered":"
Part Two… Pet History as of Summer 2014<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n Our cordial hostess– who had raised 6 or 7 children on the pristine farm where these fields met the sky– led us up to a well-kept board-&-batten barn and opened the half-door. Spilling out in unison was a roiling horde of eleven perfect puppies, identical except for subtle shadings of color, from blonde to light brown.<\/b> The proud<\/b><\/div>\n Once we got him home and the four of us (as Daryn didn’t seem to care) tossed out our favorite potential names, each dubbing him something different for a while… my daughter’s choice of “Bentley” won out<\/b>, mostly because “she liked the sound of it…” without reference to any particular college or unaffordable car. <\/b><\/div>\n Whereas I used to be the guy raging against other fools who catered to their canines in this manner, now it is me. I never wanted to be “that guy” <\/i>yet that guy is me. At least I don’t live in the city where other people can see me.<\/p>\n I spend a half an hour or more I cannot spare each morn setting him free from the crate, watching him ritually pee in the “squat-with-curled-tail” routine, feeding him a bowl or three of food, changing his water, and then awaiting the sharp single bark that tells me it is time for the the constitutional walk. He sniffs till he finds a good place and I am the fool-in-waiting. What fun<\/i>, I always think, as my wife and two younger kids are still sleeping. Although it does get me out in the brisk morning air, I long for the e-z days of just opening a can of food for the cats and then letting them out the back door for the day. The dog requires so much more. He wants to play, he wants to track, he wants to sniff, he wants to sample grotesque things in his mouth like a<\/b> road-squished toad, or worse yet, a live one, <\/b>along with objects like sticks, roots, dirt, cans, insects, weeds, cardboard, pine cones, squished plastic bottles alongside the road, and god forbid the occasional dead mammal. Then, once inside, to stay in practice, he will chew any available shoes, sneakers, slippers, couch covers, anything with tassels, pillows, hassocks, furniture legs, folded laundry piles, and anything he can pull from the recycling bin. <\/b><\/div>\n <\/b><\/div>\n When she came home and told me that, I said, What do you think he would offer?<\/i> It was really touch and go whether we should keep him or not during that first month or two… only a tag-team match of constantly taking turns dealing-with-the-dog kept us from losing it, and posting his cute face of Craigslist– Free for the Taking! Comes with collar and leash…<\/p>\n …..<\/p>\n Flash forward, late August. He is growing so fast now that when Miles goes away and comes back in three days, he swears he’s bigger than he remembers. Also turning redder, losing the blondish fur…<\/p>\n <\/i>My wife and the kids went up to Loon Lake for a few days so it was just me and Bentley last night, and then again this morning. He let me get some writing done You can’t take a cat on a hike like this, at least not since my cross-country skiing cats vanished on me 30+ years ago. I was stuck with, and hooked on, this critter called Bentley, for better or worse, for older or younger, for wild or tame. And my both contemplative and chaotic life would never be quite the same.<\/p>\n And that’s the ballad of Bentley, so far.<\/p>\n Copyright Wayne Perras 2014<\/p>\n Part Two… Pet History as of Summer 2014So it was May 31st of this year when our lives changed, and we became “dog people.” (This is the ballad of Bentley…)It was a somewhat spurious decision– my wife’s local yoga teacher…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":103,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-15582","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"yoast_head":"\r\n
<\/i><\/b><\/div>\n
<\/b><\/div>\n
<\/b><\/div>\n
<\/b><\/div>\n
<\/i><\/b><\/div>\n
<\/b><\/div>\n
<\/b><\/div>\n
<\/b><\/div>\n
<\/b><\/div>\n
<\/b><\/div>\n
and my daughter and wife were mortified. On other occasions, when it was THEIR turn to be exasperated by his antics or rough play, they asked the same question. This became our running joke– how much would a country-lovin’ dude with a pickup truck pay for a sleek retriever like this?<\/i> <\/p>\n
without being too needy, and willing went to bed at eleven. This morning I rewarded him with a long walk down to the Creek, a steep hike down and up and along the banks of the North Fork of the Kaydeross. Off the leash he galloped ahead and then ran past me 20 yards turned around and did it some more. Repeat, repeat, repeat, now pant. He never ventured too far out of sight, and came when I spoke his name. He ventured out on some rocks with me and lapped at the clear water. He followed commands and the paths, sometimes overgrown, instinctively and swiftly. He is proving to be a dog-of-a-hiker, which I need to be. This is the redeeming side of dawgdom– I realized as I rubbed his panting chest on a break sitting in the sun, amid the thick ferns of the valley. <\/p>\n
<\/i>
<\/b><\/div>\n
<\/b><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"