Mostly Maggie at Doggy Day Care

by Barb Norris

  Maggie was standing about twelve feet back from the Dutch door doing a whole lot of I-bet-I- can- make- it-over-that-short-little-door foot-shuffling and backside-wiggling. If I didn’t stop her, she would sail over the door into the narrow kitchen area, not nearly big enough for a safe landing. If she made it over that door there was no doubt it would result in severe injury to Maggie, to me, and to the kitchen. Not a pleasant thought. This required an immediate plan.

  Distraction. Distraction. I had to be quick about it. I called her name, clapped my hands, and jumped up and down long enough to get her attention. It worked. She stopped her jump preparations. I got a grip on the top half of the door and closed it. Whew, now I could breathe a little easier.

  A second counselor came in about that time. Thankfully, on this day, no new arrivals showed up before that second counselor.

  Sharon was surprised to see Maggie in the playroom already. It wasn’t play time just yet. I told her that the big crates were not available.

  “Maggie is loaded for bear this morning,” I told Sharon. “She’s more than a little feisty today. Just so you know.”

  “Well, I can take this room today if you’d rather not.” Sharon offered.

  That she mentioned this surprised me since we all shared any unusual behavior about any of the dogs. I told her I didn’t have a problem working with the rowdy dogs in the big room. I guess she thought, because I’d mentioned it, that I didn’t want to work with Maggie. It was nice of her to offer, but that really surprised me. No way was I angry with Maggie. In fact, I never got upset or angry with any of the dogs.

  It had been an exciting day so far, and the real day hadn’t even begun.

  A happy dog, even giving you a little happy flack, is a great way to start a day.

  ~ In the Big Playroom ~

  I would estimate the big playroom to be approximately fifty feet long by thirty-five feet wide. It was big. This was where the more active dogs played. It had four doors, the Dutch door into the kitchen the most often used. There was a door into the elimination station from the playroom as well as an opposing door from that room into the kitchen. There was a double Dutch door separating the big playroom from the small playroom. There were also double glass break-away doors from the playroom into the store itself.

  This room also contained a portable bridge made up of two sections, with steps on one end and a ramp on the other. When put together, the sections, each about five feet long, formed a center platform about two feet high. The dogs loved it. They’d run up and down the length of the bridge. They would race up to the top and sit on the bridge. They sat on the steps of the bridge. They would zoom in and out under the bridge. They jumped over the bridge. They ran around the bridge. They curled up on the steps of the bridge. They hid under the bridge. Sometimes, the counselor would run up and down the bridge, and occasionally the counselor would sit on the bridge. It was definitely a well-used, multi-tasking bridge.

  Maggie, first one in as usual, bounded into the playroom fully expecting to see friends there. She slammed on the brakes and her face clearly said, “Hey. Where is everybody?” First dog in almost always made that same face.

  Since I was the only other living being in the room, Maggie assumed I was her playmate of the day. What this meant, as far as she was concerned, was that jumping was just the ticket for instant entertainment. She, of course, assigned herself the role of the jumper and I, of course, was the designated jumpee.

  Now I appreciate a good dog hug as much as the next guy, but with her front paws on my shoulders, Maggie stood at least fifteen inches taller than I did. Jumping up on people, uninvited, was something we discouraged regardless of the dog’s size. I convinced her to get back down to her own four feet. She did. Then, she got ready to try it again. I strongly discouraged her, and she was okay with that.

  She was okay with that only because Snowball had just come into the playroom. Maggie knew that, unlike me, Snowball would run around the room like crazy with her. She was sure right about that. Counselors did not run in chase games with any of the dogs. Even if you had a head start, the dog doing the chasing would catch up. If it was a small dog, little paws could be a little painful when they hit the backs of your legs. If it was one of the big dogs who caught up with you and jumped on your back, your face would be introduced to the floor fast. No, you definitely did not want to chase around with the dogs.

  Snowball was a Great Pyrenees, a big white dog who was as stable and mellow as a dog can be. She was a young adult, very calm, and was like a den mother to everybody else. Whenever Snowball was in camp, almost always since she came in with her person, another counselor, she was the first dog introduced to new camp candidates. She ran with the big dogs, played gently with the little dogs, and was a real sweetheart. When Snowball took a rest, which was often, she usually allowed the smaller dogs to climb on top of her, curl up next to her, and get in her face. On the rare occasion when she was not in the mood to be bothered, she quietly let them know, and they left her alone.

  Snowball loped over to Maggie. They put their noses together in a quick hello and started racing each other around the room. Maggie jumped over the bridge, Snowball ran around it, and the two were very busy with each other. Both Maggie and Snowball gave Bonnie and Clyde a quick glance when they entered the room, ignored them, were ignored right back, and continued to race.

  Bonnie, a Maltese, red hair bow always in place, and Clyde, a small cream colored Malti-poo, were housemates and hung out together at camp. The two of them zipped up to the top of the bridge and wrestled with each other. I went over to the bridge, leaned down to tell them hello, my attention first on Clyde. He was a pretty good cuddler and absolutely loved people attention. Next thing I knew, Bonnie had her front paws on my head, raking them through my hair. She was obviously a graduate of hair dressing school because she was combing my hair. She didn’t like the way it looked that day? I turned my attention to her. Both she and Clyde were wagging and slurping each other and me like crazy.

  Bonnie was the more sociable of the two and would sometimes play with the other dogs for a few minutes, if Clyde would allow it. He was extremely jealous of her, though, and would bark furiously at whatever dog had the temerity to approach her. As small as he was, Clyde at times could evidently be intimidating to the other campers, no matter their size. Either that or the other dogs found his barking so annoying they would back off just to get him to be quiet. Whatever the reason, it almost always worked. The offending dog would head off to other activities.

  Another dog entered. It was Sassy, a mix of questionable ancestry who was on the small end of being medium sized. Sassy liked both Snowball and Maggie and briefly joined in the on-going race. Bonnie left the bridge to give Sassy a friendly greeting, which sent Clyde into a jealous fit, and he started barking. This bothered Sassy not at all. She had too much to do to spend time arguing with Clyde.

  However, with the appearance of Benny, a miniature poodle, Bonnie was instantly abandoned. She returned to Clyde on the bridge. He was extremely happy to have her back, lavishing her with slurps and tail-wagging, which Bonnie eagerly accepted and returned.

  Sassy dearly loved to play with Benny, definitely her very best camp friend. She dashed over to him, starting a game of Nip & Hide. The rules Sassy had set for this, her own game, were chase another dog, give it a quick nip and run off at top speed. If the other dog was familiar with the game, and even if he had never played before, he would chase her. Sassy loved to get this game going with any of the dogs, big or small. The dogs were not hurt, and this was a fine and dandy game for them.

  Not so fine and dandy for the counselor, though. The bad part of Nip & Hide was that Sassy, having nipped another dog, would zoom over and hide behind the legs of the closest counselor, poking her nose out front between the person’s knees. This time it happened to be my knees that had now become a shield of sorts. When the chaser came up to the front of me to get at Sassy, my knees were in dire jeopardy. Knee-nipping wasn
’t really painful, but it tended to be on the uncomfortable side.

  “Hey, you two, let’s break it up down there,”

  In came Duchess, a Lhasa Apso, older and wiser than most of the other dogs. She reminded me of a dowager queen, stately and aloof. I was walking over to give her a good morning pet when I was pushed from behind at knee level. It was Sassy again. It was bad enough when I was standing still, but when I was in motion, especially if I was in a hurry, it placed my entire body at risk. If I happened to fall right on Sassy, it wouldn’t do her much good, either.

  This little habit had to be broken. I sternly told Sassy to get away. Well I tried to be stern. Anyway, she reluctantly moved off, looking incredibly dejected. I would just be on extra alert and stiffen my knees up whenever she headed my way. Sassy tried it once more, but I was prepared this time. I stiffened my knees and told her NO at the same time. Hopefully, if I did this every single time, she would eventually stop tangling me up. She never did stop altogether. I just got smarter. This time, I made it, unmolested, the rest of the way to greet Duchess.

  Once Duchess got her hello pet from me, she chose to ignore everybody and everything, and get right to the self-assigned task of watching the bottom of the Dutch door that led into the kitchen. By golly, if anything or anyone tried to slither in under that door, Duchess would be the first to know. She did occasionally play with the rubber squeaky shoe, but not often. Duchess was getting up in years, and she seemed to think the antics of the whippersnappers at camp were a ridiculous nuisance. She didn’t complain, though, and pretty much ignored them.

  Cedric, the Dachshund who lived with Duchess, came in with her. Cedric spent most of his day wandering around the room, or sitting on top of the bridge for the duration. He was constantly on the look-out for his mom, Kate, our pet services manager. If he caught a glimpse of her, it was his singular goal to join her. To do this, he tried his best to scoot out any door that opened. He might have been a little older than most of the dogs but he was quick. We all knew we had to be prepared for him to attempt an escape. Cedric, like Duchess, simply couldn’t be bothered with the youngsters in the playroom. He never complained either. He was a real gentleman. Everybody loved Cedric, and he got plenty of counselor attention.

  “Okay, who’s responsible for that puddle?”

  I headed over to the handy-dandy mop bucket. When I turned around, mop in hand, it seems the puddle had now become two puddles. Nope, make that three puddles. Once one dog created a puddle, the others couldn’t be left out. Even if the dogs gave us a little warning, and we made it to the elimination station, the dogs rarely cooperated. Once in a great while, we’d be successful. Those dogs that used the special room were praised like crazy and petted on their furry little heads a whole lot. They’d get a round of applause from any counselors in the area. Positive reinforcement, but overall, the elimination station didn’t fool the dogs for a single minute.

  It had gotten fairly warm in the playroom, so it was time to take off my sweatshirt. I got one sleeve off and was working on the other one when I felt a tug on my shirt.

  “No, Maggie, you cannot eat my shirt.”

  I got the sweatshirt off and hung it on the outside handle of the Dutch door, where the dogs couldn’t get at it. Silly me. Maggie had been watching me, and as soon as I turned away from the door, she turned toward it. Then, quick as you please, she reached over the door and grabbed my sweatshirt. Fortunately, I was still close enough that I could get hold of both her and my sweatshirt. I convinced Maggie to release it, and I ended up just tossing it across the kitchen, hoping it would land on a shelf and not on the floor in the path of any new canine arrivals. That was the only way to keep it out of Maggie’s reach.

  Everything was going along just fine. Duchess was at her post guarding the bottom of the Dutch door. Cedric was wandering. Bonnie and Clyde were entertaining each other. Benny, always a fashion plate, went to visit the grooming salon and probably getting his toenails painted blue. Sassy was busy chewing on a rope tug toy. Snowball had spotted someone outside the window and was busy barking her best and biggest bark. Maggie, not to be outdone, dashed over to the window and was now barking her best and biggest bark.

  Looming over everyone in the area, front paws on the window, and barking like crazy, Maggie looked and sounded incredibly ferocious. This made most people on the other side of the glass back up a bit. Once she had accomplished her goal of scaring the daylights out of those folks, she lost interest and left the window to return to her camp buddies. After all that barking, Snowball needed a rest. She plodded over to her favorite corner.

  “Time for a belly-rub, Snowball?”

  She rolled right over. After a few minutes of belly-rub, she rolled back over, put her head down on her paws, and closed her eyes. Snowball took a lot of rests during the day.

  “Okay, who did that?”

  This time it required both the mop and the scooper. Not the most enjoyable part of this job, but I was becoming an expert in the clean-up department. Everyone needs at least one area of expertise, right?

  All the commotion began to die down after an hour or so. The dogs were getting tired and it was time to give them and me a break. I sat on the bridge with both Bonnie and Clyde in my lap. Cedric was as close to me as he could get, and Duchess had made herself comfy under the bridge. Maggie came over and leaned into my knees, looking for a drink. For some reason or other, she preferred to get a drink from me rather than from the water dish.

  She was looking for the spray bottle of water. She viewed the water bottle as her own personal sport drink cup. She gently wrapped her mouth around the nozzle and swallowed the water I sprayed down her throat. When she was doing this, she loved the water bottle. However, Maggie also knew that the water bottle was used as a deterrent for bad behavior. When she got a reprimand spray, she hated it. If ever left unattended and within reach, a water bottle became fair game. Maggie would grab it and completely demolish it. For the time being, however, having peacefully slaked her thirst, Maggie stretched out on the floor in front of me.

  Snowball sprawled close to the bridge, allowing Sassy to get comfortable right on top of her. Benny, back from the groomer with his nails sure enough painted blue, cuddled at Snowball’s side. Everyone seemed to be ready for some quiet relaxation.

  Kate was walking through the kitchen. She got just a few steps beyond the Dutch door and then backed up. She knew I was the only one in the playroom and had heard me talking.

  “Are you telling those dogs a story?” she asked, not believing that I would actually be doing such a goofy thing.

  When I told her that was exactly what I was doing, she just laughed.

  Now I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to tell stories to a bunch of dogs, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. So, with a variety of dogs sprawled here and there and everywhere, I told them a story. The story subject didn’t matter. It didn’t matter to me that they didn’t understand a word I was saying. It didn’t matter to them that they didn’t understand a word I was saying. It didn’t matter that anyone hearing me must have thought I was completely out of my mind, telling a story to a bunch of dogs.

  I would mention each dog by name every now and then, just to keep all of them interested. When a dog heard his own name in the course of my rambling, he would perk up his ears and cock his head at me. I would acknowledge him, talk to him directly for a minute, and then go on with the story, nonsensical as it was. What mattered was that the dogs were still getting attention, quality time, as it were. I actually got to sit down for a few minutes. That was nice.

  “Hey, Kate. Is there any sound connected to the video cam?” I hollered toward the kitchen.

  It hadn’t occurred to me until Kate asked what I was doing that there might be sound connected to the web-cam mounted on the wall. Clients could check on the playroom action through this on-line camera. While I said it didn’t bother me to have people know I tell stories to dogs, it just seemed wiser not to broadcast this activi
ty over the web. Folks would think I really was crazy. Kate assured me there was no sound. I continued my story, comfortable knowing our customers wouldn’t think I was completely off my rocker. Ten minutes later we were all back to doggy bedlam, that is, until we began to hear kitchen noises.

  Kitchen noises intrigued the dogs. It meant it was almost noon, which meant lunch. Counselors were busy filling food dishes and making sure there was fresh water in every crate. One or two of the dogs put front paws up on the half door and leaned as far into the kitchen as possible. Those who weren’t up on the door sat down, listening to the noises in the kitchen, smelling the smells of lunch, and staring intently at the door. They were infatuated. They all liked lunch time.

  Of course, kitchen noises also meant it was time to go back into crates for a nap. Luckily, the dogs were thinking only food, not crate time. We started rounding up dogs. Most of these particular dogs were pretty good about going into their crates, and we didn’t expect any trouble. I took Maggie back to her crate and headed back for another dog.

  One of the other counselors came into the kennel area to report that there were three dogs in the kitchen, not in the playroom where they should have been.

  “Barb, you left the playroom door open.”

  I was stunned. I was a stickler for checking door security, and I was sure I‘d closed it. I made a mental note to be extra careful about that in the future. It wasn’t a problem this time because the dogs that were loose in the kitchen were Sassy, Cedric, and Benny, all of whom responded to our commands to come and then went cheerfully into their designated crates.

  Noon until two o’clock was lunch/nap time. While the dogs were busy scarfing down lunch, it was fairly quiet in the kennel. Once they’d finished eating, however, not all of them were ready take a little snooze. Eventually though, they did settle down and get some rest in spite of themselves.

  While the dogs were resting, the counselors were busy sweeping the playrooms, changing the mop buckets, washing the water dishes, often washing the windows, and catching up on any paperwork. Then it was lunch time for us. We rarely raised the same kind of ruckus as the dogs did, though. Yes, we scarfed down our lunches, but we never barked.