Mostly Maggie at Doggy Day Care

by Barb Norris

  Following nap time, fresh water and clean toys were returned to the playrooms. The dogs came back and returned to running, chasing, playing, barking, and such for the afternoon. By six o’clock, most of the campers had been claimed. Tuckered dogs were more than ready to head home and relax with their families.

  Then, the counselors got busy with the heavy-duty janitorial tasks. Playrooms were vacuumed, mopped and sanitized, climbing toys were washed down and sanitized, and crates were scrubbed and sanitized. Toys and dishes were sanitized, and the kitchen floor was mopped. Tuckered counselors were more than ready to head home and relax with their families.

  Dogs might not be my life, but I sure can’t picture life without ‘em.

  ~ Parade Day ~

  Maggie was first to arrive again. The counselors had all been working hard with her to stop her habit of jumping on people. On this particular morning, though, she decided to try it again. She stood up on her hind legs, but then thought better of jumping on me when I held my hand up in a stop signal. She still wanted to jump, but instead of jumping on me, she just jumped straight up using her only hind paws. It looked really funny. I jumped up. She jumped up. I jumped up again. She jumped up again. We did this several times before one of us wore out, that being me, of course. Maggie would have done it again and again and again. Well, she would have done it as long as there were no other dogs in the playroom.

  Bonnie and Clyde arrived, and Maggie tried to play with them. They couldn’t be bothered. They went into a corner and just wrestled around with each other. In a short while, Duchess and Cedric came. Maggie approached them, but was ignored again. Duchess did her under-door-watching thing and Cedric planted himself on top of the bridge. Usual stuff.

  Maggie was feeling somewhat slighted so I jumped with her a few more times until Sassy came. Sassy completely ignored the four quiet dogs and headed immediately over to Maggie, who was finally relieved to have someone here who would run rampant and play with her. The two of them played Tuggie and Chase and were having a grand time.

  Pepper, a Black Lab mix, joined the campers. She had very warm, very dark eyes that would melt the Arctic. Her family had rescued her from an abusive situation, and they loved her dearly. Even after all the hard times she’d been through, Pepper was full of love and trust. She loved the dogs, she loved her family, and she loved the counselors. We all hoped we were making a positive impression on her. We thought we were.

  Pepper was always happy to be in camp. She zipped over to where Sassy and Maggie were playing Tuggie and joined in the game. Those three played together until they started to run out of steam and decided to take it easy for a bit.

  “Oh, yuck. NO Get away from there, you guys.” Time for the first mop-up of the day. I was getting really good at this.

  Ernie, a delightful Golden Retriever, showed up next. He didn’t come in very often and was a welcome sight when he did show up. He was friendly, got along with everyone and was a lot of fun to have around. He was one happy dog. He enthusiastically greeted every counselor as well as the rest of the campers. He and Pepper started a game of Race Around the Bridge and were running to their hearts’ content.

  We were all surprised to see Duke, a Boxer, when he strolled into the room. He was another one who didn’t come often. He didn’t have much to do with the little dogs, but he sure did enjoy zooming around with the big ones, and zoom with them he did.

  The dogs had been so active that they were all beginning to wear down just a bit, an unusual thing so early in the day. Nobody was running at the moment.

  Rambo sauntered in. He was a Rottweiler, the strong, silent type. He paid little attention to the other dogs and even less attention to the counselors. He chose to keep pretty much to himself. He liked to stretch out at the bottom of the front glass doors and quietly try to dig his way out. He would stop trying to excavate the floor as soon as he was told to stop, but the second your back was turned, he’d start again. Tell him to stop, he stopped. Turn your back, he started. This was his regular routine.

  He liked to be petted once in a while, but definitely did not like to be hugged, according to the information given by his people when he was admitted to camp. He did play with the other dogs once in a blue moon.

  Mostly Rambo liked to be left alone. On this day, though, even he had moved over to join the group and was relaxing with the rest of the gang. Socializing with the other dogs while they were just lounging around seemed to please him this time. He looked content.

  I decided it must be time for a parade. I had done this before. Clyde was the best at parade. It was about the only activity Clyde would participate in without Bonnie at his side. Clyde put his whole heart and soul into the parade. He would follow me around the room as long as I was leading a parade. Bonnie would only stick with me about twice around. She actually took advantage of the time on her own to say a proper hello to the rest of the campers. Without Clyde smothering her, Bonnie managed to greet each one of the other dogs. Ernie sort of joined the parade. Mostly he made a lot of side trips to sniff something or just to bounce around the room a little. Rambo half-heartedly tagged along on the tail end for only one round, not really into it. Pepper went only part way around with us, until she realized that her pal, Maggie, was in the parade, too, and then she stuck with us for the duration. Duchess lagged behind but did manage a couple of rounds before going under the bridge for some relaxation.

  Cedric never did get in on a parade. He just watched from his grandstand seat on the bridge. He was actually watching for his beloved Kate more than he was watching our parade. He was, I believe, the only dog there who realized what this parade was—just walking and walking around and around for no reason, with no destination in mind and without even any people cheering from the sidelines. He probably didn’t think that made sense. Smart dog.

  This was great. I was marching along, arms bent at the elbow, swinging in time, the dogs following along for the time being. As I swung my left arm toward the back, my elbow was suddenly enveloped by—what? Oh, a dog mouth. No pressure, not a bite, but my elbow was inside Maggie’s jaws. Oooh, this was not good.

  Although she certainly wasn’t hurting my elbow in any way, I immediately decided that any part of my body that was totally surrounded by a mouth full of canine teeth, no matter whose teeth they were, was not a good thing. The parade came to an abrupt halt, and I got the dogs interested in other things. This was Maggie’s first parade. This was Maggie’s last parade. No more parades on Maggie days.

  Pepper came up onto the bridge where I was sitting conversing with Cedric and petting Maggie. I turned to greet Pepper, and she surprised me with a slurp on my nose.

  “Thank you for the kiss, furry face. I love you, too.” I loved all these dogs. They made the job seem not at all like work. A job just didn’t get any better than this.

  Kate came into the playroom to say hello to the dogs and, of course, Maggie went over to greet her. Maggie had gotten pretty good about not jumping on people unless they invited her . Her retention for more than a week was a bit of a problem, but she really did try. In her excitement at Kate’s arrival, though, she jumped up on Kate’s back. The problem this time was more than just the jumping. Maggie had her mouth around Kate’s one shoulder. She wasn’t biting, just mouthing, like she had with my elbow. Maggie had a mouth full of very large teeth that definitely could not be tolerated from her or any of the dogs, no matter their size. Kate and I both sternly corrected her for this new behavior. Maggie had never been so firmly spoken to by either Kate or me, and it must have come as a surprise. She really was a gentle and lovable dog, and she was smart enough to realize that her two biggest fans were not happy with her. She learned immediately that wrapping teeth around anybody’s body parts was totally unacceptable. That was the last time Maggie put her teeth around anyone. Thank goodness.

  Leaving Kate with the dogs, I headed out for my morning break. When I got back to the camp area, Kate was still in the room with the dogs and she was talking. />
  “Are you telling them a story?”

  “Um-m-m-m. Well, yes, yes I am,” Kate replied, rather sheepishly.

  “Uh-huh,” I said, laughing. “So, I’m not the only one here who does goofy stuff.”

  The two of us got the dogs up and moving again and things were back to the normal level of running and rowdiness for another hour or so. Then, kitchen noises started.

  With the arrival of lunch time, the dogs took up their vigil by the kitchen door. Time to lead them out of the big playroom and crate them. Most of the dogs cooperated fully and it didn’t take long to have most of them crated.

  Duke surprised us. Last time he was in camp, he did not want to go into his crate. He got right in front of it and would go no further. It took two counselors, one pulling and one pushing to get him in. This time, he was a lot more cooperative. He did not stop outside the crate door. He stepped up and in, slowly and reluctantly, but with no fuss. Well, that was easy.

  Ernie, the Golden, never gave us a problem with the crate. He would look like a furry angel, cooperate fully, and hop right in his crate. It was after lunch that he hit his mischievous stride. We didn’t know it, but Ernie was an expert at chewing things up. That information had not been given to us ahead of time. It only took one time in the crate, though, for counselors to realize his bad habit.

  The paperwork that followed each dog through the day was placed in a plastic envelope and clipped to the door of his crate. It was a good system. When it was time to get Ernie out of his crate for the afternoon, the problem was instantly spotted. Once the counselors had left the kennel area, Ernie kept himself rather busy. He had managed to get hold of the plastic envelope holding his paperwork. He had pulled it through the bars on the door and thoroughly shredded it, along with his paperwork. Fortunately, he hadn’t eaten any of the plastic. We found all the pieces. He did manage to swallow a few bits of the paper, though. He would be the dog that really did eat the homework. Ernie cheerfully jumped right into his crate every time. From that day forward, though, his paperwork was clipped to the crate next door.

  Then there was Rambo. I escorted him back to the kennel area and he spotted the crates. Rambo just planted his gentle, but strong self as soon as he saw where we were headed. He was nowhere close to the crates. There was absolutely no way Rambo was going into a crate of his own volition. I begged, I coaxed, I tugged, I cajoled, but I definitely did not hug. I was proud of myself for remembering what his people had told me about Rambo not liking to be hugged.

  Another counselor took hold of his slip lead and gently pulled him in the direction of his crate. She made it as far as Rambo’s neck would stretch and not an inch beyond that point. So I placed myself at the hind-most part of Rambo and pushed. Useless. Rambo did not budge. I lifted his hind end and Rambo was transformed into a wheelbarrow of sorts, his front paws forced to move forward. This was done ever so slowly and carefully. If Rambo didn’t move those front paws, he would fall on his chin. We didn’t want that to happen, and he sure as heck didn’t want that to happen. Slow as it was, he finally went inside. Hooray. Once inside, he calmed right down and didn’t kick up a fuss at all. It was just the getting there that created a problem.

  The company of furry friends simply has to make you smile.

  ~ Daisy in Distress ~

  Not all dogs are suitable for a day camp setting. One of the hardest things I had to do as a counselor was to tell a family their favorite furry friend would not be accepted. This was a rare situation, and I only had to do it once. Thank goodness.

  A day before my probation period ended, I was working with Elena, our teacher. A little mix of unknown origin was brought in for evaluation. Her name was Daisy, and she was exceedingly shy. With a great deal of coaxing I managed to get her away from her mom and take her into the testing area. She barely looked at anybody and was incredibly nervous. Not a good sign.

  She cooperated with me during the physical examination, but shook and quaked the entire time. She would not eat from the dish, but she did finally take a treat from me. She would not play with me at all. Her mom was sure she would enjoy camp once she started. I didn’t have that much confidence. She barely squeaked through the temperament tests.

  The time came to put her into the enclosure. Fortunately, Snowball was at camp. If any of the dogs could put Daisy somewhat at ease, it was Snowball. I led Daisy in. She was petrified. She wanted nothing at all to do with Snowball and was pretty much glued to the door back into the kitchen. That clinched it. There was no way I was going to recommend that this little dog be put into a position that so frightened her. I took her back to the test area.

  I was on the floor close to Daisy, but not right next to her. As slowly as I could, I reached out a hand to her, talking softly the whole time. She finally allowed me to stroke her head. Elena had been with us the whole time and asked my opinion. I’d told her I thought Daisy was not a good candidate. She was just too nervous. I felt she was one of those dogs who would spend the entire day cowering in a corner.

  Elena agreed. She then volunteered to go out and talk to Daisy’s mom. I knew I would most likely have to face this situation some time in the future so I opted to do it myself while Elena was still with us. She would step in if I needed her. She would let me know afterwards if I’d handled it okay, and, if necessary, give me helpful suggestions.

  Leading Daisy, we headed back out to the lobby to explain the situation to an anxious pet parent. Daisy’s mom was sitting on the floor, and Daisy couldn’t get to her fast enough. She planted herself in mom’s lap and huddled as close to her as she could. You could see the relief in that little dog’s face. I broke the news that Daisy wouldn’t be admitted to camp. Daisy’s mom was crushed. I suggested socialization classes and that they try Daisy again once she’d passed such a class. Her mom felt awful and tried to convince me I should give her a chance right then. I explained I couldn’t do that. She reluctantly left, feeling about as bad as I did. The only one there who was happy to be leaving was Daisy. As soon as they headed out the camp doors she perked right up. She couldn’t wait to leave.

  Even though Elena told me I’d handled it well, I still felt awful about it. I couldn’t get poor Daisy off my mind so I called her mom about a month later, just to see how Daisy was doing, and if she’d been enrolled in a class. I was told she’d been sick, but there were plans to take her to a class. The lady said she’d be back after that class.

  Three weeks went by and I had a 10:00 start time at camp. Several dogs were in the big playroom and, much to my surprise, Daisy was among them. She was cowering in a corner of the room. I wouldn’t have expected anything else. I asked the other counselor how Daisy had ended up in camp. Nobody seemed to know who, if anyone, had re-evaluated her and approved her. She was scheduled to be there that day until noon. I was anxious to talk to her mom when she came to pick Daisy up, but I never saw her.

  Daisy was back the next morning, again cowering in that same corner. I did talk to her mom that day when she came in after the morning session. It was just past noon, and she was expecting to see Daisy happily running around the room, cavorting with the other dogs.

  The dogs were already crated for lunch. Before I had a chance to ask about classes, her mom got upset that Daisy was not in the room. I told her we had taken all the dogs back to the kennel area at noon, as we always did. She wasn’t too happy about that but she did ask how Daisy had gotten along. I told her the truth. Daisy was terrified of the other dogs and terrified of the counselors. Daisy was terrified of everything.

  I never did find out how or why Daisy had been approved. Based on her shaking and quaking, I didn’t see how she could possibly have managed in a socialization class. Daisy should not have been admitted.

  That was the last time Daisy was at camp. That poor little dog would have died of fright if she’d had be there on a regular basis. I was glad she wasn’t brought to camp again. Daisy wasn’t the only dog ever turned down for camp, but she was the only one I had turn
ed down. I was glad I never had to do that again.

  Better to turn a dog down than to see one so completely traumatized.

  ~ Good Morning, Scally/Wags ~

  As I said, normally check-in time was pretty routine. There was one other morning, however, that I won‘t soon forget. This time it did not involve Maggie. It was customary to replace personal collars with special camp collars at check-in. There were, of course, exceptions, two of them, to be exact.

  Their names were Scally and Wags, house-mates. I could see them coming. They were tugging and yanking their dad along behind them as they crossed the parking lot. Now, this fellow was a big, muscular guy, but even he was having one heck of a time keeping up with his two happy and energetic dogs. These two were about as rambunctious as could be. They were sweet, though not so gentle, and they were always geared up into overdrive. It was a whole lot easier to change their collars once they were crated. So, we by-passed the check-in station and headed back to the kennel area. Scally and Wags pulled and tugged while I bounced along behind them, keeping up as best I could.

  Scally was a Husky, a mighty handsome fellow. Wags was a good looking, mid-sized Basenji mix, who definitely had not inherited the barkless characteristic of his Basenji ancestry. Wags, in fact, was far and away the most vocal dog we ever had in camp. Scally and Wags were good buddies and did not like to be separated for any reason. We made our way back to the kennels without mishap. These were the only two dogs that were crated together at the request of their people. They both hopped right in without a fuss.