by Barb Norris
With the help of that calm customer, this unintended escape attempt was stopped before it could become a reality. Since my first day opening camp I was particular about checking door security. After this incident, I began checking all the door locks, no matter what time I started my shift.. I double checked every single door every single time.
Escapes were also a slight possibility when the dogs were excited about getting out of their crates to head back to the playrooms or to be picked up by their people. The bigger dogs were fairly easy to handle. We slipped a lead on them as they came through the crate doors, so we had them under control right away. The smaller dogs were generally on the second level. These guys loved to jump right past you, from about shoulder height to the floor. The trick was to open the door just wide enough to get your hand on the dog, keep your body in front of the opening, and lift the dog out. This was pretty easy and usually worked well for the little dogs. We did realize it wasn’t so easy we could let our guard down. We had to be prepared for any escape possibility.
We counselors had our own Houdini methods of getting out of the playroom undetected. It was something we’d had to learn early on. If some of the dogs even suspected a door was about to open, they would zip right over on the off chance they could make it out. If a counselor opened a door without scouting the area, curious dogs, large and small, would make a bee-line for that door. The big ones were fairly easy to catch. You could reach down and stop them with your hand. They didn’t seriously want to escape. They just wanted to explore as much as they could.
It was the little guys we really had to watch out for. They were not at a convenient height to just reach down and grab. You couldn’t block them with a hip or a thigh. Besides, they were quicker than one would think.
During the first week we were opened, Chris and I were in the smaller playroom. I believe we had more dogs in the room that day than any other day ever. There were seven small campers in the room. They heard me unlatch the door that lead into the kennel area, and they zoomed over before I could make it through the door. Not a one of them stood knee-high and there was a flurry of fur around my ankles.
Did Chris come over and help me scoot the dogs away from the door. No. She was too busy laughing at me to be of any help at all. I finally managed to get through the door without being followed.
It didn’t take counselors too long to figure out a plan. If the dogs were close to one door, we went out a different door, quickly and quietly. If the dogs were hovering about, some close to every door, we put our backs to the door, opened it just enough to go through sideways, one leg, ankle or foot blocking the door until we were clear. We didn’t have nearly as many escape plans as the dogs, though.
You just have to admire the creativity of the canine mind.
It helped that the dogs hesitated now and then.
~ A Soggy Doggy Day ~
Snowball came in one morning, her usual lovable self. She took a look around the room and noticed there were no other dogs yet. This never bothered Snowball in the least. With the exception of the men making noise on the roof, Snowball didn’t let anything bother her. She got her morning greeting and plopped herself down in her favorite corner to wait patiently for her pals to arrive. It was a short wait.
A new dog I hadn’t met before entered the playroom. Boy, he was a little cutie. He was a black mop of a Cockerpoo named Shorty, and he was just adorable. Snowball got to her feet and lumbered over to greet the little newcomer. She was about ten times his size, but that made no difference to either of them. Snowball and I hadn’t been there when Shorty came to camp for the first time. He was new to both of us. Snowball and Shorty hit it off immediately. He was friendly enough with me, but he took a real liking to Snowball, our gentle giant.
Shorty got hold of a ball and invited Snowball to race around with him. She was up for some action. Shorty was a quick little guy who could zoom in and out under the bridge where Snowball couldn’t follow. Not to be deterred, Snowball came up with a plan. She waited for Shorty, weighing in at about eleven pounds, to get close to her. When he did, Snowball, all one hundred five pounds of her, very gently took the tip of Shorty’s tail in her teeth and hung on. Shorty led the way, running on his short little legs at a pace that was comfortable for Snowball to lope along behind him. They looked for all the world like an odd elephant parade.
After a few laps around the room, Snowball was tuckered out, turned loose of Shorty’s tail, and headed back to her corner to sprawl. Shorty followed her, stretching out on the floor face to face with her. He pushed the ball toward Snowball to entice her, but she didn’t take the bait. She put her head down on her paws, intent on taking her rest. Shorty stayed put, quietly and patiently waiting, just watching her, the ball unattended between them. He was genuinely enamored of Snowball.
Duchess and Cedric arrived. Duchess gave Shorty a quick, rather courtly greeting, which he ignored. She took her regular post at the bottom of the door. Cedric didn’t even bother to acknowledge Shorty and headed for the top of the bridge. There he stayed, ever on the lookout for his beloved Kate. Shorty stayed right where he was, waiting for his big new friend to get a second breath.
I spotted another new dog entering, another German Shorthair mix. Wow. He sure looked lively. His lady was pretty much stumbling along behind him, hanging on for dear life. One of the other counselors was going to evaluate him, and, if all went well, he would join us in the playroom before long.
Scally and Wags rushed into the playroom. Scally dashed over to check out Shorty. Wags followed him, barking, of course. Shorty barked once in reply, gave up waiting for Snowball, and headed off with Scally. Wags stuck right with them, barking furiously the entire time. This got him a quick water spray. He stopped barking and actually left Scally and decided to play ball with me. As long as his best buddy was in sight, Wags would occasionally get into activities without Scally.
Wags found his ball of choice and brought it over, dropping it at my feet. I already knew his game. Once he dropped the ball, I was to pick it up and throw it for him. We did this a lot. So, as Wags expected, I picked up the ball and tossed it. As I anticipated, he brought it back and dropped it at my feet again. We did this five or six times, just like we’d done from his first day at camp. On the next drop, though, Wags changed the rules on me with no advance notice. I reached down to pick up the ball as usual. Just as my hand was about to touch the ball, Wags made a grab for it.! He had never done this before.
“Ouch!” Oh, no, not again. This time, it was just a little nip on my thumb, a slight scratch with very little blood. Boy, if I was going to continue playing ball with these guys, I really did have to do something about speeding up my reaction time. I knew without a doubt I would continue to play ball with the dogs. I was willing to take my chances.
Off I went for some antiseptic and a band-aid. Like Diablo, this had been an accident. Wags wasn’t trying to bite me. I did the first aid routine and went back into the playroom. I gave Wags a pat and everything was fine.
The evaluation of the new dog was finished. He’d made it this far and it was time for him to meet the rest of the dogs. He was placed in the portable fence enclosure inside the playroom. Snowball was let into the enclosure and the two dogs checked each other out. Mellow Snowball was the dog of choice for this duty no matter who the newcomer was. Counselors were all close by and alert to any adverse reaction. There was none. This was one friendly dog. His name was Boomer, a fitting name for a most happy and rowdy dog.
Boomer sniffed, wiggled, and wagged like crazy at Snowball. The rest of the campers, including Duchess and Cedric, had crowded around outside the fence, trying to get close to the new guy. Boomer worked his way along the fence checking them all out, tail happily wagging furiously the whole way. Well, he sure wasn’t at all shy, and he was thrilled to meet everybody, counselors included.
He and Snowball were released to join the others in the playroom. Now all the dogs were crowding around Boomer, sniffing like mad. He took
it all in stride and sniffed everybody right back. There was no doubt that Boomer was a major player in the dog world. It took him only a couple of minutes to make himself at home. Then they were all off and running. What a happy-go-lucky dog he was. He just seemed to love life. Boomer would liven the place up a bit. As if we needed livening up in the big playroom.
Boomer went face to face with Scally and Wags. He was already a regular after only a short time in new surroundings. Scally went to one side of the bridge, followed by Wags, who was, as always, barking the whole time. Boomer stayed on the other side of the bridge. A game of Stare-Down started between Boomer and Scally. Apparently, the rules for this game were two dogs stared at each other until one of them flinched. Once this happened, it became a matter of running circles around the bridge until one of the participants gave up and headed elsewhere.
Stare-Down was only a two-player game, and Wags became extremely vocal in his displeasure at not being one of those two. His barking was incessant and disruptive and was an added distraction to the counselors, all of whom were on duty in the playroom to monitor the interaction between the two new dogs and the regulars. Any effort to quiet Wags was completely ignored. He just kept barking. This earned him another spray from the water bottle. Poor Wags had to contend with new campers, Scally playing with other dogs, and also try to please all the counselors present. Poor Wags.
Hotshot arrived. Obviously, there would be no rest for the counselors that morning. Hotshot was a feisty little Chihuahua who sported a diamond stud in one ear. He was perpetual motion, afraid of nothing, and completely oblivious to the fact that he was a very small dog.
The instant he came through the door, he dashed up onto the bridge where I was sitting for a minute, jumped into my lap and was rubbing all over me. I was pleasantly surprised. Hotshot was not usually this friendly with the counselors. Then one of the other counselors told me that what I thought was a rare show of affection, was really just Hotshot trying to rub off some kind of skin ointment. Yuck. So much for affection.
When he’d quite finished rubbing his oily treatment off of himself and onto the entire front of me, he zipped around to greet everybody, including the new ones. Hotshot gave little Shorty a polite sniff and a wag and hurried over to meet big, happy Boomer.
Oh, boy. Hotshot was absolutely thrilled with Boomer, who towered over him. This didn’t bother Hotshot at all. He was zipping in and out of Boomer’s legs, jumping up in Boomer’s face, challenging Boomer to a game of Chase. Boomer thought this was a grand idea, but he was soon left in Hotshot’s dust. If Boomer got too close, Hotshot just zoomed under him or under the bridge or under any other taller dog and was out of Boomer’s reach. Boomer chased the speedy little guy around for a while, but gave up and headed off to play with someone his own size. Hotshot was not put off by this at all. He continued zipping all around, pestering any dog or counselor he felt like pestering. That was pretty much everybody.
“Oh, who did that? Guess I’d better mop up.” Here, I had thought it might be a quiet day.
“Wags. Wags. Wags! Pu-leeeze be quiet.” Goodness. His barking was constant. Much as I hated to do it, I resorted to the water bottle myself. He’d gotten it from at least two other counselors already, and it was fairly early in the day. He was beginning to look like he’d stuck his head in the shower, but he did stop barking. At least for the time being. Poor Wags.
Snowball was on her feet, the drinking water the focus of her attention. Snowball dearly loved to tip it over and stretch out in the flood. She did just that. Once Snowball’s waterbed had been mopped up and the water dish refilled, Scally immediately ran over to the dish.
All the activity surrounding the drinking dish must have reminded him he was thirsty. Scally stuck his entire muzzle right down to the bottom of the just-filled dish and yanked his head up, creating a great splash in the whole area and practically emptying the dish again. Again, it was mop time and refill time. Done.
“Scally, NO. Not in the drinking water.”
Scally also had this thing about relieving himself in the drinking dish. Scally tried his aim at least once every visit. This time we knew we hadn’t caught him in time. Whenever he even hesitated for a second at the water dish and he wasn‘t drinking, it was taken out, scrubbed, sanitized, and refilled yet again, and then brought back into the room. We had no idea what the fascination was for him. He tried this little trick every single time he came to camp. We strongly discouraged him each time, but soon realized this was an exercise in futility. We discouraged him anyway.
Duchess had been watching Scally’s behavior with great disdain. Scally apparently found her obvious scorn enticing “You’re beautiful when you’re angry.” So, he approached her. Gentleman-like, but still macho, he slapped his front paws on the floor in front of her in a classic play bow, doing his level best to impress her and get her to play with him. Front legs on the floor, rear end in the air, tail held high, Scally threw his head back and let loose his best and loudest “Ah-rooooo-ooooo-rooo” to gain her favor. Alas, to no avail. Duchess gave him a very quiet and regal growl that immediately put Scally in his place. He gave up. You simply do not mess with the Duchess.
Scally’s attention to Duchess created a little panic in his pal, Wags. This was interesting because Wags played with everybody. He just didn’t like it when Scally tried to play with anyone else. Wags set up a terrific din, barking, yowling, and whining at his buddy. He simply would not stop. Time to put the water bottle to work again. Poor Wags.
I decided maybe it was time for me to take a break. There were plenty of counselors in the room. With Wags at his barking best, the noise level had increased by several decibels. With Hotshot and new Boomer there, too, the races were frequent and rowdy. Add Maggie and Scally to the mix and this day was becoming even more hectic than most days. It was turning out to be an incredibly active and fun day, just the kind of day I preferred. Happy dogs to keep me busy.
Coming back into the playroom, I was astonished when Wags dashed right over to me, his furry little head absolutely soaked. He was very friendly, rare for this, my most fractious charge. I was both surprised and delighted at this show of affection, and I lavished him with praise and pets. Then I figured it out.
It was a self-defense thing, a ploy to avoid the water bottle. This dog was just trying to make me feel guilty for squirting him. Of course, I knew he wasn’t really trying to make me feel guilty. Nonetheless, it worked. I felt guilty enough to play ball with him again, making sure to keep my fingers and thumbs out of his way this time.
Scally was behaving like a dog on a mission. He was immediately taken into the elimination station, on the off chance he would actually relieve himself in the appropriate area. Wags noticed his friend was no longer in sight and started to carry on something fierce.
“Wags, you‘ll see Scally in just a minute. Don’t carry on so.“
We knew this particular racket was only because Scally was out of the room. We knew Wags would be fine once Scally returned, so we spared him yet another spray. Scally returned from his unsuccessful trip and Wags calmed right down. He was back to just his normal level of barking.
Based on the growing number of dogs concentrated around the kitchen door, it was obviously nearing lunch time. Shorty, the new little guy, didn’t know exactly why, but he sensed the overall excitement in the room and joined the group now just hanging around watching the kitchen door. Boomer, the new big dog, was really interested in the kitchen.
Scally’s presence required the little fence be up in front of the kitchen door to keep him from opening it. The fence was in place, and most everybody steered clear of it. It was a flimsy little fence, but even Scally and Maggie were intimidated by it. Not so, Boomer.
One front Boomer foot went to the top of the half door, the other a little lower down on the fence. His hind feet were hanging onto one of the rods about half-way up the wobbly fence. He was in an undoubtedly precarious position. It couldn’t possibly have been a comfortable
place for Boomer. Chris and I rushed over to get him off the door and the fence before catastrophe struck. We, quite literally, saved Boomer’s butt. It must have been a mighty uncomfortable place. That was the first and last time he got himself in that position.
The dogs started leaving the playroom, headed for the crates. Wags was among the first to be taken out. Normally he and Scally went back together. Not this time. This meant it was Scally’s turn to carry on because his friend was no longer in sight. With these two, any separation always created panic.
“Scally, you‘ll see Wags in just a minute. Don’t carry on so.”
It was interesting that the dog doing the leaving was not upset while the dog that had been left became anxious. The behavior was the same with either dog. Again, we knew this was temporary, and we tried to reassure him. He carried on something fierce anyway, until he was reunited with Wags inside their crate. These were the only two dogs that shared a crate, a special request by their people.
Boomer went into his crate without hesitation. Once the door was closed, though, he didn’t like it one little bit. Our oh-so-happy newcomer spent a big part of naptime making the most pitiful barky-whiny sounds imaginable. He fussed every time he came to camp and that crate door closed behind him. He would finally settle down after about 45 minutes.
It was my opinion that Boomer just didn’t want to miss out on anything and crating cramped his style. He was the most lovable, over-the-top clown of a dog
Everybody should have Boomer‘s joyful view of life.
