I sit in the morning sunshine at an outdoor table of Word of Mouth Cafe in Sarasota. At my feet is the little dog that I found online only 2 short months ago while staying in this very city. It does not escape me that I'm looking at the completion of a mission. In January, from my couch in the little house on Ohio Street in Sarasota, I found the picture of this little dog on the internet. She was a rescue from the Lynchburg, Virginia area. Somehow I knew that she was my Rudy. And now here we are. . . .back at the place where I first saw her sweet picture, only this time she is a living, furry thing. Amazing!
Rudy and I are in Sarasota for her further education and "audition." Our home is not on Ohio Street this time, but rather on Columbia Ct. Through a stroke of exceedingly good luck, I was able to grab this, best unit for not only this week, but for 2 months next winter. It's smaller than the other one, but it has the all important fenced back yard. We're here to prove to the owners that Rudy will be a great house guest, and that they can feel confident that renting to us for two months next winter will not result in the dropping of property values in the neighborhood.
Rudy is learning to be a city dog. She has "country dog" down pat. After all, she came to me with a Harley Davidson collar, her owner having dropped her off at animal control on his way to jail. She understands open fields, and roosters who live next door. Although as a tragic aside, her wonderful best friend Duke, the rooster, was killed by marauding foxes in the neighborhood. We still miss him. But we understand. Because that is country life.
But back to the city. Walks these days are on-leash, down sidewalks. Along those same sidewalks roar garbage trucks. There are church bells. And even a small flock of parrots in the trees. This is not the stuff of Afton, Virginia. One cannot bound out to the end of the leash and careen into on-coming traffic. One must step aside when the gentleman leading the Doberman Pincer approaches from the other direction. One must understand that when one is adorable, complete strangers will expect the same reception as they are putting out. One must learn the etiquette of being an outdoor cafe dog. . . sitting quietly under the table and waiting for the proprietor to bring a bowl of water and a dog biscuit. So much to learn.
There are lizards to chase, humidity to deal with, patience to learn. There is a whole new routine and rhythm to life.
Yesterday I signed Rudy up for Camp Bow-Wow. Apparently there are many Camp Bow-Wows across the country, but this was new to me. I wanted her to have a place where she could, for a period of time, be a dog. . . . and not just an old lady's companion. Rudy still tends to be on the shy side. She has come a long way in two months. But I still think that in the back of her mind, every stranger that approaches might be a new owner ready to whisk her away again. So she's cautious.
I called Camp Bow-Wow and found out that she needed an "interview." While this at first seemed a little pretentious, I admit that the complexities of mixing up a bunch of dogs in a room presents a multitude of potential problems, not to mention law suits. So I arranged for Rudy's "audition" that very day.
As an aside I must say that all this auditioning on Rudy's part did not seem to phase her in the least. Wary though she is at anything new, once the routine is established, she is a trooper. Take the long long drive down in the car. She traveled in her crate in the back seat. At the rest stops she quickly learned the protocol. I left the car first to do my thing. Then I came back, attached her leash, and we would do a long peruse of the doggie section. Afterwards it was back in the crate to settle down for another long haul. She was perfect every time. Amazing. How could this little dog fail any audition?
The overnight hotel stays were their own set of circumstances and potential for failure. Even in a pet-friendly hotel, one must not bark at every sound one hears all night long. To make this easier, it seemed prudent to run the fan in the air conditioning unit for the duration of the stay. It helped with the noise factor. Both hotel stays: flying colors more or less.
But back to Camp Bow-Wow. I arrived with the little diva, and we were escorted into a holding area where a member of the Camp Bow-Wow staff came in to make sure that Rudy was not inclined to biting the "hand that feeds her." She was not so inclined. She was a shy sweetheart. Not at all sure about what was going on, but willing to see. We had faxed the vet back home, and her current records, including the spay job of a week ago was proudly displayed on the computer screen. Now came step 2: taking her into a room to meet one other dog to see if she is aggressive towards that dog. I held my breath as she was lead behind closed doors. I secretly gave a prayer of thanks that this was not Chester, my former juvenile delinquent dog who never met another animal he was not willing to intimidate, chase, and possibly kill. I admit to leaning into the door to hear what was going on. I was a bonafide pre-school parent. I was appropriately ashamed of myself. I kept listening.
From the other side I heard them bringing in the other dog. Since I knew that Camp Bow-Wow separates the small dogs from the medium dogs from the large dogs, I knew that this was a small dog coming to make the acquaintance of my Rudy. I literally crossed my fingers. There was no cliche I was not willing to use to make this happen.
From the inside of the door I first heard the muffled sounds of the attendant introducing the dogs (seriously. . . did she expect them to say hello and shake hands? ) followed by the sound of a small body flinging itself into the other side of the door, accompanied by such a barking, shrieking commotion that you would have sworn bodily harm was being done by someone to someone else. I was humiliated. My little girl had lost it completely. I wondered if I was going to need to seek out a Special Ed doggie center for my girl. How much would that cost??? I hung my head and waited for them to come out and tell me that it just wasn't going to work. It took them longer to appear than I had expected. Did they take her to the chamber of torture for reluctant small dogs? Eventually the two women came out and said, "It's just fine! She went right into the big area with the other dogs." I was tempted to leave it at that, but I found myself asking, "But what about when she flung herself at the door and screamed to get out?" The reply was accompanied by a sheepish chuckle. "Oh, that wasn't Rudy. That was the other dog. The regular dog we use to get the new dog acquainted wasn't here, and that little dog thought we were taking her into a room to go home. Rudy was fine."
Heaving a massive sigh of relief at not only Rudy's apparent transition to the new situation, but of my not having to face the humiliation of leaving with a pet that was not "acceptable", I got in the car a proceeded to have a pretty great afternoon swim at the Y, secure in the knowledge that my little girl was not home in a crate. As an extra added bonus, and with another nod to the wonders of technology, I was able to download an app on my phone that allowed me to literally watch the goings-on in the small dog area of Camp Bow Wow. Sure enough, there was little Rudy, or who I thought was Rudy (the screen on my phone is really small) staying on the periphery of the arena, well away from all those other Neanderthalian dogs who insisted on running around and barking their heads off. At one point I did see her in the outdoor area, seemingly playing with a little white dog. All I know is that she attended camp three afternoons in a row, seemed fine about going there, came home happy and exhausted, and I was allowed to have some down time from the rigors of dog ownership. This bodes very well for next winter!
So all in all, Rudy learned a lot about her new city life. In a couple more months she will have to learn the ins and outs of village life in Chautauqua. And for everything she learns, I learn as well.
Educating Ruthie.
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