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Don’t Judge A Dog

From the dog’s mouth, here’s how things started out when I got to hotter-than-Hades Arizona.

My keeper loves to tell one and all that I made a beeline for him when I got out of my crate at the Phoenix Airport. Who did he think I would run to? That loco señora from Tijuana? I hate refried beans and English is my first and second language.

From the minute I was hugged and kissed by my keeper, I knew I was in for a long and torturous time with him. He was as needy as anyone I could imagine. But there was something about him that made the trip in the belly of the airplane worth it. I could tell he was all heart but with a need to control me. That would have to change.

Thank the stars above that his business partner Scott and Scott’s then-girlfriend, now-wife Alison were with us. We went to some fancy shopping mall in Phoenix where I was on display, typical of what dog owners like to do with their pets.

The minute we got to our casa on the golf course, my keeper had bought all the paraphernalia: my water bowl and my food bowl. He had toys and a fence, which instinct told me was a retraining device to keep me from messing on his white carpet.

I went into his bedroom and saw a dog. After going back and forth trying to get this four-legged look-alike to play, I realized I was looking at myself in a mirror. Gosh, I had hoped for a canine buddy, but no such luck. All in all, I liked the joint but I knew that Dada and I were going to have a lot of adjusting to do.

Anyway, you need a taste of my daily routine, and a view of the two-leggeds and four-leggeds who are now part of my life.

The Extended Family

Besides getting used to a new home, the layout and sniffing out the backyard, I was put in my crate a lot. Dada knew that dogs do not poo or pee in there but they will if they have free roam of the house. When I was free, I did it a lot.

Finally getting me on a schedule was tough; Daddy needed a lot of help in this department from Scott. Scott is the real deal and an absolute in-tune kind of guy that we dogs love.

The first week I was in Sedona, Scott, Alison, Daddy and I took a four-hour road trip to Tucson where Daddy was appearing at the Festival of Books on the overcrowded University of Arizona campus. Man, were there a lot of two-legged humans of all ages, shapes and sizes. While il principe was giving a lecture and autographing copies of his new book, Alison and Scott took me on a long walk. I was only 10 pounds, and all the gawkers were “oohing” and “aahing” over me. Every time I would take a leak they would clap like I had discovered a cure for cancer. But when I did a big poo all the lookers and smellers were gagging and I assure you there were no “oohs” and “aahs.” There were a few “god, how gross!”

That night we went to a not-too-fancy hotel to sleep. Alison and Scott took me to their room because they knew how to treat a five-month-old pup. They had treats and water and food and a few toys for me (and them) to play with. Several times in the night they took me out to do my business. All the while his majesty was sound asleep in the next room.

On the way home the next day I was in the back seat with my new Daddy but I wanted to curl up in Alison’s lap. I guess I ought to have been happy to get to know my new owner. If you think he’s intuitive, you might want to pay closer attention to me. You see, I’m good at guessing what’s going to happen before it happens, just like he is. (This is my way of letting you know that he and I had a war of words, deeds and actions up ahead.)

Scott and Alison played a game going back to Sedona. They had adopted a new puppy that they were picking up at the Sedona Humane Society that Sunday afternoon, and they were trying to decide what to name him. Whoever guessed closest to the exact time we would get home could name the dog. Alison liked the name Chaz but Scott wanted to name the Red Heeler Australian Shepherd Riggs. Scott got the exact time to the minute so they named the ball of fur Riggs. Riggs has become my best four-legged friend. We play together at the office all week, although Daddy doesn’t work there. He prefers to see clients at our house.

Riggs’ arrival at the Humane Society is a most harrowing story. A Native American construction worker from the reservation, or the Res, had Riggs and his sister in the back of his truck. In a box. No air holes. No water or food. The two four-week-old puppies were rolling around in their own feces. (That scene would have been enough to make my Dada throw up. He hates the mention of poo and has a hard time picking up mine. Then again, he brags that he has never changed a diaper, either). A tourist saw the pups, called the Humane Society and they seized the dogs and arrested their owner. Alison was a reporter for the local rag at the time and she wrote up their story. She was so taken with Riggs that she and Scott decided to adopt him. The Humane Society kept Riggs and his sister until they were six weeks old.

There are some other important characters to whom you need an introduction. Dada and Scott have been good friends with a family named Bell. Gail is a real looker and she loves me to pieces. Sometimes I wish that mon père would send me to her house for some R&R. Her husband David seems to be a big piece of stuff in advertising. Rumor has it that he is a great cook but he never invited me to dinner. They have a Wire Fox Terrier girlie girl named Curtsey, whom I met a couple of years ago in New York. She is bossy, but a real babe and lucky to crawl onto so many laps of luxury.

The Bells also have two two-legged children.

Andrew is their son. Scott and Daddy call him The Kid. He’s tall, handsome and smart, a great tennis player and more fun than mon père. The Kid gets on the floor with me and we play like a dog and his owner should. He came to visit us last summer and mon père got jealous because I curled up on the sofa and slept with The Kid. But Andrew straightened him out. He told il principe in an email that my love was deep enough for him and Dada and a lot of other people. The Kid is going to be a famous writer or lawyer or both. If I have anything to do with it he will one day be president of the United States.

Last but not short of a dollar is Ashley Bell, who il principe calls Diva. She has long blond hair and is some looker. Bella Donna, another of Dada’s names for her, sings like an angel. I think she’s headed for The Metropolitan Opera and La Scala. She and her brother and mother founded an opera company Divaria which is touring in cities she thinks love opera. When she took me on a walk one day, I just know she fell in love and wanted to keep me for herself. But my lousy karma is to stay with Dada, so I dropped my ordinarily straight up tail and went home with him.