Going to the Dogs

The Femmes Fatales would like to welcome our guest blogger, Twist Phelan!  Twist writes the critically-acclaimed Pinnacle Peak series, legal-themed mysteries featuring different extreme sports. Although she’s learned to team rope, ridden her bicycle across the country, and paddled a canoe from one Hawaiian island to another, the tiniest Chihuahua can make her run in terror.

I have to admit, I’m not much of a dog person. In truth, I’m afraid of them. (Probably has something to do with getting pinned for a half-hour by a neighbor’s guard dog when I was three years old.) I’m okay with some individual dogs—those to whom I’ve been properly introduced and spent some time with. But if a strange dog approaches me, no matter how friendly, I look for the nearest tree to hide behind (or, if it’s a big dog, climb).

I’d been recuperating in the desert from a sports injury. Couldn’t do real exercise (limited to 90 minutes in the gym, plus hiking), so fell into the habit of taking a walk in the early morning before it got too hot. Near where I parked my car (I know, driving to go hiking is weird, but it couldn’t be helped) was a doggie daycare center. Actually, I think it was more of a doggie spa—it had dog massages, a dog whisperer, dog yoga, etc.

One week a banner in front of the spa read “Take a shelter dog for a hike.” When I enquired, they told me they brought dogs from the animal shelter up for the day so they could walk with the daycare dogs. They also said anyone could take a shelter dog on a hike alone. 

I felt sorry for the shelter dogs. The whole thing smacked of bussing in the orphans so they could see how the rich kids live, then taking them back to the orphanage at night. So I signed out a dog. When asked what kind I preferred, I responded “lively.” A medium-sized whitish dog with shaggy hair was produced. I was handed his leash, told his name was Sparky, and we were out the door.

Lively didn’t begin to cover it. Every rabbit hole had to be sniffed out, every bush investigated, every trail run down. I had a wonderful time. After an hour, I returned Sparky (after unsuccessfully trying to comb the bits of brush out of his hair with my fingers), bought him a treat from the dog snack bar, and promised to be back the next morning.

The next few hikes were great. Sparky jumped and barked and wagged his tail whenever he saw me. What an ego boost! Or maybe he was just happy at the thought of the treat I gave him at the end of each walk. Sparky stayed at the daycare center fulltime because they had the space and I was walking him regularly. The staff showed me where his leash was and let me go in the back and fetch him without being accompanied by a staff person.

On about the sixth day I picked him up, he looked especially great. He had been bathed and clipped (he looked rather like a poodle but not quite). He was also whiter than he had ever been before. He was a little subdued when we started, and I was worried he wasn’t feeling well. But when a cottontail broke cover, he was off running like his old self. He chased the tennis ball into the chaparral and rolled in the sand. (We lost the bow that was in his hair. I was glad—I think bows look dumb on boy dogs. Actually, all dogs.) He capped off the morning with a dive into a cattle water trough to cool off.

When I returned to doggie daycare, I was met by a staff member, a county sheriff’s deputy, and an angry woman who began screaming I had stolen her dog. Yep, the pooch I had taken on a walk wasn’t Sparky. I’m embarrassed to admit it wasn’t even a male dog. (I told you I wasn’t a dog person!) To make matters worse, apparently Dog #2 was a somewhat valuable dog who was supposed to have been exhibited that morning at a local dog show.

As it turns out, Sparky had been adopted (hurray!), and Dog #2 had been put into his kennel after being bathed and show-clipped. The woman kicked up such a fuss, the deputy actually put me into the back of the squad car. (The woman was convinced I was working for her rivals to sabotage her chances at the dog show. Under her theory, my “assignment” was to kidnap her dog and either hide it until the show was over or just mess up its coat so it wouldn’t look nice for the show.

Even though it was scary being in the squad car, I couldn’t help but laugh when she laid out my “plans” for her darling. (To my relief, the deputy cracked a grin halfway through her diatribe.) Then the daycare employee who knew me and Sparky arrived. She explained I was a volunteer dog walker who was clueless about dogs. (That made the owner of Dog #2 mad all over again—how dare I confuse her purebred with a mutt?)

Things were finally sorted out, with the woman agreeing not to press charges if I covered her entry fees for the aborted dog show and paid for another bath, trim, and pedicure for her dog (who had a very long and fancy name, the only part of which I remember is “Princess of ...”). The lady didn’t even let me give the dog a treat. (The way she reacted, you’d have thought I was peddling canine crack.) 

Anyway, I’m sticking to cats and horses now. No more pooches! Although I think part of me is going to miss Sparky tomorrow morning.

Comments

[mary]

Look at it this way, you probably gave The Princess the most fun day of her life. :) Well worth being escorted into the back of a squad car. Great story - thanks for visiting the Femmes, Twist!

[Elaine Viets]

Cats, Twist. Consider cats.Much less complicated. We have a former show cat with a long name shortened to Mystery. Mystery refused to be shown and was sold to us -- a sort of rescue and a sign of her intelligence, in my opinion.

[Toni Kelner]

Hmm... Let's work this out. You took the dog for a long walk, let it play and have fun, and were going to give it a treat. The owner got it gussied up and gave her a dumb name. She wasn't angry because of the loss of a beloved pet, but because she couldn't enter a dog show.

Somebody was clueless about dogs, but it wasn't Twist.

[Sandra Cormier]

I guess she didn't like the fact that the Princess of Prissiness was transformed into the Princess of Putrescence.

[danacmrn]

You know, this sounds like Princess's version of "Roman Holiday." She'll carry on with her show-dog duties, but always carry a fond memory of the time she was off her lead...

[Mallika]

Aww, that's such a cute story. I agree with a previous commenter that you probably gave that dog the most fun day of her life. I'm glad to hear that Sparky got adopted, but also kind of sad too. While reading this post I thought you'd end up adopting him yourself. :)

I'm more of a cat person than a dog person (I have two awesome felines who just light up my day), but I like dogs as well. I do get nervous around large dogs, though, especially strange ones. It goes through my mind just what they can do to me with those teeth.

[Will Bereswill]

I'm definitely a "Dog Guy." Great story, Twist.

[Patrick Balester]

I hope you continue to walk dogs at the doggie daycare. The poor pooches shouldn't suffer because of one nasty human!