Doggie Daycare

Whoever had the idea for doggie daycare is genius. Without daycare, I don't know what I would do everyday with Mumble, who has endless energy, doesn't like to be home by himself, and is capable of eating through wood doors, puncturing brass doorknobs, and destroying rugs when he is bored.

I pick Mumble up around 7:00pm from The Loved Dog, after my long day at work and his long day playing with other dogs. The Loved Dog is a cage-free daycare and boarding place, and Mumble absolutely loves it there. He runs around this big room all day, where there are things for them to climb on and (most importantly for Mumble) lots of dogs to play with. When I pull up in the parking lot, Mumble is usually over near the big metal-gate-type doors on the side of the building with a gang of other dogs. When he sees me, he either barks and gets all the other dogs barking excitedly too, or he runs over to the gate to where I'll be waiting in the lobby. For a while, Mumble had decided he didn't need to be "let out" into the lobby to me because he could do that himself - jump the small gate and the taller one, push the handle on the door down and attempt to let himself out into the lobby to greet me. They basically implemented a behavior plan (like something that may appear in an IEP for some of the kids I represent!) to correct this and teach him to wait, both going in the door in the morning and coming out. Still, he usually doesn't need them to open that first gate for him, someone just calls his name, and he goes right over it.

Yesterday, when I picked up Mumble I also picked up his friend Charlie, who lives down the street from us. Charlie is new to The Loved Dog, but seems to be enjoying it thoroughly. Mumble was, as usual, completely exhausted from his day of play. The staff say that Mumble goes full-on all day long, even continuing to play when the other dogs stop for a mid-day nap. Mumble was asleep in the car before we even got home. Charlie, however, was looking at me inquisitively in the car, and when we got to my place, she just wanted to run around the apartment smelling everything and looking for my cat, following me around for treats, checking out the toy box. When her mom picked her up, she was leaping with excitement and then trying to engage a sleepy Mumble in playtime. Mumble has days like that too where he is still full of energy, and I just look at him and think "why aren't you exhausted yet?!"

We call it "going to school," and in the morning I say to Mumble, are you ready to go to school, and he runs to the door and sits to wait for his leash. Oh what lucky dogs they are, getting to run and play with their friends everyday! I highly recommend doggie daycare to anyone with a busy work schedule who has to leave their dog at home. Get as much information as you can about the facility, how it is run, and what the clients say about it before you go. Some questions I had were How many people are in the room with the dogs? What is the training of the staff? What happens if a dog is overexcited or shows aggression? What is the screening process for new dogs? What vaccinations are required? What is the procedure if there is an emergency? You need to talk to the staff and make sure you are comfortable with them and the facility before you leave your dog there, but if you find a place that works for you and your dog, it can really be a great option for busy dog-owners, especially in urban areas where the dog may not have as much access to "running-around space," like a big yard.

Before Mumble, there was Padfoot

Padfoot; July 2007-August 2008

Exactly one year ago this week, I lost my beloved dog, Padfoot. His death was sudden and unexpected, although it could have been prevented if only I had been provided with accurate information about his health when I adopted him.

I found Padfoot at one of those large pet adoption fairs, the kind of event where there are booths selling things for pets, and shows with dogs performing tricks or jumping into water, and tons of rescue groups with dogs to adopt. I went with a friend who wanted to look at the pet products for her dog, Chopper. My mom and nephew had left the day before to go back to Georgia after a weeklong visit, so I was homesick and a bit vulnerable. We walked through rows and rows of dogs for adoption, mostly walking past and only half-heartedly looking. When we came to the booth where Padfoot was, however, I was stopped in my tracks right away. There he was, this beautiful white puppy, with his head cocked to one side as he looked right into my eyes, lifted his paw up onto his crate and silently told me "I'm your dog." I asked the people to let me see him outside of his crate, and we walked with him out into this little grass area, where he sat on my friend's feet and ignored me. Eventually, he came over and put his paw on me and looked me right in the face.

I didn't take him right away. I hadn't intended to get a dog that day, although I had been thinking about getting a dog for a long time. I asked a lot of questions, and was told that he was a Jindo, that he currently lived in a foster home, where he had been for a few months, with one other dog and a cat, and that he had been to the vet and all of his shots were current. I walked around and around the other exhibits at the fair and thought about it, talked to my friend about it. I knew he was the dog for me, and in the end I went back to the booth to get him. Because it was the end of the day, they didn't have time to take my application, so I sent it in the next day and picked him up one week later.

Padfoot was a great dog. He was smart and extremely loyal. He and my cat, Rascal, absolutely adored each other. They took naps together on the rug, followed each other around the house, and greeted each other every day when Padfoot and I came home. Padfoot loved playing with other dogs, especially with Chopper, the coonhound belonging to my friend. They played very rowdily, but they had so much fun, and they really loved each other.


On a hike with the whole gang


I don't want to talk here about all the things that could have been different, all of the ways that I could have saved him, all of the anger about the information I should have been given from the rescue group, or even about ultimately what it was that killed him. On the anniversary of his death, I think about how much I still miss him everyday, and I want to focus on how much he meant to me and how lucky I was to have him, even for that short amount of time. When I think about him, I have to think about what a great life he had for those months - going to doggie daycare with his doggie buddies, going for hikes and to the beach and long walks, hanging out with my nieces when they visited for the summer, coming to the office with me, eating doggie birthday cake and goodies from the bakery. I loved him, and I know that from the moment he looked at me that day at the adoption fair, he was meant to be my dog. And I miss him.

Losing Padfoot was such an emotional upheaval to my life. He was such a big part of not only my life, but of my office where he came everyday, my friends' lives, and the lives of the dogs we knew, Chopper, Zelda and Peach. It was devastating to all of us, and looking back, it amazes me that I was in a place where I could even think about adopting another dog merely five months later, when I found Mumble. Having Mumble has been an adventure, and has been a huge part of my healing. Mumble is never a "replacement" for Padfoot. Although there are many similarities, those two are also very different. Mumble is as much meant to be my dog now as Padfoot was then.

I found Mumble on the website of a local rescue organization, and from his picture I fell in love. I emailed them and found out he was from the South LA animal shelter and was just 3 months, 2 weeks old. There were other people interested, but after some back and forth emails, miraculously, it was me who got the chance to adopt him. I knew the day they came to my house with him would be emotional, and I was so afraid that I would just lose it and not be able to take him because I'd get overwhelmed, so a friend came over as moral support. I remember when he got there, and was running around and licking our faces and wagging his tail; my friend said to him "you don't even know us yet but we love you." The rest is the story of Mumble, to be continued in this blog...

All About the Dogs

Writing about my dogs and my friends' dogs has been in the back of my mind for some time. They provide us with such great amusement and joy. My dog and my friend Mandy's dog are both of a breed that you would normally expect out in the country somewhere, herding sheep or hunting racoons, respectively. Balancing their lives in a city, therefore, is always an adventure.

(My dog) Mumble: a 11 month old too-smart-for-his-own-good Border Collie who loves other dogs, kids and old people, and me of course, and has a never-ending supply of energy (I never thought I'd say this, but maybe even more energy than any of the boxers we had when I was growing up), and is basically an attention-whore.

(Mandy's dog) Chopper: a 3 year old black and tan coonhound who has only ever treed a squirrel in a palm tree (what would the "real" counhounds say?) with an inexplicable love of french bread and a slightly explicable dislike of pugs.

Mumble and Chopper have lots of other dog friends, including Peach and Zelda- two little terrier-type dogs rescued from the shelter, Fish- a little black pug with a big personality, and Charlie- the little dog that looks like a mini-Mumble and lives down the street from us.

Here in this blog, we will report on the many adventures of Mumble and Chopper, and their misadventures too!