by Barb Norris
There’s no place like home.
~ Stuff Happens ~
There was just no way camp could ever be boring. There was always something unexpected lurking just around the corner. Some of these unexpected events could be attributed to the dogs, but some could be attributed to not-always-brilliant actions of staff members. And sometimes stuff just happened.
* * * *
We found, even before camp opened to the public, we could expect the unexpected. One morning, Snowball was with her mom in the small playroom. There was an emergency exit in the corner of the room and Snowball took a notion to jump up on it. To our surprise it flew open and Snowball was out that door like a shot. Fortunately, she was a well-trained dog and immediately came back at the first command. The very next day that door was fixed so that no dog could just push it open. While the small room seldom contained exceptionally large dogs, that door had been a safety/security hazard.
* * * *
One day when Maggie arrived, she barely greeted Snowball. That was highly unusual behavior for her. She was always anxious to greet other campers. The reason she was so quiet soon became obvious.
After the first Maggie clean-up, the other counselor and I thought she might not be feeling well. After two more major clean-ups within fifteen minutes it was clear she really was having digestive problems of epic proportions. We couldn’t keep her at camp. We took her back to her crate and called to have her mom pick her up. Poor Maggie continued to have problems while she waited to be picked up. Her crate was a disaster.
Once Maggie had gone home, it was up to me to clean and sanitize that crate. Thankfully it was solid on three sides, keeping any mess from adjoining crates. I hooked up the hose and got busy scrubbing it down. There were drainage ditches at the back of these large kennels so it wasn’t as horrendous a job as it could have been.
* * * *
Very early one morning I was busy with my routine to get ready for the day. I was surprised to see Maggie in the camp lobby with her person. I was more surprised when the woman told me there was no check-in desk and no receptionist at the front doors to the store. I checked Maggie in and took her back to the kennel.
When I got back to the lobby, there was Norton, a deaf Cocker spaniel. Still no sign of our receptionist. I checked Norton in and took him back to his crate.
Norton was a real sweetheart, who didn’t play much at all. Because he was deaf, he received a lot of petting. To get Norton’s attention you had to touch him, sometimes even if he was looking right at you. All the counselors were pretty good at Norton Sign Language. He managed very well in spite of this handicap. I think he must have been able to feel vibrations in the floor and on the climbing toys. He was never caught up in the doggy mayhem going on all around him. He spent most of his time on the top of the bridge, quietly watching the pandemonium. He did occasionally set up a howl that could be heard over everything. There didn’t seem to be any reason for this. He just did it. At those times it was necessary to get right down in front of him and assure him all was well in Dogdom. After some petting and reassurance, he would quiet down ‘til the next time.
Back out in the lobby, I was stunned to find four more unrelated dogs waiting for me. It was highly unusual for more than three dogs to arrive at camp at the same time and, most often, two of the three were dogs that lived together. Still no sign of a receptionist, but Kerri, our operations manager, was in the lobby She didn’t look happy.
No wonder. Our receptionist had just called to tell Kerri she wouldn’t be in that day or any other. She’d quit. Kerri said she would call one of the other counselors and have her come in right away. Given the number of dogs piling up, I thought that was a good idea.
Kerri went off to make her call, and I got busy checking in the four waiting dogs. All four had decided it must be play time already since they were all together in a common area. I worked as quickly as I could, untangling leashes that were wound around dogs, their people, and me.
By the time the other counselor arrived, the flurry of check-ins had abated. The portable front-desk never made it to the front that day.
* * * *
Within the first couple of weeks of camp opening, Kate and I were in the playroom with Maggie. No other campers had arrived yet. I thought it would be fun to sprawl out with Maggie. Kate and I both knew full well that this was something frowned on by our teacher, but I told Kate I simply couldn’t resist.
I stretched out on the floor and invited Maggie to join me. She did. There we were, side by side on the floor. I threw an arm across her and gave her a belly-rub. Maggie was quite content with the affectionate attention.
After just a few minutes, I got back up .or tried to get up. I made it to my hands and knees. Maggie stood up and planted her two huge front paws on the middle of my back. I was in an awkward position with all that weight on my back. It only took a little verbal convincing from Kate and me to get Maggie to put all four feet back on the floor. Well, now I knew why we weren’t supposed to do that. I was glad I’d done it, but I never felt compelled to do it again.
* * * *
There were three counselors and three dogs in the larger playroom one afternoon. Woofy, a black and white Chow mix was there. He was a laid-back kind of guy who never got into mischief. There was Charlie, a really big brown Doberman, also laid-back personality-wise. Both of these dogs were rare visitors at camp. George, the Sharpei was at camp periodically and he was the third dog. Things were going along well. Charlie and George were playing with each other. Woofy was sitting and watching.
Out of the blue, for some reason known only to the dog, Charlie got a little annoyed with George and made a determined effort to bite him. He quickly tried again. This was absolutely unacceptable behavior.
The slip leads we all had were instantly put on all three dogs. One counselor moved George out of harm’s way. The second counselor pulled Charlie back at the same time. Unfortunately, this move put him close to poor Woofy, who was just sitting quietly, not bothering anybody. We all saw it coming.
Charlie took aim, but the counselors were quicker. Poor Woofy. This scared him. Charlie was now pulled back in the opposite direction so I was able to tug Woofy out of Charlie’s reach. It took him a few minutes, but he pulled himself together.
Charlie was taken out of the playroom. His behavior was very unusual and surprised us all. His attack had been very fast and, as far as any of we counselors could tell, was completely unprovoked. Even though no damage was done, it was a serious enough offense that we three counselors agreed he could be a danger to other dogs and to counselors. Charlie was expelled from camp.
* * * *
One morning, Snowball’s mom decided it was time for Snowball to have a treat. She went into the playroom and gave Snowball her treat. Unfortunately, three other dogs were about to come into the playroom as well. In they came.
Immediately discovering there was a yummy goodie in the room, they went after it. Snowball let them know in no uncertain terms this particular munchie was hers and hers alone. This differs from food aggression because the treat was in shared territory. It was not the normal time for food and was, therefore, a bonus. To the other dogs, this meant they had just as much right to it as Snowball. Snowball and her treat were taken out of the playroom and crisis was averted.
* * * *
Yes, things occasionally got off-track. We always managed to get back on in short order.
Stuff happens. You learn
~ All Dogs Like Me ~
My family has always teased me about my love for animals. They would tell me that all small children and all animals like me. They’re either too young or too dumb to know better. In this case, the teasing had some merit. All small children and animals really do like me.
If they don’t take a shine to me instantly, we become buddies within the first two minutes of our meeting. A customer was coming into the store as I was leaving one day. She had two Italian Greyhounds with her, and I, naturally, asked if I could
pet them. She said yes, and I immediately dropped to my knees to be at their level.
The lady was about to say something more when her two little greys zipped over to me and I was petting them both. The lady was stunned. She told me one of the two was extremely nervous around people, a regular “spook” that would normally cower behind her person rather than meet someone new. Now, here they both were, enjoying the whole petting thing. I never did discover which of the two the shy one was. I did feel rather privileged that whichever one it was, allowed me to touch her. All dogs really do like me. Everybody knows that.
I had a late start time one morning, and Quentin, an American Bulldog, was already in the playroom and having a great time. He was running with the other dogs. He was getting his pets from the counselor on duty. Then he sat down on the counselor’s feet, a sign of affection, I was told. I hadn’t met him yet, but he certainly seemed friendly. He looked like a happy, fun-loving dog, that is, until I went into the playroom.
Usually the dogs would all come over to say good morning, and they did that day. All of them except Quentin. Not only did he not want to meet me, he was audibly growling a rather serious growl at me and was backing away. This was a new experience. The back-pedaling made the growling seem not quite so threatening. It was just enough to make me pause.
I had been asked at my second interview if I was afraid of dogs. I told management I am not afraid of dogs, but I do respect them, no matter their size. An American Bulldog is big enough and powerful enough to demand respect. His growl, added to his size, commanded it. I took Quentin’s warning very seriously.
I stopped moving for just a few seconds, not quite sure of my strategy. I decided the best thing I could do was to go ahead with my regular routine. I wouldn’t pester Quentin, but I didn’t want him to think I wasn’t in charge, either. For most of that morning we kept a watchful eye on each other and gave each other plenty of space. I did call him by name and talked to him like I talked to all the dogs, but I didn’t pay any special attention to him, and I didn’t try to pet him.
It was getting late in the morning and Quentin still wouldn’t approach me. I ended up resorting to bribery. I went into the kitchen and gathered some treats for all the dogs. Quentin did take a treat from me. He grabbed it and ran off, but at least he took the treat. I was really pleased he had left every single one of my fingers with me, intact and still attached to my hand. I saw that as progress.
So, what was the deal with Quentin? Maybe I reminded him of someone in his life who wasn’t particularly nice to him. Whatever the reason, there was just no getting around it. He did not like me. Until I met Quentin, such a thing was inconceivable. The story that a dog didn’t like me moved through the store like wild-fire.
Dogs like me. Everyone in the store knew that. We all kind of wondered what would happen the next day. Would Quentin decide I was okay after all? Would Quentin spend another day in camp avoiding me? Would Quentin do me some serious hurt if given the opportunity? Ah-h-h, the stuff of a good soap opera.
The next morning, we started all over again. Quentin was about to go into the building at the same time I was approaching it. He spotted me and started barking like crazy and lunging at me, pulling like mad on his lead. His owner and I decided that, even though I was right there and available, someone else should take Quentin back to the kennel area. I waited outside for a couple of minutes to give Quentin time to get back to the camp.
Once in the playroom, things eased up a little. He was still pretty wary, but he wasn’t barking, growling, or lunging at me. He didn’t run away from me either. After an hour or so he even let me pat his head once or twice. Things were definitely improving. By noon good ol’ Quentin was not threatening me at all. To my surprise and delight, he was actually approaching me on his own. I didn’t have to bribe him anymore. Then, would you believe this? Quentin came and sat down next to my feet, not on them, but close enough. It was a good sign.
I found out later that even other store locations had heard about it. Shortly after the Quentin incident several employees from several of our stores went to work at the local dog show, and. I was stunned to hear from people I had never met they had heard there was a dog who didn’t like me. I guess I had a good dog reputation. Dogs really do like me. It’s true. It just took Quentin a little longer to figure that out.
Quentin and I were never together in camp again, but I like to think we were on our way to being buddies.
Sometimes acquaintances take a little time and effort to make it as far as friendship.
~ Houdini Dogs Identified ~
Aha. The mystery had been solved. We finally identified who the door-opening escape artists were. The culprits were caught red-pawed. Turned out we had two door openers among the campers. Scally was one of them. He only had to put his weight on the lever and barely wiggle his paw to open the door. Sassy, who actually had to stretch to lean on the lever and throw her body slightly backwards to open it, was the other. Hm-m-m-m … Sassy had been one of dogs we found in the kitchen the day the door had been found opened. I suspect she had opened it but I‘ll never know for sure.
Once we knew who was responsible, when either Scally or Sassy was in the playroom, a lightweight portable fence was placed across the Dutch door to the kitchen. Flimsy as this fence was, most of the dogs wanted nothing to do with it.
Door openers were not the only ones who occasionally made good an escape out of the playroom and into the secured kitchen area. While Scally and Sassy were the ones that actually opened the door, it in no way meant they were the only two dogs who took advantage of that open door. If any of the doors remained open and undetected by the counselors, even for a second, most of the dogs thought it was a challenge to see how far they could explore before being hustled back into the playroom.
Cedric was a pro at scooting out. His method was simple. Wait until a taller dog (which could have been almost any other camp dog) was being taken out for whatever reason and just run along under that dog. Hugging the floor to avoid radar detection did work once in a while, but he didn’t get out often and he never got far. He was always caught immediately, and he always cooperated when directed back into the playroom, chuckling under his breath along the way, I’m sure.
Then, of course, there was Casper. He simply flew out of where he didn’t want to be and flew in to where he did want to be. His method of escape was effective only once, and then only as far as the smaller room.
Casper’s attempts to fly out were not unique. Both Maggie and Diablo had been known to consider it a time or two. It never worked for them. They took far too much time preparing to launch and always got busted before they got airborne.
The most surprising near-escape ever, though, was completely unintentional. It was a ten o’clock start for me that day. I went directly into the large playroom and greeted the several dogs that were already there, including Maggie. The other counselor left for her break.
Just after she left, a woman customer came up to the break-away glass doors that separated the camp from the store. Maggie, as expected, zoomed over to see who it was, barking her big bark on her way. This startled the woman, causing her to jump back a bit. Maggie, as expected, jumped up to slap her paws on the door, causing the woman to back up a bit further. I was right behind Maggie, ready to pull her away from the windows.
“WHOA!”
Maggie’s feet hit the glass and both doors flew open. My eyes got huge and my jaw dropped clear down to the floor. The customer had the same reaction. I knew Maggie wouldn’t intentionally hurt the woman on the other side, but at more than one hundred twenty pounds, Maggie could very easily have knocked her down and caused serious injury when the lady hit the floor.
That was bad enough, but then my imagination kicked in. It wasn’t my life that flashed before my eyes. It wasn’t the customer’s life that flashed before my eyes. What flashed before my eyes was a vision of Maggie dashing out of the camp and running rampant through the store, wreaking unintentional havoc
all the while.
I could envision terrified customers screaming and scattering. I could see cans and bags of dog food flying, dog toys and balls all over the place, and lots of folks slipping and sliding on the debris. I could see innocent little bunnies, mice, guinea pigs, and ferrets cowering in fear as Maggie jumped up on their cages to check them out. I could see parakeets, love birds, and cockatiels going into cardiac arrest. I could see aquariums shattered and flooding the store, fish flopping and gasping on the floor. I could see tarantulas and scorpions cruising around, causing even more panic among the customers and me. I could see Maggie getting more scared by the minute with all the noise and panic she had inadvertently caused. Worse, I could see her heading out the front door of the store, terrified, out into the parking lot on her way to the busy street.
There was no time to use the slip lead I had hanging on my neck. Definitely no time for a walkie-talkie here. I was so stunned I just yelled for help. REAL LOUD.
Thank goodness, Maggie was just as stunned as I was. She hesitated just long enough for me to grab her with one hand and to grab one door with the other. That woman customer was terrific. She had been startled by Maggie’s barking, but was not afraid. She stood her ground and grabbed both doors, pushing them closed as soon as I had the entire Maggie back inside the confines of the playroom. I immediately locked the doors. Whichever counselor opened camp that morning had either forgotten to check those doors or thought she was locking it and, instead, had mistakenly unlocked it.
By the time another counselor came into the room, things were back under control. I left the other counselor in charge so I could go out to thank the woman for her help. We decided it was a good thing Maggie had hesitated and we hadn’t. We both laughed at the picture we must have made and everything was okay. I ended up taking a break when I hadn’t even been at work fifteen minutes yet. As soon as my heart stopped pounding, I headed back to work.