#36: Oakie Pokie Pumpkin Head!

About two months ago, Sir and I up and adopted a dog from one of the local no-kill shelters. Our new puppy-dog is a lab/collie mix, which means that my once obsessively clean apartment is now completely buried under a layer of wiry black dog hair. Here's a quick run-down on the newest and hairiest - yay! it's not me anymore! - member of our family:

Name: Oakley

AKA: Oak, Oakie, Pokie, Oakie Pokie, Oakie Pokie Pumpkin Head (hee. I made this one up. It's perfect for fall!) (Why, yes! I AM a huge dork - thank you for noticing!), Puppydog, Fella, Bubba, Buddy, Precious Puppy, My sweet boy, YOUR dog, Puppy? Puppy. PUPPY!, DOG, and/or Argh! Stop eating the pillows!

Weight: 45 lbs and not an ounce over or Sir and I get a talking to from the vet about obesity in canines.

Age: In the vicinity of 1 1/2 to 2 years

Personal History: He was a stray when he was brought into the shelter. That's all we know about him besides what we can imagine from some heartbreaking scars on his neck, throat, and stomach, and also the BB pellet someone shot into his groin (most likely as he was rolling over to get a belly scratch). (My poor puppy!)

Personality: Despite having been abused, he is a very loving, active pup. He loves new people, especially women (don't ask me, I have NO clue), and has a great doggy smile.

Loves: Cuddling on the couch in between the humans; hot dogs; belly scratches; running with Sir; pulling the stuffing out of minuscule holes in pillows; grabbing a dirty sock or pair of underwear from the hamper to chew on; and his toy lobster that goes, "Squeaky. Squeaky? Squeakysqueakysqueakysqueakysqueaky. SQUEAKY. Squea. Ky." (repeat x 1,000,000). He also loves car rides. He will jump into the car before Sir and I are anywhere near ready to leave and we have to offer treats (see above re: hot dogs) when we get back home so he will get OUT of the car. (Of course every time we go somewhere he either gets tons of attention and treats - i.e., the vet, pet store, or obedience training - or he gets to play at the dog park or visit the ocean. I guess I wouldn't be too keen on being back at boring-old-home either.)

Hates: His crate (and we've tried all the "get your dog to *heart* his crate" strategies: feed the pup in the crate, put the pup in the crate with a yummy treat or favorite toy, leave the crate open so the pup will go in on his own, etc. He still turns into a limp blob of puppy fluff when we try to put him into it.); cats; and sleeping in on weekends (although he is getting better about this. He actually gave me the stink-eye this morning when I got up to walk him at 5 am.

When we got Oakley, Sir and I both swore we'd never become "those people" who refer to themselves as the dog's Mommy and Daddy and dress their animals up in silly outfits. Heh. Guess what happened? Not even a full 24 hours, people, and we were already trying to teach Oakley the "Where's Mommy?" "Where's Daddy?" trick. And I am avidly trying to convince Sir to let me dress Oakley up for Halloween. He is such a cute little bugger! He'd make an adorable little rapper. (Oakley from da 'hood. Doesn't that have an adorable ring to it?)

We've Oak in obedience training, too. I like to call it "SuperNannying" our dog because our trainer is a delightful little British woman who has more energy than it is right to have on an early Sunday morning. And she calls Oakley "cheeky." Delightful? Yes. Oakley adores her. As he does most people who hand feed him treats.

Oakley does not, however, adore the neighborhood cats. By the force with which he pulls on his leash and the tenor of his bark, he obviously considers cats as much a threat to society as any WMD. And I never realized how many cats live in our neighborhood before I started walking Oakley in the early morning hours.

OAKLEY VS. THE SOFT FUZZY ITTY-BITTY KITTEN

Scene: Darkened neighborhood streets, sparsely lit by glowing streetlamps. Time is approximately 5:40 AM on a weekday. All is quiet.

[Oakley and I walk along. La la la.]

[Soft furry itty-bitty kitten sits on porch steps 5 feet away]

OAKLEY: OMG! CAT! THE HORROR! DANGER, D.A.N.G.E.R.! HE'S GOING TO EAT YOU!

ME: Shut it! You're going to wake up everyone in the neighborhood, dog.

KITTEN: [Licks paw daintily]

OAKLEY: [attempting to pull the leash, as well as my arm, off of me] CAT IS DEADLY! MUST EAT CAT BEFORE AM EATEN! LEMME GO! LEMME GO! RAAAAAAWR!

ME: DOG! STFU.

KITTEN: [sits and looks fuzzy]

OAKLEY: KILLLLLLLLLLLER!!!!

ME: [grabs Oakley's collar and drags him away from the house with the kitten]

OAKLEY: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! BARKBARKBARKBARK! HATE CAT! BARK BARK

KITTEN: Mew?

It is stories like these that leads me to think Sir and I will not be adding a feline to our household any time soon. (Not to mention Sir's intense allergies.)

But we do have our own Precious Puppy! (Who is probably at this very minute in my kitchen eating my dish rag.)

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