Adventures in Deaf Dog Sitting

I love dogs. Up until I moved to New York I have always had a dog in my life that I could steal/play with/fawn over. First there was Boxie thus named because he slept in a box in my sister’s room. I couldn’t talk so there wasn’t much of a debate when it came to naming the dog. He was around until a little after my 15th birthday and I am still convinced that he was my mother’s favorite child. After he passed, we buried him in the backyard and planted a sapling on top. This sapling grew up to be a strong tree that has survived several hurricanes and blistering summers in the Florida sun.

I would be remiss to mention the stray cat we took in when my sister was in 9th grade. Some future sociopath threw a bag over the fence of our house on Christmas. When my Dad opened the bag he saw a poor bloody and broken black kitten. My father couldn’t bear to have the poor creature’s final hours be spent in the “cold” of winter without knowing any kindness. So, he took the black cat my sister named Chat Noir (black cat in French) into our home where she lived until this last fall. My parents buried her next to Boxie’s tree which is fair considering the cat never quiet got that she was a cat but instead acted like Boxie’s child.

College brought me one of the best behaved dogs I have ever met. You could imagine my surprise when I was greeted at the McCain’s by Joan, a baby, and the prettiest chocolate brown lab I ever saw. Moxie stood in the door jamb as regal as a show dog that had been awarded the Best of show. I loved that dog. I loved house sitting for her, I loved taking her out, feeding her, going to the vet, everything. For some odd reason I could feel that Moxie was actually grateful when you did things for her. She would look at you and nuzzle your leg as a thank you. Not to mention the abuse she would take from the kids who wanted to ride her as a pony. I don’t think I have ever been as heart broken my entire life as when she died to the point that thinking about it gets me misty.

Currently, I just have my Ruby, Sadie, Luca, and Bella to fixate on but I can’t ever pet them because they are miles away.

You might be wonder why the face with the Old Yeller rerun accompanied by “The House That Built Me” or I thought this blog was funny (sometimes). I swear gentle reader (Hi Mom) that this will all make sense. Ali was the same way. She was raised with her precious Peaches who also sadly passed recently. You see it is this internal longing for a dog (preferably a Chocolate Brown Lab Girl named Grant) that is the reason why Ali and I will dog sit for ANYONE (seriously I have references). Ali’s boss Ray got himself a dog last year. A sweet rescue dog that happens to be deaf that is called Scout. Now this is funny because through grades 3-7 I was called Scout as a derogatory slur towards my goody toe-shoes ness. Obviously, these people did not know me or just thought the horned rimmed glasses I was rocking with my Superman tee shirt meant I was some kind of Latin Clark Kent.

Ali and Ray are off at the Kids Choice Awards not seeing Sandra Bullock (Vanilla Gorilla – WTF?) and they left Scout with my next door neighbor David. Well, David needed my help for the evening and of course I jumped on it like it was a trampoline when I was in second grade. It was also the night of Amanda’s going away party from the 622 (my old office building). Now Mom this is the part where you stop reading and anyone else that is bored at work continues. Thanks.

So I may or may not allegedly have skipped lunch and then started drinking. It happens to the best of us (when we are 21 and carrying our collegiate amateur status card) but not to professionals like me. I behaved myself because I knew at 7 I had a doggy date. I waltzed home and grabbed Scout for our walk. Now gentle reader let’s think about this. The 50+ pound deaf dog went on a walk with a slightly inebriated clumsy boy for a walk. I decided that this needed my full attention so I left my iPod at home and didn’t even get on my cell phone after I sent a quick text pick bragging about my ward. I know you are all shocked that my phone left my hand and a drink wasn’t involved.

We managed to do fairly well together until we got to 10th Ave. and 49th street. Scout would not move. She was insistent to the point of belligerence that she was crossing that street and going to the Hudson. Sully would have been proud of her dedication to the cause. It dawned on me how stupid one must look fighting with a deaf dog because I wasn’t talking to her (She’s deaf) so it was more of a physical exchange and visual pleading. People must have been like “why doesn’t the moron just call her?” I felt like Carrie Bradshaw when she took Pete out for a walk and the dog got the runs on the street and she is explaining to people “He’s not my dog”. Later I was told there was a dog park just down the street which was probably what Scout was after. Finally Scout relented because the wind changed and something caught her smell.

We were walking down 10th back to home when she came across two other dogs. The guy walking them was yelling commands and being all Cesar the dog whisperer while I am just holding the chain. The boy dog totally wanted to tap Scout but the girl dog was all fierce and growling. Scout of course just stood there all happy oblivious to this exchange and then trying to sniff her new friends. The guy looks at me and asks me why I am not doing anything. I look at him and say “Dude, my Dog’s deaf what do you want me to do?” But, seriously, what am I supposed to do? The guy lost his attitude and managed to yank his dogs away. Scout looked at me licked her nose and moved on.

When we got home I ordered myself some Mac and Cheese from Eatery with a side of DVR to celebrate. Scout sniffed around the apartment for awhile but quickly lost interest with me and sat herself in front of the front door and gave me the look that I usually only get on first dates. You know the look – the one that screams “seriously let me out of here I have more important things to do then hang out with you - like licking myself and drinking out of toilets.” I took her home and in that short time was defeated because Eatery called and said they couldn’t deliver for some b.s. reason. I had no choice but to cook (i.e. call Vynl) and plop down for some Mean Girls and Modern Family. Overall a success.