Jack and Mo’Peds

Mo’Peds

It takes three nights to finally get a grip on RELAXING.  Puppy sitting for my daughter’s new Golden Doodle  brings moments (long moments) of youth versus old age mostly because I’ve brought along Jack, my ancient Beagle/Springer Spaniel mix with whom I am quickly identifying.

Since being asked to puppy sit at their beautiful, peaceful home, I have had apparitions of quietly cooking,  watching the new pup,  sunsets, a glass of wine, hot baths,  peace, and tranquility.  I envisioned myself meditating and practicing my yoga (I had borrowed Eat, Pray, Love from the library). All this evaporated like a salt-filled lake in the desert after the very first day.

My first day consisted in a one-on-one with the most adorable golden doodle puppy, Mo’Peds, who I fell in love with.  Jack didn’t seem to adore him quite as much, though I’d catch him looking at this energetic pup with a bit of a smile on his senior face.  Now, a Golden Doodle is half Golden Retriever and half Poodle (Mo’s father was a Standard Poodle) and Mo is the cream on each half.  My kids chose an alpha male with the intention of having a large breed dog who is bold enough to weather at least four feet of snow, 40 mph winds (on a nice day) and coyotes who  might devour him for lunch.  This was no quick decision.  They’d been  married ten years, given this choice a year’s research, consideration and deliberation.  Mo’Peds was it!

This little pup could be a stuffed toy in your arms, cuddled on your lap like a lop-eared bunny at Easter with brown eyes that deny any mischievousness known to man.  Live with this little darling, and you remember he is a PUPPY, ALPHA-MALE, HIGHLY INTELLIGENT, ENERGETIC and will worm his way into your heart and soul while you are fighting your better judgment not to give in to his wiles.  He has already decided at 12 weeks he IS the boss and you ARE his way to get what he wants.  He has only to look at you with those  little brown eyes and mop of caramel colored hair, feet as big as a jack rabbits and nose as black as a calamata olive.  I had my work cut out for me.

I prepped ingredients of food stuffs on Tuesday.   I made re-fried beans from scratch, guacamole,homemade corn tortillas, and corn chowder as well as a raspberry pie.  The dogs and I took long walks in the snow and worked on commands the kids were reinforcing as well as housebreaking.

By the second trip up the icy stairs and into the house, Mo was blocking Jack’s way and giving him grief. This is after Jack had TAUGHT Mo to go up the stairs, pee properly and behave like a respectable dog.  Stairs are Jack’s weakness and Mo takes every advantage as I pull Mo into the cabin giving Jack a chance to climb the stairs and enter on his own.

Now, if you haven’t met Jack in a previous blog, he is 13 years of age and ailing.  He is what is termed a “senior citizen”.  So when Mo cuts him off and blocks his climb to the landing on the stairs, Jack’s look is one of disgust just as an elderly man would look at a youngster who cut in front of him.  After observing this a few times and seeing Mo’s disregard for the elderly, I began intervening earning a grateful look from Jack.

Now, Mo is of the realization that the “Parents” aren’t coming back for a bit and “Oh boy!”.  I catch on to this as the night wears on.  He chews wood, books, furniture and my library book, Eat, Pray, Love, which now bears his teeth marks on the jacket.  I sleep on the floor and Jack sleeps nearby.  Mo crashes in the crate and only wakes once to go out and again at 7:00 a.m. upon which we take a long walk towards the wood.  Now Jack seeing a small watering spring, iced over, becomes Daniel Boone crashing into it, mud up to his belly, lapping away furiously.  I’m figuring it is the wood heat as Mo looks on in awe and then attempts to follow.  Jack then is struggling to get out of the pond as I’m thinking how to clean him up.  Mo heads toward a weed he sees to devour forgetting about Jack’s predicament.  This pup, underweight for starters, seems determined to eat everything in sight:  weed, wood, burdock, snow, paper (especially paper!) or whatever is about .  “No people food” and “a bit of chicken broth on his crumbles” are the orders strictly followed.  Except when he dove headfirst into a bowl of Parmesan Goldfish Crackers grabbing a mouthful as I pulled him away, spilling wine on my library book which he immediately lapped up.   Two for Mo, zero for the puppy sitter.   I spend three-quarters of my time with my fingers in his mouth removing whatever he attempts ingesting.

My “no, no, no” and repetitive commands after biting, chewing wood, shoes, as well as my hands were met by an irritated look by Jack as I caught his eye time and again.  Mo had enough fun with me and proceeded to begin pawing and jumping on Jack.  I think Jack was just waiting for this moment, actually.  Mo’s antics were quickly quenched by “ARRGGG!”.  Mo not only stopped but ran and cowered, but only for a minute.  After a minute back at it he got the same response, “ARRGGG!!!“.  I think Jack made his point and I also got a lesson – say it like you mean it!  It worked much better that way though repetition was the rule.

Mo, Jack, and I traipsed around  on the snow and we are blessedly fortunate it has a crust,  so the walk is long, gorgeous, and fresh.  Once inside, I begin the day picking up and greeting my daughter who visits from up north.  She is so sweet, the puppy picks up on this immediately and shows his best nature to her.  He never ceases to amaze me by his intelligence and devilish persistence.  My daughter is right “no” and “Mo” are too close.

Mo’s design:  The Poodle is the brains in this  mix and it might even come to brilliance later in life.  A Golden Retriever is Jack Johnson on the beach, a poodle, on the other hand, is Jack  Nicholson at his best.  Mo, I fearfully suggest, is mostly Poodle.  He is cunning, intelligent, deceptive, effusive, winning, clowning, and drama all the while looking like a show dog at Westminster.  Just as I adore Jack Nicholson this little pup has won my heart with his fun-loving ways and adorable antics.

Hang'in Out Jack and Mo

Within three months time Mo is towering over Jack though he may be a bit under Jack’s weight since Jack is on the portly side.  Mo is now not only learning, but OBEYING commands, excuse me, “safety commands” such as ” sit, stay, down” and, oh yes,  we are still working on “no”.

Mo’Peds sense of humor emerges as he grabs Jack’s leash while walking on the trail acting as if he is the one walking Jack and not I.  Jack simply looks at me with a pleading look for his dignity and  I quickly rectify the situation snapping the leash from Mo’s mouth and placing both leashes at the back of their necks.  Jack never needs a leash, unless law requires it or coyotes are around.  He has always minded (unless he smells cat food  – his great weakness)  however, since his hearing has diminished entirely, and he is partially blind now in his 14th year, we do hand signals and leash occasionally for his own protection.  I will admit to slacking off on the rules and Jack does take liberties.  I feel those liberties are earned considering his age and impeccable history.

Once on the trail, Mo’Ped acts like his batteries are dying, speeding up, slowing down, speeding up, slowing down always with a bounce to his step.  And I mean a BOUNCE!  The fluffy golden hair jumps as he walks and he springs along missing nothing.  If a person appears, the bounce then becomes pronounced.  Mo is in elevation mode focused on the new friend he just can’t wait to meet.  If there’s a dog along, so much the better.  Compliments abound and his tail wags almost off as Jack takes this opportunity to sniff at a post and leave his scent in return apparently disregarding his show stopping sidekick.  Jack knows what is important, tracking  scents, adoring your owner, and winning over the cute little white dog next door.

If there is a burdock within a mile, Mo will find it so I’m on my guard.  He doesn’t shed, so it is like pulling burdock from a child’s head.  Back we head toward home, Jack appearing dignified and wise picking up on the scents and tales they tell.  Mo bounces along head turning at every distraction like a kid in New York City for the first time.  If he has a break in meeting his “fan club” he follows Jack to a scent to check it out, but today he is barraged with compliments, questions and affection.  If he could write, he’d be signing autographs!   As we near the house, I release Jack to wander up through the yard and Mo and I continue on to the house.  He looks at me and pulls and jumps about begging to be unleashed also.  I just pat his head and we continue on.

Fast forward:  Brilliant and incorrigible Mo is now seven and one-half months (that’s three and one-half years in dog age)  The poodle must  dominate nine to one in his genes.  His easy going manner, smiling face and gentle nature has won everyone over.  Not to mention his star studded looks!  He has the instant appeal of Ashton Kucher only with a giant black nose.  Mo still is smarter than the average dog.   He has attached himself to my daughter knowing full well she is the weaker of the two new pet owners.  His devotion is only surpassed by his desire for manipulation.  She keeps saying he is “in training” but I’m beginning to think it is she that is being “trained”.

Mo has moves like Beckham with his paws, head, nose and mouth  moving, feeling and tossing whatever he is curious about.  Now we’re talking BIG PAWS.  At seven months his adorable shaggy, golden head comes to her chest and his feet are the size of scuba fins with fur.  Get hit once with one of his paws and you’ll feel it.  He loves to “mouth” people real nicey nice but if he gets excited or frustrated, the teeth are felt quite sharply.  When my daughter yells at him, he stops, looks at her as if to say, “What!  I didn’t feel a thing!” and then snaps his jaws almost saying “Well!”.  He knows how to soften her up the minute he upsets her, weaving figure eights between her legs, wagging and bumping up against her until she hugs and forgives telling him how wonderful he is.

I’d give her a blue ribbon for dog training due to the lengths she goes to encourage, teach and reprimand but the end result is that Mo does what he wants to do when he wants to do it!  This becomes apparent when I mistakenly thought I’d “assist” with the training while puppy sitting.  Both my daughter and son-in-law would take Mo far in the fields, unleash him and then toss the frisbee.  This was great exercise for all involved.  Mo did not seem to want to drop the frisbee when the retrieve was over.  Well.  Not owning an alpha male myself, Jack being the obedient, docile, gentleman that he is, I volunteer to teach Mo to “drop”.  Left to doggy sit I had plenty of opportunity.  Once in the field, Jack in tow, I tossed the frisbee and unleashed Mo.  Granted, my throwing consists of worm burners and  misguided aim but none the less, Mo was a sport and ran off happily in pursuit.  He’d come back to me when I called,  frisbee in the mouth and drop it five plus feet from me.  At first, I was pleased thinking, “He dropped it!”  Then it occurred to me I was walking for the frisbee almost as far as he had to run.  With every toss he dropped it  just a bit further out so I’d have to walk further.  Silly me, I didn’t catch on right away.  It wasn’t until I was throwing it AND retrieving it myself with him just lying there and watching me, that the light bulb went on.  At first thinking “Oh poor Mo, he must be tired” and then realizing he was enjoying it.  There was a look of glee to his furry face he just couldn’t hide!  Well, one for Mo and zero for the doggy sitter.

The  middle of the night I found myself woke up to loud barking.  Jack slept peacefully since he can no longer hear and was exhausted from walking in the field watching frisbee fiasco.  Okay.  My first thought is Mo must have to go out.  Well no, that wasn’t it.  Water!  how about fresh water?  No.  Ice cubes – I was sure it was ice even though my daughter said he usually stood by the fridge and barked for ice.  He just looked at me and let the cube melt as I checked outside to see if he’d heard anything or one.  No, that wasn’t it either.  As I was checking his food bowl, he walked up the stairs and laid down on his bed with a thud.  I won’t repeat what I thought at that moment but I envied Jack’s deafness.  As I lay awake at 3:30 a.m. unable to fall back asleep, I glanced over at Mo sleeping soundly seeming to have a grin on his furry face.  By 4:30 a.m. I simply got up and began to prepare for the day turning the light on hoping to wake Mo.  It didn’t phase him in the least.  He slept until 5:00 a.m.

I felt very confident of success this morning having spent an hour simply handing a ball back and forth to Mo telling him to drop it and then handing it back to him.  Doggy treats worked like a charm.  Jack got a treat too when Mo did it right.

Out we all went for frisbee again.  A pocketful of treats spurred Mo to retrieve the poorly thrown frisbee.  He tried dropping it four feet from me.  I was not to be suckered in by that again so I hit the palm of my hand  with my other hand  and firmly demanded “drop”.  Drop he did and tiny treats were passed.  I proceeded to throw the frisbee again and again with Jack sharing in Mo’s success.  When the treats ended, so did the retrieval and Mo was letting me throw and retrieve again.

Mo & Me

The next time I watched him I was excited to try the new red halter my daughter had bought him.  She said he walked beautifully when wearing it.  It wasn’t quite an hour before he jumped on his crate, grabbed his halter and chewed it.  All the time I thought he was chewing the bone with the peanut butter I had prepared for  him.  I shamefacedly called the company Fosters and Smith where they bought the halter and asked to purchase another and told what had happened to the first one.  This wonderful company sent another halter to replace the first at no charge.  I was indebted to them and couldn’t wait to sing their praises to anyone with a pet.  No halter, no walk, no exercise without it.   It wasn’t two weeks later, when the NEW halter came in that my daughter left Mo with me.  Mo looked quite dapper  proudly wearing his new halter.  She said to just leave it on and he would be fine. Innocently I believed the halter would be safe.   Imagine my horror when I realized he had chewed the halter right off his body proving my incompetence again at doggy sitting.

Mo is so loving and affectionate, I can’t help but smile while I’m with him.  A great sense of humor, easy going personality, his joy, bravado, fearlessness and fur makes him Jack and my new best friend just as we are his.  He appears to be a large man in a dog suit fitting in perfectly wherever he goes, spreading joy and lifting hearts wherever his paws take him.  Catch a glimpse of him with his head out a car window or bouncing down the canal trail, or hanging out at his home, and spirits are lifted, smiles are shared, joy is passed from his heart to yours.  Just like Jack, Mo teaches people are to be loved, life is to be  lived and the moment is to be seized.

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