Dog walking is one of the great American past time. For the people who have dogs, I guess. I love walking my dog. We live near a dog park, so I walk him often. Luckily, no one really goes there, so except for the homeless and occasional making out teenagers, it’s pretty quiet. I hate running into people there who have dogs, though. For one thing, my dog is sure he’s the toughest canine on the Earth. Apparently, he thinks he’s a werewolf. He isn’t. He’s a shitzu-poodle. With big foofie ears and a little pom-pom tail. His hair is long, curly, and black, and his back legs skip on every third step. What he considers a threatening bark, I call a deepish yip. I hate running into people with dogs because he turns into Mr. Short and Aggressive. Until the other dog responds. Then he suddenly feels rather curious, and the area behind me holds a lot of interest for him.
The most embarrassing time to walk him is after he goes to the groomer. If the words, “He looks like a girl” rang true before, why, they’re gospel now. He loses all of the shaggy-ness that might have hinted towards him being male. The groomer (who we call “The Pretty Lady”) shaves his sides, fluffs his ears, fluffs his tail, too, and wa la, you have an effectively ladyfied poodle!
It really wouldn’t be as bad if he really was female. I see someone, say a girl I know from class, and the dialogue goes something like this:
Girl: “Ah, you’re dog is so cute!”
Me: “Oh, thanks.”
Girl: “What kind of dog is it?”
Me: “Shitzuh-poodle.”
(This is where the awkward part starts.)
Girl: “What’s her name?”
Me: *shuffling uncomfortably* “Well, you see, his name is Clark. He’s a boy.”
At that point, they give me a look that means, “Sicko.” In some cases, the person I’m talking to is particularly “thick,” and they just can’t get it is that Clark’s a boy. If they’re older, I just let it slide. Otherwise, I just lift Clark up with his legs in the air. That’s what you would call a “quick fix.”
We got Clark in the first place as a guard dog. I’m afraid though that if you have the words, “shitzu” or “poodle” in your name, you just aren’t cut out for guard work. When I was in the fourth grade, my mom read an article about how robbers were funelled towards houses without dogs because otherwise, the owners of houses with dogs would call the police when their dogs woke them up. So mom was stricken with the paranoia that every time a dog barked, some villain drew closer to our house. She didn’t want a big dog, though. The dog she was looking for would have to be smaller, a good lap dog, friendly and nice to its family, vicious and heartless to suspicious people, and very intelligent. (Poodles are one of the smartest dogs.) Well, I guess that Clark and Lewis missed the memo on that last one.
My mom found out about him in the newspaper. After a few weeks, when Clark was finally old enough to be away from his mother, we would get him. (My aunt Mindy would also get a dog. Mom spread the paranoia to her, along with the article.) For names, Mom wanted to name them after famous people. My class was doing a unit on Lewis and Clark, then explorers, now my dog and his brother’s namesake.
Finally, we got Clark. He proved to be the least threatening, friendliest, dumbest little dog I’ve personally ever met. He will do this thing that we call “heebies,” which involves him either grabbing a sock or one of his toys and running around our table, through my dad’s office, around our living room, and stopping behind our coffe table. Until one of us takes a step in his direction. Then he’s back on his heebies route. His only vicious barks are towards friends and family, and only because he’s so excited to see them. Once, some over-condident salesman actually stepped into our house uninvited. Our guard responded to that by actually putting his head in the guy’s hand. In his credit though, at night, he sleeps on the stairs if someone isn’t home. He actually waits for them. Other times though, he just patrols until someone goes to bed. That signals the end of his shift.
Even though Clark’s looks really girly, and he’s too prissy to sleep on the ground without a pillow, he’s a really great dog. He’s a super lovyn little guy. I would trade dumb and affectionate for smart and aggressive anyday.
