16 June 2012
Deflecting the marauding shnauzer ahpso hair band.
The hot day was turning to the cool time, so we walked over to the school field for a bit of frisbee. Otterpop brought the frisbee herself. We walk by the houses even smaller than mine to get there. Rainbows painted on garages, yards made out of rocks and weeds. People grow tomatoes in buckets and sit on the stoops, having a smoke and talking loud on phones. The only thing you have to watch out for at the soccer field is you never know what dogs will be there, sometimes it's too pitbull for my tastes and we just walk home. We were hopeful, all ready for a good frisbee end to the day.
Only dogs visible, a far off pack of Shnauzer ahpsos. Lhasa doodles? Maltese stubbins? Don't know what you call them. But a lot and they were circling their person at the very far end and looked fine to me. They outnumbered us, but we could take 'em if we had to. We've been up against packs like these before.
Of course it was a setup. They were waiting for us, like they'd been tipped off. Some kind of inside job. The whole lot of them charged when they saw us walk in, we didn't have a chance in hell against the ambush. Oh Mr. Orange, you are a sly dog, yes you are. The jig was up. We braced ourselves behind the baseball backstop, ready for the rumble. All we were armed with was frisbee, a couple pocket cookies, and LIE DOWN.
The man came after the pack, ambling on his own time. It was hot, he was chubby. The charging mass of them circled us, barking. They came in every color and were within inches of the Team, yapping and flailing and not sounding all too friendly. I just stand there smiling, armed with frisbee.
And say what you will, we may be failed agility champs, but we sure are one tight mob. Otterpop is like Mr. White. Volatile, but dependable in this kind of crisis. Her fuse never went off, not for a moment. She is a pro. Ruby just lays there, not moving a muscle, steady as a rock. Gustavo is like Mr. Pink. Jumpy, yet able to hold his ground and keep his shit together. His is snaggle toothed, but in a lovable way. And he is not going to give it up for little dogs with bangs.
Baby face Nicey nice man finally arrived, and tries to corral the uncontrollable. My dogs don't bat an eye. I stand there above, all Wizard of Dog. I kind of look all groovy, like all mystical and shit because my dogs are magic and can diffuse the power of the yappy pack and just lay there, immune to the mayhem. He is useless to pack up his dogs. I hold only a frisbee. Not even a good one. A second stringer, picked up from under a bush. I will not hesitate to stomp an attacker if it pounces, but they seem to be content to circle and yelp.
Finally I say, real slow, "One of my dogs is reeeeeaaaaaal mean."
LIke I am not kidding. I have a loaded weapon here, that could totally take out your Ahpsos. I am elusive as to which one. Back away real easy now and no one gets hurt. This hustles him up and he clips onto leashes and mumbles some thing or another and I just stand tall, swaying in the breeze.
When he's clear I let them all go on an OK, off they go for some frisbees. All of us run to the far away side of the field, empty of ahspos and ready to frisbee. Within moments, predictably, the Ahso Shitzos come flailing back. Run bark run bark run bark run. These are ribbons in the hairdo kind of dogs. They can't help it that they're feral, their soft man made them this way. They are making headway and once again, I call everyone in for the magic LIE DOWN. I am smiling and showing my teeth and the man still mumbles and all he can see is the sun going down and glinting off my teeth. My teeth are smiling hard and he will be blinded if he doesn't look away and my dogs stay motionless, on their down.
It takes him a long time to collect his dogs. We have all the time in the world.
Once attached, he drags them in their walk of shame to the street and shuffles away on the sidewalk. We have the whole field to run up and down and down and up. This is a good way to end the day. I'm not sure if I am a judgemental bitch, or a silent ambassador of dog manner goodness. My smiling teeth may have looked dangerous, like when a shark eyeballs you even though it's grinning. Some days, though, long days that are a lot of the same old same old, it's nice to have a moment of awesome, a little victory but a victory nonetheless.
by team small dog at 10:27 PM