Month: March 2013

My name is Bond – Dog Bond…

Well, hello once again, gentle readers. It’s time for a short status update on the canine relationship in the Kammerer household…

I believe I will begin at 4:00 AM Monday morning, about 11 hours after Murphy Patrick Harrigan O’Kammerer first walked through the front door of his new palatial estate (our house). That’s because 4:00 AM is (apparently) shortly after the time that Judy departed the homestead on her way to the airport to catch a 5:35 AM flight to San Francisco for a conference. I say “apparently” because I have no recollection of her actually leaving.

I first noticed that she was missing when I heard, what sounded like, a wolf howling at the moon. Inside my house. At 4:00 AM. In the dark.

Had I not been asleep at the time, I would have been more clear headed and recorded it and then found a way to assign it to Judy’s alarm clock tone on her cell phone.

But I digress…

I got up, opened the bedroom door, walked down the hallway and followed the call of the wild until I happened across the source. When Murphy saw he, he immediately ceased verbal communication, sauntered over to me and demonstrated his joy at seeing me still present in the domicile.

Like a good dad, I squatted down in front of him and assured him that I was still there and had no plans to boogie in the near future.

(Later that night, I told Judy about it over the phone. She said “Howling?”.

I replied, “Yes. Like a wolf.”

“You mean like this,” and proceeded to loudly say the long drawn out word “Aaooooooooooooooo!”

“Yes, quite like that, actually. Although, if I was in a hotel room with people all around me, I would probably not do that particular imitation.”)

I led him back to his bed (The Murphy Bed), coaxed him into curling up on top of it, said goodnight and walked down the hallway to the bedroom. I decided to leave the door open in case he needed to hear me snoring or something, just to make sure I was still there… I drifted off to sleep.

A couple of hours later, I poured myself out of bed and headed toward the room with no telephone and the big hole in the chair. On the way, I noticed that I tripped over something quite fluffy, though not all that soft…

Now that we were both wide awake, I went out and fixed him breakfast. I think my culinary talents must be improving because he seemed to like the breakfast breakfast I assembled for him. But then, dog food isn’t that hard to cook, I guess…

After breakfast, we girded our loins for battle (I put on pants and he put on his leash) and went for another walk around part of the yard to which he had, as yet, not been introduced. We had a great time marking our trail (‘we’, meaning ‘he’). This is all in an effort to familiarize him with the boundaries of the place. Some day we are going to go out there without a leash, and I want him to know where he is while we’re hiking around or dragging fallen trees, etc.

After a productive morning of work, we spent lunch time exploring and getting familiar with the neighborhood, topped off with a trip to the store to get some milk and bread. I wanted to see how he would react to a ride in the back seat of the truck. And how he would react to stayingin the truck for five minutes while I rushed in, got the stuff and rushed out.

I’m happy to say that he did GREAT! When I got back, he was in the driver’s seat with one of his paws on the steering wheel and a big smile on his face! By the time I got the phone out to take a picture, his paw was back in place underneath him. Bummer… It would have made a GREAT picture…

We have been learning a lot about each other the past couple of days. He knows I work upstairs, and I go up and down several times a day. He’s not at the point where he’s figured out that when I go downstairs during the day, I will probably be back up in about 30 seconds, so he follows me every trip up and down and up and down and up and down and up and down…

I am pretty sure that he’ll get over that soon enough and start waiting to see if I’m coming back up/down shortly before he follows me.

Fast forward to about 4:00 this morning…

Again, last night, I left the bedroom door open in case Murphy needed reassurance. I really slept well last night, but I woke up at about 4:00 with a feeling of pressure in my chest. That kinda spooked me until I put my hand there and found that it was Murphy’s head. He had hopped up on the bed in the night, curled up to me and slept with his head on my chest.

A couple of more walks today and another trip in the truck to go get the mail.

Tonight’s walk was the longest one since he’s been here. Maybe two miles round trip. At one point we came upon a covey of quail. (For those of you who don’t know what a ‘covey’ of quail is, it’s a group of quail. Like a ‘congress of baboons’ – yes, that’s what a group of baboons is really called – or a ‘noise of children’ – no, that’s not what a group of children is really called, but it is fun to think so.)

My right arm is now about 2 inches longer than my left…

I’m figuring out what English he knows.. So far, this is what I know he knows:

Off

Stay

Sit

Go

This way

Off

Good dog

Good boy

Heel

Murphy

Off

No

OK

Back

Treat

Off

I’m also figuring out to which English he best responds:

Off

This way

Treat

Back

Treat

All in all, I think we are bonding well…

On to Wednesday!

Fifteen days ago, we lost a beloved member of the family… It was, as most of you know – many from going through the same experience – even recently so, quite painful for both of f us.There has been a great big hole in our home, and in our hearts, since then.

That’s not what this post is about…

Today, we welcomed a new member into the family! We have filled in a big part of that hole, and Judy and I are happy to say that we traveled about 500 miles round trip this weekend and adopted another Brittany!

He is either 8 years and 8 months old, or he’s 5 years and 1 month old – we’re not sure. There is conflicting information on that. We hope to clear that up on Monday. Either way, he is a very sweet dog and he is lying down right beside my chair as I type.

We found him in a rescue home in Quincy CA. He had been there for about a month after the foster “parents” rescued him from a shelter where he had been for three weeks after being surrendered by his former owner.

We discovered that he has an interesting “name” history. Apparently, he has gone by the name “Dog” for most of his life. The folks who welcomed him into their home and loved him up over the last month thought he deserved a more imaginative name, so they renamed him “Dodger”. A much better name for a dog – it makes him more personal.

Long story short, Judy contacted Louise and Derrek (his foster parents) when she found Dodger online. After several traded emails and phone calls, we all agreed to a meeting in Yuba City this afternoon to make sure everybody agreed that this was a good idea. We met, and the decision was made…

Judy had been talking with her sister, Kathy, about it and Kathy mentioned that it’s often suggested that the new owners change the name, for some reason. This kinda fit into our situation…

You see, while the name “Dodger” was a massive upgrade from the name “Dog”, I, and most of my family are from San Francisco, where the word “Dodger” is not spoken in polite company. 

This, of course, presented a bit of a concern for us because, in other circumstances, it is a great name for a dog. For instance, if you live (or grew up) in Los Angeles, or Brooklyn, you couldn’t go wrong giving your dog that moniker. But my family either all lives in Northern CA, after being born here, or they live in San Diego where the name is held in nearly equal disfavor.

Another concern was that we didn’t want to hurt Louise and Derrek’s feelings because they came up with such a good name for a dog.

Concern number two was alleviated just as we were parting company this afternoon. Louise and I had just said goodbye when she said, “Oh! By the way, do you know how he got his name?”

She related the story to me and finished up with “So you can rename him to anything you want, if you like.”

I told her my relief and the reason for it. She asked if we were going to name him “Giant”.

“No, Judy ‘s a Padres fan,” I said. “We will think of something appropriately neutral.”

With the demise of concern number two, the demise of concern number one became reality…

We had about a four hour drive home and had a great time with Dodger. He’s a happy doggie…

On the way home, we were thinking of names left and right. None of them seemed to fit. About 90 minutes away from home, Judy saw a sign with the name “Kelly” on it. How about “Kelly”? After all, it IS St. Patrick’s Day.”

I almost involuntarily changed lanes.

“YOU ARE A GENIUS!,” said I… “But not Kelly – – – – HARRIGAN!”

“We could call him “Harry,” she replied.  “Or there’s ‘Patrick’,” she went on. After all, it’s St. Patrick’s Day.”

“We could call him ‘Paddy’,” I responded. “No, that doesn’t sound like a nick name for a dog. It’s a much better nick name for a hamburger.”

We went on like this for about three quarters of an hour. Then it hit me…

“Murphy,” I blurted out… “We can call him ‘Murphy…”

It was brilliant, I know… But we were still not quite satisfied. We liked all of them – Harrigan (because it was my Irish Grandparents’ name), Patrick (because it was his day, though we couldn’t see ourselves calling a dog Patrick, or any derivative of Patrick) and Murphy because it’s a great name for a dog…

The indecision was monumental… A single decision was not forthcoming…

So here’s what we decided to go with…

Say “Hello” to Murphy Patrick Harrigan O’Kammerer…

He even looks, Irish, doesn’t he? Actually, I think he looks like Carl Malden…