I have a new definition of the word “frisky” – our 6-month-old puppy, Fosse. She’s a bundle of energy that adores my wife and occasionally me. I have the two toughest dog duties – first and last outings of the day, and too often dinnertime. On most days, it’s very routine – up at 7a, leashes on, pee, poop, pee, and treat before my wife gives them “ham time” and breakfast. Tally, her 14-year-old schnauzer sister moves slowly through the process while Fosse ravishes her puzzle bowl of kibbles. The sounds of her scooting the bowl around and devouring the contents echo loudly through the house – like a madman on the loose. 

Yesterday was rainy in the afternoon, while the dog park was being fertilized and off limits in the morning. They did not get to burn off much energy, so Fosse in particular was restless. She’d follow us everywhere we went, hoping that my wife would fire up the golf cart and take her to the park for some interaction with her play buddies. She watched as I performed another of my duties – cleaning the diarrhea-stained dining room rug, thanks to Tally. In old age, she doesn’t have the iron stomach that she grew up with, so there are accidents. Fosse has a few as well, so the Spot Shot gets a regular work out. For especially bad areas, out comes the carpet cleaner. A rainy day was a good time for such throw rug maintenance. They naturally never go on the tile surfaces, that comprise most of our flooring, where clean-up would be simple. 

Fosse has been pretty good about not running off when I briefly take her off the leash to go back inside. Tally has to get a drink at the water fountain by the front door, while Fosse goes the opposite direction inside looking for her treat. I’m usually stretched to the max between the two of them. This morning, I unhooked Fosse and she took off like a shot down the street, teased a huge, fluffy, neighbor dog that she like to bark at, and would not respond to my pleas. She bolted the opposite direction, crossed our unbusy street, chased a rabbit, and became a speck in the distance. My leg was cramping and painful, so I couldn’t keep up, while Tally was still on the leash and reluctant to move. I had no choice but to let her off and limp after Fosse. Now, I had two dogs without restraints. Finally, out of breath, I gave up the chase and went home to retrieve the golf cart.

This was when my wife came out of the house, clearly unhappy that I had lost control of her babies. She was half dressed and ungroomed. I yelled out, “get the golf cart,” knowing that Fosse would think that she was missing out on the dog park. Sure enough, after dodging me for what seemed like an eternity, she went straight to my wife. I got a lecture about letting her off the leash and countered that it hadn’t happened before. It was a typical dog argument that I would never win. She’s constantly worried about cars and alligators – I should be more cautious. While she finally got properly dressed to take them to the dog park, I once again had them fully harnessed, even the escape artist that was bucking like a bronco trying to once again get away. Whew – what a frisky start to the morning!