Read Online Dog Named Leaf by Allen Anderson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Allen Anderson
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note of panic in my voice.
A woman staff member at the reception desk replied, “He’s in the back of the room.”
I was horrified to see my dog sitting inside a locked cage while all the other dogs were having fun.
My mind reeled with assumptions. Was Leaf being treated badly because he was adopted? Was he not perfectly behaved in their eyes? Thankfully, one of the employees came over and said, “Leaf was playing all day. Around 4:30 he got so focused on Rufus, we thought it best to let Leaf have some quiet time.”
The employee pointed to a dog that looked like a house slipper with legs. Rufus scuttled across the floor and wove in and out and underneathdogs more than twice his size. Knowing how Leaf insanely tries to chase squirrels and rabbits, I immediately understood why they would have to give the furry little dog a rest from my genetically programmed hunter.
The large male dog-watcher opened Leaf’s kennel. Our dog ran out of it fearless, happy, and full of energy. He wiggled over to the man and wagged his tail as the big guy petted him. But the second he spotted Rufus, Leaf’s obsession returned and he took off after the delicate little dog, ready to continue a barrage of rough play. It was obvious why the staff had to monitor his behavior. I appreciated that Leaf hadn’t held it against the male rule-enforcer. He had accepted the kennel time-out session with an attitude that seemed to say
I get it. I’m out of control here. Let me take a nap.
Leaf, who should have been frightened of the man based on his body mass index, hadn’t judged him by appearances. He overcame deeply embedded signals of danger and trusted what he felt in his heart about the person.
Linda and I discovered new things every day about what frightened Leaf. Our previous dogs had short hair, so we’d never needed to find a groomer for them. We didn’t know what to expect from the experience or how groomers did their work. When Leaf needed his first grooming, we looked for a place that would give him a good cocker spaniel haircut. We took him to a groomer in an upscale area of town where many people passed by boutique shops while walking small-breed dogs whom they took everywhere. The groomer at this place, a middle-aged woman with curly brown hair, looked grim when I went to pick up Leaf. “I had to put a muzzle on him,” she said.
“Why?” I asked, surprised at her comment.
“He growled at me when I tried to brush his back end.”
After I brought Leaf home, sporting a cheery red bandanna around his neck, Linda and I discussed the groomer’s comments. Did she havean issue with our dog because she wasn’t used to working with a tough, streetwise guy like Leaf? We decided to try one more time with her and to look for a different groomer if it didn’t work out.
When I brought Leaf in for his second grooming, neither of the groomers looked happy to see me. I picked him up four hours later, and the groomer said, “I love dogs and I know you adopted him from a shelter. He doesn’t like to be groomed, but I’ll keep working with him. Maybe he’ll adjust.”
I hoped that Leaf would eventually make friends with this groomer. I appreciated that she was willing to let him stay as a client but figured we needed to have an alternate to whom he might relate better.
At the dog park one day, Linda overheard a man talking about a great groomer named Patty who was always booked up months in advance. We decided to see if we could get Leaf in to see her for his next grooming. Patty, as it turned out, had over thirty years of experience. We believed she could handle Leaf. With her firm voice and love of dogs, there was no reason to doubt that Patty would know how to keep him safe as well as well groomed.
Leaf’s tendency to dominate everything and everyone in his universe caused all kinds of challenging situations. He upended my life with his problems and endless needs. Because of this, Linda nicknamed him Alpha Dog of the World.
A woman staff member at the reception desk replied, “He’s in the back of the room.”
I was horrified to see my dog sitting inside a locked cage while all the other dogs were having fun.
My mind reeled with assumptions. Was Leaf being treated badly because he was adopted? Was he not perfectly behaved in their eyes? Thankfully, one of the employees came over and said, “Leaf was playing all day. Around 4:30 he got so focused on Rufus, we thought it best to let Leaf have some quiet time.”
The employee pointed to a dog that looked like a house slipper with legs. Rufus scuttled across the floor and wove in and out and underneathdogs more than twice his size. Knowing how Leaf insanely tries to chase squirrels and rabbits, I immediately understood why they would have to give the furry little dog a rest from my genetically programmed hunter.
The large male dog-watcher opened Leaf’s kennel. Our dog ran out of it fearless, happy, and full of energy. He wiggled over to the man and wagged his tail as the big guy petted him. But the second he spotted Rufus, Leaf’s obsession returned and he took off after the delicate little dog, ready to continue a barrage of rough play. It was obvious why the staff had to monitor his behavior. I appreciated that Leaf hadn’t held it against the male rule-enforcer. He had accepted the kennel time-out session with an attitude that seemed to say
I get it. I’m out of control here. Let me take a nap.
Leaf, who should have been frightened of the man based on his body mass index, hadn’t judged him by appearances. He overcame deeply embedded signals of danger and trusted what he felt in his heart about the person.
Linda and I discovered new things every day about what frightened Leaf. Our previous dogs had short hair, so we’d never needed to find a groomer for them. We didn’t know what to expect from the experience or how groomers did their work. When Leaf needed his first grooming, we looked for a place that would give him a good cocker spaniel haircut. We took him to a groomer in an upscale area of town where many people passed by boutique shops while walking small-breed dogs whom they took everywhere. The groomer at this place, a middle-aged woman with curly brown hair, looked grim when I went to pick up Leaf. “I had to put a muzzle on him,” she said.
“Why?” I asked, surprised at her comment.
“He growled at me when I tried to brush his back end.”
After I brought Leaf home, sporting a cheery red bandanna around his neck, Linda and I discussed the groomer’s comments. Did she havean issue with our dog because she wasn’t used to working with a tough, streetwise guy like Leaf? We decided to try one more time with her and to look for a different groomer if it didn’t work out.
When I brought Leaf in for his second grooming, neither of the groomers looked happy to see me. I picked him up four hours later, and the groomer said, “I love dogs and I know you adopted him from a shelter. He doesn’t like to be groomed, but I’ll keep working with him. Maybe he’ll adjust.”
I hoped that Leaf would eventually make friends with this groomer. I appreciated that she was willing to let him stay as a client but figured we needed to have an alternate to whom he might relate better.
At the dog park one day, Linda overheard a man talking about a great groomer named Patty who was always booked up months in advance. We decided to see if we could get Leaf in to see her for his next grooming. Patty, as it turned out, had over thirty years of experience. We believed she could handle Leaf. With her firm voice and love of dogs, there was no reason to doubt that Patty would know how to keep him safe as well as well groomed.
Leaf’s tendency to dominate everything and everyone in his universe caused all kinds of challenging situations. He upended my life with his problems and endless needs. Because of this, Linda nicknamed him Alpha Dog of the World.
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