Category Archives: TRUMAN

April 9 — Truman’s first South Bay meeting was full of activity. He was officially introduced to the group (though I forgot to mention his status as a very important sponsored dog — whoops!), and actually did quite well lying under my chair for the announcements and official business.

But the fun part was obedience at the beginning of the meeting. The dogs still in puppy kindergarten were separated from the rest of the group and given their own obstacle course and set of distractions.

While Truman and brother Tai looked on the dancing chicken with more than a little concern, my little man took the stairs like a pro. He should be a pro by now — he lives in my third-floor apartment. Here I am telling him if I can run down three flights with him and his tiny bladder at 5:30 in the morning without tripping and killing the both of us, he can certainly deal with six measly steps:

April 7 — Truman’s first puppy class at GDA

The ride up to GDA on Truman’s first Saturday puppy class was lovely, thanks to Velo’s puppy raisers, who offered to carpool. The boys were thrilled to see each other…at least, that’s what I think the ridiculous barking was all about.

The moment we parked and opened the door in the parking lot to “Doggy Disneyland,” as GDA is known, all bets were off. Truman did nothing but bark and lunge and spin in the presence of other dogs. This is not entirely a surprise — the school is a challenge even for older puppies with stellar obedience skills. But Truman was like a piano wire on the verge of snapping, the whole time.

We attempted to take a side-by-side photo with his only other littermate in attendance, but neither of the pups cooperated, so the humans had to step in. Family resemblance, you think? Adorable sister Tori not only looks just like Truman, but they share a similar “voice” as well. “I know you! I know you! BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK!”

After a heeling exercise (which is always a challenge because your dog is either attempting to butt-sniff someone or being butt-sniffed himself) and a little obedience, we paired off with other pups and hunted for Easter eggs.

Such hard work earns you a little rest:

Minimum security prison, exercise equipment, playtime privileges, and he’ll be out in just a little while if he behaves.

April 5 — By the time I get home from work, I’m exhausted, but Truman is charged up and ready to scramble. Wonder why that is.

March 30 — At only twelve weeks old, Truman is already turning on the charm and workin’ it for the camera. If he’s this much of a flirt now, imagine my misery once he gets bigger and starts noticing girls. Heaven help me if he is not neutered early….

March 21 — Truman accompanied me to work for the very first time. I’d like to say it was an easy transition, but it seemed forces were conspiring against us.

I knew it was going to be a challenge, bringing such a frequent piddler to a place where the door to the outside is, what, seventeen miles away from my desk? The nearest exit-to-pee-spot is a sprint to the door of the office suite, out into the hallway, down the stairs, across the lobby to another set of doors, through another hallway, up a few more stairs and finally, FINALLY outside.

I’d been planning to use this one bit of landscaping on the side of my office building since the day I first took a dog there. The older, “street legal” pups could use the grassy areas, but I wanted to find a spot where there were fewer neighborhood visitors. It’s a perfect little patch — away from office windows (“Sorry about the pooping dog, Mrs. Johnson. Shall we discuss your upcoming surgery?”), on a side street instead of busy Wilshire Boulevard, containing a big enough packed-dirt area to be minimally distractive in terms of leaves and twigs and rocks, not directly in view of passersby.

Turns out, however, CalTrans had other ideas. I got Truman to work and took him out to get busy immediately, successfully navigating the halls, stairs, lobby and doors, only to arrive outside to the sounds of jackhammers and construction equipment. Thirty workers or so, stomping around yelling orders to each other over the din. Orange cones and yellow caution tape. Utter earsplitting chaos. There could not be a scenario less conducive to a peaceful potty break. I mean, hey — I wouldn’t want to pee there, either.

But we pressed on. I plopped little Truman down amongst the landscaping…and the mud. And because I have to relieve him while he’s on leash, somehow keeping him from eating every molecule of matter off the ground and nearby plant life, I had to stand in there with him. So my boots — the ones that go with my warmest sweater, which I had worn in anticipation of the promised rare chilly day in Southern California — also collected deep tread wells full of that mud. I thought the long walk around the building back to the entrance (we can’t go back in our exit door, unfortunately) would work it out before we went back inside, but it was not to be. Many were the chunks of dried mud upon the office carpet in my cubicle. Many, and according to Truman, delicious.

He didn’t have to pee, or so he led me to believe after 15 minutes of my most diligent effort. Nope, didn’t have to pee…until we went all the way around the building and back inside.

So I did the circuit once again, by this time sweating profusely in the aforementioned warmest sweater, carrying a wiggling-and-hopefully-not-spraying puppy, back through the lobby and into the whaddaya-know-it’s-going-to-be-80-degrees-today weather. And don’t get me started on the ridiculous winds we were having, which did more to whip Truman into a frenzy than anything else I’ve seen thus far. Still, he peed like a champ, not nearly as concerned with the construction as with whatever swirling foliage he could get into his mouth.

This happened several times throughout the day. How much work did I get done? I feel like I should give back part of my paycheck.

Philippians 3:2 (English Standard Version).