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A few posts back, I mentioned that Lomax’s first puppy raiser warned me to watch out for a water bottle fetish that ultimately, at least in my experience, he seems to have overcome. But our trip to my church’s “Fall Festival of Fun” carnival enlightened me as to a few of his other interests.

For example — and Joanna had also warned me about this one — he does enjoy balloons. One of the kids had left a very small balloon on the ground behind a table, and Lomax spied it just before I did; fortunately, a quick “Leave it!” did the trick.

Secondly, there’s the basketball obsession. Our obedience class meets at a park next to a basketball court where there’s always a spirited pickup game; we were placed at the end of the line one night, which I thought would be good because there would only be dogs on one side of us. Lomax was perfectly focused and alert…until the game started and a pack of wildly flailing, smack-talking, “BOOyah”-ing young men sped past us, laughing and swatting at each other on their way to the hoop nearest us.

BOIIINNNNNGGGGG! Lomax snapped. Lunge, wag, spring, pull. NOOOOOOOOOOOO! Jenny responded. Pop, command, correct, control. I did get his focus back, but every time the guys were on our end of the court, he wanted to go play.

I thought it was the running and excitement that had captured his attention, but at the Fall Festival, I noticed a similar theme. We heeled past the bounce house full of giggling and shrieking kids, no problem. Tables full of food, didn’t even look. Speakers blasting music, no big deal. Free-throw shoot, BOIIINNNNNGGGGG!

Hmm. Let’s try this again. Bean bag toss, been there. Ring toss, done that. Bowling with some 2-liter soda bottles and a basketb–BOIIINNNNNGGGGG!

I suspect Lomax’s real ambition is to become a point guard for the Lakers.

Don’t get me wrong, I’d be fine with that if I thought he would use the exorbitant salary to pay his share of the rent, maybe pitch in for the gas money I’m spending to drive him around town all the time. But I suspect he’d get swept up in the sports celeb scene and fritter away his millions on balloons, babes and bling. He’s very smart, but I’m concerned about his financial savvy and his discernment when it comes to gold-digging Golden Retrievers.

So we’ve had a long talk, and despite his initial protestations that “Air Bud” was very successful and popular with the chicks, I think we’ve agreed that guide work is a much more noble and important career. I assured him that girls find him plenty attractive without the uniform and the tattoos. But in a spirit of compromise, I’m letting him keep this.

Lomax and I went over to Trooper’s this afternoon so his puppy raiser Madeline could attend a function dog-free. While the boys are members of the same puppy group as well as classmates in Tuesday night obedience, we hadn’t yet been over for a playdate; I was unsure what to expect, because even though Lomax is an appropriately submissive dog, it’s Trooper’s turf and he can be a little pushy. But I had nothing to worry about. Taking advantage of the fact that Madeline has an actual house with an actual yard, the handsome boys of boundless energy spent a hefty chunk of time in boisterous run/tug/tussle/fetch/snort mode, with nary a sign of aggression.

I was very pleased with Lomax’s attentiveness! I asked him to “drop” his end of the toy several times in mid-tug, and he was very good about that (unlike “Lockjaw” Trooper, who surrenders what’s in his mouth to NO man). He was also quite willing to come to me when I called, even in the heat of battle…er, playtime. His fine efforts were met, as always, with heaps of praise and kisses and ear- and bellyrubs.

Lomax has also been more affectionate with me recently. It’s not that he was standoffish or shy before — or that I didn’t try to encourage affection — it’s more that he was acting like a proper English gentleman: polite and dignified, not overly emotionally demonstrative and kissy, and respectful of a lady’s boundaries. (This is how Amy and I came to refer to him as “Lord Lomax.”) I think, though, that he and I are continuing to bond as time goes on. He’s more likely to cuddle up next to me on the floor unbidden now, more likely to be an enthusiastic ear-licker if I’m within range. And I think I may retract my assessment that brother Liam is the “happiest dog I’ve ever met,” because my sweet Lomax is an absolute joy machine with smiles and wags and wiggles for all.

His work ethic knows no limits. His creed? “On concrete or carpet, towels or turf, I will sleep the deep slumber of the waiting springboard of potential energy — the working dog — ready at a moment’s notice for the instruction, the treat, the potty break, or the beloved release command! Onward! Zzzzzzzz.”

My black tights, which I am wearing today because it’s raining and I’m in a skirt, do not enjoy the velcro strap from Lomax’s puppy jacket, which made ferocious contact as I was hurriedly removing said puppy jacket so said little dog could pee quickly so we could get out of the rain. No good, I say. No good.

Last night Lomax and I attended a barbecue — hot dogs, of course — in celebration of Bella, a sweet little female Lab who’s being turned in for formal training today. After a nice out-of-jacket, off-leash few minutes of greeting and sniffing and running with lovely Bella, Lomax was once again relegated to working status.

I could tell it was hard work for Mr. Happy (one of his many nicknames). I had him back on leash and in jacket, sitting or lying at my feet, the rest of the time we were there. He does love everyone! Perhaps it’s simply the force of his wagging tail that propels his happy hiney out of a nice sit position, but calm greetings are still a challenge for us. I know he’ll get better at it — Bella’s people were saying that two months ago, she was the same way, and that something just clicked one day in terms of maturity. She sat beautifully still…perhaps contemplating her impending time at college?

It was a fun evening, and good practice for both of us. All I could think, though, was that this “night before turn-in” will be upon me before I know it. I am already dreading the moment I will switch off my bedroom light with Lomax next to my bed for the last time. It will be a horrible and beautiful thing, letting him go.

I spent the rest of the evening watching TV with Amy and cuddling on the floor with an exhausted dog. Good work, little man.

I’ve shared with you some of Lomax’s little quirks, and a few of our outings and adventures, but now that I’ve had him for a full month (well, okay, just over a month, and I’ve been meaning to post this but the past week has been busy), I thought you might be interested in an overall report on his behavior.

We’re constantly practicing obedience: on my breaks at work, while we’re waiting somewhere, on walks in my neighborhood, all the time. And when it’s just the two of us, he’s stellar. Excellent heel position on a loose lead, very attentive, not ground-sniffy, terrific recall when we’re playing or when I put distractions in his way. Even in our obedience class, full of other dogs big & small, young & old, male & female, intact & “fixed,” he does incredibly well when the two of us are called out to solo, as it were. It’s obvious he enjoys working.

But the second there are other dogs in motion anywhere near him, all that goes out the window. It takes several stiff leash-pop corrections to get him to pay attention, then he’s good until one gets too close. When the whole obedience class is walking at once, he’ll all of a sudden stop a perfect “heel” in mid-stride and jump into a play stance as though he’s about to pounce on the dog walking in front of us. We were out walking tonight, and he was magnificently on the ball until he heard someone walking a tiny yappy-dog about a block behind us. Mid-stride, he wheeled around and wanted to go in the other direction. I had to correct him twice, keep him moving, talk to him the whole way and make him turn a corner and do some obedience in order to get him re-focused. It’s like someone flips a switch in his brain.

I took him up to the monthly puppy class at GDA last weekend, and felt like he was a completely different dog than the one who’d been with me at home that morning. Of course, the school is full of the sights, sounds and smells of literally hundreds of other dogs, so the distraction factor is higher than usual. We did a little recall test with him, just a trainer with some toys, and me and Lomax — he did okay, but wasn’t his usual attentive self. I wondered if I was doing something wrong, but the trainer reassured me that Lomax is actually doing well for only having been with me for this short amount of time (after having spent ten months bonding with another puppy raiser).

The last couple of weeks have been tougher than the first few, and I’m wondering if something clicked and he’s realizing that he’s not just a guest here but actually a resident — and testing me (whether I passed or failed in his estimation, I am now wise to his plan). I’m also wondering if, since he was used to living with another dog or two, he is more distracted by dogs now because he misses having regular playtime. Mostly, I am wondering how much of this is me not being tough enough on him, and how much is simply his age and intact status.

From the beginning, there were things I was expecting him to do well and things I was expecting him to be challenged by, because I had asked his last puppy raiser about a thousand questions. But for whatever arbitrary adolescent dog reason, he has surprised me in a few areas.

For example, I heard he had a “water bottle fetish” of sorts, so I purposely set him up and tempted him left and right: I left several bottles on low bookshelves, I stood near him with a water bottle in my hand and my arm down by my side, at his face level, et cetera. I practically dared him to go for it. I even swirled the water around and pretended I wasn’t paying attention. But he has not once, to this day, even cast a sideways glance at my dear friend Arrowhead 24oz Sports Top Bottle.

Things that have quickly improved:

• Perpendicular sit: for the first few weeks, he’d “swing out” to the left (perpendicular and looking at me) when I told him to sit, and I constantly had to put him in the correct position next to me. Now he’s great.

• Heeling on the stairs: upstairs is nearly perfect, downstairs is generally very good unless he REALLY has to pee, early in the morning. (And can you blame him?)

• The sneaky soldier-crawl: we’re working on keeping him where I put him in a stay by giving him a blanket as a boundary. When he streeeeetches or rolls (“I’m staying, technically. I didn’t move my butt off the ground. What’s six inches to the left between friends?!? Look how cute I am!”) and moves over the edge of the blanket, he gets a correction. Getting better all the time!

Obviously, this is all a learning experience for me too; I know I’m not doing everything perfectly, and everyone has bad days. But I think Lomax and I are well on our way and building more trust all the time (even our teeth brushing is improving!), and the support and encouragement of the other puppy raisers in my group has been invaluable.

I know that real love means looking out for the best interest of the other party, which means you sometimes have to be firm (as they say at the school, “persistent, consistent and insistent”). I love him as much when I’m correcting him or putting medicine on his face as I do when I’m cradling him and rubbing his tummy. Judging from the way he wags his tail when I bring him out of a dead sleep just by whispering his name and telling him he’s a good boy, I think he loves me too.

…and boy, are my arms tired.

No joke. When I’m done with this dog — or he with me — I will surely have the scariest biceps this side of the governor’s office.

Lomax isn’t very noisy. I don’t think I’ve heard him whine once, save for the occasional low-volume, split-second “hmEE!” sound he makes when he’s elated to see me and itching to play.

But even his breathing makes me happy. When he comes out of the kennel in the morning, the first thing he does is stretch. Then he picks up the nearest chew toy and circles me for as long as I’ll stand in one place. With his ears back and butt wiggling so hard and fast you’d think it would impair his forward motion, he circles and circles, breathing out this amazing sort of half-snort:

“Ffffff. Ffff-ffff. Fffff-ffff. FFF!”

He should have been born into the “F” litter. Maybe he has a secret dog name that he’s trying to communicate to me. Maybe it’s Frank, or Fabio. Or maybe it’s just “Fff.” I suspect, in fact, that they all have secret dog names.

Dog One: “Greetings, General Fff!”
Dog Two: “Captain RrrRrr. How are the troops looking today?”
Dog One: “Excellent, sir. Though I am a bit concerned about Corporal HmEEEEE-HweeeEEEE-HmEEEEEEeee — he seems upset about something.”

GDA doesn’t really have a breeding program. They just call the “breeder” dogs up to the facility every once in a while, give the Labs a good brushing, and build new puppies out of the hair.