Peachie the Labrador: Our Youngest Daughter is a Dog

The human kids are grown and only our yellow labrador, Peachie, remains at home. We brought Peachie to live with us almost fourteen years ago. She was one of eleven brothers and sisters, all seemingly identical. We picked her out of the pile because she was the first to run to our feet and roll over so we could scratch her tummy. We pulled back wet hands. We drove her home nestled and sleeping on my lap.

Peachie was a handful, powerful even as a pup and hard to manage even with a leash. Following her nose-labs live to smell stuff, preferably stuff left by other dogs-Peachie pulled two adults everywhere she went. We spent a bundle on leashes of every kind , read the training manuals, exercised her every day to burn off what we believed was her “excess” energy. Between her hormones and growing muscles, it was hopeless. Friends told us, “It takes three years for labs to calm down.” They were right. So, for three years we threw balls, trekked long distances for her to swim her heart out, chose a small SUV so she could travel without clawing our upholstery into shreds. (My friend’s lab ate the landau roof off his Oldsmobile.)

And the hair! I read somewhere about farm families who relied on working dogs for fur and collected and spun dog hair into threads from which they wove cloth. A daily brushing was not enough. We studied and shopped for a vacuum that could suck up the deluge of dog hair. Labs are famous for shedding. We find bird nests in our garden lined with Peachie’s luxurious yellow fur. Our children and their children complain of allergies. Our car’s carpets are laced with impossible- to -remove yellow fur. We find dog hair in the most inaccessible places. How does it end up on the ceiling fans?

Then there was the question of accommodations. Because we worked and no one was at home days, we bought an outdoor chain-link kennel. I built a beautiful little clapboard dog house with cedar shingles on the roof inside the kennel. I poured a concrete floor for sanitation’s sake. We left her there only once. Our neighbor Val complained that Peachie howled all day long when we left for work. Other neighbors complained that it resembled the county jail from the street. And the first night Peachie slept in her new dog house, she was bitten by a spider. We felt awful. We bought a crate and trained her to that. Ever since, she has slept at the foot of our bed. She loved it. In fact she retreats to her crate evenings before we are ready to turn in. She never wet or soiled her crate. It was her forever home. Oh, and did I mention it was at the foot of our bed. Our salad days of honeymoon-like privacy were over. And, we still felt badly that she was confined all day. Do not become alarmed that out-sized anger and compassion coexist in you as a new big-dog owner. Modulating these emotions are good for your character. And, yes, there are hotline counselors waiting to help you through every crisis. For a small fee.

Next came the fence. I built a six- foot- high fence around our backyard so we could let Peachie out to play and and take care of business. To do that she needed a way to get outside. Of course, we had to install a “doggie door,” one of those flaps that swings either way, in or out. This required only the addition of a small “deckette” to our porch and a twenty foot ramp built by skilled carpenters in only a day or two. (We still wake up at night wondering if a possum or racoon might be in the house. So far so good.)

The trap door, as we sometimes refer to it, was the best adjustment we ever made to having a dog. Peachie, having spotted a squirrel, could bolt through the flap and be on top of those pesky rodents faster than you could say “Want a treat?” Leaping off the back deck she would be on them before they could reach the nearest tree. Darn it, squirrels are very adaptive. They got faster. And, they seemed to relish the challenge, slowing up to tantalize Peachie, barking at her from low-hanging limbs. We engaged in a kind of tribal bonding. We watched, cheered at near catches and shouted encouragement, praised her when she came back inside: “Atta girl, you almost got ’em.” She was guardian of the bird feeders, but the squirrels gutted the feeders before we could close the door behind us after filling the feeders every morning. This proved expensive and we tried every new invention designed to keep these pirates out of the feeders. We bought the spinners, the twisters, the spring-loaded, snap-shut, weight-activated and electrified feeders. Even pepper- coated seeds. One morning, we found a note from the boss squirrel requesting salsa as a side dish. Footnote: the doggie door had to be large enough to accommodate a seventy-five pound dog so it works great if you lock yourself out of the house. Or, should a small thief want to sneak in, it means you will not have to make any door or window repairs because the thief will not have to break in!

When buying your dog, remember that someone must exercise them every day. That will be you, unless you can afford a dog walker. Your kids weighing under 200 pounds will not be strong enough to handle this. And remember that you will either take your dog on vacation or you can spend a wad of money so your dog can, while housed with the local doggie motel, pickup every dog infection floating around. Peachie had never learned to bark before her first kennel stay. She learned her lesson too well. If you take your dog along on vacation, be sure to take along its crate. Otherwise, you will be eating takeout food while your dog shuffles and whines in the back seat, begging for some of whatever you are eating.

Be prepared to add the local small animal vet (as opposed to horse and cow doctors) to your cocktail party and Christmas card list. They work hard and charge hard. You can look forward to many Sky Miles accumulating if your vet accepts American Express. Your banker can acquaint you with procedures for securing second mortgages on your home if you have a large dog.

Dogs similar to labs are sterling candidates for knee and hip surgery–especially after you use a generous supply of treats to train your dog to retrieve thrown objects like tennis balls. All those mindless charges after the ball, stop-on-a-dime retrievals and twisting turn backs to grab the ball before it lands, are hard on knees and hips. And, be aware that some dogs are quite capable of swallowing tennis balls, sneakers, automobile upholstery remnants and table tennis nets. Why they choose such delicacies is-I am certain-being researched by scientists utilizing federal grant monies in Veterinary Medicine Schools across America. Because the items mentioned are indigestible it will require the services of a veterinary surgeon to sort out the details. You may be asked by the doctor to spoon through your large dog’s poop for clues to what it has managed to chew up (or what it has been unable to chew up.) Was that missing glass Christmas ornament an evening snack? What happened to your grandmother’s diamond ring left on the vanity? Are those missing vacuum attachments digestible?

After her first trip to water (she is a lab after all)- so she could wade the shallows of the Amicalola River-we discovered her newly acquired limp, and that Peachie had a luxating patella. Her kneecap would wander off its seat when the tendons were stressed. She hobbled and whined in pain.

Repairs required surgery at the University of Georgia School of Veterinary Medicine. Here we made a lot of new friends, visited old haunts from my college days and ran up a hospital bill larger than the GNP of a small small country. Motel desk clerks called us by first names and I became reacquainted with the cuisine at the Varsity Restaurant. Peachie was of course the favorite patient of the staff and doctors. One doctor -a surgeon-celebrated his succes in repairing Peachie’s knee by purchasing a new Porshe 911 convertible. A true and dedicated animal lover. But, poor Peachie came home wearing the “cone of shame.” an apparatus designed to keep her from chewing on her stitches. As I recall, the price tag was $65 at the hospital. Peachie destroyed that one, but I found an identical one for $3.95 in the Walmart pet department.

Labs don’t really require much grooming–Peachie always showers with me and we comb her out ourselves. Combing only requires an hour or two outside in freezing or sweltering weather. Oh, and don’t worry about the dog fur that accumulates in the drain, there are plumbers eager to assist you. And I think you will find that dog shampoo works as well on your hair as it does on your dog. Only it costs more.

Of course, dogs need to have their nails trimmed. They generally do not permit this procedure without angry resistance. They instinctively pull away, and gnaw on, if not bite, your hands. So a leash and four hands are needed to do this. Use a $19.95 trimmer from Walmart. It works almost as well as the $69.95 model from the online pet supply company. Proceed with a bag of treats. Several dozen of these tasty morsels should suffice. Trimming her nails is similar to pruning a rosebush while standing on your head-except in this case the bush is alive and has teeth. Oh, and avoid ordering pet supplies on line. If you do. overnight you will be solicited by the 857,914 pet supply houses in the United States (this is only an estimate). Unfriending them can become a chore.

We love traveling with our dog. This is encouraged by the usual fifty- dollar-per night required by in-house sitters. The pet-friendly places we frequent, the few where we are permitted to stay, seldom charge more than an extra hundred dollars per night when a security deposit of three hundred dollars is posted up front. Occasionally, these rooms are under renovation, as when we stayed at an Armada Inn on Jacksonville Beach. There, breakfast was served without a menu because it was eggs and toast with cereal (Cheerios only) or nothing. The sole waitress looked like a retired lady wrestler and screamed out our order to the cook, “It’s those people with the damned dog.” We were the only guests in the 1200- bed resort, and were for some inexplicable reason placed on the seventh floor. This would not have been a problem if the elevator had been operative.

I will be checking in with you later, but I wanted to give you some idea of the minor expenses you may encounter when purchasing a large dog. I have saved my receipts, accumulated over the years, as well as some bills still due under various installment plans. (Vets are generous about extending credit through a cooperating loan company. The interest rates will make you think its 1979 again, hovering in the high teens.) With the total amount Peachie has cost us indelibly etched in my mind, I decided it would not be nice to rain on your parade by telling you the precise bottom line, or to disappoint the eager child who has provided you the excuse you needed to buy the dog of your dreams. It would be petty to speak too much of money when we consider the companionship and affection we derive from pet ownership, so let me gloss over a bit by saying I am no longer angry about driving a venerable but reliable car. How petty it would seem to express disappointment that I never bought the small yacht I once pined for? What a silly indulgence that would be for a responsible pet owner. We give each other anniversary and birthday notes and sweet cards. Who would trade a trip to Europe for the pleasures of dog ownership? After all, we are retired now with nowhere we really have to go, and our restricted diet discourages fine dining. It all works out in the end. We sleep with a dog.

An afterthought: You may want to have a conversation with the people who manage your retirement account before making a decision about acquiring a large dog.