It’s been three weeks since I became Parker’s new mom, and I have to say the little guy has made some big changes in my life in such a short period of time.
Parker is settling into Carbondale nicely – he has adapted well to an active social life and has a favorite local pub that gives out dog treats. He likes to play with other dogs at the park, where we go several times a day for long walks.
He even enjoys camping, which we’ve done a few times at Brandon and Janelle’s new place in West Glenwood. See “Who’s the Boss” for more on how much Parker loves wide open spaces.
My days now start with a wet nose and a walk through downtown Carbondale, wearing a hat of some kind to prevent widespread terror at my bed head hair. We usually stop by the coffee shop before the walk. Parker stays tethered outside, looking in longingly and eventually barking his disapproval if the operation takes too long.
Because I’m working at home, the pup and I spend oodles of quality time. If I have an interview, he comes along and stays either outside or in the car while I work. Tethering him outside has proved problematic, as he tends to bark until my return. Who knew a creature could like you enough to get anxious until you come back?
Parker has had several adventures in his short time chez moi. The first was getting his nails trimmed at the vet. The vet, whom we see all the time out and about, has an office directly across the alley from my apartment. It’s a sweet little clinic with a big scale and lots of great things to sniff if you’re a dog. Parker liked it a lot until he realized he had to get up on a shiny steel table. Dr. Ben put the “party hat” on – (a cloth cover for his nose) and when it was all over Parker couldn’t wait to get the heck out of there!
But when his eyes got red and he started pawing at them, I made an appointment to go back again. Diagnosis: conjunctivitis. Treatment: hold your dog down while he squirms wildly and put a thin line of antibiotic in his eyes three times a day. Wow. Should be gone in a week, though.
Aside from the vet, Parker’s other adventures have revolved around outside freedom. At the park two weekends ago, we thought it might be okay for him to go off-leash. This would be the park backing on to cow pasture. For a while, Parker was playful and stayed close by. But then a huge bovine caught his attention and he was off like a shot – jumping the creek and running right up to the herd of large black beasts.
If you’re thinking, “that sounds awfully cute, what’s wrong with chasing cows?” – think again. In Colorado, ranchers have the right to shoot any animal that is “worrying cattle.” Or any animal unlawfully on their property. So you can imagine my panic at Parker’s staunch refusal to return to the safe side of the fence. I haven’t let him off leash there again.
But Parker’s best and most unbelievable adventure thus far has to be what shall henceforth be known as “The Great Escape.” It goes something like this:
Parker and I have a normal day, interspersed with several walks and a bike/run (he runs while I bike) in the late afternoon. He seems tuckered out and crashes on his bed while I finish my work. Soon it’s 5 o’clock and time to go to my Spanish class, where I have a quiz. I decide to leave Parker at home and leave house keys at the Nugget so Jeff can check in on him later. I tell the dog I’ll be back soon and head to class, leaving a message for Jeff on the way.
After the quiz (which went well, by the way), I check my phone and see that I’ve missed several calls. Odd, but I step out of the classroom to listen to the voicemail.
“Hi Tory, it’s Ben (this would be Dr. Ben, the aforementioned vet) over at the Nugget. Parker just ran over here, he just ran across the street. I think someone’s trying to call Jeff… But he’s here, and I guess you’re in class right now, but give me a call when you get this.”
I now understand the chill of fear these calls invoke for mothers, whether they be moms to dogs or children. I feel helpless and terrified. It takes me less than 45 seconds to run back into the classroom, grab my books, and bolt for the street.
The other voicemail is from Jeff –
“Hi, I’m sorry to tell you this over the phone, apparently Parker is at the Nugget… he busted out the screen in the front window. He ate Gabe’s chips, and it looks like he tore up a scarf in your bedroom.”
At this point I am running in flip flops, carrying a notebook and textbook, wearing a dress. As I walk into the Nugget, Parker’s head peeks around the corner in the pool room, where a kind soul has hooked him to a radiator by his leash. He sees me and looks overjoyed, if that’s possible for a dog. As if he’s saying, “Hi mom, look what I did!” Or, as Jeff put it, “You left him alone, so he decided to come find me.”
Our friend Adam dryly observed - "He's a little Houdini! He busted out the screen, man!"
It’s not so much that Parker ate a whole bag of jalapeno cheddar chips, or that he demolished my bath pouf (not a scarf, as originally thought). I just can’t handle the idea of the fearless car chaser bolting two blocks on his own. So I guess puppy is getting a crate.
But in the meantime, a moment of appreciation for living in a town where your dog gets loose, but heads straight for the local bar where your friends hang out. And when he gets there, one friend will take off his belt to make a leash, and another will give you a call to let you know he’s alright.
