My Training Partner is a Jerk

My training partner is a jerk. He’s also one of the biggest reasons I still train. When I first met my training partner in 2004, I was an occasional runner who lacked motivation. With his constant enthusiasm and insistence, I’ve morphed from a couch potato (search my high school Facebook photos for proof) into a regular runner, who 1 year ago managed to complete a marathon. For the past 4 years, I’ve had tons of great training partners and friends. People who have encouraged me and pushed me and helped me get to a place that I can imagine that an Ironman is possible. I’ve also had my one constant training companion who hasn’t left my side.

When I adopted Starbuck in 2004, I thought I was a pretty active person – I was wrong. Suddenly I was forced outside every day because if I didn’t give in to a run, bike, ski or something, Starbuck would make my life miserable by howling at me and pulling on my pant leg. After almost 5 years of trying to keep up with the beast, I’ve cut my run times down and upped my personal odometer. I’ve also developed an enormous love for my furry little partner and a ferocious dedication to a creature that has become my fur-baby.

There are a million things that I love about Starbuck: he chases his tail upon command which is a wonderful little party trick, he snuggles with me when I cry, he is excited to see me every day when I get home, he keeps me company when Tony’s gone, he never runs away and he forces me outside when I’d rather just watch television. Starbuck was my very first friend in Whitehorse. During my first winter here, when I had no-one to hang out with and spent most evenings crying due to a lethal combination of Seasonal Affectiveness Disorder and loneliness, adopting him in February was what kept me sane and in the Yukon. In the weeks leading up to my wedding, when stress and exhaustion made me want to curl up and die, instead I’d lie on the couch with my face buried in his fur.

Despite a puppyhood filled with hyperactivity that has not been seen since…well, to be honest, my childhood, Starbuck has learned to relax over the last year. He is content lying on the couch and hanging out in the garage; and while a good run, bike or ski is still needed occasionally, he no longer vocalizes his constant desire to be in motion.

Although I love Starbuck dearly, he has one character flaw that drives me to the brink of insanity and leaves me feeling helpless and angry. My dog is a jerk. I can’t think of any other word that describes him more accurately. He is the dog that thinks that all sticks in the forest belong to him, and makes sure that other dogs know it. He bullies our friends’ dogs in the same way a 13-year old school bully picks on the nerds (and I was a nerd, so I remember what this was like). If dogs are in the house, he will force them to sit in a corner, not letting them move around freely. If a dog dares to ignore his warnings or commands, he is quick to flip them over and growl in their face.

I try to think about this logically: dogs are pack animals with a hierarchy, it’s a natural part of their behaviour to determine dominancy. But, lets face it…my dog’s a jerk. The good thing, is that 99.9% of his jerkiness is reserved for his home on his turf. Something that I have a fairly easy time controlling – if friends’ dogs are in the house, the jerk is usually on the deck. Although having a jerk for a dog helps to curb friends’ desires to bring their own puppies over for a visit. Unfortunately for 0.1% of the time, Starbuck is a jerk to others. Last night after enjoying an outing where we passed numerous dogs and their owners, we were about to finish when we encountered a dog that for whatever reason didn’t appeal to Starbuck. The two dogs got into a small fight, that ended with me grabbing Starbuck and my cycle of Starbuck related angst re-started.

The thing about a dog fight that is so frustrating is that there is no way to have a conversation with your dog. Following the fight, Starbuck just wagged his tail and stuck out his tongue. In fact, given the opportunity, I think he would have liked to have gone for a quick run with his former playground foe, as whatever had upset him seemed to have been replaced with a desire to have fun. I’m left anthropomorphizing my dog in a desperate attempt to figure out how this might not be 100% attributed to my failings as a dog mother. The rest of the night was left with me feeling: mad at my dog, guilty that I threatened my dog with a permanent trip back to the shelter, sad that I have failed my dog so monumentally, horrible that my dog fought, scared that the other dog owner is angry at me and all around exhausted by what was supposed to be a relaxing walk in the woods. All I want in the world is to be able to sit down with Starbuck, explain why fighting is not appropriate, repeat my favourite daycare mantra of “use your words when you are mad” and receive a commitment that it won’t happen again. Despite my efforts with this type of conversation, all that I get is a head cocked to the left and a retrieved hat (a trick that’s somehow gone terribly wrong). I can’t help but wonder what kind of mother I will make, when my dog can send me into an emotional tailspin. I remember life at the daycare – imagine what I’ll do when it’s my toddler in the playground biting his friends.

For now, I’m considering moving me and my dog far away to a secluded cabin where we can live out our lives in solitude without the stress of socialization. I’m also going to emotionally prepare for the potential comments re-iterating what I already know is true – the dog’s not the problem…the owner is.

Sierra posted this on Dec 04, 2008 from the doghouse | | permanent link

Happy Halloween

It's Halloween, a tough time for any parent. At some point, you have to let go and allow your child to make their own choices. When Starbuck asked me for his costume, my first thought was to say: "No - you are a strong young male dog, the other dogs will laugh at you". But, I had to look beyond my own needs and let him dress as the Golden Fairy Princess he wanted to be.

Sierra posted this on Oct 31, 2007 from the doghouse | | permanent link

What can I say? It's true...

He may be a eunuch, but he's still a ladies' dog.

Sierra posted this on Feb 23, 2007 from the doghouse | | permanent link

Happy Bow-wow-ween

Happy Halloween!

Halloween is the perfect holiday to collect lasting embarassing photos of your children. If you don't have children, no worries...dogs can also be forced to wear hilarious costumes. Last year, Starbuck dressed up as Eeyore. This year, he's turned three and decided that Eeyore was too "lame" and wanted to wear something that the other pooches would think was cool. Because we often call him the Spawn of Satan, a devil constume seemed like the natural choice.

The best thing about this year's halloween is the Yukon Government's condom campaign. They are encouraging safe sex by handing out condom packages that say: "Planning to go bump in the night?" on the outside and "If you don't dress up, you don't get the goodies" on the inside. You got to love it when your government finds ways to make Halloween dirty.

Sierra posted this on Oct 31, 2006 from the doghouse | | permanent link

How Spoiled Am I?

There are times that I look at my precious little spawn of satan Starbuck and wonder how he became the most spoiled creature on the planet. Anthony took Starbuck on a long bike ride on Saturday, so the muttmeister was feeling as lazy as I was on Sunday. We decided to lie down on the futon in the living room and watch some quality televsion (and by quality, I mean Big Brother 7). Here's a picture that Tony took of the two of us. Yes, that is a pillow under his head and yes, he is tucked in underneath the blanket. What can I say, he has me wrapped around his little paw.

I'm hoping I'm not the only one who spoils my dog rotten. So if anyone can appease my guilt with their own spoiled pet pictures it would be much appreciated.

Sierra posted this on Aug 15, 2006 from the doghouse | | permanent link

Sir Hyperion the Filthy

Hyper is hanging out with Starbuck and I while Tania and Kirk are out of town. As per usual, I managed to make Hyper a filthy mess, courtesy of a mountain bike ride and a muddy bog. At least he looks happy!

Sierra posted this on Jun 22, 2006 from the doghouse | | permanent link

My Name is Jones

Everyone in the Yukon has a dog, at least it seems that way. As dog owners, we all know that dogs don't always do what they are supposed to. In fact, nobody knows that better than me. I often wonder if Starbuck is the spawn of Satan. When 06/06/06 came and went without a hitch, a resigned myself to the fact that my dog wasn't sent to earth to lead the apocalypse, he's just a wee bit precocious.

The thing about dogs is that where there's one, there's many. Usually because, with time, dog owners get tired of walking by themselves and quickly find a support group. There is a universally accepted mathematical relationship between dogs and walking time. As the number of dogs increase, walking time decreases exponentially. I think it would look a little like this W=1/X^n where n=number of dogs, W=walking time and X=the coefficient of walking. Basically the more dogs you have, the more they run around and the less time you actually have to walk and as we all know G=1/W where W=walking time and G=gin drinking time.

Today, Lisa and Tracy brought over Juneau, Annie and Jones for a walk and a backyard visit. All seemed to be going well, no ripped ears or punctured legs,until we got off the deck and discovered the carnage. In the few minutes since returning from our walk, Jones had mercilessly murdered and/or maimed my peas. Thankfully we disovered the massacre before it became a total genocide. The interesting part is that Jones systematically dug out the pea plants, concentrating on individual plants instead of mindlessly destroying the entire garden bed. He also dug out one of each kind of pea that I planted, which had been spaced about 1 foot apart. At first I thought that maybe Jones was just a gardener at heart and was just trying to analyze the root structures of snowpeas, shelling peas and sweet peas. This notion was quickly dismissed when I remembered Jones' habit of peeing on my flower containers. It seems that Jones is out to get my garden. I haven't quite figured out what induced such a dedication to destoying my precious plants, but I think it might have something to do with the fact that Starbuck once made him poop himself in fear (an unfortunate incident with a stolen stick and some unnecessary biting on Starbuck's part).

In the end, the pea incident only confirms my belief in canine karma. In fact, dogs may just be the greatest karmic beings on the planet. In our small group of friends: Kirk (Hyper), Lisa (Juneau and Annie), Tracy (Jones) and myself (Starbuck) we have enough karma to go around:

Jones eats Lisa's door

Juneau eats a black pen on Sierra's white carpet

Starbuck eats Kirk's hammock

Hyper rips Sierra's jacket

Starbuck beats up Jones

Jones digs up Sierra's peas

And it continues...

In keeping with my theory of karma, it's almost lucky that Jones dug in my garden, it gives me a freebie next time Starbuck eats a fence or vomits on a bed. It's good to know that the universe is at peace.

Sierra posted this on Jun 09, 2006 from the doghouse | | permanent link