Labradors: A Conundrum

With my son at camp this week, the challenges of dog ownership have become apparent

I love my dog – I really do – but I’m starting to believe he’s slightly brain-damaged.  For the uninitiated, I have a yellow Labrador Retriever named Randy.  (Actually, his full name is Randolph Mortimer Duke).  Most days, I pontificate and have my son take Randy for his walks.  I insist that it’s good exercise, and that it’s part of the responsiblity of owning a dog.

My son disagrees, and looks at me with disdain as I continue doing whatever it is I was doing – whether that is cooking or baking (which I’m becoming fond of) – or just sitting and complaining at the news. 

This week I have gotten my comeuppance.  My son is away at his summer NJROTC camp.  I’m at home with the dog.

The first thing you should know about Labrador Retrievers is that they do not grow up.  Randy is now 2 years old, weighs around 85 pounds, and still thinks he’s a 20 pound lap-dog.  He jumps up on our ottoman, and then shamelessly flops his head into my lap.  If I happen to be working on my laptop, he will paw at the screen. I’m assuming he’s trying to close the lid.  He hasn’t tried to eat it yet, but I know he’s thought about it.

All of this is done with that innocent “who me?” look that is so easily mastered by Labs.  This is best accomplished with their favorite toy in their mouth – which brings up the second thing you should know about Labs.  They love to play.

Our favorite game is (as you might think with a retriever) – “Go Get It!”  The way it usually goes is that I rev Randy up by hiding “Frosty the Snowman” chew toy behind my back, and then throwing it down the hall.  Randy obligingly chases it, and then runs at breakneck speed back across our wood floor, only to slide headlong into the wall on the other side of the house before making a lap through the kitchen, and ending by jumping onto our ottoman.  There, he waits until I wrestle Frosty from his mouth to start the process again.

This will continue for 2 or 10 repetitions until Randy, now completely wild, decides to do a pirouette on the ottoman and flop down to chew on Frosty.   After about 10 minutes, we repeat the whole process and then he gets to the third thing you should know about Labs:  They are inevitably ruled by their stomachs.

After getting his fill of activity, Randy can easily sleep for the next 8 hours – unless you decide to do anything involving something he thinks might be edible.  You rustle a package of ANYTHING that sounds like what he might want to eat, and he will remarkably be completely rested and magically at your feet asking if you might be kind enough to share the wonderous whatever you’re chewing on might be. 

This can be funny, annoying, irritating or, if properly used, Randy’s complete and utter downfall.

No matter how much he wants to protest, no matter how much you know he doesn’t want to do something.  Offer Randy a Mighty Bone treat, and he will follow you to the Gates of a Very Hot Place before asking where you’re going. This is the usual method for kennelling the dog so we can eat dinner in peace.  You can almost see it in his eyes:  “You mean I got fooled again?”

Now as much fun as that might seem – there is a fourth thing that you need to know.  This leads back to my comeuppance.   You see – despite all – dogs like Randy need to be walked.   Frequently.  At least I feel like it’s frequently.

In fact, he’s sitting next to me right now.  As I right this.  “Burfing” at me with impatience.   It’s time for me to take him for a walk - because my son is at camp this week…