A Dog's Life
There are times in life when I feel like society and the social experience is slipping from my grasp. Like greasy fingers holding a wine glass, I feel like it is sliding from my hands and hurdling to the floor with thunderous crash as a million shards randomly distribute themselves at my feet. Moments and experiences collide like asteroids and planets.
Mere days after arriving to Portland, Oregon, where the circumstances of life have dictated our new life should be formed, I found a need to plan for the welfare of my child. This might have been simple had our child been of the two legged variety. Most certainly a kind coworker might have watched him for a day or two. Reality however is that these days, our child has four legs, a cold nose and a wagging tail. While small in size it is much more difficult to find someone willing to take on the parental duties of an animal in need.
I get it. Accepting an unknown animal evokes nightmarish images of never ending barking and pools of pee and poop. It recalls a memory from years ago when I returned home with my wife to our DC condo only to find our beagle Sasha, whom had been strategically fenced in a hallway with a pet gate, had decided to cover the carpet and walls with feces. It was a horrific image that I still try to forget. Facing that reality, my wife and I were forced to secure alternate accommodation for our little friend. A google search produced several options the closest being in an indoor facility not far from the place we are temporarily living. It seemed okay, indoor boarding but as I soon found out, came with a catch.
We opened the door of the aptly named Dogtopia to find a rotund early twenty something sitting at the desk with a headset on. The room was brightly colored and lit with a giant monitor displaying the activities of one of the play centers. Dogs cantered and sniffed behind a glass window. I wondered if it could be one way glass so the humans might not disturb the canine guests.
“Can I help you? My name is Mandy” The woman asked barely paying attention to me as I tried to answer.
“We just want to board our animal.”
“Does your animal have a name?” She asked dismissing my earlier statement.
“Yes, Indie,” I replied, we just moved here from Thailand.
“Has he seen a veterinarian? I will need to see health certificates.”
We produced a litany of vaccination certificates in a binder detailing the dog’s health history. It was preparation for his international flight and importation. It had travel documentation and certification from Thai veterinarians, Thai Export Control and American Agricultural inspectors and its entirety, was a file larger and more comprehensive than anything I carry for myself. The answer to all her questions simply had to be here.
“Has he seen an American veterinarian?” She asked opening and closing the binder, seemingly dismissing the combined assessment of two doctors and three government agencies.
“No but he has everything.” The dog has been vaccinated for diseases in Asia. You have no idea what diseases exit there I thought.
“Hmm…” Her face was filled with doubt and speculation, not to mention a hint of disapproval. “Well I will send this to corporate. We will let you know in a few days. Now you will need to socialize him. This will require three visits. He will need play sessions from 2 – 4 hours.”
“Does that cost?”
“Oh yes of course. He will play with the dogs and…” I suddenly lost her attention as she turned to a teenager walking by. “It’s smuffy’s play time. You need to attend to him immediately.”
“So what is the price?” I repositioned myself trying to gain her attention. She seemed bothered.
“It’s 30 dollars or 40 depending on the day afternoon of first day is free.” I was confused and tried to clarify. I lost her again.
“Yes…” she was on her mic again. The spa music is down? We need to have that up immediately. Susan on four. We have a spa emergency.
“How many times do I need to bring him? Do I pay for all of that?”
“Three… yes you pay.. It’s time for the 3 pm shift. Change out.” She called in her mic. The phone rang.
“Hello Dogtopia. Yes it’s movie night this weekend. You said you brought Indie from Thailand? That’s a long flight. How terrible that must be on the poor boy.” She gave me a look like I was in humane.
“It was 24 hours but he had a break in Korea.” Don’t judge me I wanted to say. “So how much is it total.” I asked becoming increasingly frustrated. My wife glared at me. The woman seemed caught off guard by the directness.
My phone rang. It was the realtor in South Carolina asking questions about our house out there. My wife booked three play dates. She is vastly more patient than I am.
Exhausted we left as a parade of dogs entered.
“That was kind of strong.” She chastised me.
“The woman can’t answer a question.” I want to check another place I begged her. On my phone I googled a boarding place on the east side of Portland just across the river.
We pulled up outside. It looked nice. An old Victorian style house. The office was dark but the ours said open. I tried the door knob, locked. I decided to call.
“Hello.” A woman answered.
“Hi, I am outside your house. I thought you were open.”
“We are.” She replied. I looked around, was this the right address? My wife and dog stood patiently waiting as I went up and down the steps phone still attached to my ear.
“But the door is locked at the office.”
“Oh that’s because the owner uses marijuana. It’s part of their therapy.”
“Can I see you?" I asked.
“Yes.” She replied. Moments later the front door opened and a hippie like woman in her 30’s emerged.
“So to board, how is it?” I asked. “Are there dogs here?” I couldn’t hear anything.
“Oh yes, our dogs free roam. There is an area in the back. They just wander and play together.”
It was a fucking doggie love fest. I imagined a person stoned off their gourd watching the dogs as a version of Lord of the Flies played out. I imagined a Chihuahua ruling like a king as a panoply of canines circled at his feet.
She told us they had to try 'socialization' and just come by. “Does it cost?” I asked, expecting the worst. I was reasonably sure I could pay in weed.
“No, free, it’s just to check if he is okay.” She gave me an application and I told her I might come back the next day.
Back in the car I asked my wife what she thought. "I like the hippie," I offered. I could tell she was looking toward the urban young professional private school motif of Dogtopia. We resolved we would call our son in Thailand and allow him to decide.
That night I commenced filling out the online application. At times I wondered if it was more about me or the dog? It was developing a complete profile. How he played, what kinds of toys. Did he enjoy socialization? I wondered if there was a wrong answer second guessing each response. There was a review as part of the process. I started to fill it out. I seldom give anything perfect, in my world there is always room to improve. Somewhere in the middle I became distracted, much like Mandy and terminated the review.
A day later my wife received a call from Dogtopia. “Was Patrick upset with us?”
“No my wife answered, why?”
“Well his review, he didn’t rate us perfect.”
My wife asked me what I had done. I felt like a school child facing his mother with a school complaint in hand. “Nothing, I just didn’t finish the review.”
“Well they are sending another, I told them we would do it again.”
Eventually a few days later, the acceptance letter arrived.
So now it was on to the playdates. Here I was taking leave from work so that I could take my dog to a kennel for a play date and paying for it. What kind of madness was this?
After the first session we nervously waited for the review. They brought Indie out with a report card. They said generally he did okay but he wanted alone time. That’s a critique? I want alone time from them I thought.
Two more play sessions and he was cleared for boarding. Life seemed to be coming together. My wife flew off to South Carolina and I prepared to joint her a few days later. As my flight approached Indie started coughing. It started slowly and became worse. He would enter a state of passive resistance frozen like a statue of ice during our walks. I took him to a vet who reviewed him and decided it might be allergies. Desperate, I started to give him Allegra and cough medicine yet nothing improved. Three days later I was back at the vet this time receiving antibiotics. There was no way I could travel now. No boarding place would take a coughing dog on antibiotics.
With no other alternative I cancelled my flight to stay with my coughing dog. A text message arrived. “We miss Indie.” – Dogtopia
I called them to cancel his boarding session. “Hello, this is Patrick Indies owner.” Damn I thought, I should have said parent, they would probably accuse me of slavery. “I have to cancel Indies boarding because he appears to have kennel cough and the only place he could have gotten it was on his play date with you.”
Dogtopia apologized. It wasn’t Mandy on the phone. They explained that it happens sometimes. I reminded her my dog was vaccinated. So are the others she said. She offered condolences and called back several days to check on him.
“How is Indie?” Okay I told her. “We are having a pool party on Saturday, I hope he can come.”
“Hmmm…” I responded. “I will check our calendar.”
Cue the eye roll into another dimension.
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