Life Among the Giants

Mojo has a couple of friends, Mabel and Bosco, whose mere appearance casts shadows across whatever landscape you happen to find yourself in. Mojo is not exactly small in the world of canines; he’s about 75 pounds, give or take. You know he’s there. But Bosco is to Mojo what Mojo is to a cereal box. Bosco, and his mom Mabel, are great danes and they live next door under the same roof as their guardians, Brian and Jan. I see Mabel and Bosco -- oftentimes referred to around these parts as “the ponies” -- at the beach every morning where the vastness of the shoreline can make even these behemoths seem average-sized. But, indoors, they can make your 2,000 square foot house seem like nothing more than a large efficiency in a flash. They fill the space, as they say.

This weekend, Lily and I became dog sitters for the ponies as both Brian and Jan had to be in Chicago for a funeral for Jan’s mom. When Brian asked me if we would take in the big galoots, I didn’t hesitate. I knew they got along famously with Mojo, and I knew this would help out Brian and Jan. The plan was for Bosco and Mabel to stay at their home with me coming over to feed them, walk them, and take them to the beach in the mornings. For a day that worked. While Lily joined me in our early morning beach outing, and was a huge help, I still felt like it would have been helpful to have a third eye and, perhaps, a third arm. Bosco has a tendency to want to explore the rear regions of the deep beach, while Mabel actively seeks out both other dogs and the stray passer-by against whom she does her famous lean which can bowl you over if you don’t pay attention. All the while, Mojo is doing his frenetic “dance in the shallows” looking for minnows, or alternately, leaving tennis balls all over the place which he has passionately chased, but not so passionately returned. And, one of them is surely pooping somewhere during all this, and not always where it’s most convenient. Shepherding these three brutes to more or less head in the same direction is like the proverbial herding of cats. Very big cats. When you finally get them on leashes to get them home, the odds of your getting twisted into a pretzel are of a sort that even Vegas smiles on. So -- this is more than a one-person job, at least for me it is. But, day one, went swimmingly. A good time was had by all.

Day two, however, large and very noisy thunderstorms altered the landscape in more ways than one. Mabel fears thunderstorms the way you and I fear not being able to breathe, so when storms arrive (or even when they’re still in the distance), the poor girl goes into manic mode, drooling, tail curled downward, all the while seeking a safe haven. This is what happened this morning. In an effort to ease her stress, I cajoled her and Bosco -- who is fine with all this climatic drama -- to come over to our house where at least Mabel would have the comfort of human company.

As I write this, this is still a work in progress. What I can say is that Bosco and Mabel follow me around the house in a way that makes me feel like I’m being trailed by two small continents, one on either side. Mojo darts in and around the continents with a toy in his mouth seeking a playmate, two-legged or four -- it doesn’t matter. I feel the need for space.

Sunshine could really help here.