The Dog Council

THE DOG COUNCIL

The five members of the dog council greeted each other warmly, sniffing and yipping. This incarnation of the council had been mostly together for a number of years, and they were comfortable with each other. There was one new member, Molly Nguyen, and this was her first meeting.

“So,” said Mitzie McGregor, the president, “We have a full roster today.”

The others around her nodded their heads, scanning the agendas in front of them. It was indeed going to be a busy session.  

The dog council met quarterly, and dealt with complaints pertaining to the treatment of, well, dogs. The vast majority of the complaints were filed by the dogs themselves, because the council itself was secret to humans.  

Could you imagine the uproar if the humans found out that they were being judged and censured by mere dogs? It would be blown completely out of proportion. There would be congressional hearings, and regular dogs would be put on trial. Dogs knew humans were like that. They needed to be seen as ‘more’ than lowly dogs. They, in fact, needed to be the top dog, metaphorically speaking.

“We will, as always, start with the outcomes,” said Mitzi. In addition to the new concerns, the Dog Council reviewed the outcomes of prior actions taken. Mitzie put her glasses on her long aquiline nose and read aloud, “Jax the Snoodle—Bathing Without Consent.” Mitzie looked to her right at Rocky Collins, “I believe you have the report on this, Rocky.”

He nodded and started speaking. “Last quarter Jax filed a complaint about his humans Letty and Arnold King. Apparently, they regularly bring Jax with them to the family horse farm where Letty has horses. She brings him into the barn while she mucks out the stalls. Jax does what we’ve all done—he rolls in all the delicious smells found in a barn. Every time Letty gets angry with Jax, and insists on washing him with cold water. Jax’s complaint was two-fold. First, Letty insists on bringing him to the farm, because, and I quote, ‘he’ll be outside, and he can run around. It’s good for him,’ while in actuality insisting that he stay in the barn with her so he doesn’t chase the horses. And second, the cold water. Historically, cold water was used stop dogs from fighting. He’s not fighting, he’s rolling. He was incensed (no pun intended).”

“If I remember correctly, we gave Jax a number of possible solutions,” said Mitzie.

“Correct. Short of refusing to get in the truck to go to the horse farm, we suggested that Jax jump in the back of the truck before the cold water treatment, or take his rolling outside, and perhaps his humans wouldn’t notice until it was too late.”

Molly, the newest Council member—this was her first Council meeting—spoke up. “You didn’t suggest that he not roll in the horse poop?”

The four other Council members looked at her, aghast. “Of course not!” said Milo Singh, second in command. “We don’t expect a dog to stop being a dog because a human doesn’t like it!” He looked at her. “We would never expect you to stop licking yourself, or scooching your butt across the carpet. It’s not natural. A dog’s gotta do what a dog’s gotta do!”

Molly nodded her head in understanding. “I see.”

Rocky the Council member who had handled Jax’s case, added. “It’s not about changing dogs, it’s about changing humans.”

“Ahh!” said Molly. “I understand.”

Mitzie looked at Rocky. “What was the outcome?”

“Oh,” said Rocky, “Right! Instead of rolling, Jax started eating the horse pucks. The complaint of Bathing Without Consent disappeared. There’s a whole different set of problems now. We can talk about that later.”

Mitzie nodded, and turned to Luna Papadopoulous. “Luna, you handled the complaint between Trudy and Carl, regarding a boundary dispute?”

Luna smiled and nodded. “I did. The fence between the two homes is chain link, and the two dogs spend all day continuously barking at each other, running up and down the fence line, disputing who actually owns the fence and the air above it. That, of course, upsets the humans. The conflict was brought to us by Buster, the older dog in Trudy’s house.” She looked at the group. “He’s a bit cranky but he makes a valid point. All that barking is going to have negative repercussions on the dogs.”

Milo nodded. “It seems like the majority of our complaints are about barking.”

Luna nodded. “Because it’s so common we suggested a number of strategies—different fence times, getting to know one another, taking turns running up and down the yard. Maybe even a different type of competition—see who is the fastest. Unfortunately, Carl is a roti-shepard mix and is not interested in compromise. He insists it is his fence.”

“So, has the complaint been solved?” asked Mitzie.

“Sort of. With the help of Buster. He suggested that instead of barking, they just growl at each other. It seems to be working. There’s just a lot of growling and snorting now as they run up and down the fence, very little barking.”

Mitzie looked at Luna. “That should hold. For the time being.” Dog-on-dog complaints were the hardest because, as everyone knew, they were all good dogs.

“Okay, moving on.” She looked at the outcomes page. “Milo, what’s the status of Checkers? Impulsive Humping, wasn’t it?

“Yes, but I’m afraid we were too late,” said Milo, his big face drooping more than usual. “Checkers’ humans had him neutered. It seems to have done the trick, but seems extremely harsh, nonetheless.” Milo shook his head. “He was just a puppy.” He sighed. “As it turns out, Checkers has stopped humping, and refuses to even sniff butts anymore. I believe that he was severely traumatized by the procedure.”

“That’s unfortunate,” said Mitzie. “We warned him that this might be the outcome if he continued to hump everything. Poor boy.”

There was silence around the table. 

They finished up with the outcomes. Sunbeam Hording—just lay on the cat who’s taking all the sunbeam. Property Theft—use a decoy toy to get the ball back. And Drivies Trickery—saying drivies when it was really a trip to the vet. There was no resolutions for Drivies Trickery—all good dogs needed to go to the vet.

“Okay,” said Mitzie. “We have a number of new cases this month.” She looked at her list and assigned the cases—barking, leash pulling, sniffing, dog park etiquette, squirrels—to the group. She assigned Molly to shadow Milo.  

When the new cases had been divvied up, Mitzie sighed, looking at the group. “We need to address the Drop-It Protocol.”  

Rocky and Milo nodded their heads, having experienced just this issue. Luna looked particularly annoyed--she was small enough that her humans just put their hand in her mouth and pulled out whatever was in there—no protocol needed.  

Molly looked confused. “I’m sorry? The Drop-It Protocol?”

Luna spoke up. “Yes. It’s when dogs take something that humans feel they shouldn’t, and command the dog to drop it. It’s complicated because it depends on what they actually took.”

Milo continued. “Let’s say you took some food and your humans demand that you drop it. You’d probably eat it, and maybe get in trouble, but really, it was worth it. Because it’s delicious, delicious human food. But, if it’s something that isn’t good for dogs, like chocolate, macadamia nuts, onions, garlic, grapes, raisins, currants, avocados—the list is long—the humans need to take it away from you. Of course, it tastes delicious, but it’ll make you sick. We need to figure out how to get the word out that there are things that humans eat that will put you in the hospital, or worse.” He paused. “Plus there’s the stuff that dogs eat that isn’t food—socks, underwear, tennis balls, stuffies. Things that are really not good for dogs, and sometimes it involves surgery. Nobody wants surgery”

Molly nodded her head slowly, reliving a fun game of catch-the-puppy-before-she-eats-it from her younger days—her humans running around trying to catch her. Molly waiting until they were just about close enough to grab her and then gamboling around the backyard away from them. That game never got old.

“We have three complaints that have come in this quarter,” said Mitzie. One for a roast pork, one for a child’s toy, and one—I can’t believe this happened—a shotgun.”

“A shotgun?” asked Rocky.

Mitzie sighed. “Yes, a shotgun. Apparently one Bosco, a hunting dog, was out with his human. Said human put down his gun, apparently covered in the grease from pork rinds, and Bosco couldn’t help himself. He grabbed the gun by the barrel and started to drag it away so that he could lick all the delicious, delicious pork fat off of it. The human saw what was happening, and screamed at Bosco to drop it. So, because Bosco is a good boy, and always listens to his human’s commands, he dropped it. Unfortunately, the safety was off, and the gun fired, striking the human in the calf.”  

“Oh dear! Is the human okay?” asked Rocky.

Mitzie nodded her head. “He is. Thanks to Bosco who ran and got help for his human.”

Molly spoke up. “So, let me get this straight—Bosco’s human covered his gun with delicious pork grease, then was surprised when Bosco wanted to lick it all off?”

“Correct.”

“So, Bosco dragged off the gun for a bit of privacy, and when his human saw him just trying to get a snack, he commanded Bosco to drop it? And Bosco complied?”

“Yes.”

Molly continued. “So, Bosco followed the Drop-It Protocol, And got help for his human—maybe saving his life.”  

Nods all around.  

“So, as far as I can tell, Bosco is a very, very good boy, and the human should wash his hands, and learn gun safety!”

Mitzie smiled. Molly was going to be a very welcome member of the Dog Council.