Now that the Foolhall has closed off the unofficial dog park at Squalicum creek (to make way for three more playing fields plus multi-use sandbox and jungle gym), Nicki and i have started going to the official dog park, also called Squalicum, one bluff over and bordering the bay.
Squalicum-Bay park is quite nice, only it doesn't have a hill which is important for dog-dashes. The other draw-back is that this part of also-called Squalicum Creek remains toxic despite the alleged "clean up" of the poisonous crap the "wood processing plant" was dumping into it. But, as i said, it is otherwise quite nice and, in any case, we have no choice.
So...this afternoon, after bal-spieling, i decided to sit in the soft sun's rays on a large dead tree trunk which had one of those natural depressions which somehow manage to be delightfully comfortable in a way no man-made cushion is. Nicki sat nearby working his ball as usual.
Of a sudden, this Chi-Something thing scampered by in the frenzied way that miniature doggies do. "Hi," i said to its human counterpart. "Hi," the 20+ something woman answered. "What kind of dog is that?" i asked, trying not to stress the word "that" too much. "We don't know," the woman replied, "we think he's a Something-Corgi; at least if you look at him from the front." I looked and he did have a sort of corgi-conformation.
At this point, Nicki stood up and let the ball drop from his mouth. I picked it up and chucked it forward. Nicki lurched after it. So did the little something-something.
The little dog was a firecracker. I estimated him at 12 lbs and his little legs were going four times as fast as Nicki's but he kept up. "Look at him, go!" I said. "Yeah," the woman said, "he's likes to run."
As he got to the ball, Nicki had to reach down for it from his comparatively lofty height; and, to do so, he had to make a right-swoop down and to the left in a "?" mark type of motion. But just -- and i mean just - as his open jaw was about to chomp on the ball... little chi-something-gi snatched victory from the jaws of defeat and ran back towards us with a ball almost as big as his cranium in his mouth.
Nicki was taken by surprise and cheerfully followed back.
I threw the ball several more times, and each time the little fuzzy-rocket ran right between Nicki's legs and snatched the ball away from his jaw a split second before Nick could grab it.
We humans laughed at Nicki's good natured predicament.
"What's his name?" I asked the woman. "Oso" she replied. "Oh yah, he's a big one for sure. How much does he weigh?" "Twenty pounds" she answered. "Twenty? I would have thought much lighter." "He's all muscle." "I bet."
Osito's Story
As the bal-spieling continued, the woman asked me where i had got Nicki. "He's a rescue," i said. "I got him when he was one." "He's a beautiful dog; he seems happy." "Thank you; and yes he is."
"How about yours?" "He's a rescue too," the woman replied. "My sister found him in Puerto Rico, by the side of a road. He was just a few weeks old. The mother was nowhere to be seen and he was just sitting there in the middle of seven dead siblings."
"You're kidding!" "No; and so my sister brought him back. But my sister is sort of nomadic and so she gave him to us." "Well he sure seems happy now."
"Oh yes; he is. But when he was going on a year, his legs began to deform."
"They did?"
"Yes, they started growing out of shape and turned inwards and sort of curled under. He was walking on top of his paws and then couldn't walk at all. When we first got him he could jump up and off furniture; but then he would just sit on the couch and cry for us to come take him down."
"Oh my god, that sounds, awful." I commiserated. "So what happened?" The woman explained that they took Osito to the vet who, said "Oh my god!" and took pictures which she immediately e-mailed to a doggie bone specialist.
"We only had three alternatives: put him down, or rig up a canine wheel chair, or do the operation to restructure his legs."
"I bet that must have cost a bundle."
"It did. Altogether it was six thousand dollars. But they took up a collection at the Community Food Coop. This is a real dog-friendly town. Everyone chipped in and we only had to pay $2,000.00"
"Aw man..."
"So what did they do?"
"First they had to break his legs and reset them. He has two steel pins in his forelegs. And then they had to re-attach the ligaments and muscles and basically re-wire him. He seemed to understand. He never tried to lick his stitches. It took three separate operations. You can see that his paws are a still a little crooked."
"Doesn't stop him from being a rocket on fours," I said.
"No, it doesn't He copes quite well."
Cope wasn't half of it. He was giving Nicki a run for his money and he knew it.
"He's an impish, little thing," I said.
"Oh yes," the woman laughed, "he is. He's quite a personality."
She picked up Osito and cradled him in her arms. I told her he looked heavier once she picked him up. It was then, up close, that i saw what a good looking little bear he was.
She put him down, and he ran off to sniff some bush. I then got a look at his profile -- still for a moment. I noticed that from the side he looked more like a miniature German Shepherd, apart from the legs.
This was the little dog who with a little human help wouldn't give up. My heart went out to him.
