Fips At Large

Early this afternoon Fips and I went for a poke-about at Peralta Park. As usual, no one was there and we had the sun and grass and quiet to ourselves. I had spent most of the morning at the glow box and wasn't feeling very energetic, so after a while I lay down on the park's soft herbal matting. Fips followed suit a little more than an arm's length away. I closed my eyes and thought how nice and lucky it was to be here on the grass with my doggie pal each of us enjoying the quiet, the grass and the sun. All of a sudden, I felt the shadow of a presence.

At first I expected a friendly verbal warning. Instead I got a friendly citation for having a dog "at large". How absurd! He wasn't "at large;" he was "at a plop" right next to me.

We shall fight this!! [-->]

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Fipsie's First

It’s Fipsie’s birthday!! Michael wanted to do something and a couple of days ago alerted me that Fips’ birthday was coming up.

“What do you have in mind?”

“Well, can’t we take Fips some place special?”

And so, it being bright and breezy, come mid morning we piled into the truck and drove over to the new shoreline park at what used to be Crissy Field.

As we got to the Marina, we pulled into the Safeway at Gas Lamp Cove to buy ourselves some chips and sandwiches and, of course, something special for Fips.

“So what kind of cake will we get him?”

Michael wanted a beef-cake -- a big hunk-o-beef with a candle. So slab-o-sirloin it was.

Thus provided we drove down to the sandy beach area half-way to Fort Point and parked next to a table under a cluster of wind-blown trees. As soon as we got the food out, Fips was all nose. Of course, it was typical Bay Blustery and there was no hope for any candle, so we decided just to sing to the dog once everything was spread out.

“Happy biiii-rthday to you! Happy biiii-rthday to you! Happy biiii-rthday dear Fi-i-pise....”

?

“I think we should at least cut it in half...”

“That would probably be a good idea...”

Cake cut, we put it on a paper plate for the Birthday Pup.

GULP.

I don’t know what we expected. Fips was delighted, of that there is no question. But dogs do not dally over red meat.

GULP

And that, before we even had taken a bite out of our sandwiches, was the end of the birthday cake. It was all so business like in a canine sort of way that it was kind of a let down in a human kind of way.

But, although he may not have grasped the reason why, a big slab of sirloin is always a special and exciting treat for a doggie; and so, even if he enjoyed it in his gulping doggie way, there is no doubt that Fips did relish an extra and special treat on his birthday.

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Salty Pup

Michael came back late one afternoon, all enthused about the Oakland - San Francisco ferry.

"There's a ferry to San Francisco?"

"Yes, it leaves from Jack London Square and it's really great. Fipsie loves it."

"You took Fips on the boat???"

"Yes, they allow doggies ... Fipsie really loved it."

What next? I wondered.

Michael went on about how friendly the people were on the ferry and how they were all charmed by Fipster who, of course, went up to greet them all and "really had a great time."

"You really ought to come, sometime."

So now it was a week or two later and Michael was up for an Oshin passage. It was a mild sunny day and we didn't need to take much other than light windbreakers, a leash and the blue "doggie-canteen" for Fips.

We followed our usual route through Peralta Park, along the channel, across the railroad tracks and up Estuary Park to Jack London Square. Fips, as is his wont, was stumping along merrily. He likes any spaziergang, but he likes it best when a gang does the spaziering.

Mike was right. As we neared the docking area, Fips led the way. Unfortunately, we had missed the earlier crossing, so we had to kill time walking around the docks and looking at old yachts which we fantasized owning. Fips was good humoured, but it seemed to me he was wondering if boat fun was in the offing. He had definitely had an expectation focused on a place.

At length the return ferry docked. We waited in queue under the striped awning as its passengers disembarked. Once our gate was opened, Fips trotted on eagerly quite oblivious to the forest of legs around him.

The ferry was crowded, but we found a seat to the right by the stern of the boat, in the open air. We kept Fips under a tight rein until all the to'ing and fro'ing settled down, and the engine cranked up its motors. To the even churning grind of gears, the boat pulled away from shore and made its way ever so slowly down the Oakland Channel.

Once we hit the open bay, the grind of the gears increased in pitch and we picked up speed. I picked up Fips and the wind rustled through our fur and hair.

There is no question that Fips was having a ball, the sea air in his nostrils, the wind in his fuzzy mane, the secure grip of my hands, the even trembling of the motors, the sun warming his body -- all must have made for a total sensory thrill. He wanted to look -- and did look -- o'er all the expanse of sea.

Nearing the Bay Bridge, an ominous cavernous and creaking sound emanated from on high. In photographs, these famous bay spans look silent and majestic. Until you've stood under one of these leviathan you don't realize how noisy they are. Fips looked up, alerted by the sound; more fascinated than scared.

"Look, Fips. Big Bridge," I said somewhat moronically as Fips went back to nosing the wind.

Once we got to San Francisco, we let the other passengers disembark before we let Fips charge on out. Interesting thing about doggies, is that they sense when something begins, and when something else begins... and something else again. And each new beginning of something is met with fresh excitement. I guess this makes for a kind of on-going happiness.

We had nothing to do in San Francisco but to head on back. By now, though, Fips was getting tired and decided to take a sailor's snooze in the corner, reviving for the walk back home where he sacked out for the rest of the day until chow time.

Mike took several more ferry excursions with Fips and always came back announcing what a fun time doggie-boy had had. I don't doubt dog-man did too.

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Corporal Fips

It was a bright morning, and I could tell that Fips was hankering for a walk. “Aus-band?” Fips started jumping around, making it more difficult yet to put on his collar. I gathered up my keys and his leash and headed out the door.

Our apartment building is built in the form of a rectilinear “U”, with open air landings flanking the interior courtyard. Four large apartments along the base of the “U”, front out onto the lake. Two smaller apartments on either prong of the “U” look out onto the courtyard. The elevator shaft is located in the middle of the U’s base.

Typically, Fips will chase out the door, turn left and run to the elevator where he waits impatiently for that special grinding-click that tells him the lift has arrived. I’ve always been impressed with how quickly he connected a particular noise, to the approach and arrival of the elevator which he understands is the thing that takes him downstairs which leads to out to where all the sniff n’ piss takes place Anyone who says dogs don’t think, thinks less than a dog.

But this morning .....

Fips chased out the door as usual and suddenly came to a dead stop. There was a momentary silence followed by a very emphatic

Grrrrraaauff!

and

Grrrrrrrrr-grrrrrrr GrrrrAUF!!

What the devil....? I looked around to see what he could be barking at. I didn’t notice a thing. So I looked at Fips to see what Fips was looking at. He was staring very intently at the door to one of the inside apartments diagonally across from the elevator.

????

Grrrrrrrrr-grrrrrrr GrrrrAUF!!

Then I figured it out. He was barking at a large jack-o-lantern pumpkin that the occupants had put by the front door.

Fips was very disconcerted. Fips may not write, but he keeps his accounts. That head without a body was nothing he was familiar with or approved of. It had not been there yesterday. It was not supposed to be there and whatever it was... it was nothing too friendly either.

Grrrrrrrrr-grrrrrrr GrrrrAUF!!

Oh... Fipsie... It’s OK, It’s OK.... C’mon lets go walkie-poo

The elevator made it’s grinding click, I opened the door and Fips trotted in, having made his point and done his duty.

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Stoical Doggie

After taking Fips out for a walk, Michael came running back in, throwing open the door with a bang, and yelling “Fips got stung by a wasp!!”

“So?”

“On his tongue!!” Michael said with exasperation, “help me get it out.”

I ran over and held Fips’s head as Michael got some tweezers and pulled out the stinger. Fips is such a brave doggie, submitting stoically and trustingly to our ministrations.

“Well... all’s well that ends well,” I said.

Michael was not convinced. He worried that Fips, especially since he was still a puppy, could get an allergic reaction that would kill him. Michael’s worry was instantly contagious.

Down to the truck and back to Moraga. Michael holding Fips in his lap and both of us rushed and worried.

Smith examined Fips’s tongue and his swallow. He said that if Fips hadn’t had a more serious reaction by now, the chances were that he wouldn’t have one at all. He recommended some Benadryl for a day or so.

While there, he checked out the umbilical hernia which has gotten smaller. The left testicle is definitely "undescended" and will have to be taken care of. Smith recommends removing both. Michael gets sullen.

Dr. Smith is learning to handle us as soothingly as he handles Fips. Even though we’ve been to his office mostly for routine shots, we do fuss and worry about everything....worms, the umbilical cord, the missing testicle... and now the swollen tongue.

I hope Fips realizes that all this to-ing and fro-ing to Smith’s is because we love him. Probably not, but he seems to like going to vet. Since nothing painful happens, it's all just an outing to him.

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A Brief Separation

At the end of September, I left for a two week trip to Mexico. I had a wonderful time exploring the Oaxaca countryside, but I still missed the Little Mister. On the second day of my arrival, I called home. Michael said Fips had been a little subdued at first but was now fine. On my return, Fips seemed happy to see me, but did not fall into paroxysms of joy. I think I was the happier one. Instead, Fips simply reclaimed his places, under my desk and on the bed.

This would be one of very few times Fips and I would be apart.

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Some Things Can Be Slow in Coming

Back to Moraga for Fips to get his rabies shot. His fecal test is negative, but given that we want take him out into the country, Smith recommends Heartguard.

The umbilical hernia has not self corrected. Smith recommends repairing it when Fips is eight or ten months old.

Only the right testicle has descended. Smith can’t feel the other one. Smith explains that undescended testicles can become cancerous, so this too will have to be taken care of.

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