Vicarious Dog Pride

I have a dog living with me.  It isn’t really my dog.  It belongs to my girlfriend.  And when she moved in, the dog gleefully took ownership of what I had mistakenly thought of as my condo.  Every inch of soft ground, every orphaned shoe and every dropped, and potentially dropped morsel of food has quickly become the sole possession of the dog.  The dog, named Zoe, is a black lab.  And she instinctively insists on bringing me anything that might resemble a fallen game bird whenever I get her attention.  Usually a shoe plays this role.  Sometimes it is a shoe with a sock and a dog toy.  Sometimes it is two shoes, the dog toy and a bone.  I’m yet to understand her complicated language of gifting.  And lucky for me, my condo isn’t typically frequented by game birds, which I think would add another layer of confusion to the situation.  

So as a life long self proclaimed dog person, who spent a brief few years exploring his cat fancy, I’m thrilled to have a dog around to at least pretend to be my best friend as I waltz across the room with her food.  I’ve introduced her to running, with limited success, as she is prone to fits of jealousy around other dogs.  And she will fetch a tennis ball with a depth of enthusiasm and mindlessness only a lab could embody.  But it wasn’t until today that I found myself confidently beaming with vicarious dog owner pride in the park.  I picked up a frisbee at the store, thinking she would enjoy a little change of the routine.  And, drawing on my high school varsity ultimate frisbee team skills – yeah it counted for a sport, I released my new Malibu model 110g frisbee disc into the afternoon gusts.  She gleefully took off after the prize, skillfully calculating its trajectory.  With a burst of athletic power and predatory determination, she leaped into the air, clamped down on the disc and gracefully returned to earth without breaking her stride.  She dutifully raced the captured token of her appreciation back to present to me at my feet and stood wagging her tail, awaiting the chance to do it all again.  She was a natural.  Just like the dogs on TV.  Hell, she could be on a Wheaties box with these skills.  Now my only task was to pace her so that she didn’t get worn out before enough people walked through the park to admire me and my frisbee dog, sharing our timeless and undeniable bond.  But of course, save for a couple of homeless men who didn’t seem in the least impressed, the only person who walked by had two greyhounds and clearly no interest in my leash-less dog’s achievements.  

But regardless if the Wide World of Dog Sports was there to witness or not, it happened.  And I was struck awe, admiration and I’m not ashamed to admit, pride.