First published in the Tri Town Transcript Apr 19, 2017
By Esther C. Baird
Regular readers will recall that we recently added Moose, a Bernese Mountain dog, to our family. As you read this he is around 14 weeks old and is, in a word, a handful.
Our 6 year old Berner, Blue Ears, is used to a daily walk. But Moose thinks a leash is a chew toy and walking is best spent jumping onto Blue’s back or rolling around on the ground. So bit by bit, Blue and I are teaching Moose how to go on a real, big boy, walk.
It’s not a task for the weak. Nor is a task for the month of March which, you may have blotted from your memory, but trust me, it was 31 days of pure wet, cold misery.
To practice walking, I chose the stretch of trail that runs from Topsfield town center, east behind the fairgrounds, over towards Route 97. It’s wide and gets sun (except in March) and generally is well maintained.
I had both dogs, leashes and water but from the moment they hit the ground they went in different directions. Blue is 115 pounds and Moose is 30 and gaining. I lift weights, but normally my weights don’t scatter and try to rip my arms out of their sockets. Like I said, walk-training is not for the weak.
Blue, as is his regular pre-walk habit, went into the bushes to relieve himself and Moose darted the other way understanding that peeing was in order, but the location was unclear. He chose to pee on his leash.
When Blue emerged he had a giant branch tangled in his undercoat. I pulled Moose in to me (yes, grabbing the pee-pee leash) and yanked at the branch.
Except it was not a branch!!!! It was an entire set of carving knives attached to a stick. Blue managed to pee in a thorn bush that was from the Jurassic period. The thorns were the size of my skull. So I wound Moose even closer, which meant he now had access to my shoelaces, while I slowly pulled at Blue’s fur trying to disentangle the thorns without losing a limb.
I had pee on me, I’d cut myself in several places, and my sneakers were untied.
We had walked five feet.
Once we recovered from our dramatically poor start, we began again and more or less walked in sync for an amazing 15 yards. Then just to keep things interesting, the trail dissolved into a mud puddle as large as the entire Topsfield Fairgrounds.
Like Moses leading the Israelites, I told the dogs to, “Stay on the dry land! Don’t go to the sides, just walk straight.”
This meant nothing to either of them.
Blue could care less – – he was annoyed and very much over the walk that so far, was not any fun. If he got muddy, his owner could deal with it and perhaps she would think twice before dragging him out with a small, uncoordinated, pee machine next time.
Moose didn’t listen because. . . YAY MUD!!
Mud and puppies. You can jump in it. You can kick it up. You can twirl in a circle and splash in it. And best of all, if you are thirsty, you can drink mud! Parasite infested MUD! I considered lying down and letting the muddy waters overtake me. But we splashed on.
This brought us to Route 1. I’m ever so sorry Tri-Towners for any traffic difficulties you may experience over the next few months, but we make LIBERAL use of those pedestrian lights by the fair grounds. I pushed the crossing button with wild abandon and waited until all the drivers, (perhaps you?) actually stopped and made eye contact.
Only then did our parade of fur proceed. Moose wasn’t sure whether to be scared of the idling cars, or interested. Was it fun like MUD? Or was it scary like trash bags? He stopped in the middle of the road to ponder the question.
I smiled wearily at the truck waiting for us to cross. Could I climb in it and ask him to drive me to Florida? Would that be weird?
Finally we crossed. And crossed again. And walked. And tangled up. And peed. And walked. Again. And again. Until some day, (please God let it be by summer), we’ll will actually go on a good (unspoiled or unsoiled) walk.