Play: September 2006 Archives

Hobie and I were on our way back from walking to Alamo Square this morning when we saw a pack of pugs down the street.

One woman had four of them, all running around lose on the sidewalk, and she was talking to another dog owner (who just had one, slightly larger dog). The pugs were mostly doing their own thing, walking around, smelling trees, and just enjoying life.

We walk toward them, and the pug closest to us saw Hobie and started trotting toward us. Hobie has been getting a little skittish when meeting some dogs, so he stopped and waited for the other dog to come. They did a little butt-sniffing dance, and then Hobie walked on.

Now the second pug sees us, and he runs toward Hobie to smell. We get past this obstacle too.

By now I feel like I'm in some game, with the pugs being little bosses that Hobie has to get past. Of course, next up is a third pug and the larger dog. It was a mutt, around Hobie's size, and they sniff him up front and back at the same time. Hobie's not quite sure how excited he is, but he takes it like a real dog.

The fourth pug is hiding behind its owner.

I exchange smiles with the other dog owners, and Hobie is ready to go.

Game over.

We live in a building that is access controlled. When visitors come over, they have to call in order to get buzzed in. This weekend, Hobie finally figured out that when the house phone rings, it means people are coming over. As soon as we hung up the phone, he gave a preemptive bark and ran around the apartment, working himself up. Once he hears the knock on the door, he explodes into a barking frenzy.

Our ringing phone is equivilent to a door bell. Sheesh.

To minimize frightening the pizza delivery guy, one of us takes Hobie into the bedroom and we close the door. He's figured that being shut in the bedroom, even with one of us with him, means someone is coming over. He barks as if he's being tortured. Poor dog.

We took Hobie to a barbeque with Gladys' cousins today.

The San Leandro Marina was freezing, but Hobie didn't mind. Some days, it's good to have fur.

Although he was tied up most of the time, he did get to play with his frisbee for a while. Between trying to beg for food (mostly unsuccessfully) and running around in circles, Hobie is getting quite good at catching the frisbee.

We were too cold to take pictures. So here's a picture from another bbq earlier this summer, guarding the beer:

Hobie will sit in front of me, eyes focused on the frisbee. When I motion to throw the frisbee, he will take off, and wait for it to appear in front of him. When it does, he'll charge at it, trying to grab it mid-air. He got it a couple of times, but most of the time he was faster than the frisbee, and had to backtrack to get it.

Because a frisbee laying on the ground is hard to pick up without opposable thumbs, he'll struggle a little bit. Most times he'll growl and whine while trying to get it in his mouth. It's pretty funny, especially when the frisbee end up underneath his cheek so he can't even get his teet on it. I'm sure it's frustrating if you're a dog, but if you're a human watching the spectacle, it's entertaining.