Major Domo Dog

Last night my phone rang about 8:30. A friend in the condo across from me spoke low and rushed. “Don't take the dogs outside now. There is a coyote on the walkway between us and it's making loud scary sounds.”

I hadn't heard anything and my four little dogs hadn't stirred or made a sound. Like all small dogs, they are alert for any danger and have big mouths to prove it, like barking at a neighbor weeding her garden, Amazon delivering a package, or maybe a lady with a Chihuahua. Yeah, something dangerous like normal sounds arouses them to a cacophony of yowls, howls, yaps and frantic barking. But a coyote at our door? Nada!

I assured her I'd be careful. An hour later, well armed with metal pole and ultrasonic coyote repellant, I took the dogs for their quick late pee. One at a time we cautiously watered the plants next to the door. Still no sign of danger from any of them, but they must have picked up my anxiety as it was probably the quickest quick-pee on record. As they scarfed down their bedtime treats we had a serious talk. We usually were out in the morning between 6 and 6:30 for a short walk and morning poops and pees. But here in summer in Southern California relatively near the ocean, morning fog, or as the weather people like to call it, a Coastal Eddie, covers the morning sun with a thick grey mist which in turn brings a cool and damp overlay to the blistering daytime heat. It also provides cover for marauding coyotes who didn’t get their fill of bunnies, mice, squirrels, the occasional stray dog, or dog with a clueless owner, while on the prowl the night before. But by 8, the joggers, walkers & dog people are filling the park like surroundings and the coyotes have generally slunk off to their hiding places.

After this night of the coyote sighting, our bedtime talk was comprised of danger warnings and, looking directly at my black poodle, Henry, Major Domo, King of the Pack and Ruler of the House, I was serious. “Tomorrow we can't go out our usual time. I don't want to get out of bed earlier than 8. By the time we then get out, enough of the fog should have burned off so those scoundrels can no longer hide. Got it?” He gave me an odd stare, one corner of his mouth twitched up as a human would to register the mildly disgusted look that said, ‘of course I got it, I'm no dummy.’

But Henry is a dog, a smallish black poodle rescued from a hawker trying to sell him to tourists on the streets of Baja when he was only a few weeks old. He has grown up to be the Major Domo of our small casa, running the house and me. As my shadow, he makes sure I lock the doors, make dinner on time, fill the water bowl, get me away from the computer or tablet when he thinks I’ve had enough, save his favorite place on the recliner so he can sit next to my leg, and generally boss me around. Henry watches my routines and makes sure I follow them on schedule. He is also my buddy who snores in my ear and who I feel next to me every morning when I awake. Before we get out of bed he nudges me with his nose & cuddles into the crook of my arm, the signal snuggle time has arrived and he's in place for ear and thigh rubs, head and neck scratches, and finally, his back adjustment. If I stop or fall asleep in the process, a cold demanding nose poking me and moving my hand to the right place is a sharp reminder to get back to work. Henry must be obeyed!

But this morning, one eye opens to look at the clock, 6AM, no Henry in sight. I turn over and fall back to sleep. A while later, I am pounced upon. Henry is standing on me and looking down. We are nose to nose. I hear a soft ‘click`. Turning to look at the clock, it's 8 o'clock on the button. First time he woke me so late. How in the world did that darned dog know to wake me up exactly to the second as I had said I wanted the night before?

He poked me to not forget his snuggles, back and thigh rubs, the beginning of every day. Only then could I stretch and look for my slippers, Henry stood at the foot of the bed, staring at me intently. A voice whispered softly in my brain, “I don't have to tell you all my secrets.” His nose twitched a bit, he wagged his tail and jumped off the bed.

I've always thought dogs were a darn sight smarter than many humans but had no way to prove it. Henry just did.