The REF

Promptly and without exception every night at eight, I'll hear the whimper and cries of a 110 pound baby while he looks at me with begging eyes and wagging tail, signaling to me that it's time for the nightly stroll. Chance my rescued Lab-mix dog, will without fail, expect a nightly walk to which his pint-sized Pekingese companion, Gizmo, will be right behind him; being awakened by Chances nightly walk-dance ritual. Gizmo knows as well does Chance that this behavior gets me up, putting my shoes on, and taking them out the door. Little do they know that I have this walk planned as their daily exercise and love doing it at night as it seems to be the best time to clear my mind while my dogs get a little exercise and the chance to take in the neighborhood scents and leave some of their own.

The dogs picking up the scent of other dogs and leaving their own has turned into a sport on our walks, to which I'm the referee of. Chance and Gizmo are both males; however, Chance is more than three times Gizmo's size and can pull like an Ox. Gizmo is shifty and likes to dart left and right constantly while picking up new scents and reacting to distant noises; an anxious ball of energy. Chance in my right hand is like a search and rescue dog on a mission paying no attention to anything other than the current scent he's tracking. Gizmo in my left hand is erratic, sometimes interested in where Chance is going and then in a split second turning to the left on a dime. Gizmo being just under 30 pounds makes handling his behavior somewhat manageable, but still these two with their different personalities and weights makes walking them similar to trying to rub your belly and pat your head at the same time. I'm always trying to keep Gizmo on a straight path and not pulling in many different directions, which my size and weight could easily handle, if it was just him; however, add Chance walking like he's pulling a plow and this adds a challenge to the walk that really has to keep me engaged at the reigns at all times.

We have pit stops along our two-mile trail. This is when the game really begins and I have to become the Ref of Piss. If I didn't undertake this role somebody would be going home pissed on, and it's not always the little guy I'm worried about. I've caught both Gizmo and Chance sniffing away as one or the other has taken the lifted leg-lean while one of the other's head is right in the line of fire. I really believe I'm worried about them being pissed on more than they are, and actually I think they both would not mind adding that to the list of smells they carry around and drop off in the house. It's due to the fact that I don't want the house to smell like a complete kennel or barn, that I try to steer each of the dogs clear of one another when they are leaving a scent or relieving themselves. I also have to keep track of who pees where and when. I've caught Gizmo coming behind Chance trying to cover Chance's sent with his own and rubbing right into The wet spot Chance just left. Washing Gizmo afterwards extended the walk by an hour and I had to learn that lesson the hard way. Now when I walk them I'm physically and mentally prepared to Ref.

Chance has way less interest in pissing on everything like Gizmo has. Chance is just looking for the perfect place to drop his calling card. Gizmo is a man of sheer numbers and believes the more you put out there the more chances to a match. The Game usually starts with the Big Guy relieving himself and then the rest of the walk is his time to mark the world. Gizmo has to be restrained from getting near Chance but watching Chance piss really makes Gizmo anxious to get out there and start doing some marking of his own. We get off onto our walk and Gizmo is like a little machine gun and would mark every low hanging branch, plant, and bush if I let him. I usually give him three goes to Chances one. Sometimes Chance saves it for a special spot that he really likes on particular walks. On those nights my referee duties usually consist of just stopping Chance from pulling to give Gizmo some stops.

I've realized that two miles is the usual distance required for both of my dogs to take a number 2. This calls for some special overtime ref skills as each dog's ritual is as much hilarious as it is unique. First up is usually Chance because he really doesn't care where he drops a deuce. I will notice one of two things when Chance is ready to go. His walk turns a little spastic like his front and rear ends are not working together or he'll stop pulling and I'll find I'm actually leading him. The latter is the usual way I recognize Chance is up because that is the only time he takes a break from pulling the plow. Managing Chance now is easy, it's Gizmo that turns into a little maniac. If smelling another dog's piss is money then smelling another dogs poop, especially while it's hot and coming out is the bank. Getting at a fresh number 2 is really more of Gizmo's thing and I have to shorten the leash keeping him next to me or he would be right up in Chances business; I have more on that later.

Gizmo has a special spot of ground covering he loves to get into and drop his number 2. This is at the corner house just before the turn home on our street. I know this is Gizmo's spot and will let him get some distance into the plants, that look much taller than they are due to Gizmo's size. This requires my ref duties to kick back in while keeping Chance near and not pulling us away from Gizmo's sacred spot. Once Gizmo has hurdled is way through enough of the ground covering, he signals he's ready by stopping then doing numerous circles in both the clockwise and counter-clockwise motions. With a dignified look on his face and nose up to the air, Gizmo stops and poops. Honestly there is no finding his little marble turds as they fall into the dense plant cover. I don't know if Gizmo is hooking me up by always relieving himself here or just loves to feel leaves on his butt; either way I appreciate the relief of duty as Chance leaves enough to pick up.

With both dogs fully exercised and bowels emptied, I excitingly will tell them, "let's go home" they know what this means and are excited and easily guide me to our house at the end of the road, which is just about 6 houses down from our final pit stop. I stop them both at our gate and open it. Chance being the big clumsy guy he is will barrel his way in first, which Gizmo actually doesn't mind because that gives him an opportunity to be right at his favorite spot on Chance; his junk. I can't get Chance's leash of fast enough and stop Gizmo from licking Chance's gear clean. When we rescued Chance, Gizmo's antics of junk sniffing and licking irritated Chance, now he has no qualms and actually just lets Gizmo do it. I think I'm more grossed out by it than anyone else. Now we're at the front door and the game is over, my nightly ref job is complete, and there are no winners or losers. Chance and Gizmo both get participation trophies in the form of a treat that they immediately take to their favorite spot in the house, where they chew and drool; our bedroom carpet.