The Orange Whistle

Hi All,

During the cold weather, the best way for Baron to get a workout (i.e. rid himself of his excess energy - if that's possible) is to run around the dog park. I just love it when he does that, because, with any luck, he will stay out of trouble at home.

Unfortunately, there is a glitch. Baron has such a good time playing with his friends, he doesn't want to come when called. He has little reaction to the cold weather. I, of course, am standing there obsessing about frostbite, while my canine companion, oblivious of my predicament, cavorts with his buddies. This has become the challenge.

Never fear, dear readers, I am armed! What am I armed with? A whistle! During Baron's 1st dog obedience class, we learned how to train the dogs to respond to a whistle. I won't bore you with the details, but it involved weeks of whistling and rewarding Baron with liver sausage (ugh). My house smelled of liver sausage, I smelled of liver sausage; I washed my hands so frequently, it was like a dress rehearsal for h1n1 flu prevention. It was a canine aphrodisiac - dogs of all shapes and sizes wanted to lick my hands. Baron happily rushed to my side when I blew the special neon orange whistle (actually a whistle for boaters). I felt in control, it was worth the large investment in liver sausage (and the odor) - until now.

Yesterday at the dog park, not only did Baron fail to check in with me, he forgot about my very existence! I had stood in the icy dog park for 1 hour, feeling like a shoo in for "Dog owner of the year (or at least of the winter)". I called my beloved pooch, who didn't hear me. I then blew the whistle, which was hanging on a cord around my neck - a perfect fashion accessory. There was no response - at least not from Baron. My fellow humans all turned to gaze at me, as I stood there, ineffectively blowing my orange whistle. It did accomplish something - 5 dogs who must have taken dog obedience from our 1st instructor came dashing to my side, in fact, the doberman almost knocked me over in his eagerness for a treat, but not a poodle in sight - at least not mine.

Finally, 2 humans took pity on me, corralled Baron and pointed at me. He looked over at me, obviously thinking "Oh, her". He then ran to my side, thank heavens. I was able to get his leash on and make my frozen way to the car. That's when I discovered the hole in my pants pocket where I keep the car keys.

Stay tuned for the rest of this icy tale.

Botswain