Maddy was returning the ball when the small white whirlwind blew in out of nowhere. as he slowed to place two perfect paw prints on my jeans, i couldn’t help but admire his immaculately coiffed wee white afro. the tail whirred faster than my occipital lobe could keep up with. his bark reminded me why i prefer large dogs over small ones.

i couldn’t help but laugh back into his small face. he jumped up again and took off for the nearby goal post. Maddy had now noticed his presence and – head tilted down, ball in mouth, gait picking up speed – she prepared to bowl the little white fluffball into the nearest mud puddle.

i called for her to be careful and quiet and she slowed down a tiny bit as Fluffer circled the goal post a couple of times. lifting his leg, he graffiti’d his message for the next visitors. i had to admit that the little guy was brilliant. Brenda Aloff would call this a “distance increasing behaviour” or an unexpected tap on the shoulder to distract another dog from potentially aggressive intentions. his street smarts told him that any contest with this determined bigger dog would undoubtedly ruin his perfect hairdo. instead of confronting her, he diffused her intentions with a distraction.

and it worked much more quickly than my rebuke. Maddy curiously sniffed the new wet spot and proceeded to squat (ball still in her mouth) with a counter message.

Fluffer apparently disagreed with whatever Maddy had to say because he circled and lifted his leg on her spot. the showdown continued as Maddy sniffed again. squatted again. snorted again. Fluffer was again dissatisfied with someone tagging their inferior message over his masterpiece stubbornly added another dribble. Maddy squatted, but i’m not sure she had much left in her.

this time Fluffer’s attention deficit disorder had already taken him clear across the park and i looked around for his owner. a middle-aged man stood sheepishly on the edge of the sidewalk with his hands deep in his pockets. everything about his posture shouted “IT’S NOT MY DOG.”

i shot him a sympathetic smile and watched as he tried to keep up with the wee white whirlwind. he shuffled along and called after the dog as it pinball’d off every tree, post, fence, blade of grass, person, and other dog in sight. instead of passively observing or just trying to tire her out, Maddy teaches me another valuable lesson in Dog Language every time she interacts with someone or something at the park. admittedly, i’m a slow learner.

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