another chapter closed:

since the beginning of june-- june 4 (the day after the rush concert), to be exact-- i have been a professional dog-walker. well, maybe not so "professional," but i am now rather skilled at handling a particular 70+ pound rotweiler puppy named kobe (beef), of whom i have become quite fond. kobe's family is really busy (and 75% of them are vacationing outside the country right now), so i was his creative and physical outlet for the day-- a break from the quiet and boringness of the backyard so that he could have his "visual orgasm" (i'm using kim's term) with a 45-minute daily walk around the neighborhood 6 days a week.

at first, i was really scared. his rawhide bones for chewing were bigger than my forearm. the first day that kim and i practiced walking kobe, he took off after paper products and we ended up mostly yelling at him. so it went for the first few days. he bit my left hand (which gripped the leash about 6" from where it connects to the choke chain collar) several times until it was swollen pink with small dots of blood. i also stunk of dog drool.

one day, we approached a freshly gardened front yard with new flowers and plants in loose dark soil. kobe stopped to smell some small purple flowers, which he quickly uprooted in his mouth. shaking the plant around, i was sprayed with dirt while shouting, "drop it! drop it! drop it!" but it was too late: he ate the flowers. he also likes to eat pine cones.

but it got better. much better, in fact. about two weeks into my dog-walking, i realized the routine we'd established: i park in the driveway (with my music usually blasting), open the garage door (and while it opens, i roll down my car windows-- save for the driver's side one...), and exit my vehicle. everyday, i see kobe's gigantic black nose and two front paws reaching under the wood fence, sniffing and softly whining. i open the side garage door to go into the backyard. kobe sits in front of me. i put on his chain collar, connect the leash, tell him "stay" until i'm through the door (a tip that shows kobe i'm in control and that he cannot run ahead of me), and ask him to "come." then our walk starts.

like clockwork.

for the past month or so, my duties expanded into a professional dog-companion. each day after our walk, i sip on a juice box (provided by kobe's owner) and kobe cools down by laying on the floor while i watch a movie or tv for a while. yes, we hang out.

since june, i've learned many things about kobe, such as:
- even though he looks like a meaner, he's really a big softie inside (i.e. he likes to smell flowers and is scared of loud noises)
- he protects me, as any object moving towards us in a faster-than-normal fashion makes him tense and alert and sometimes he growls
- he hates sprinklers, and he gives me this incredible look of scorn anytime we have to walk through them
- i know every single rock and pole that he will pee on (and trying to get him to stop sometimes means that he will pee on you... trust me)
- if kobe was a human, he would be a bulky 17-year-old boy who listens to loud rock music and rides a crotch rocket
- his most ticklish spot is right on his bark box, and scratching there makes his back foot thump
kobe has become the one thing that i see (and who sees me) on a regular basis these days. but, his family gets back on monday, so kobe will no longer need me to save him from solitary confinement; he will experience sensory overload when two little girls return from vietnam to find their little puppy isn't so little anymore. i am happy that kobe will have someone to play with him all day-- instead of just an afternoon playdate.

but i will miss him and our hang out time. goodbye, kobe koberton. your walk was mine, too.