Marley: A Dog Like No Other

After several rounds of hit-the-deck, I moved up to the next challenge – come on command. This was a tough one for Marley. The coming part was not the problem; it was waiting in place until we called him. He was so anxious to be plastered against us that he could not sit still while we walked away from him.

“Sit,” I commanded. He faced me, and I fixed my eyes on his. As we stared at each other, I raised my palm, holding it out in front of me like a crossing guard. “Stay,” I said, and took a step backwards. He froze, staring anxiously, waiting for the slightest sign he could join me. On my fourth step backwards, he could take it no longer and broke free, racing up and tumbling against me. I scolded him and tried it again. And again and again.

Each time he allowed me to get a little farther away before charging. Eventually I stood fifteen metres across the yard, with my palm out towards him. I stood and waited. He sat, locked in position, his entire body quaking with anticipation. I could see the nervous energy building in him. He was like a volcano ready to blow. But he stayed. I counted to ten. He did not budge. His eyes froze on me. His muscles bulged. OK, enough torture.

I dropped my hand and yelled, “Marley, come!”

As he catapulted forward, I squatted down and clapped my hands to encourage him. I thought he might go racing willy-nilly across the yard, but he made a beeline straight for me. Perfect! I thought.

“C’mon, boy! C’mon!” I coached. He was barrelling right at me. “Slow it down, boy,” I said. He just kept coming. “Slow down!” He had this vacant, crazed look on his face. It was a one-dog stampede. I had time for one final command. “STOP!” I screamed.

Blam! He plowed into me without breaking stride. I pitched backwards, slamming hard to the ground. When I opened my eyes a few seconds later, he was straddling me with all four paws, lying on my chest and desperately licking my face.

“How did I do, boss?” my proud puppy seemed to be asking.

Technically speaking, he had followed orders exactly. After all, I had failed to mention anything about stopping once he got to me.

“Mission accomplished,” I said with a groan.

Jenny peered out the kitchen window. “I’m off to work,” she shouted. “When you two are done making out, don’t forget to close the windows. It’s supposed to rain this afternoon.” I gave Linebacker Dog a snack and then showered and headed off myself to my job as a newspaper reporter.

When I arrived home that night, Jenny was waiting for me at the front door. I could tell she was upset.

“Go look in the garage,” she said.

I opened the door into the garage, and the first thing I spotted was Marley, lying on his carpet, looking sad.

My mind took a photo of the scene. Marley’s snout and front paws were not right. They were dark brown, not their usual light yellow. It took me a few seconds to figure out that they were covered in dried blood. Then my focus zoomed out and I sucked in my breath. We had thought the garage was indestructible, but Marley had destroyed it. Throw rugs were shredded. Paint was clawed off the concrete walls. The ironing board was tipped over, its fabric cover hanging in ribbons.

Worst of all, the doorway in which I stood looked like it had been attacked with a chipper-shredder. Bits of wood were sprayed in a three-metre semicircle around the door, which had a hole halfway through to the other side. The bottom metre of the doorjamb were missing entirely and nowhere to be found. Blood streaked the walls from where Marley had shredded his paws and muzzle.

“I don’t believe it,” I said, more amazed than angry.

“When I came home for lunch, everything was fine,” Jenny said from behind me. “But I could tell it was getting ready to rain.” After she was back at work, an intense storm had moved through, bringing with it sheets of rain and dazzling flashes of lightning. The thunder was so powerful, you could actually feel it thump against your chest.

While the storm raged, Marley had desperately tried to escape. The storm had sent him into a complete, panic-stricken frenzy. Alone and terrified as the storm came, Marley had decided his best chance at survival was to begin digging his way into the house. When Jenny arrived home a couple of hours later, Marley stood in the middle of the mess he had made.

But it didn’t take long for Marley to forget the whole incident. Back to his old self, he grabbed a chew toy and bounced around us, looking for a little tug-of-war action. I held him still while Jenny sponged the blood off his fur. Then he watched us, tail wagging, as we cleaned up his handiwork.

“You don’t have to look so happy about it.” I scowled and brought him inside for the night.

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The Great Escape (#ue354eabb-2d76-556d-bc85-bb2c87b80dcb)

One thing was clear. Jenny and I loved our dog, but having a bunch of little Marleys running around in the world was not a good idea. It was time to make sure Marley couldn’t make any puppies. Jenny and I decided to have him fixed so he would never be a father.

As we got ready to take Marley to the vet, he bounced happily off the walls. “Yippee!” his excited movements told us. He could tell he was going for a car ride, and he didn’t care where.

For Marley, any trip was a good trip. It didn’t matter where we were going or for how long. Take out the trash? “No problem!” Walk to the corner for a gallon of milk? “Count me in!”

When I whistled, Marley bounded out the door and into the car. He was revved up and ready to go. Jenny drove and I sat in the passenger seat. From the backseat near the hand brake Marley balanced his front paws – just like he always did. His nose touched the rearview mirror. Every time Jenny pressed the brakes, he went crashing into the windshield. Marley didn’t care. He was riding shotgun with his two best friends.

“Life doesn’t get any better than this,” his puppy joy announced.

I rolled down my window a bit and Marley leaned against me, trying to catch a whiff of the outdoor smells. Soon he squirmed his way fully on to my lap. He pressed his nose so firmly into the narrow crack of the window that he snorted each time he tried to inhale.

“Do you want a little more fresh air, buddy?” I asked. I opened the window wide enough for him to stick out his snout. He was enjoying the sensation so much, I opened it farther. Soon his entire head was out the window. His tongue hung out and his ears flapped behind him in the wind. Was he happy!

As we drove down the highway, Jenny and I talked. Pretty soon I noticed that Marley had hooked both of his front paws over the edge of the half-open window. And now his neck and upper shoulders were hanging out of the car, too. He just needed a pair of goggles and a silk scarf to look like one of those World War I flying aces.

“John, he’s making me nervous,” Jenny said.

“He’s fine,” I answered. “He just wants a little fresh—”

At that instant he slid his front legs out the window until his armpits were resting on the edge of the glass.

“John, grab him! Grab him!” Jenny yelled.

Before I could do anything, Marley was scrambling out the window of our moving car. His butt was up in the air, and his hind legs were clawing for something to hold on to. He was making his break!

As his body slithered past me, I lunged for him and managed to grab the end of his tail with my left hand. Jenny was braking hard even though there was traffic all around us. Marley’s entire body dangled outside the moving car, hanging upside down by his tail. My body was twisted around, and I couldn’t get my other hand on him. Marley was frantically trotting along with his front paws on the pavement.

Jenny stopped the car in the left-hand lane. Cars lined up behind us. Their horns blared.

“Now what?” I yelled. I was stuck. I couldn’t pull him back in the window. I couldn’t open the door. I couldn’t get my other arm out. And I didn’t dare let go of him – I was convinced he’d dash in the path of one of the angry drivers swerving around us. With my face scrunched against the glass, I held on for dear life.

Jenny put on the car’s flashers and ran around to my side. She grabbed Marley and held him by the collar until I could get out and help her wrestle him back into the car.

All the action had taken place directly in front of a gas station. As Jenny got the car moving again, I looked over to see that all the mechanics had come out to take in the show. I thought they were going to pee in their pants, they were laughing so hard.

“Thanks, guys!” I called out. “Glad we could brighten your morning.”

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The Things He Ate (#ue354eabb-2d76-556d-bc85-bb2c87b80dcb)

Before long, Jenny and I were expecting our first child. Marley would stop being the baby of the family, and we had to prepare him for the change. So every day we worked on his training.

Now I was able to entertain our friends by yelling, “Incoming!” and watching Marley crash to the floor, all four limbs splayed.

He always came on command – unless something caught his attention, such as another dog, squirrel, butterfly, mailman, or floating weed seed. He always sat – unless he felt like standing. He always heeled – unless there was something so tempting it was worth strangling himself over, such as another dog, squirrel, butterfly… Well, you get the idea.

Marley’s training was coming along. But that didn’t mean he was mellowing into a calm, well-behaved dog. If I towered over him and barked stern orders, he would obey. Sometimes he’d even do it eagerly. But Marley was still Marley. And Marley was incorrigible.

A giant mango tree grew in our Florida backyard, and mangoes rained down to the ground. Marley could never eat enough. Each weighed half a kilo or more. They were so sweet they could make your teeth ache. Marley would stretch out in the grass, anchor a ripe mango between his front paws, and remove every bit of flesh from the skin. It was as if he were performing surgery. He would hold the large pits in his mouth like lozenges. When he finally spat them out, they looked like they had been cleaned in an acid bath. There was not a speck of fruit left on them. Some days he would be out there for hours, frantically gobbling down mango after mango.