The road from puppy, to pup, to grown up dog (does this even happen) is fraught with tales of mischief, wide eyed innocence and general mayhem as any caretaker can tell you. The stories are endless, most hilarious later, much later, but at the time not quite so much.
And so I enter the world of pup care for young Culper named after General George Washington’s highly successful spy ring. This group was so covert and shrouded in secrecy to protect the members that Washington himself did not know they names of all the spies. To this day no one knows for sure the name of female Agent 355. The name perfectly fits our sneaky clever pup, although autocorrect culprit possibly fits even better through his growing months.
It is while his parents are on vacation that things get interesting. I am called in to pinch hit for the full time caretakers. I enter the house to find an explosion. A toy explosion. How many pieces of fiber fill can be in one small dog toy? Apparently when shredded apart by pup teeth the answer is countless. I know that his caretakers are taking excellent care of him but also have lives and demanding jobs and so I have already decided to take him on a field trip even before I walk in on the explosion. But Culper won’t get in my car. I can lift him in but not being really sure how the field trip is going to play out anyway I opt out.
The backyard will have to do to run off some energy. I am in the porch area stowing my phone to be ready to frolic with Mr. Energy. I don’t see him. But I figure that he is around the corner digging up plants, a favorite pasttime. Actually no, he is not around the corner digging up plants. He has spied a way out and escaped. I have visions of my charge running onto busy Colington Road, or just running free. Panic is setting in. I call Donny all the while calling his name and running toward the front of the house where I find Mr. Culprit investigating whatever in the side yard. I breathe a sigh of relief and lure him to me with apple bits I have in my pocket to reel him in when yard time is over.
Later Donny comes over to repair the fence, a feat unto itself since it was not attached to the house and at that only held up by imagination. It’s getting dark, cold and lack of all but the basic tools challenge this simple job. And rocks in the ground impede any deep digging for the post so Donny Rube Goldberg’s the entire repair using leftovers from Robert’s outside shower construction to create a triangle support system.
My next call of duty reveals plant parts scattered everywhere. Caretaker Ezra tells me that yes, everyday is a different disaster. (He sort of forgot to tell me that the fence was already downed by Mr. Busy. And that he too, temporarily, lost The Kid. “I panicked,” he tells me later. “Lewis would’ve killed me if anything happened to his dog.”) I reason that this pup needs some serious grown up dog chew toys and head to PetSmart for some destruction proof Kongs. They do the trick. He is well behaved the rest of parental vacation.
And then comes the coup de grace. At least in this dog’s life. In my opinion. So far. His parents are home. All is well. I’m asked to go put him to bed. No problem. It’s a short car ride or jog to their abode but I’d do it anyway even if the trip were longer. I arrive, let myself in and greet the happy pup. We head off to the bedroom where disaster has occurred. As Hilarey later describes, “It looked like a huge pile of confetti.” I do not have an incriminating photo but trust me one photo could not have covered the scope. A tasty paperback had been torn page by page. Thoroughly devoured.
Valerie has brought the pup home earlier in the day from his outing on the beach and after seeing how hungry he was for reading material elects not to put him to bed because she doesn’t want him to get into any more trouble. Surely she forgot that this pup, this adorable pup, will not get off the bed without help. He can. He just won’t. He’s afraid of most heights. He won’t get off of the couch. Anything with the slightest height to it. Not for love or food. Maybe Val thinks that Culper has unlocked the Get Down From Heights achievement badge. Nope. Not yet. He makes a few exceptions but the reward has to be high. Like a ride in the Prius for an outing.
So I know that putting him on the bed for a nap will not involve any more reckless recreation. I leave him surrounded by his literature litter. I would have made a photo attempt and cleaned up but couldn’t find the light. And what, you ask out of mild curiosity, might have been his choice of literature. Why, The Genius of Dogs of course.