🌟 Spaghetti Monsters

The crowd went silent as everyone held their breath. The only noise on the farm was the chicka-chicka-chick of maracas. The squiggle snarled at me. I leaned in to sniff it.

Mom didn't make me wake up early, so that meant it was a weekend. Which meant it was a day destined for adventure.

"Where should we go this weekend, Mom?" I asked, hoping it was somewhere with food on the way home.

Mom took a sip of poop juice and sunk back into the chair like she meant spend the whole day there. "No traveling this weekend, Spud. You've got safety training."

"I know all about safety. Who made sure you got ice cream before you melted last weekend?" I reminded her. "All we have to do is go somewhere foggy."

"Ugh. This June gloom will be the death of me." Mom looked out the window and her face did forlorn for a long moment to show what she meant. "My SAD is just awful this time of year."

"No need to be sad, Mom. Clouds can't hurt you. It's the sun you have to look out for, and we won't see sun until the fall."

"Not sad. SAD," she said, like there was a difference. "Seasonal affective disorder. It means that I'm allergic to clouds. Whenever it's overcast, I get this ominous feeling, like something really terrible is about to happen. Even if I'm just making tater tots or folding laundry. The disorder part means I can't help it so you're not allowed to make me feel bad about it."

"Why would I make you feel bad for being a scaredy-cat when the clouds are doing it for me?"

We walked to the car under a sky covered in metal-grey clouds. They pressed down like a hug that was too tight on purpose, making the air too heavy to breathe. If mominous was supposed to mean danger that only Mom could feel, then why had I caught it from her?

The clouds spread to fill more and more of windows as the hills flattened into farmland. We pulled off the freeway into a neighborhood of lonely houses drowning in the empty fields that surrounded them. The smell of cow and horse were in the air, but I couldn't find a single one to bark at.

The car turned onto a field and stopped among a cluster of other cars parked half way between the street and the farm house. There were tables and awnings like the kind you see before a race, but none of the people paced with excitement. Most of them stood restlessly looking at their shoes so they didn't have to look at each other. Even with all that space to run around, none of the dogs were playing with each other, either. They all stared into the distance or watched their companions fidgeting with the slack leash. Every so often, someone would steal a look around as if they were waiting for something... or someone.

The window opened just a crack. The scents of fear and the farts of grass-eating animals filled the car. I stuck my mouth against the gap and shouted, "Hey! Hey, everyone! I'm here! I'm here! Look at me!" I paused for applause. "You can all loosen up now!"

No one paid me any nevermind.

"Let's get started with a game of tag," I barked, hoping the people on the other side could see my wagging tail through the window. "I'll be it first."

"You're staying in the car if you're going to be like that." Mom gathered the Witch and her wallet. "I'll be right back. You be good."

"Wait! Hey! Hey! Mom! Aren't you forgetting someone?" I stuck my nose back into the window crack and tried to squeeze through. "MAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHMMMMMMMMM!"

Mom pushed her way toward the front of the crowd and stood with the look of someone waiting to be noticed. There was only one person in the group who didn't seem afraid of anyone else. Her magnetic confidence attracted the attention of dogs and humans alike. People stepped respectfully back and dogs leapt lovingly forward as she walked through the crowd, leaving a trail of smiles everywhere she went.

I sniffed to see who was taking all of the attention meant for me, but her scent didn't carry all the way to the car. She leaned over to speak to a terrier and I leaned in to hear what she said.

Her voice rang out like a trumpet. "Good giiiiiiiiiiiirl."

The sound made my tail wiggle uncontrollably. Eagerness to please stirred in my chest. I would know that voice anywhere...

It was Trish! Trish was my puppy school professor. She taught Mom how to dispense treats and taught me everything I knew to make the ladies go "awwwwwww."

Trish noticed Mom and her arms sprung wide to capture Mom in a hug. She set Mom free and looked at the empty air around Mom's legs, where someone was obviously missing. Mom aimed her arm back at me.

"Trish! She has me trapped in here!" I barked. "Tell her she can't leave a dog alone in a kinda-warm car!"

"Hi Oscar!" Trish called in a voice loud enough to let everyone from here to Tim-bark-tu know who was her favorite. Only a little bit quieter, she told Mom, "You can let him out."

"Are you sure?" Mom asked. "Everyone's being so quiet..." Like I said, Mom makes up the silliest things to worry about. Obviously, Trish needed me to liven the place up a bit.

Trish gave Mom a go on nod. Mom obediently came back to open the door.

"Here I am!" I dragged Mom back to Trish before she even got a chance to close the door.

Trish doesn't like it when I jump on her, so I bucked the last few steps like a rodeo bull before running in figure eights through her patting hands.

Before Trish could make me concentrate, I turned to a lady standing next to a grumpy-looking poodle. "Hi. I'm Oscar. Do you know Trish? She's my Friend and I'm her favorite." I

started to dance a loop around her legs, using my leash as a lasso to pull her into the conversation. When I tried to boogey between her and the poodle, gnashing teeth blocked my path. "Hey, what's your problem, bucko?"

I had no time for party-poopers so I looked for a new dancing partner. A German shepherd sat apart from the crowd with Old McDonald standing stiffly by his side.

"Hi, Mr. McDonald! I'm a big fan of your work. Why, just last weekend I had the most succulent McRotguts. Were the chickens from your farm?"

"Don't let Oscar near Wolfgang!" Trish called, but it was too late.

The shepherd lunged at me so hard that he almost pulled Old MacDonald's arm clear off. I hopped out of range of his leash just in time. Germans have no sense of humor.

I didn't want anyone to think I was running scared, so I ran to the fence behind Old McDonald like that was my plan the whole time. "E-I-E-I-OMG! Are those sheep?" I screamed.

"Okay, maybe Oscar should go back in the—" Trish started to say when a man walked into the center of the crowd, distracting everyone.

He made a megaphone of his paws and shouted to the clouds, "WOLFGANG? McDONALD?"

Wolfgang perked his ears. He held his tail at a haughty angle as he trotted behind Old McDonald to meet the man in the center of the crowd. The man led them to a pen on the far side of the yard and ushered them through the gate.

I wasn't jealous, though, because Trish was opening a giant barrel of treats. The cookies rattled inside as she struggled with the lid. I dragged Mom back to the front row so I'd be first in line when the barrel opened.

"Trish! You'll never guess what I taught Mom all by myself," I wagged. "I taught her to hike off leash and to fetch me cheeses sticks from the gas station. We've practiced in FOUR different states. Aren't you proud of me?"

"Good boy, Oscar." Trish gave me the first treat.

I continued my story while she dealt out treats to all the other dogs. "And did you notice that there are sheep over there? Wanna go bark at them with—" The treat barrel rattled again and I lost my train of thought.

"Good boy, Oscar." She gave me another one.

"Mmf, thanks. So anyway, I could really use your advice about how to train Mom to behave around cliffs. She's really reactive and it's kind of embarrass—"

"COCO?" the man yelled again from the center of the crowd.

"HEY! KEEP IT DOWN!" I shouted. "YOU'RE DISTRACTING EVERYONE. I'M TRYING TO TELL A STORY OVER HERE."

A French bulldog stepped out of the crowd and accepted the man's pats. "DON'T ENCOURAGE HIM!" I barked to the Frenchie.

The treat barrel rattled again.

Trish turned to Mom while she waited for me to finish chewing. "He's come a long way. You've done a good job with him."

Mom puffed up, like she deserved the credit.

"The real work was coaching her all that way," I told Trish. "All Mom did was sit there and drive. You should've seen how reactive she was at the Grand Canyon. She acted like everyone was there to push her in."

"OSCAR?" the man shouted behind me.

"Hang on. Let me take care of this," I told Trish. I didn't much care for the man's attention-seeking, but if he was going to give me attention, I should at least hear him out. "That's me! I'm Oscar!" I said, dragging Mom toward the man.

All eyes were on me as I sat in front of my newest fan. He held out a hand to introduce himself, then held out a bulky collar for me to sniff.

"No thank you, I have one of my own." I didn't tell him that I thought the boxy plastic was tacky, but I thought it.

He put the fashion emergency around my neck anyway. Mom handed off her end of the leash and he led me away.

I felt the crowd's eyes on my back as he walked me through the gate into the empty pen. I wasn't sure what kind of performance he had in mind, but I was pretty sure I'd be great at it when I tried.

"Listen, buddy. Thanks for the invitation and all, but—"

A sound like dried beans shaking in an empty water bottle distracted me. I looked around to see where it was coming from. There was dirt, dried grass, leaves, an old rake in the corner... Just regular yard stuff.

I remembered that everyone was watching and turned back to my partner in whatever-this-was. "You seem like a nice guy and all. I don't want to make you look unmanly in front of all these people..."

"Oscar!" He looked at a spot just behind my wagging tail.

"What?" Usually, when a stranger asks for something, sit is the right answer. I clamped my butt to the ground and watched to see what he'd do.

"Oscar!" he said again, holding out his paw with only his pointer finger sticking out.

"What?" I sniffed his fist to see if there were treats inside.

"Oscar!" This time he reached his leg out and tapped his boot on the ground beside my hip.

I looked at Mom through the fence. "Look at this weirdo. Do you hear those rattles? I think he's trying to do a rain dance or something. Maybe he's to blame for those nasty clouds you were complaining about."

The man picked up a stick and waved it to get my attention. When he was sure I was looking, he threw it.

He was even worse at throwing than Mom. The stick fell right behind me. When I turned to pick it up, I noticed something strange next to where it landed. The whatever-it-was was long and thin like a small stick, but wigglier. It glared at me with hateful little eyes.

The crowd went silent as everyone held their breath. The only noise on the farm was the chicka-chicka-chick of maracas. The squiggle snarled at me. I leaned in to sniff it.

ZAP!

A shock sizzled through my hackles. It didn't hurt any more than when Mom pets me after walking across the living room in socks, but the surprise of it launched me half way to the clouds.

"Stay away from that thing," I told the man, pulling him out of range. "Who knows what it would have done if you'd hit it with that stick."

"Good boy, Oscar." The man turned and started to walk away. He glanced back just to make sure I was following. "Heel."

"Heal from what?" I asked. "Oh that. It didn't hurt so bad. I bet Wolfgang flipped out when it was his turn, huh? But I'm not so easily rattled."

We stepped into the shade of a tree and the man stopped. He looked around as if he forgot where we were going.

"Okay. Now. What did you bring me here to do?" I tilted my head and waited for him to tell me the rules of the game I was about to win.

(chick a-)chicka-Chicka-CHICK. The rattling was back. I looked around, trying to figure out where it was coming from. I didn't see any more spiteful spaghetti, but something fluttering on the far side of the tree trunk caught my attention.

A scaly ribbon was stuck on one end of a stick. The stick's other end was planted firmly in the ground, like the ugliest flower I'd ever seen.

"This is strange." I crept a little closer to investigate. The ribbon was hollow – more of a maleficent macaroni than a vicious vermicelli – and dry as an old leaf. It waved like a wind sock in the breeze. Its smell reminded me of something, but I couldn't quite remember what...

I remembered a moment too late.

ZAP!

"Leapin' lizards!" I screamed. I hid behind the man so the crowd would think that he was the one who'd screeched like a little girl. When the audience was done laughing at him, I dragged the man to the back-most part of the yard.

When I looked back to Mom to let her know I was okay, I realized I'd run in the wrong direction. I was now even farther from safety than ever before.

"This has all been very exciting, but I think I'll go now," I told the man. "Bad things seem to happen when you're around."

I tried to get some space, but the man followed me back into the sunny part of the yard. Some people just can't take a hint.

"What's that?" I cocked my head. "I think I hear Mom calling."

To my surprise, Mom really was calling me. Someone had left the gate open and now Mom was standing just inside, smiling at me.

And the rattling sound was back. I was really starting to hate that sound.

"Excuse me," I stepped around the man.

"C'mere, Oscar!" Mom said in her cheerful teakettle voice, like nothing at all was wrong. "C'mere, good boy."

"Mom, stay where you are! This place is boobytrapped!" I started to run toward her and noticed just in time that there was another spaghetti monster between us.

I pulled up short. While the last one had been barely the size of a shoelace, this fiendish fettuccini was as big around as my wrist. Its vicious stare held me in place. "Be careful, Mom! That's not a leash that someone left behind by accident."

"C'mere, Oscar!" Mom called again. "C'mere, good boy."

She took a step toward me.

"NUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!" I tucked my ears back and made a run for it.

I launched myself toward Mom with such awesome speed that the leash dropped out of the man's hand. I didn't run straight toward Mom, but took the long way around to put as much space between me and the spaghetti monster as possible. Once it was behind me, I made a bee line across the yard, straight into Mom's arms.

"Mom! Mom! I'm safe!" I wagged, starting to get as excited as she was, in spite of myself. "I thought you were imagining the mominousness, but you were right all along. You were just looking in the wrong place. The danger wasn't in the clouds, it was lying on the ground. You see that nasty snarl of spaghetti over there? " I turned around and sat on her toes so I wouldn't lose track of her while we looked together. "It's not what it looks like..."

The man caught up and took the ugly collar off my neck. I'd forgotten all about it. "Now you both have to watch each other closely in snake country," he told Mom. "When he looks scared, listen to him."

"You heard that, Mom? I'm the boss now."

"And same for you," he went on. "If you see a rattler before he does, make a big deal of it. Don't just turn around and walk away. Scream. Wave your arms. Run. Make sure you have his attention and he knows that something is really, really wrong."

"Don't worry," I told him. "She's already really good at that. You should see her around cliffs." I looked back at Mom. She was too proud that I'd saved this potato head from danger three times in a row to demomstrate her panicking act. "Okay, I promise," I told him. "I'll pretend to be scared for Mom just like I did for you. For safety's sake."

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Location Notes

• This story took place in San Martin, CA (next to Gilroy).

• Trish Wamsat was Oscar's puppy school (and post-graduate) professor. Oscar and I never would have had the relationship that we have today without Trish to teach us to communicate. Trish also gives online classes (nudge, nudge).

• Every summer, Trish does rattlesnake avoidance training. Don't worry, the snakes are all devenomized and are usually pretty aloof. Oscar was on a 30-ft leash throughout the training to allow him to move freely, but to pull him back if anything unexpected happened.

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Mom Notes

Oscar would not be the dog you know today if we hadn't met Trish. Literally. He wouldn't have the voice to tell these stories if Trish hadn't taught me to understand his worldview.

When Oscar first came home, we had no idea what we were doing. Like many new puppy parents, I thought that dogs learned "obedience" through commands and reasoning. I couldn't understand why this puppy wasn't as well trained as Rin Tin Tin after a few stern lectures and time-outs.  

Dogs learning through words? What a stupid idea.

Oscar was an especially cunning puppy. If we took our eyes off of him for even a second, there was no telling what kind of mischief he'd get into. He chewed up power cords, chewed through leashes, ripped holes in every pocket in the laundry basket, and barked at everyone and everything. Especially the cat. We were at our wits' end.

Within minutes of picking up the phone, Trish made a noticeable difference. Her advice that puppies need naps just like cranky toddlers clicked right away. After a nap, Oscar's behavior improved immediately. It was the beginning of a profound shift in my worldview that improved every aspect of my life, even when Oscar wasn't around to teach me.

The way Trish broke tasks down into their component parts was illuminating. If you want a puppy to sit, don't push his butt down, lift his nose up by holding a treat just out of reach. He will naturally put his butt on the floor in a pretty sit, and then —miracle of miracles— he gets a treat! Of course he wants to figure out how to get more treats, so he'll keep working at it until he gets the pattern. What fun!

Puppy training also took empathy. Trish's classes taught me to look at this adorable, infuriating creature and try to understand his perspective. When I saw the logic behind his behavior, I could better guide him toward what I wanted him to do. "Ah, I see. Dogs don't understand pointing because pointing is a symbol and dogs don't understand symbolism." I had to teach him the meaning of pointing before I could expect him to pay attention to what I was pointing at.

When Oscar wasn't listening, Trish taught me to consider that it might be because he was frustrated or scared. Soothing his anxiety and reassuring him that he was a good boy made me recognize how my own fearful thinking influenced my own behavior. Once I recognized the fear, it was easier to reassure myself that I had what it took in moments of doubt.

Oscar's dumb little puppy thoughts were pretty transparent, once I knew what to look for. I became obsessed with watching this creature experience the world for the first time. He seemed to watch me just as closely, and I started to wonder what he would say about me. Gradually, a narrative started to emerge.

When Oscar was about a year old, I started teaching him to run with me. Besides training him to resist the urge to sniff and to run in a straight line so he wouldn't trip me with the leash, I also paid close attention to him for signs of fatigue to make sure I wasn't building up his mileage too quickly.

One day, shortly after Oscar successfully ran his first paved mile without his paws falling off, I read a Facebook thread where new runners were overthinking their running shoes. I thought, What a silly thing to worry about. My dog doesn't even wear shoes. It would never occur to him that there was anything wrong with his running. On a whim, I asked Oscar respond to the thread for me. With that, Oscar the Pooch was born.