It was an early spring day.  The wind was warm.  The sun was shining, and the air fresh.  Josiah decided to break out the grill for the first of the season steak.  This was not a regular store-bought steak.  No, this was a deer steak from the previous fall’s hunt.  There are few things Josiah enjoys more than a delicious deer steak harvested by the successful huntsman himself.

I heard him come in the back door and go to the stairs to call Sam down to share in the feast.  Two mighty hunters sitting down at table with their fresh meat.

“Mom, where’s the deer steak?  I just set it on the counter.  Now it’s not there.”  Josiah’s head filled the doorway of the family room.

“I don’t know,” I replied.

“You didn’t take it?” a puzzled tone crept into his words.

“No, I haven’t seen it.”

“It was right here.  I set it right here.  You didn’t take it?” again that puzzled tone of a once certain person now questioning his memory.

During our brief conversation, Cooper had come into the family room and was lying  at my feet.  The only movement was his intense grooming.  The kind of precise grooming necessary after an especially juicy meal.  Josiah went back out to check the grill.  Maybe he’d never taken the steak off, although he knew he had.

Like a silent sentinel, Max entered the room and was looking at Cooper with intense disapproval.

Josiah reappeared in the doorway, “Did you take it?” he asked again with a definite ‘this is not funny’ tone creeping into his voice.

It was still an early spring day.  The wind was warm.  The sun was shining, and the air fresh.   Even better now that a delicious deer steak had indeed been enjoyed by a self-perceived mighty hunter.

I ask you...is this the face of a thief?

He found Cooper at the playroom window.  The one which overlooks the garage and driveway.  As Dave peered out himself, he could hardly believe what he was seeing.  To put it simply; he was shocked.  By this time Cooper had raced down the back stairs and was continuing his big dog warnings from the laundry room immediately below the window.  Dave quickly followed down the stairs, out the laundry room door, and onto the driveway to confront the young man who was just then climbing inside his Explorer!

As Dave muscled the young thief onto the back deck, he started firing questions at him: what do you think you’re doing?  who are you? where do you live? He noticed the young man seemed confused, groggy even.  It didn’t take long for that burn off in the intensity of Dave’s interrogation though.  The young man told Dave he was one of our new neighbors–the house across the street had recently sold–and he walked in his sleep.  He had no memory of coming down our driveway or of trying to get into Dave’s vehicle.  The story checked out.  He was indeed the neighbor’s son.  He did indeed have  a problem with sleep-walking.  All was explained.

Our young sleepwalker inadvertently did us a favor by putting to rest the question of our hot debate: We now know with absolute certainty that yes, given the right conditions, Cooper is definitely a watchdog.  Protector of the household.  Guardian of the homestead.  Keeper of the family hearth.

Okay, okay, okay we’ll just stick with he is a watchdog in some sense of the word.

I was right.

I ask you is this the face of a watchdog?

I have always contended that he definitely has the potential.  The seed of a great watchdog lies buried within awaiting proper germination.  Other family members claim that this guardian role is an impossibility for the pit bull who sleeps like a log and snores likes a buzz saw. I have to admit their argument carries some weight.

Cooper approaches sleeping the way he approaches the rest of life: if something is worth doing; do it with gusto! It is as though he has an on/off switch and can go sound to sleep almost instantly.  He is usually flopped on his side with his head tilted off to the edge.  Within minutes a deep, rattling snore can be heard  throughout the room.  This noise is often so loud that if you are talking on the phone you leave the room, or if you are watching a movie, you turn up the volume.

While Cooper is in this altered state, he can be poked and prodded, nudged and jabbed, pushed and posed.  All to no avail.  Occasionally he may raise his groggy head and look at you blurry-eyed as if to say, “What do you want? Can’t a dog get some sleep around here?” After sending this communique, his head plops immediately back in sleep position.  The off button reactivated.

And it is true that he does not do perimeter checks like Max did–always staying alert to any bird or squirrel activity in and around the yard.  He regularly does watch out windows and while watching takes particular notice of certain things like cars parked in front of our house and people walking down our driveway.  This is where I see potential.  If those cars or people meet the criteria of Should Not Be Here, Cooper will bark his deep-throated big dog bark (using the tone that Max never allowed in their play).  My opponents laugh at this and simply point out that once those people have entered the house Cooper greets them like long-lost family members complete with copious tail waggings and friendly licks.

Well, early one morning, when everyone was still asleep, that seed received the proper fertilizer,  and Cooper proved them all wrong…

Since one of Cooper’s lifelong goals is to be a pit bull ambassador, he tries to get his “pit bulls can be your friend” message out in many unusual ways.  For example while Cooper was just a puppy, he made a different kind of friend, a paper-thin one who is famous in his own right from the picture book that was written about him.  His name is Flat Stanley.  After reading the story with her second grade class, my niece designed her own version of Flat Stanley and sent him on a trip to visit us.

While he was visiting, Flat Stanley had all kinds of adventures including meeting up with his long-lost twin, Flat Manley, but by far his favorite was getting to know Cooper.   I know this because of the letter Flat Stanley wrote to his young designer, Teddie.  Here’s what Stanley said about Cooper.

“…I met Cooper, their American Pit Bull Terrier puppy.  You know there are lots of ugly rumors that all pit bulls are mean and low down.  That just isn’t so.  Cooper is going to be a pit bull ambassador when he grows up to change people’s minds.  I’m not sure what that means exactly, but Cooper says he is just going to love, and love, and love on people till they love him!  I think that’s a pretty good deal.  From the pictures you can see he loved on me pretty good.

Cooper can be friends with anybody!

We are napping in this second one.”

Hanging out with Stan!

Cooper, the Pit Bull Ambassador, making his world happier one friendship at a time.

We started down the driveway to the beat of a squirrel’s rapid crack, crack, craaaaacking of a walnut in the treetop over our heads.  Cooper was looking around curiously for the source of the noise when the cheeky, little squirrel dropped shell bits right onto his head! He couldn’t quite put two and two together, but I suspect it was payback for all the intense stares and deep, rumbly barks coming from the dining room window this past fall while those nuts were being collected.  Coop shook off the pieces, and we proceeded down the street.

We hadn’t gone too far before we heard another rapid, most urgent, tapping overhead.  This sound caught Cooper’s attention too, and he scanned the tree tops.  His eyes sifted through the bark and branches searching for the source, although he never located it.  The woodpecker was small enough and up high enough to escape his gaze.  Falling into a comfortable gait, we rounded the first circle and continued walking.

We had just completed another turn when Cooper stopped short and stood stock still.  He stared straight ahead like a laser beam locked onto a target.   His senses sharp; his focus complete.  It took me a minute to spot them; I initially looked beyond their still forms to the treeline behind them.  Directly ahead of us were six deer spread out across our neighbor’s lawn.

Time stood still.  Cooper stared at the deer.  The deer watched him warily.  Cooper seemed to know that if he moved, even an inch, the deer would flee, and this moment would be lost.  There we all were: Cooper studying the deer; the deer waiting to see what he was going to do, and me watching Cooper.

He examined them trying to figure out exactly what they were.  The intensity of his gaze created a nervous electricity that rippled through the small herd.  They watched him, watching them.  Until one doe stomped her foot.  Another flashed his tail, and finally the largest one turned slowly picking her way through the dry leaves until she reached the trees behind the house.  The other five followed shifting their direction and melting into the woods until we could no longer detect their shapes.

Cooper still held his statuesque pose.  His look softened and became maybe a little wistful.  Finally he looked up at me as if to say,

"Wow! Did you see that?"

Well, it’s the morning after and our barren ground has surrendered to its blanket of white. 

      Winter has arrived in Illinois, 

and…Cooper says, “I love it!”

“Really love it!”

"If I could just get ahold of it!"

“Only unwrapping presents

or chewing on a deer antler tops this.”

However, the overcast sky that Cooper and I set out under this morning told a different story all together.  We had hardly gotten to our first corner when we felt them: little, hard, white pellets.  They started lightly at first, but pretty soon Cooper was shaking his head the way he does in the rain.  Those determined pellets were pestering his ears and nose.

As we progressed around the next corner, they were coming down steadily; it was as if the sky had become a giant sifter.  If I listened closely I could hear their tck, tck, tck mounting an assault on trees, bushes, and roadways.  In and of themselves these tiny pellets had no chance against our warmer earth, but this unwavering campaign of tiny beads binding together was making a successful advance, and in fact white was starting to cover the driveways throughout our neighborhood.   (Not to mention the top of Cooper’s head and haunches!)

In light of this steady progression, my priorities were shifting too.  Maybe I should make a quick trip to the grocery store.  I wonder if my appointments will cancel this afternoon.  Where are those snow shovels anyway.   It was bound to happen some time; we do live in the Midwest after all.  The teacher in me started applauding–slowly at first but quickly gaining momentum– “SNOW DAY!”

Let it come then!  Let it come!  Let those little beads march onward and whitewash everything!  Cooper and I will still have the last word when we enjoy a good romp across the front lawn this afternoon.

Play 'til you drop!

Okay it’s not really new, just greatly multiplied when trying to chew up so many new toys.  Unfortunately, the tire was completely discombobulated within two days which has eliminated it completely from the CWT list (Coop Worthy Toys).  They look tough, but shred effortlessly…all over the floor.

Fun, but not CW

Cooper says, “It WAS great while it lasted!”

May you have a very Merry Christmas and a joyful New Year.

“After listening to the king, the magi went on their way. And behold, the star that they had seen when it rose went before them until it came to rest over the place where the child was.   When they saw the star, they rejoiced exceedingly with great joy.   And going into the house they saw the child with Mary his mother, and they fell down and worshiped him. Then, opening their treasures, they offered him gifts, gold and frankincense and myrrh.”  Matthew 2:9-11

Wise men still seek Him!

Cooper says….

"Spread Christmas Cheer!"

Cooper says..

"Unwrapping is FUN!"

After a long day at work

Dedicated worker desperately desires position as holiday gift opener.

Much experience with the ripping and tearing which accompanies vigorous unwrapping.

Will gladly open all gifts at once early Christmas morning for you to find

or

will participate in the ‘gathering round the tree’ group celebrations.

Your choice.

Unwrapping at your command; watch the paper fly!

Call 1-DONT BLAME C

See you under the tree!