Tales of the Tribe: Sweet Pea

Sweet Pea is our third of four dogs. We're not 100% sure what his ancestry is. It's pretty much a lock that he's half golden retriever, but the other half is kind of a mystery. The smart money says some kind of collie, because he has that sharp, pointed, clever-looking face. Otherwise he's a goldie, with a beautiful tawny coat that turns to white fringes on his underbelly, legs and tail. His tail in particular is as bushy as a featherduster and he waves it around like a flag. Sweet Pea's nose is pink, which gives him a very comical look.

We think the Pea is a bit over six years old. We're not sure because Bonnie adopted him when he was a juvenile. Basically, friends tricked her into taking him. Five or so years ago Bonnie was very blue; she was recently separated from her then-husband, who had demanded and gotten custody of the dogs (including Madison and Mojo). Some friends invited her over to a party and introduced her to a very wild Sweet Pea; they had found him with a sibling who had been run over by a car. The dog was skittish and was kept outside, except for when he was allowed inside to be fed. At such times he would walk up to the fridge and howl, signalling that it was time for a human to take something out of the fridge and give it to him. Bonnie was very skeptical about this dog, which her friends really wanted for her to take off their hands. But Bonnie, they insisted, he's really friendly and loves people. We could let him in this house and you'd fall in love with him. Bonnie nervously allowed her friends to admit the dog. Sweet Pea made a beeline for Bonnie and quickly became endeared to her. Only later did Bonnie learn that a friend had planted some food under her chair, which was the only reason Sweet Pea had homed in on her. Nevertheless, she did take Sweet Pea in. A year later her husband was dead and she got the other dogs back as well.

At first, however, Sweet Pea was Bonnie's only dog. Bonnie lived in an apartment and worked long hours at a law firm, so the Pea became adapted to life in crowded quarters. He would spend the day in the bathroom; Bonnie would come home for lunch and in the early evening to walk Sweet Pea and give him some attention. He slept in a dog carrier which Bonnie called his pod; when it was bedtime she'd say "Pea in a Pod!" and Sweet Pea would obediently go to bed. During the weekends Bonnie made sure Pea got lots of exercise and time outside, but she still felt bad keeping him cooped up like that. She got a house with a yard at the first opportunity. Pea loves to be outside, especially if there are squirrels around. Sweet Pea hates squirrels.

Sweet Pea has many names. He got his actual name because Bonnie didn't know what to call him, so she just called him endearments for the first few weeks, and Sweet Pea stuck. This is most commonly abbreviated to "Pea", in part because it's nice and short, but also because it sounds good as an aggravated or amused shout of "Pea!" when the dog does something obnoxious or hilarious, which happens often. Pea is also affectionately called "Peedley-deet", for reasons that escape me, or variations on "Sweet Pea" associated with whatever he's doing at the time. For instance, when he jumps around on his hind legs, he's "Dancin' Pea". When he yodels (sometimes from hunger, but mostly because he likes to communicate), he's "Talkin' Pea". Bonnie likes to feed him black-eyed peas and then he's Cannibal Pea. It goes on like this forever. I mostly call him Pea.

Pea goes through the world tongue-first. He is the lickiest dog I've ever met. He licks people to say hello, or to demand attention, or just because you're salty. He likes to lick the mouth of his sister Madison, which looks cute because he seems to be kissing her, but I understand it's probably a show of dominance. Pea take particular delight in licking the bare toes of children, which causes my daughter to squeal with delight. "Pea!" she shrieks. "Lick my stinky feet!" And sometimes he'll oblige, but often he won't, because he's not good with instructions, or because he's smarter than he looks.

We like to say that Pea is our gay dog. In part it's the pink nose, but mostly he's just flamboyant. He's kind of spastic and is given to grand gestures with his poofy tail and pointy nose. He likes to dance and sing. He hungers for attention and demands to be petted, often by grabbing a hand with his jaws and directing it to his back. Pea is the first to run to the kitchen when he hears the fridge open, and when the other dogs assemble to wait for treats, Pea is a blur of constant motion, fidgeting and jockeying for position so he can get his before the others get theirs. This plan usually backfires, as I refuse to reward a dog that won't sit for a treat; Pea is often the last to get fed.

Pea has a problem with dominance. He's the other male dog, and he's much smaller and weaker than Mojo, but he doesn't seem to have that concept firmly fixed in his head. Arguments between dogs, when they happen, usually start with Pea and Mojo getting into some kind of turf war. It doesn't have to be over anything in particular; sometimes it can start with Pea looking at Mojo funny. The problem is, when Mojo growls at Pea, Pea won't back down, and that's when the fur can start flying. He really thinks he's the leader of the pack, or at least an equal of Mojo, and Mojo objects to this strenuously. Any time push comes to shove, Mojo wins quickly; he has fifty pounds on Pea, and Pea is a big chicken when the real fighting starts. To make matters worse, Sweet Pea was recently diagnosed with hip displasia, so his mobility isn't what it once was.

Pea has the best reflexes of any dog I've ever seen. He likes to catch flies. He'll just be sitting on the floor, alert and unmoving, and then suddenly there will be this SNAP!, and he'll have grabbed some winged bug out of the air and be chewing on it. He's also very skittish, especially towards me; I think early in life he may have been abused by a large man. Pea likes to be petted by me, and in fact likes to climb up on my lap as if he weren't 70 pounds, but when I'm walking along he's very quick to get out of my way. If I'm moving fast he follows my every move and tenses his body, ready to bolt if necessary.

Pea is not the sharpest knife in the drawer. He's done any number of stupid and naughty things. He's the most likely dog to try to grab food off a ledge, and he gets punished for trash-rummaging regularly. Once when Bonnie was driving down the freeway with the windows rolled down (Pea loves the breeze), Pea apparently forgot where he was and jumped out the window. He hit the road at high speed, bumped and rolled, and took off along the grassy verge. Bonnie caught up to him and found him scraped up and scared but otherwise unharmed. Once one of the other dogs had a sheet over it, and while Pea was walking through the room, the dog stood up looking like a ghost. This spooked Pea, who ran yowling and terrified from the room.

Pea has the worst hair-knots of any of the dogs. It's especially bad behind his ears; his fur gets rolled up into these tight wads that have to be trimmed out with scissors. Pea hates this process, but he always feels better when the hair behind his ears isn't tangled any more. Pea's fuzzy coat needs a lot of grooming, and we take the rake to him regularly when it's shedding season. Katherine loves to participate in this. "Pea!" she shouts (Katherine has only one volume when it comes to dogs), "Stand still; I need to brush your flanks!" Pea will mostly stand still for a five-year-old girl raking him, but eventually he gets sick of that business, especially if you mess with his tail. Pea's tail is his pride and joy, and he doesn't like when people monkey with it.

I pill the dogs at night. Pea doesn't get a pill, but he still gets a piece of cheese along with the other dogs. Old habits die hard; when I'm getting the cheese out of the fridge, Pea will often very quietly yodel at me: Ah roo roo ROO! as if to say "I'd like my cheese now, please!" Some dogs never grow out of offering up prayers to the great mechanical food-god.