On walks back home, they\u2019d let go great streams on every one of these we encountered, barely sniffing it first. Even at the end of a long walk with bladders long emptied, they would find a way to dribble urine at the base of these bright orange beacons. They could not resist.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
This gave us the brilliant idea for of a \u201cPorch Pottie\u201d for the dogs to relieve themselves without the hassle of shore leave. We even bought an aerosol spray to mimic the scent they most desire before the act.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
\u201cMaybe you should pee on it first,\u201d Lisa suggested on the second day of the cruise. We had chugged along for 14 hours our first day out, with many fruitless trips underway to the traffic cone with the dogs.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
\u201cThere is no way I\u2019m doing that,\u201d I said. \u201cThey\u2019ll figure it out. They\u2019re smart dogs.\u201d<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
Thus, every morning began the same way. A persistent urging for the dogs to do their business at the traffic cone just beyond the Portuguese bridge. Zero interest. They wouldn\u2019t even smell it. Tugging them to the cone with the leash felt like pushing the wrong ends of powerful magnets together. After ten or twenty minutes with both dogs looking at us like we were crazy, we\u2019d relent and go ashore in the tender.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
By the fourth day at anchor, the dogs took sport in the morning routine. If they humored us long enough with confused looks and a strong aversion to the orange cone, they would get to go for a walk afterward. Joyous barks and yips erupted once I began futzing with the tender. They had won again.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
\u201cYou need to pee on it,\u201d Lisa encouraged. Like that would make any difference.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
Cruising with dogs is very popular. I\u2019d say most trawlers we meet have a dog aboard. The necessity of frequent trips ashore means we explore beaches and inland areas of the anchorages while other boaters might stay afloat. Dogs warm up a cold sea berth and stand watch with you on blustery evenings at anchor. Even on our smallest sailboats, we had a dog along. I can\u2019t think of a better way to travel or vacation with a dog than on a boat.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
We didn\u2019t know how good we had it with Bouncer, a small Boston Terrier that traveled with us on every cruise we took aboard our sailboat. Bouncer seldom barked. She slept a good part of the day and night. Her bathroom duties were carried out without fuss: she would step carefully into the dinghy in the morning, taking in the watery surroundings as we rowed or motored along, her front paws up on the bow of the inflatable. We had a leash for her somewhere rolling around the bottom of the boat, but we rarely needed it. She would jump out as soon as the dinghy touched the sand, trot about ten yards and pee, then poop. She took no notice of other dogs. She was usually back in the dinghy before I had a chance to properly tie up, ready for breakfast, and then snuggle back into a berth with one of the kids.<\/p>\r\n \u201cI miss that little dog,\u201d I muttered, feeling sorry for myself as I stared at the traffic cone, and thought about how different our life is now aboard the trawler with Franklin and Preston.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Franklin is a four-year-old Puggle, a cross between a Pug and Beagle, and the only dog we\u2019ve owned that can\u2019t be trusted off-leash. Should our front door be left ajar momentarily as you carry in the groceries, this sly little bastard will dart between your legs and race to freedom, looking over his shoulder with a look of delight and mischief before disappearing into the woods. Calling him is pointless. His brain is routed through his snout, and the outdoor smells are much more interesting than our shouts to come back. We\u2019ve tried chasing him, but he sees this as a terrific keep-away game, his eyes flashing with mirth as he darts in and out of reach. Eventually, he grows tired or hungry, and trots home, clearly pleased with himself. It\u2019s hard to be mad at him when he loves these romps so much. We live in a rural part of Vashon Island, so there\u2019s not too much trouble this little fella can find here at home. However, afloat and in strange ports, we all worry about what might happen if Franklin were to escape on one of his adventures. One hand for the ship, one hand for Franklin\u2019s leash.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n He did escape in Roche Harbor, leaping in a flash from the cockpit to the narrow port side deck, and then down to the dock. In his excitement, he took a wrong turn down a dead-end, but soon reversed course and galloped at full speed toward the dock entrance and freedom. It was blind luck that Connor and Lisa intercepted him on their way back to the boat. We might still be looking for him had he made it to dry land.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Franklin defends our home against would-be intruders with a combination bark-howl that you have to experience to understand. It\u2019s impressive. He employs this howl-bark to repel the UPS truck when it visits our home. Franklin runs from door to window, making a god-awful ruckus for a good three minutes until, sure enough, the truck decides the danger is too great and drives off (after leaving our packages and shaking his head). This near-daily occurrence has reinforced Franklin\u2019s belief that if he barks and howls as loud as possible, the dreaded enemy will eventually retreat.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n We hoped Franklin might be less possessive on the boat. Not so much. He soon learned that if he sits on the upper pilot berth in the back of the wheelhouse, he can enjoy a near 360-degree vista surrounding the boat. A fellow trawler captain dared to slowly cruise by and wave – to Franklin\u2019s shock and outrage. He launched into howl-bark mode until the trawler was out of sight, saving us yet again. Ugh. He also defends the boat from kayakers, paddle-boarders, and any form of bird, in particular, the tame Cackling Geese we encountered in large numbers at Sucia Island. These, it turns out, are Franklin\u2019s arch-enemy; his Moriarties. No amount of treats or admonishments could convince him otherwise.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Dog number two is Preston, a five-year-old Boston Terrier, the same breed as our beloved Bouncer, yet so, so different. He\u2019s massive, tipping the scale at 35 pounds which is an outlier for Bostons, yet all muscle and gristle. He\u2019s a rescue dog with extreme anxiety issues. He warmed to Lisa and the kids right away after we adopted him, but he wouldn\u2019t come near me, especially if I wore a baseball cap. After a few months he decided I was OK, and now loves us all unconditionally. Other people or dogs outside our family unit, however, are Not OK. He has nipped more than one of our house guests and has a complete fit should another dog have the nerve to meet us on a walk. He\u2019s a bundle of nervous energy that no amount of love, or CBD, seems to diminish.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Also, he has poop anxiety. He must have been abused as a puppy, for he refuses to poop while in the presence of others. This is a problem on a boat. On a cruise last summer, he went three days without pooping. By day two of the trip, his eyes appeared even bulgier, and his butt was definitely puckering, but he refused to go. Finally, after a long trek on the third day, a volley of poops shot out of his bum while he carried on down the trail. He did not squat or even stop. They just flew out, and he kept walking, apparently making the case that the impossibly large pile of poop on the trail came from some other dog. He\u2019s done better on this trip, but it\u2019s still a celebration when Preston has a bowel movement.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n While Preston has his issues, he is without question the smartest dog we\u2019ve ever owned. His understanding of English is unrivaled. He communicates his intentions and desires very clearly and responds with joy once you finally understand him. He runs circles around Franklin\u2019s somewhat dimmer intelligence. Should Franklin have a toy that Preston wants, he runs to the basement door and barks until Franklin races down the stairs, through the doggie door, and outside to our fenced yard, seeking out the intruder. Preston then takes the dropped toy for himself. Franklin falls for this every time.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Franklin\u2019s whimpers had commenced early this morning. I nestled further into the blankets to block out the sound, which repeated just often enough to reawaken me.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n \u201cThe dog needs to go ashore,\u201d Lisa informed me from her side of the berth. Her voice contained a trace of accusation as if peeing on the damn cone would solve all our canine issues.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n \u201cAah ump,\u201d came my muffled reply.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n As sleep faded, I began to think through the sequence of events that must soon unfold to stop that dog\u2019s whimpering. I would get up and dress. I would get the dogs ready for sea: collars, leashes, doggie life jackets. I would bring the tender around to the stern and warm up the engine. Our anchorage doesn\u2019t include a dinghy dock, and the tender is too large and heavy to beach, so I would need to deploy an anchor. I would load the dogs into the tender and head for land through the chop. About 20 feet from shore, I would hurl the Anchor Buddy over the stern, goose the engine a bit, and quickly raise the prop, so it doesn\u2019t hit bottom. I would lash the leashes of the dogs to the rail while I leap off the bow into the frigid water to pull the 800 pound craft up near the shore. Wet and sandy, I would secure the tender and hoist the dogs out on to the beach to do their business.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n This assumes, I mused, that the beach at this early hour is empty. Meeting another dog would spell serious Trouble.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Each dog comports himself reasonably well alone, but some pack chemistry born into their genes a millennia ago transforms them into would-be killers when they meet another dog together. On a quiet walk up the dock, they are angels, taking in exciting smells, jostling each other good-naturedly, smiles apparent on their canine mugs. Yet, the second we encounter a dog – a Poodle or, heaven forbid, a German Shepherd, the fangs come out, and pandemonium ensues. Restrained by their leashes, they often set upon on each other, snarling and biting. Folks emerge from their boats to observe the carnage, and dog people along the docks look on in dismay. I know that feeling. I\u2019ve been there with my docile dog, wondering what in the hell is wrong with those awful dog owners who can\u2019t control their dogs. And yet I am now that guy, tugging ineffectively at the leashes of two gnashing demons, blood-lusting for the nervous Poodle, the tail-wagging Lab, the puzzled Shepherd.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n As a result, one person cannot take both dogs anywhere we might meet another dog. Two humans must form an escort to maintain any semblance of order.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n \u201cYou\u2019ll have to go with me,\u201d I told Lisa as I came fully awake.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n \u201cWhy won\u2019t you just pee on the damn thing?\u201d She moaned back.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n And so, it finally happened. In the growing light on this Thursday morning at sea, I let go a great stream of piss, covering the cone, grass, and a bit of my bare left foot as I misjudged the strength of the breeze.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Did it work? Did the dogs finally grasp the purpose of the great orange cone after their alpha dog modeled the way? No. If anything, they viewed the apparatus (and me) with even more mistrust.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n I cleaned most of the sand out of the tender from another morning expedition with the dogs. I was finally ready for that first cup of coffee.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n And still, despite the hassle of frequent trips ashore at ungodly hours, and the anxiety of what might happen when we invite friends with dogs to the boat, we wouldn\u2019t consider cruising without our canine mates. They\u2019re part of our family, after all. And they bring us joy in their own peculiar ways.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/mvindiscretion.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/10\/Image-10-7-19-6-44-PM-1.jpeg?resize=525%2C502&ssl=1\")
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