Book #4: Bulldog Won't Budge
Meatball is a great dog.
Eric has always wanted a dog. So when a bulldog named Meatball is abandoned at his mother’s veterinarian office, Eric is sure it’s fate—he can give Meatball a new home!
There’s just one thing …
Meatball is stubborn. And slow. Eric wants to go to the park and play fetch, but Meatball likes to lie in the grass and drool. Is there anything Eric can do to get this bulldog to budge?
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Read an Excerpt:
The bulldog was sprawled across the length of the brown leather couch with his whole face buried in the cushions on the back of the sofa. Even so, I could hear his snoring loud and clear. I glanced around the room and spotted Ariadne and Odysseus. The two cats were perched up on the mantelpiece above the fireplace, behind the TV. Their tails were lashing back and forth at the same time and their eyes were narrow slits as they focused the full force of all their cat fury on poor oblivious Meatball.
A floorboard creaked under my foot and suddenly Meatball lunged to his paws, scattering couch cushions onto the rug. He blinked, squinting like he was bewildered, lapped his nose with his tongue, and shook his head so his jowls went flap flap flap. Then he looked around, and his face lit up in this enormous grin when he saw me. He threw himself off the couch and skidded over to me, crumpling the rug into big wrinkles under his paws. His sturdy body wiggled and bounced with excitement. He bumped my knees with his massive head and tried to stand on his hind legs to knock me over, but I was prepared this time. I hooked my fingers in his collar and wrestled him back to all fours.
“OK, OK, Meatball,” I said, secretly pleased. This was much better than the welcome I usually got! “Let’s go for a walk.”
Oh man, was that ever the magic word. Meatball flailed right out of my hands with joy and went sprinting around the TV room making happy grunting noises. His smooshy white paws scrabbled and slipped on the rug, but that didn’t stop him from running, or beaming, or flapping his tongue at me. He careened off the coffee table and playfully jumped at the cats’ tails hanging down from the mantelpiece, earning a pair of hisses. Every time he hit the floor there was a thud and the house trembled.
Ariadne gave me a cold look, like she was thinking, I know that you brought this menace into my house. Don’t think I’ll forget it.
I tried to rearrange the room while Meatball cavorted around my feet. I put all the cushions back and refolded the orange and white throw blankets that Meatball had dug into a perfect nest for himself. I straightened the coffee table and the rug. I could feel the cats staring at me the whole time, and I felt like I could hear my sisters’ voices in my head, complaining about the mess that Meatball had made. There were a couple of damp drool spots on the pillows that I rubbed at, hoping they would fade before everyone got home.
I also used a lint roller on the couch—we have one that Mercy and Faith are supposed to use for the cat hair, but they almost never do. It’s like a rolling pin of sticky tape that picks up fur from cushions. It worked pretty well, actually, but boy was there a lot of fur on the couch. (And not all of it was Meatball’s, in case you were wondering.)
“Come on, Meatball,” I said finally, heading back to the kitchen. Mom had left me a special water bottle for dogs. You can hang it around your neck and it has a dish attached to it, so you don’t have to carry a bunch of things in your hands. I filled the bottle and put it on. Meatball’s leash was coiled on the counter by the back door. It took me a while to get him to calm down enough so I could lift up his wrinkles and clip the leash to his collar.
Finally I got Meatball’s leash attached and we headed out the door into the sunshine.
It was the first day of October, and a few of the leaves were starting to turn yellow. Meatball stopped at the bottom of the driveway and shook himself from tip to tail, then took a deep breath. I did the same thing (the deep breath, not the shaking—how weird would that look!). It smelled like fall, all clean and windy and apple cider-y.
Meatball decided to go left from our driveway, which was fine with me. Our neighborhood is pretty quiet, so we could walk anywhere. I wondered if we should go over to Parker’s house and see Merlin. Or to Danny’s to see Buttons.
But I kind of liked being out with Meatball, walking my own dog by myself. It felt sort of grown-up and cool. I figured I would let Meatball decide where he wanted to go.
Boy, was that a big mistake.
He snortled cheerfully along the street, sniffing every fence post and tree and fire hydrant that we went by. A couple of my neighbors waved at us from their yards. At the bottom of the block, Meatball decided to go right, across the street, instead of left toward Parker’s. Soon he turned right again, and we started climbing uphill, past houses that were a little bigger than mine. There were a lot of big trees shading the street here, so we had to stop every thirty seconds for an extended sniffing session. I didn’t mind. I was relieved that I didn’t have to make conversation with anyone. I could just walk in peace and think about the websites I was building and computer problems I was trying to solve.
After a few blocks, Meatball stopped in front of a light gray house with purple shutters. A front porch wrapped around the outside and there was a round tower with one of those big curved windows on the second floor. Meatball practically shoved his face through the slats of the white picket fence, inhaling vigorously.
I stood there while he snuffled, looking at the big flower bushes around the porch. They had enormous purple and blue clusters of flowers on them and big dark green leaves. My eyes drifted to the driveway beside the fence, where a dark blue hybrid car sat next to a bicycle that was propped against the house. The car had a couple of political and environmental bumper stickers on it. I squinted at it. Had I seen that car before? At school, maybe?
Then I noticed that the bike was a girl’s bike. It was light purple with a white basket on the front. And all over the basket…were cat stickers.
This was Rebekah’s house!
I panicked. What would she think if she looked outside and saw me standing here? Would she think I was some kind of weirdo stalker?
I nearly dropped Meatball’s leash and ran away up the street, but of course I couldn’t do that. Instead I said, “Let’s go, Meatball!” and started walking as fast as I could.
My arm was practically yanked out of my socket as I reached the end of the leash. I turned around.
Meatball had planted himself on the sidewalk in front of Rebekah’s house. I mean, it was like he’d grown roots right there, like a big old oak tree that was never going to move. His paws were braced against the concrete. His shoulders were hunched. His face was stubborn. He was leaning his whole weight back against the end of the leash, and he wasn’t going anywhere.
I was in big trouble.
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Is your dog too big to budge?
I love big dogs. I love bulldogs and Labs and Newfoundlands and big giant lovable mutts just as much as I love Yorkies and Jack Russell terriers and dachshunds and tiny poodle mixes like my own dog. But I must admit, when it comes to getting a dog to move its butt, it's a LOT easier with a small fluffernutter like mine! If Sunshine doesn't want to go somewhere, she can try to plant herself down...but then I'll just pick her up and carry her inside. I mean, she weighs less than your average school backpack full of books! (A lot less!)
But if you don't have the option of picking up your dog to move him, you'll have to try something different. One trick that might work is bringing treats with you. Try holding the treat just out of the dog's reach, so he'll have to get up and take a step forward to get the treat. Once you've given it to him, offer him another if he'll take a few more steps. With luck, he'll figure out that he might get another one if he just keeps moving. Maybe keep a treat in your hand while you're walking so he'll be able to smell what he's looking forward to.
Here's another example. Sunshine loves to run and run, but she sure doesn't like to leave the park. What we try to do is associate the car with treats in her mind. Every time she gets in the car, she gets a yummy treat. The hope is that when we have to leave the park, she'll see us heading toward the car and think, "Ooo! Treats!" and follow us. (I have to admit, this doesn't always work. She loves running around the park SO MUCH that sometimes she'd rather do that than get treats. Especially if they're not the extra-good special kind. She's not leaving the park for any old treat!)
You should also try to figure out why your dog doesn't want to move. Bulldogs in particular can overheat really easily, so make sure you take water with you whenever you walk them. If you're going for a long walk or if it's really hot out, it's a good idea to have water no matter what kind of dog you're walking! Don't just yank on the dog's leash if he sits down and refuses to move. Maybe he needs a moment to rest, or maybe he's got something stuck in his paws. Try checking his paws for pebbles or bits of ice (if it's snowy out).
But if you have a dog that is always hard to walk, you might want to think about getting a different kind of collar-leash setup. Ask someone at the pet store near you to give you advice. I've walked some big dogs using something called an "easy-walk harness". This goes over the dog's shoulders and around his chest so that if you need to pull him, it'll tug on his torso instead of his neck. It's more effective, and it won't make him feel like he's choking. Not all dogs need a harness like this, but it can be really helpful with dogs that pull a lot, refuse to move, or want to race off in all different directions.
Most of all, don't give up! Your dog needs his walks! Once he learns to walk like a good dog, it should be fun for both of you. Good luck!
