Teaching an old dog new tricks ~ October 6, 1988

 David Heiller

Before Cindy and I had children, we decided to get a puppy. We joked that it would be a good child-rearing test for us. (There’s a lot of truth to that joke.) We even named the dog Binti, which means “my daughter” in Arabic, which I spoke from my Peace Corps experience.

Our first day with Binti.

Binti was part of our family back then, nine years ago. She slept on the couch, or in our bed. When we visited relatives for holidays or weekends, she came along. We took her for walks every day, and played many games.

One of the best games we played was on the big round bales of hay in the field near our rented farm house. Cindy and I would climb onto a bale, with Binti leaping to join us. Then we would race to the next bale, trying to keep ahead of the imaginary alligator. At first, Binti couldn’t catch us, but as the autumn progressed, we became alligator casserole nearly every night.

When our real children started arriving, Binti’s life changed. She was booted outside. We also kicked her off the couch and bed. She stayed home when we went to visit relatives. Our games were replaced more with walks, as our kids rode on our backs and Binti went exploring the fields along the roads of Birch Creek Township on her own.

Malika and Binti

Binti accepted the change with little fuss. Like most pets, she sensed these four-legged humans were special. She let the babies pull themselves up by using her dangling ears as handles. When they confused her with a horse and tried to ride her through the house, she let them. Of course, this was made easier by the increase in table scraps which she would find under the high chair every morning, noon, and night. Even now, Binti’s first stop in the house is beneath the kitchen table, nose to the floor.

But lately Binti has been showing signs of her age. She doesn’t hear me call her in the early morning, when she is still sound asleep. She struggles and groans to her feet when she wakes, and her walk is a little stiff. The vet says she has cataracts forming.

So we thought now might be a good time for a puppy. Binti could help raise it, we thought, and it might add a little zest to her life too.

Noah coaxing out the new puppy, Queen Ida.

Connie Overland, Sturgeon Lake, had a litter of collie-Labrador puppies to give away, so we picked a female. She had a slender collie face, and ears that stuck half-up before folding over like envelope flaps. Her fur was brown with black tips. We named her Queen Ida, and meant no offense to the musician by that same name. In fact, it was a compliment.

Binti didn’t exactly break out the Alpo when Queen Ida moved in. She hardly wagged her tail when they met. Queen Ida hid under the porch. But soon the two made peace. Queen Ida literally threw herself on Binti, chewing at Binti’s ears and wagging tail. They are now inseparable. When Binti roams the field on a smelling expedition, Queen Ida follows. When Binti comes into the house to make her kitchen table run, Queen Ida is sniffing right behind. Sometimes when they eat, Queen Ida stands directly underneath the 75-pound Binti, so that they look like one animal with two heads, a big black one and a little tan one. When Binti curls up in front of the wood stove on these cool fall nights, Queen Ida nestles next to her.

A week ago, I took the two kids and the dogs across the road to check out the hay-making activity of our neighbors. As we climbed onto a big round bale of hay, that old game popped into my head. I called across the field, where Binti and Queen Ida were tracing some animal scent.

“Queen Ida!” The puppy turned her head and looked our way.

Noah and Queen Ida

“Come on,” I said to the kids, “let’s see if we can get to that bale over there.”

We took off running toward the nearest bale. Queen Ida glanced at Binti, hesitated just a second, then galloped after us.

“Hurry Noah, an alligator’s coming!” I called, feeling my heart pound with real excitement. “Hurry Mollie, don’t let him get you.” Both kids screamed and laughed and ran harder to the next bale, while Queen Ida closed the gap.

Noah reached the bale first, but he couldn’t get his five-year-old frame up. I grabbed Mollie from behind, and threw her on the bale as I ran past. Queen Ida followed me, Noah still scrambling and laughing, unable to get a foothold.

I finally had to boost him up too, just as Queen Ida caught my pants’ leg. “Ah, the alligator got me,” I cried, falling to the licking puppy.

“That’s a tiger, Dad,’’ Noah corrected me with a huge smile.

Our game continued to the next bale, and the next, until the kids had all been consumed by the tiger several times and both hunter and hunted had had their fill.

As we headed home, I thought about that old game that I had played with Binti so many years ago. Back then, I never would have dreamed that Cindy and I would have two children who would play the same game with their puppy, while Binti and I grinned from the sideline. And I never thought such a silly game would make me so happy once again.