I am a dog lover, and nothing is more gratifying than having your dogs in the vineyard and winery.  Not so much for my benefit (although that is an obvious perk), but it really is how dogs live their best lives.  And while not everyone loves dogs, most people are beaming when winery dogs are around. 

Enter Sparky

Sparky was the Chocolate Pointer I rescued at the end of my Mondavi tenure.  He was 8 weeks old and brimming with energy and mischief – a bad combination for a vineyard dog.  He also needed basic obedience training.  I enrolled in a weekly group training at a veterinary clinic, but I was told he was not ready.  I hired a personal trainer for one-on-one attention, but the trainer said he was too rambunctious, and needed time to calm down before we could start formal training.  Lastly, I brought him to “Beginner’s Puppy Training” at the Junior College.  To my dismay, the trainer asked that I don’t bring him back – “Sparky is upsetting the other dogs.  He is not ready for this class”.  It’s Beginner’s Puppy Training! We went to Cold Stone Creamery to drown our sorrows – Sparky loved the Cake Batter ice cream.  I then realized this was gonna be a challenge and I’d have to do this training on the fly…

A Dog’s Paradise, Chalk Hill Winery

I was beginning my work at CHW just before harvest.  Fred and Peggy Furth, founders of Chalk Hill Winery, were extremely gracious and accommodating, and offered to let us stay in one of their estate houses until I could find housing in Sonoma County.  Sparky and I chose the Spanish Villa, and the place was sick — a beautiful and spacious estate with 14 acres of vineyard development happening around it.  Most importantly, as Sparky was an escape artist and tracked any moving object within sight, the villa and the adjacent vineyard property were completely enclosed by deer fencing.  Wow, perfect!

In fact, CHW’s estate had much more to offer:

* The entire 1500-acre estate was enclosed with fencing and secure gates

*  Hundreds of planted vineyard acres, mainly on slopes, hillsides and along creek lines

*  Five small lakes scattered throughout the estate

Sparky meets the owners

During my final interview with Fred and Peggy, I mentioned I had a dog and hoped it wouldn’t be a problem to have Sparky at the house and around the winery.  Fred emphatically said, “Why would that be a problem? We love dogs”! But, he hadn’t met Sparky.

After a couple of days settling into the Spanish Villa, an early morning knock at the door sent Sparky into a frenzy – high-pitched barking (which was his trademark greeting), launching himself off of furniture that was more expensive than my car, and emphatic whimpering usually reserved for puppies, but it lasted his entire lifetime.  It was Fred and Peggy!  Upon cracking the door and seeing my exasperation, Fred said let the boy out, already. Fred was a larger-than-life character: a world-renowned class action litigator who fancied custom cowboy-like attire, replete with cowboy boots handcrafted from Texas and an over-sized hat, often all articles being white.  To say Fred was intimidating would be a laughable understatement.  Seemed that Sparky wasn’t intimidated at all, as he nonchalantly peed all over Fred’s boots.  Not the greatest introduction. My mind was racing with visions of homelessness, with Sparky in tow. But Fred just laughed and played with him.  Whew…

Sparky goes to the office

After spending the next week scouring vineyards and working with my new team, always with Sparky alongside, I had a manager’s meeting which I knew would become a comedy sketch if Sparky was attending- so I kept him in the villa, left to his own devices. That didn’t go well… shredded curtains, a ripped apart screen door and a trail of partially eaten snacks strewn throughout the house.  Harvest was upon me and there was no time for training the boy.  He became an office dog… for one day.

I am an early-bird during harvest, and Sparky was totally on board with his new life – up at 5:15, chasing the peacocks outside of the villa, hunting squirrels and jack rabbits, then off to the vineyards.  At 12:30, I had the harvest logistics meeting, harvest tastings, tank walks and myriad other harvest activities, all needing my focused, undivided commitment… so, no Sparky.  I left him in my office.  Chalk Hill had luxurious office suites, with sweeping vineyard views, exquisite office furniture, and an understanding that the people in those offices would not see this type of extravagance elsewhere.  As the new EVP of Winemaking, the office staff was so welcoming, and they loved the new winery puppy.  But, after two hours without supervision, I hurried back to my office to see what awaited me.  As I passed through the office hallway, with a clearly disturbed staff, I heard from 30 feet away, a distinct call from the wild coming from my office.  It was the same high-pitched barking that greeted Fred and Peggy at Sparky’s introduction.  Now racing down the hallway, I swung my door open to see Sparky, on top of my desk, with my computer and all of my files and paperwork thrashed about the office floor.  He looked at me with disgust wondering why he wasn’t chasing jack rabbits in Block A Merlot, the vineyard just down from my office, and why I had the audacity to leave him imprisoned in such a hellish place… No more office stays, off to the crushpad hillside.  

Spark-Mahal

Above the crushpad was an oak tree grove with lots of shading.  During the times I spent inside the winery, I tethered Sparky to a 15-foot cable, anchored in the ground, with my cellar staff in close proximity.  One afternoon, I got a distress call over the two-way radio about Sparky.  I raced to the crushpad, to see Fred and Kaiser heading down from Sparky, who was curled in a donut-shaped ball, and clearly shaken.  Kaiser was one of Fred’s Great Danes, and his dogs were always with him.  Fred exclaimed, “Um, I thought Sparky was a boy.  It seems Kaiser thinks differently”.  Fred felt horrible, especially about Sparky’s new working quarters, and beckoned Ron Jaramillo, the Estate Director and Maintenance Manager.  When Ron arrived, Fred let it be known, very clearly, that Sparky needed a dog run, but not just any dog run.  “One worthy of the winemaker’s best friend, something Furthian”. Fred was grandiose, and also liked things built to perfection.  The next day, Ron had assembled a dog run from a Home Depot kit, but he used twice the materials to double the size. I thanked Ron and said it was perfect.  Later that day, Fred called me and Ron out to the crushpad, and he was not pleased.  He shared his disappointment with Ron’s construction, and said it was definitely not Furthian.  “What is this?  Ron, build the boy Spark-Mahal and make it your top priority!”. Ron had his staff building the most extravagant redwood-boarded dog run (more of a dog park, really).  Each piece of boarding had 4” of separation, per Fred’s instruction, so Sparky could oversee the crushpad activities.  Sparky even had a dog house, with a shingled roof and air vents.  This only furthered Sparky’s sense of entitlement.  He was now Chalk Hill royalty.

Sparky befriends the vineyard staff

Back at the villa, the 14-acre vineyard development was in full swing.  In the morning, Sparky now would sprint up the hill, at near light speed, and totally harass the vineyard crew.  He was excited, playful and menacing.  Fortunately, the vineyard staff loved him.  Apparently, Sparky had an appreciation for tortillas.  He would raid the workers’ lunches, and taunt them by stealing bags of tortillas and having them chase him around to get them back.  Sparky loved this game, and he played it well.  His winning move was to let them get close and then eat the tortillas.  I started buying the vineyard crew tortillas.  

One great advantage of working on an estate was being present for every vineyard operation, and none more important than harvest.  We would arrange crews and provide harvesting details, and picking would ensue with the day’s first light.  Sparky loved harvest.  All his vineyard friends from the villa would greet him and shower him with affection.  They also knew of Fred’s fondness for him, so Sparky had carte blanche, which usually resulted in some sort of mayhem.  In some alternative type of supervisory role, Sparky would pace up and down the vine rows that were being harvested, following the crews as they loaded their harvested fruit into the tractor bins, and then would often eat the grapes.  I know grapes are bad for dogs, so this was discouraged. But, it became clear that he only liked grapes that were perfectly ripe, especially Chardonnay.  The Vineyard Manager would joke that we shouldn’t pick until Sparky approved the ripeness.  Although unruly and disruptive, I finally had a vineyard dog.

Sparky gets a brother – Enter Scooter

After harvest, I found a home in Santa Rosa which would be Sparky’s new home away from the vineyard. I put up a new fence to contain the beast, and spent endless hours and weekends landscaping the yard – decomposed granite pathways, hot tub, trellising, and beautiful ornamental plants — lots of them.  Sparky didn’t like my style of landscaping and would dig up the plants, roots and all, and bring them to the back door.  The pathways, gone!  He missed the villa.  And I was losing my mind.  He needed something to divert his attention.  Enter rescue dog # 2. Scooter was purely a play to calm down Sparky: a buddy, a brother, a playmate, a distraction! Scooter was an 8-week old Border Collie/Australian Sheppard mix.  He was sweet, loving, docile, yet never understood his brother.  Scooter lived his entire life thinking he was in trouble because I was always correcting (yelling at) Sparky. But, Scooter lived a good life, that is for sure.

Stay tuned for:  A Vineyard Dog’s Life, Part II