A woman's view of hunting…with men
guns, dogs and birds
An early morning hike with the dogs was therapeutic. No one else was on the trails, just us and the morning mists. I came home relaxed and more importantly the dogs came home happy and tired.
Even though I’m not a fan of spiders or their webs when I walk into one face high, I thought these were pretty cool looking.
An early morning hike has to include a rousing game of Tug O War
We abdicated a good night’s sleep in our bed ten years ago when Mitch said, “If that’s the worst thing AJ does, I can live with him sleeping in bed with us.” This was in response to AJ sneaking in bed with Mitch after I left for work in the mornings. Now every night it’s a race to claim the best spot and still have the ability to move my legs during the night. I’m a light restless sleeper, while Mitch sleeps like the dead. In order for me to get some semblance of a good night’s sleep, we try to position the dogs thusly, Orso at Mitch’s feet because of his size and sleeping like the dead too. Most nights AJ will opt for the sleep ball next to my side of the bed, unless it thunders, then he has to sleep against me, panting and shaking so bad it’s like sleeping in one of those vibrating beds. Charlie starts off at the foot of the bed on my side until Mitch drags him closer to him, so that I have leg room. Mitch is very thoughtful giving me more of the bed, I think this is to minimize me being cranky the next day.
Last night though Charlie decided he didn’t want to move from my feet. Coaxing him wasn’t working for Mitch so he tried grabbing Charlie’s chest and pulling the dog toward him. Charlie responded by growling at Mitch. Big mistake. In order to show who was alpha (with thumbs) and who wasn’t, Mitch made Charlie get off the bed. Charlie defiant as ever walked around to my side of the bed jumped back up but as a conciliatory move he moved a bit closer to Mitch or he was planning to eat Mitch in his sleep, I’m not sure which. Well once Mitch had set the bar, he couldn’t back down and let Charlie sleep on the bed, so Mitch got out of bed walked around to the end of the bed and grabbed his collar to pull him off the bed. Charlie, defiant and psycho stupidly growled again, this time baring his teeth getting into the challenging behavior thinking he was going show Mitch who was who. That display of defiance bought Charlie a time out in the bathroom with the door closed.
During the clash of wills, AJ slept in the sleep ball unconcerned, more dog food for him if Mitch killed Charlie and Orso laid in bed watching staying very still to avoid any fallout. After about fifteen minutes Charlie whined, Mitch looked at me and I said, “You have to go get him not me, otherwise it will undo you establishing yourself as the alpha male. Mitch let him out and made him lay down on the floor as punishment. After an eternity for Charlie, 3 minutes, Mitch called him up in bed. Charlie came and laid down in the middle of the bed close to Mitch and was very contrite. I still think he wants to eat Mitch while he’s sleeping.
Focus!
Okay I’ll try this
This is easy!
Charlie climbs up on the chair to watch the day go by.
Charlie
It’s them or me, and my money is on me. I’m the one with the opposable thumbs. I have the power to reason through a problem. I have tenacity. I also have osteoporosis. I was diagnosed in the fall of last year. Me with osteoporosis, no way. I’ve taken calcium religiously for decades. I was devastated when I found out. I’ve always thought that I was unbreakable. No matter how many times the dogs knocked me down; (and they knocked me down a lot) I would get right back up with nothing more than a few bruise to show for it. Well there was that one time I tripped over the dogs on a walk and tore the cartilage in my knee. Mitch had to walk home get the El Camino then come back and get me sitting on the side of the road. Not now. I have 5% bone loss, which I was told is significant bone loss. So now I’m taking my weekly dose of Fosamax and have realized that I’m quite breakable. I’m now afraid of falling and breaking something. I don’t like feeling this way. I don’t like fear.
I’ve not taken the lunging or the yanking the dogs do while walking seriously until now. It’s been a source of entertainment and fodder for my stories. But now I’ve realized that together the three dogs are much bigger and stronger than me. I was five foot two before osteoporosis and losing a half inch, which makes me a great boat anchor dragging behind the leashes, but little more than that if the three choose to charge after the object of their interest.
Basically they’re good dogs, fairly well behaved, but tend to feed off of each other’s emotions. If one gets excited about seeing someone, the other two join in and I can’t hold them back. Not anymore. So now the serious training begins. I know labs are hardheaded and stubborn, Orso especially seems awfully thick at times, brilliant other times. We call him “Box of Rocks”. Charlie is just hardheaded and willful. When it comes to a battle of the wills, he will not budge one iota. The thought of violence is often considered with him. AJ is soft and submissive, but when no one expects it, he will instigate trouble then stand back and let the other two get yelled at. Sneaky.
Training three dogs at once is a challenge. One at a time would be easier, but I don’t have the time to work with each dog individually. So three at a time is our only option. I’ve given Mitch the ultimatum, “It’s either they get trained to exhibit patience and not lunge or we can’t have the dogs”. And I have no intention of not having the dogs.
So it’s them or me. Bet on me.
AJ after playing with the younger dogs
I was out walking last night and observed three tuffs walking down the road. Each had a cocky air, heads up looking mean, keeping watchful eyes out for any trouble. Their steely gaze traveled back and forth striking fear in the hearts of all whose paths they crossed. Their chests were puffed up and out trying to appear larger and meaner. Their gait was slow and purposeful, each step placed ready to spring into action toward any perceived threat. The way they walked down the road reminded me of the old westerns with the gunslingers walking down the main street, cowboy hats pulled low shading the face and eyes, guns slung low on the hip, ready to be pulled and fired.
I walked along going the same direction as the three thugs wondering if I might end up as a victim of an attack or just part of the collateral damage if one or all three decided to confront some impending threat.
What was worse, the trio knew together they were intimidating, individually not that tough, but all together, the three dogs looked downright scary. I would have been terrified if I had been a squirrel.
The chase is on
My Ball!
Charlie came through the dental cleaning with flying colors. No cavities, just one cracked tooth, but our vet said it still looked healthy so he left it in. He came out to greet me with a total lack of manners. He jumped up on the counter pretty clumsily, still suffering from the effects of the anesthesia. Charlie looked a little loopy, his eyes drooped slightly, but he was happy to see me, all was forgiven.
I went to pick him up on my way home from work, so I was driving my car, a Pontiac Firebird, which normally none of the dogs get to ride in. Besides no room for a dog, I like driving in a car with no dog hair swirling around my face, or leaving a dog hair contrail when I drive with the top down. I put Charlie in the car hoping he’d climb in the back and lay down. No, he wanted to hang out in my lap. I had to remind him that he was a sixty five pound dog, not a yorkie.
We got home just in time for dinner. Charlie rushed into the kitchen and drank water like he’d been lost in the desert for a week. Poor baby. As I dragged out the dog food buckets and dog bowls, Charlie looked at me with a skeptical look, wondering if he was really going to get fed or if I was just torturing him. He ate with gusto, as always.
At bedtime, Charlie climbed into his round bed, snuggled down and slept like a rock all night. All is right with the world, again.
Charlie is not happy with us this morning. He didn’t get his breakfast this morning. No carrots as treats, no fruit after our breakfast and no water. No, we’ve not decided to save money by rotating starving a different dog each day. Even though it may come to that if gas prices keep going up. No, Charlie has an appointment with the vet to get his teeth cleaned this morning, so it was no food or water after midnight for Charlie.
Which sucks for us, because even though we know why he can’t have anything while the other two get to dine sumptuously on Science Diet dog food, all the water they want and the exotic carrots they devour as treats, try explaining that to a dog. All Charlie understands is that while AJ and Orso were eating breakfast this morning, he was locked up in the bathroom with Mitch. Some consolation prize for a hungry dog. I could hear the angry yelps all the way from the other side of the house behind the closed doors.
The look on his face after coming back from our walk was scary when no carrots were handed out to any of the dogs. The other two kept looking at each other then at me wondering what was up too. But I figured it would be truly cruel to pass out treats to two and not Charlie. It was a challenge putting the water bucket down on the floor for AJ and standing guard, hovering over the water bowl until he was finished so Charlie wouldn’t try to drink any. After watching with a hurt look on his face, Charlie finally left the kitchen and lay down in the dining room, waiting to be forgiven for whatever he did wrong and finally get to eat.
After our breakfast was over and no one got any pineapple chunks as is the usual custom, we have labs and they eat anything, remember, Charlie gave me one last hurt look of self pity and stomped off to the bedroom. There he curled up into a tight little ball and refused to lift his head to look at me when I tried to pet him and explain once again why he couldn’t have anything to eat or drink. I know he doesn’t understand me or care, all he knows is that I won’t feed him. So of course now I feel terribly guilty even though as a human being with opposable thumbs, I know that what we’re doing is the best for him. It doesn’t help though does it?
When I left to go to work, Charlie still refused to look at me, curled in that tight ball. I had no idea that dogs pout. Who knew?
A woman's view of hunting...with men 