Category: dog ownership

Just One Glance

That’s all it takes.  One look from Orso with his head lowered and it’s GAME ON!  AJ, our eleven year old lab accepts the challenge with loads of exuberance, causing Orso, our five year old lab to reply in kind.  This sets off a charge toward each other from opposite corners of the room and at the last moment just as the two would crash into each other, both raise up on their back legs and slam into each other with a forceful chest bump.  Then they hit the floor chewing and barking at each other.  AJ will then lunge at Orso, who for some reason will back up around to the hallway or stand in the bedroom doorway and bark at AJ. 

AJ will then pretend to charge, stop short of actually connecting with Orso, then back up and bark back at Orso.  Orso will lunge back and pretend to come out of the bedroom but doesn’t.  The coward.  All the while this is going on between those two, Charlie will stand at my side and bark at me, just to let me know that AJ and Orso were behaving badly and that he had nothing to do with it.  If I don’t react and make them stop on a timely basis for Charlie, he will then join the fray, taking it out on Orso.  This causes a mass Orso attack, hair up barking, snarling and chewing.  No blood is drawn just wet slobbery necks and legs. 

Orso will escape run towards the bedroom and leap onto the bed from the doorway with Charlie in hot pursuit.  One of these days, one or both of the dogs is going to crash through the bedroom window.  On that day, we’ll have dog stew for dinner.

It’s a Conspiracy

My dogs are trying to kill me.  I’ve suspected this for a while now, but after our walk this morning I’m sure of it.  Yesterday, they were straining against the leash searching the dark for an unknown opportunity to jerk me around like a puppet.  This morning I saw the deer a fraction of a second before they did, but not soon enough to rein them in before AJ and Orso lunged forward to give chase.  AJ weighs in at seventy five pounds while Orso weighs a mere ninety five pounds for a combined weight of one hundred seventy pounds, just a bit more than me.  Not to mention the difference in muscle mass.  I come out the loser on both counts and they know it.  The only thing I have in my favor is opposable thumbs.

Charlie trying to get a better angle at the deer made a quick turn from being on my right to circling around behind me and lunge forward on my left, with the leash positioned perfectly behind my knees.  My only saving grace was that he bumped into the other two keeping me from crashing to ground on my butt.  They dragged me about a half of dozen steps forward before I was able to get them under control with my steely voice. I really screamed loudly enough to wake the neighborhood.  The three heathens didn’t even have the good sense to pretend to look repentant. 

I don’t understand it.  I am the bringer of food.  I take them hiking and swimming.  I’m a good time.  Why would the dogs want me dead?  Just because I make sure they get a bath every two weeks in the winter and at least weekly in the summer.  More often depending on what they smell like.  I make them behave, no chasing the cat or running up and down the neighbor’s fence taunting their dog.  I don’t let them eat the disgusting dead thing they have found.  That couldn’t be it, could it?  Surely not.  Maybe I should sleep with one eye open.

Something is Out There

I am always on alert when I walk the dogs in the mornings.  Mainly because it’s dark and I don’t want to get caught off guard when a critter moves causing the dogs to try and give chase with me as the boat anchor on the other end of the leash.  This morning though the dogs started off on high alert as soon as we walked out the door.  Charlie with his head high sniffing the air, catching the tantalizing scent of something.  Orso had his head cocked, with his ears up and turned forward listening to the predawn noises.  As we started off on the walk, Orso and Charlie were straining at the leash, pulling ahead searching the dark for the unknown threat or possible prey.  I reined them back closer to me in an effort to avoid having my shoulders dislocated while I searched the dark for movement too.  I strained to hear any sounds of a possible threat, but the wind was too strong, blowing the dead leaves and bushes all around, making it impossible for my sorry ears to pick up the sound of any imminent danger.

The dogs were keenly aware that something was out there but not sure where yet, jerking back and forward, working to pick up any clue to find the unknown early morning intruder.  Because of their actions, I started imagining what could possibly be out there, watching us.  I have a very vivid imagination and being an Underworld and True Blood fan, I came up with all sorts monsters and creatures out there in the dark waiting, watching and tracking us.  It was a toss-up between, vampires, werewolves or mountain lions.  I also threw in muggers, murderers or the random escapee from the insane asylum.  I was able to concoct a pretty good story about a harrowing encounter with a very large mountain lion during the walk.  Of course, it all worked out and now I have a pet mountain lion.  Not really, but it’s fun to pretend. 

Whatever was out there in the dark watching us, moved off because about halfway through the walk, both dogs calmed down and focused on the task at hand, finding the perfect bush to pee on.

The Color Purple

I decided to start the new year off with a renewed commitment to take the dogs hiking more.  Bright and early New Year’s morning I loaded up the dogs and my new camera and headed off to the park.  The morning was cold and clear with a moderate breeze out of the northwest.  I figured that most or all of the new year’s revelers would still be in bed and we would be all by ourselves on the trails. I was right, no one was around.  The dogs were excited, pacing around in the back of the station wagon as I parked the car.  The barking started and didn’t stop until I opened the back and let them out. 

Walking down the long hill to the trailhead, was the easy part.  The hard part would be coming back to the car and having to walk UP the hill after hiking four or five miles.  I definitely need to get a pedometer.  The dogs ran back and forth, sniffing the air, the ground and everything in between.  Charlie as usual was hunting.  Charlie is always hunting.  He lives to hunt and hunts everything.  It doesn’t matter what, mice to deer, as long as it moves and breathes air, he hunts it.  AJ and Orso were more concerned with sticks and branches to play tug of war with.  Chest slams, grabbing the back of the neck and wrestling was the highlight of the morning. 

We were about a mile and a high from the car and I had already taken a ton of pictures, when we crossed a creek and started up the hill on the other side.  I stepped on a frozen patch of dirt and ice, and started to slip.  I knew I was going down so I made sure to save the camera and grabbed it with both hands to hold it up and out of the way, leaving me to fall hard with the only thing to break my fall was the large pointed rock and my thigh.  I felt this burning searing pain in my left thigh and thought for a minute that I wasn’t sure I could get up.  As I slowly stood upright, Charlie ran up to make sure that I was okay.  As soon as the burning subsided and I realized nothing was broken, I headed off down the trail with the dogs.

After I got back to the car and loaded up the dogs, it dawned on me that it would probably be prudent to start packing a backpack with a small first aid kit, just in case.  The bruise didn’t show up right away.  It took a day for my thigh to turn purple, but when it finally did, it TURNED PURPLE!  I haven’t been able to lay on my left side in bed all week.  I guess I’m lucky I didn’t break anything, skin or bones.

My New Toy

For Christmas, I got a new camera and I love it.  I have been taking pictures like crazy.  It’s a Canon EOS Rebel and man is it fast!  Now I can get all of the action shots of the dogs and miss out on any. 

We had a play day with our dogs and Murphy, the German Sheperd and Stella, the Belgian Mallinois mix.  They just love chasing Orso and chewing on him.  He loves it too, because it means that someone is paying attention to him.

Sunday Afternoon

Game On

Tug of War

 

The Winner

Hiking means Wrestling Too

AJ and Orso love the cool weather so much and start a pick up game of My Stick.  That usually means the Smackdown is close behind.  I have to be sure and stay out of range or I quickly become part the melee.  That has happened many times in the past.

My Stick

AJ and Orso love the cool weather

My Black Friday

While most everyone else was either fighting the crowds at the malls or surfing the web for bargains, I decided to spend my Black Friday a bit differently.  Mitch opted to work overtime, to pay for the new alternator the dog hauler just had to have after I spent a small fortune at the grocery store.  Had I known the alternator was going to go out, I would have waited to buy some of the extras.  Sorry I digress, (a sign of old age).  I thought that since I was on my own for Black Friday and crowds of strangers, each ruder than the next, are not my idea of fun, I took the dogs hiking.  They didn’t care where we went as long as they were with me, so it was a win-win situation. 

So I loaded them up and headed off for a morning of tearing around out in the woods at break neck speeds.  For three dogs that normally spend their days looking like large lumps on the bed, laying around sucking up oxygen and conserving energy, it’s a whole different story when we take them out to the woods, they turn into three energizer bunnies, going and going and going.  I parked the car at the top of the hill with about a half mile hike to the bottom where the trail starts.  Which means the way back to the car is at the TOP of the hill, about a half mile hike UPHILL to the car.  As soon as the dogs figured out where we were, they couldn’t wait to get out and run around.  Orso started barking and pacing back and worth, because I wasn’t moving fast enough for him.  I opened the tailgate and out came the three happiest dogs.  The only thing that could make their day any better would be if there was peanut butter cake there too.

The day was chilly with gusty winds and clouds covering the sky, not the prettiest day but definitely not the worst.  We were the only ones around so the dogs could run and sniff to their hearts content.  After the hike I gave each one a bath so now I have pretty dogs – Bonus!   I can’t think of a better way to work off turkey and all the fixins.

I Tortured My Dogs Today

I tortured my dogs today.  I tortured them viciously, remorselessly.  I did it with malice and premeditation.  I was the ultimate evil pet owner.  Charlie tried to escape the onslaught by huddling deeply in one of the dog beds.  He looked up at me with pitiful soft eyes, begging for mercy.  Orso jumped up on the bed and curled into a ball hoping for leniency, bracing for the worst.  AJ stood silently by me looking up at me with soft loving eyes hoping for a reprieve and letting me know he loved me even though I was not the loving pet owner he deserved. 

But I’m the worst pet owner any dog would ever have.  I wielded my instrument of torture with the precision of a skilled surgeon.  I worked quickly, leaving the dogs no escape from their fate.  All three knew the worst was yet to come.  I showed no outward emotion on my face, but inside I felt a degree of satisfaction, maybe even a little evil pleasure at their despair.  Yes, I was enjoying this.

They finally gave in and hung their heads knowing there was no escape and gave into the inevitable.  My instrument of torture?  A leash. I made my “water” dogs go for a walk in the rain.

Stinky Dog

What is the attraction to dogs with dead disgusting thoroughly gross smelling animal carcasses?  And it’s not only animal carcasses, it’s animal poop, urine or the likes that dogs love.  Charlie especially.  The more wretched the better.  I’ve lost track of the number of times Charlie would be off exploring on our walks, then come racing back to me with a proud expression of excitement on him, as if he’d won the lottery.  He would smell so bad I would barely be able to get close enough to put the lease on him and take him home for a bath in the basement garage.  Because no dog will come into my house smelling like that. 

This hunting trip was no different.  Monday, last day of the trip, Mitch and I were working a small stand of tall prairie grass, about the width of a football field and the double the length.  Perfect for four hunters, but also manageable for two.  We’d made the trip from one end to the other without any success and decided to walk back through one more time, just to give it a complete sweep.  I was in the middle of the field and Mitch was close to the south edge, when I heard Mitch hollering at Charlie, “No Charlie, get up.  Quit!”

I asked him what was up and Mitch told me that Charlie had found a deer carcass and did the stop, drop and roll.  He came up thoroughly pleased with himself.  Charlie came running over to me for a whiff.  Lucky me.  Both Mitch and I said simultaneously, “You’re getting a bath today, Buster!”

Feeling sorry for the dead deer and sorrier for me, because I was the giver of bathes, I restarted working the field.  We hadn’t made it twenty feet when Charlie came upon more remains of another dead deer.  Thinking he’d hit the jackpot, Charlie dive bombed head first into the disgusting pile of bones, fur and flesh.  I yelled at him to stop, but he was in stinky dog nirvana.  I finally had to use his shock collar to get him to stop.  Charlie was so proud of himself, he strutted up to Orso with his head high, as if to say I am the king of stink!  Smell me I smell absolutely wonderful. 

What a stinker, literally.