AJ enjoying the day
Charlie wound just a little too tight
Orso just watching
Tag: humor
Rule Number One – Change the Batteries
Rule number one – when you buy batteries to replace the dead ones in the indoor shock collars for the dogs, it’s always a good idea to actually change them. I bought the batteries for the collars the very next morning and as is always the case, I got busy multitasking and totally forgot to change out the dead for the freshly charged batteries. We had dinner plans that night with my best friend and her significant other, who were in town only for the weekend, so I was busy trying to get everything done for the day and prod Mitch along.
Mitch is busy working on our latest renovation project since the bathroom finally was finished. The latest project is totally gutting the dining room and sheet rocking the room ceiling and walls and covering the hard wood floors with bamboo. Mitch is not a social butterfly, hermit fits the description better, so getting him to stop the rehab and get cleaned up in a timely fashion, is like prodding a giant tortoise to walk faster. Not going to happen. So while I’m prodding, nagging and giving him the Look, I completely forgot to change out the batteries. We go to dinner and have a great time, because once I finally get Mitch out of the cave and into the light, he opens up and enjoys himself. He’ll even grudgingly admit it later, maybe.
We get home to barking dogs waiting for me to open the door and once inside, I’m overwhelmed with the wave of destruction the dogs have waged on the kitchen. In the living room an empty butter container that had housed an unopened pound of whipped butter that one or more dogs had taken from the kitchen table and consumed. Yummy, eating a pound of butter. I can’t wait to see which dog ate that. Farther in the living was a plastic jar of honey or what was left of it. The lid had been chewed off and the top of the jar had been chewed with about one quarter of the honey eaten. I picked up the empty butter container, lid and the honey jar and walked into the kitchen to survey the damage waiting for me. The recycle bin had been opened and contents strewn about. Why, it’s not like anything in there was edible.
The trash can was knocked over again with trash all over the floor. Orso also left a wonderful gift in the guest bathroom off the kitchen, he peed on the tile floor. Lovely. Surprisingly no one looked at all remorseful. Imagine that.
The trashcan will now be removed and a smaller one will go under the sink. God help me if they figure out how to open cabinet doors. The butter and honey get put up higher, just like living with toddlers and the recycle container will be emptied more often and left outside when I’m gone.
Oh yes and I am going to change the batteries in the collars right now.
Hiking Pictures
On our hike we ran across this. It looks like the extremely rare pond monster. A distant cousin to the Loch Ness Monster, but much smaller.
Orso trying to clear a puddle. A lab that doesn’t particularly like to get wet.
A New Day Walking the Dogs
In our efforts to get the dogs under some semblance of control when out walking and meeting others on our walks, making them sit and wait to be greeted instead of rushing up to be the greeters is one of our training routines. Not that we have that many. I’ve also been working with them to not charge at something that goes bump in the night on our predawn walks. It hasn’t worked as quickly as I would like, but we’re getting there.
We found the best walking harness for dogs that pull and tug on the leash. Charlie has been a tugger since day one. All of our efforts to get him to heel or at least not strain on the leash have been a waste up to now. Mitch and I both thought we were going to have to have shoulder surgery just from walking him. But not now, thanks to the find of the century or at least the find of the month, we tried the Easy Walk Harness, another harness of last resorts so to speak, and it’s awesome. No more pulling and tugging, walking Charlie is almost a pleasure. Almost, he still has to stop, sniff and pee on everything. No getting your heart rate up with my dogs. Another problem walking with hunting dogs. They’re always hunting.
The other morning while Orso was stopped doing his thing, Charlie spotted some creature running up ahead in the dark. I was paying attention to Orso and not Charlie so imagine my surprise when I felt this slight tug on my right arm. I turned just in time to see Charlie flip head over heels and land on his side in the road. He looked up at me with a look of total shock. Evidently when he decided to chase the unseen animal, the harness literally pulled him off of his feet with just a mere tug on the leash. I looked down at him laying there and laughed out loud, thinking this was the best twenty five dollars I ever spent.
I decided right then that I was going to get Orso one too. Now the morning walks will definitely be more sedate and safer for me.
Time Out For Charlie
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.
Redbud Lane
I went for a walk today with the dogs and my camera in tow to take some pictures of spring flowers. It seemed that almost all of the trees were blooming and budding out and the vast majority are redbuds. I had forgotten the multitude of redbuds growing in our little burg. In fact one of the roads is lined on both sides with redbuds. I decided that we need to rename the road to Redbud Lane. I’m not sure what the process is to change the name of an existing road, but I’m pretty sure it is a pain in the patooty. So I’m taking it upon myself to rename the road to Redbud Lane for the spring. It can revert back to the old name for summer, fall and winter. I think that’s a fair trade, after all I’m only claiming one of the four seasons. From now on, in the spring if someone asks the name of the road, I will truthfully say, Redbud Lane but come back later in the year and all bets are off.
Teaching Orso That It’s Fun To Retrieve A Ball
Focus!
Okay I’ll try this
This is easy!
The Most Dreaded Words A Man Will Ever Hear
I can utter a two word phrase that will send Mitch in a panic. “It’s dated.” Whenever I speak those two simple words together in a sentence, Mitch knows that another home improvement project is coming at him. Some might argue that men fear hearing, “I think I’m pregnant,” more, and that may be true for younger single guys, but for a married man, my money is on, “It’s dated,” every time.
In the kitchen the conversation will start something like this.
“You know I think I’m going to paint the kitchen.”
Which causes Mitch to look around at the walls and say, “Why, what’s wrong with the color now?”
“It’s dated. A fresh new color will make the room brighter.”
He’ll look at me and say, “Okay if you want to paint go ahead and paint, but I think the walls look fine.”
The next words out of my mouth will be something like this, “We really need to change the countertops too. They are so old and faded, with stains and scratches. And while we’re at it, we ought to think about new cabinets.”
Translation: he’ll be doing all of the heavy lifting, ripping out cabinets, installing new countertops and whatever else I decide to change. After we spend days arguing over style, color and materials. It must be true that opposites attract, because our personal styles are complete opposite. Mitch has to have balance. If you have a mantle and you place candlesticks one side of the mantle there has to be the same identical and number of candlesticks on the other side. Asymmetrical design equates to total chaos to him. While perfect balance and symmetrical design is boring to me. I like chaos, it makes life and design interesting.
“What’s wrong with the cabinets? Wait don’t say it, they’re dated, right?”
“Now you’re in the spirit, maybe we’ll go darker,” I will answer, totally ignoring the sarcasm.
This will bring on the eye rolling and heavy sighs, but he knows he’s lost the battle, again. Poor guy.
After the shopping, the arguing and the ultimate compromises on both sides, Mitch will then be called upon to do the hard labor. I’m the idea person and he’s the implementer.
It’s Them or Me
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.
Three Thugs
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.
A woman's view of hunting...with men 