Relative Something

Lately, Asher the wonderdog has become hyperfocused on capturing mice that have taken up residence in tree cavities. Obviously relying on his nose to tell him when a rodent is home, their presence will flip a switch in him that blocks out the rest of the world and gives him super-endurance to stay on task until he gets what he’s after.

He ripped the bark off this little tree and crunched and chewed the wood for so long that I grew tired of watching him and started doing something else nearby. There was no reason to interrupt his fun. Finally, I spotted him with his prize, a big, fat mouse in his mouth. He dropped it, pushed it with his nose, satisfied himself that it was out of its misery, and then instantly lost interest in it.

Apparently, his primary interest is in the hunt more than the capture.

Later, he took a new interest in an old log that once had a mouse in it. The first time he zeroed in on it, I watched as a mouse jumped out one side and ran off while Asher chewed on the other end. The fact that he was fixated on it again could only mean one thing. There must be a new tenant. That afternoon, I did have another agenda, so I asked him to keep on task with me and deal with the log later.

He couldn’t do it. The solution he settled on was to simply bring the log with us.

That’s motivation. It was really challenging for him to hold it up and walk at the same time. I didn’t honestly believe there could still be a mouse in there, but I know better than to question his nose.

Asher got away from us yesterday afternoon while we were working on clearing the drainage swale that forms the southern border of our property. Cyndie walked off to locate him, and I soon spotted her driving down the driveway to search for him along the road. Suddenly, I thought I heard yelling at a neighboring property; the one with a horde of cats, indoor and out.

It sounded like, “Go HOME now!” which made sense if it was Asher.

As I was calling Cyndie on the phone, her car came into view, and she was passing that driveway. I told her what I thought I was hearing, and just as I got the words out, I saw Asher running out of their driveway.

“He’s right behind you!” I excitedly said.

I’m assuming we’ve burned up some precious goodwill with those neighbors for a while. May need to bake them some “apology cookies.”

I much prefer Asher being fixated on rodents in our woods over the place down the road with cats.

“Property!” I keep reminding him whenever his attention strays to anywhere beyond our boundaries. When I say it sternly, he quickly turns his focus back to our pathways. Unfortunately, the word and concept don’t seem to stick when we aren’t around to reinforce the command.

I can’t really blame him. The enticing odors wafting in the wind certainly aren’t constrained by property lines.

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