Posts Tagged ‘Asher’
Kicked Off
Yesterday, we kicked off the post-Thanksgiving holiday season with a brunch and a show. With our kids and some of Cyndie’s family, we gathered for brunch at the Copper Hen restaurant on Nicollet Avenue in Minneapolis. The place was hopping with good energy, the ambiance was intriguing, and the food was top-notch.
From that location, it was just a short drive to Northrop Auditorium on the University of Minnesota campus where Cirque du Soleil was offering their first-ever holiday show, “Twas The Night Before…” It was a little different to see a Cirque show confined to a small stage but the quality of acrobatics was first-rate and the entertaining sense of humor and high-energy music was on brand.
Making everything feel even more seasonally festive, Cyndie and I drove through some heavy falling snow on the way to Minneapolis. As we passed through the city of Hudson, we dropped Asher off at his new favorite canine hangout, the kennel that offers afternoon daycare in addition to overnight boarding.
It seems like he is starting to recognize the route because he got increasingly excited as we approached. In the lobby, where he had previously shown some hesitation to be separated from us, he left Cyndie behind without a glance and rushed right in to be with the rest of the hounds in attendance.
Although it made it nice for us to have him well cared for while we were out, it forced us to make a hasty exit after the show. We left the family with a nod and a wink to get our car out of the parking ramp and hit the road so we could pick him back up before they closed for the day. If we didn’t get there in time he would become an unwitting overnight guest.
During the show, our phones pinged with a weather warning that icy road conditions were possible in the area. That heightened our sense of urgency in rushing off but neither time nor weather proved to be a problem and everything worked out nicely.
I think I may have kicked off a few earworms of Christmas songs that could get old real quick, but it was special this year to jump into the festive cheer with family before the Thanksgiving weekend had even ended.
December will be here before you know it. Ho ho ho. Visions of sugar plums dead ahead.
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Food Thieves
A while back I mentioned the rats weren’t doing the usual tunneling under the barn walls. Maybe that’s because they were finding everything they wanted inside.
Asher had started to show extra interest around the pallet where bags of feed get stacked. I assumed it was likely rodents were leaving their scent under there and figured Asher wasn’t hurting anything since he wasn’t digging. Although, he was spending so much time there and being so quiet about it, eventually I decided to take a look for myself.
That is a shot looking under the pallet. There is a pile of horse feed from a breached bag above. The wetness on the plank in the foreground was from Asher’s mouth. He was working hard to consume every morsel he could reach.
In pulling bags off the stack to find which one was leaking, I discovered it was three bags that had been chewed open.
I salvaged some of the feed pellets but it was hard because most of it was contaminated with shards of the plastic bags the thieves had chewed through.
I’m afraid I may have spoiled the rodents’ Thanksgiving feast by cleaning it all up.
Cyndie and I drove to her brother’s home in Edina, MN for a fabulous feast of Thanksgiving-worthy flavors. I shouldn’t need to eat again for a few days.
It is official now. Christmas decorations can legally go up and carols are allowed. I will do no shopping today as an intentional snub to the rampant over-commercialization of the holidays. I did charge a few dollars on Wednesday night to rewatch “Planes, Trains, & Automobiles” to get me in the spirit of the season, though.
It worked. Gobble, gobble, gobble.
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Dazzling Display
In the middle of being distracted by how much Asher was fixating on the scent he was manically following along our North Loop trail’s pathway, I noticed the sunset was ablaze in this spectacular deer-hunter orange glow. I wanted to see if I could get a picture of the scene but would need to redirect Asher somehow to allow me to move beyond pine trees that were obscuring the view.
With time of the essence, I resorted to my tried and true obedience technique of yanking him unceremoniously by the leash to break the spell of the (I assume cat) smell he was following and drag him in a 90-degree direction past the trees.
Asher is so sweet to accept the rude disruption and allow himself to be reluctantly forced to follow me against his will. We must look like such a smooth-functioning team.
Bam!
Got it.
I struggle to comprehend the angles involved in illuminating the clouds overhead that look so low in the sky and so far from the horizon, especially with Earth already turned past the point of being able to see the sun. I assume it is that the clouds are higher in the sky than I perceive.
It seems like an optical illusion because so much of the rest of the cloudy sky lacks any sunny color. How are the sun’s rays missing the rest of the cloud deck but hitting clouds below?
One minute later, the show is over and the color disappears. The evening becomes a dull gray that soon fades to black.
It’s such a treat to witness dazzling displays like this that happen for such a brief period. I didn’t wish to be walking Asher at that hour but look at the reward I got for doing so.
I’m going to need to ruminate on the lessons available for me in that experience.
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Different World
In the middle of rambunctious wrestling play in the backyard, Asher suddenly dropped the large JollyBall and cocked his head as if someone had called to him. Something had grabbed his attention from the direction of an aging pile of woodchips.
An aroma. One to which I was entirely oblivious. It was beyond the level of perception that my olfactory system could detect. I am well aware that dogs have a better sense of smell than people, but in that moment it struck me how different his world is from mine.
A couple of days ago on a walk around our property, Asher suddenly grabbed something in his jaws and I could immediately tell it was a dead something. It was a prize. The surprisingly large fur blob had broad, clawed feet that I identified as one of the biggest burrowing moles I’ve seen.
I decided to play coy and not battle with Asher to drop the critter against his wishes, even though that is precisely what I wanted. Watching his behavior, I sensed right away that he wanted to bury it somewhere of his choosing. He picked the pile of woodchips.
Just like that, he dropped his precious find and I didn’t need to get involved. I would come back later to collect the carcass and dispose of it surreptitiously. Indeed, I tried to do just that, but when I checked the pile yesterday morning, there was nothing but woodchips. I wasn’t sure, but it’s possible the top of the pile showed evidence of recent traffic.
When Asher sprinted for the pile, it was the top of the pile that grabbed his attention, not the spot of his prior burial exercise. From probably 50 yards away he picked up the scent of activity on the spot where he had buried that dead mole.
His perception of the world is so different from mine.
A few days ago I granted him full freedom to dig away on the path around the horse fence where new mole activity recently appeared. He dug with impressive fervor for the longest time which I assumed reflected he was smelling a scent that indicated prey was close at hand, or paw, as it was.
He didn’t come up with anything. Each time we’ve walked that same path in the days since, he has shown no interest at all. Must not smell like a mole anymore.
I’m guessing the rat activity in the barn has ended for the season because he no longer digs passionately in there.
He laid down and waited patiently while I braided scraps of polypropylene twine as we waited for horses to finish emptying their feed pans in the afternoon.
Okay, maybe our worlds aren’t that different.
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More Chews
This picture provides a great view of how Asher adores the custom homemade chew toys Cyndie has been creating for him:
After completing a craft project of her own, Cyndie wrapped leftover fabric scraps around chew toys Asher hasn’t been showing much fascination with for a while to give them new life. Adding a few morsels of smelly treats piques his interest and motivation to rip into the tantalizing new toys.
Even though they don’t last long, it’s fun to see his playful destruction occupy his mind with something creative when nothing else seems to be satisfying him for a moment.
I’m looking for all the distractions I can find to occupy him while deer hunters are out and about in our surrounding properties. Asher does not like being confined to quarters!
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Shooting Season
This coming Saturday marks the opening of deer hunting in our state. For a week or two prior to the hunting season, we experience what I call, “shooting season.” This is the time when hunters “sight in” their hunting rifles. POW!!
Pow-pow-pow-pow-pow-pow.
With no leaves on the trees, sound carries more than usual in our valley. Not far away over hills, there is a gun range. We can hear those shots, too, in addition to neighbors shooting on their property.
It is not unusual to hear occasional gunshots year-round but in November, rifle reports ring out from every direction. I am not a hunter, so I have very little understanding of what the sound of the different gunshots reveals about the weapons being used. Some sound a lot bigger than others.
I also don’t get why we occasionally hear rapid repeated shots. Do deer hunters sometimes shoot with automatic multi-shot rifles?
Asher and I were out playing ball in the backyard while someone in the general vicinity was shooting yesterday afternoon.
He would pause and turn his head toward the sound, but thankfully, he never wanted to run toward the source.
We bought him a new vest to ensure he wouldn’t be confused with being a wild animal when he gets loose and runs through the forest.
I’m finding it makes it much easier to spot him among the trees after he runs at supersonic speeds to chase turkeys/rabbits/squirrels and I’m left behind in his dust.
I’m happy to report that our attempt to train him to come to the front door when he hears the ping of the hanging bell there worked like a charm at the end of the day yesterday. I’d say it has worked a third of the time when his location is unknown. Maybe he isn’t always hearing it.
When we know he can hear it because we are ringing it to test him, it is getting him to run in about 98% of the time. I like it better than trying to shout for him.
Yesterday was a good day for off-leash exercise. When the hunt begins on Saturday, Asher will be back on a full-time leash until the Monday after Thanksgiving.
At that point, shooting season and hunting season will both be over and we can get back to the merely odd occasional gunshot outbursts common in the rural countryside.
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Accepting Frustration
The feeling of frustration happens when I can’t control situations in the direction I wish for them to go. I am not a dog trainer and rarely succeed in influencing our dog, Asher, to behave in a way that will be convenient for me and safe for him. I found myself in that miserable place yesterday because of a flock of wild turkeys and a growing weariness from two weeks of being the sole person feeding horses and walking the dog.
We currently have a lot of activity around us tempting the poor dog to stray beyond our property lines. Corn fields on two sides of our property are being harvested and Asher finds the big machines and guys frequently walking between tractors and trucks very fascinating. Soon there will be deer hunters out in numbers.
For that reason, I can’t let him roam loose on walks around the property. Unfortunately, being leashed doesn’t always stop him from getting away from me. The urgency with which he bolts into tight squeezes between trees at the sight of a squirrel jars me off my feet and forces me to let go of the leash to save myself.
Not letting go of the leash is how Cyndie ended up breaking her ankle with Delilah a year ago.
After a very long time of allowing Asher to follow his nose and explore the far reaches of our property at will yesterday (sniffari), we stopped in the barn to tend to the horses. While they were gobbling feed, I decided to walk Asher up to the house. Without warning, he pulled me off balance around the corner of the garage. He flew over the large rocks by the front door and disappeared around the outside of the sunroom. I let go as my feet hit the biggest rock, sailing over it and landing in the yard on my stomach like a humiliated Superman fallen from flight.
That’s when I noticed a lot of big birds taking flight for treetops in the neighboring woods. I could hear the leaves crunching under Ashers’ bounding leaps but I couldn’t see him. By the time I made it back on my feet, it was all quiet and Asher and the turkeys were nowhere in sight.
I wanted to just wait for him to return but he was dragging a leash and the odds were high that he was going to get hung up in a tangled mess. I heard one distant bark that sounded like it could be his, so I set off on a search and rescue mission.
With occasional calls and whistles, I climbed toward a high ridge seeking the widest view and ultimately a farm road around the next field over. Soon after making my way out of the woods, I spotted Asher just as I feared, with the leash caught on a branch, passing through a rusty barbed wire fence, and wrapped twice around a small tree trunk.
Struggling to get him to walk straight home with me, I was in no mood to fight off my simmering frustration.
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There’s Hope
When I think about having a dog, my thoughts are filled with visions of a companion that hangs around while I am busy with outdoor tasks, alerts us when someone comes up the driveway, playfully interacts with us, and cuddles when we sit down to rest.
I don’t spend much time thinking about what it takes to reach that level of behavior, even though that is what I’m living through. For every time Asher actually returns to us when we call him, there are too many others when he ignores our commands to pursue his whims.
After the most recent time that he crossed the road again to explore the neighbor’s property and tangle with their cat, completely ignoring my calls and bribes to get him under control, he has had to endure being on a short leash 100% of the time. That’s not fun for either of us.
Of course, this occurs while Cyndie is still recuperating from ankle surgery, leaving me as the sole dog walker. I don’t enjoy the hassles but it will ultimately provide me the benefits of a developing relationship.
Last night, Asher provided me with hope with his willingness to snuggle.
This morning I let him roam for a bit, off-leash, on our way to the barn to feed the horses. He behaved well.
I’m hoping progress continues with a change toward more successes than failures as we work toward helping Asher become the companion we think he can be.
Snuggles are a pretty good start.
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Silly Victory
“I win.” Simple as that. When engaged in meaningless banter with Cyndie, particularly if my point has no basis for accuracy, I will swiftly blurt, “I win.” The debate is over.
Most accurate at that point of our back and forth is that I have totally lost. It served well for many years in introducing humor into our interactions but not so much anymore.
Pretending to win when you obviously haven’t isn’t funny after a certain grift leader managed to make it to the highest office in our country and then inspired his minions to violence in an attempt to keep his position.
One of the safeties of a home is the opportunity to be silly in ways that might come across poorly in public. [loud belch]
This morning, to occupy Asher’s mind for a moment of distraction, Cyndie assembled a hidden treat vessel from found materials. He would need to figure out a way to get to the delicious bites he could smell wrapped inside paper and resting in the 12 pockets of an egg carton.
I watched as he was trying to figure out how to open the carton, surprised that he didn’t just bite into it to rip it apart. As he picked up his head to see what Cyndie was doing, his paw rolled across the carton and it popped open. When he looked back down, there were all the wads of paper.
The exercise lasted maybe 5 minutes and certainly won’t help to discourage him from scrounging in our trash in the future, but it was something new and different to entertain his food-driven curiosity and distract from his whining for attention.
Even a mere five minutes of re-occupying his mind can feel like a silly victory sometimes.
“We win.”
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Looking Close
I woke early yesterday and snuck out the door in the dark while Asher was still in his overnight crate. My destination was the Subaru Dealership in the Cities where I bought my 2019 Crosstrek. It’s headed for the 80K mile mark soon and still had the original tires, or what was left of ‘em, anyway.
Today it has fresh tires, brakes, oil, and an air filter. It’s almost like a brand-new car.
Cyndie called in one of our pet sitters to take care of the dog and horses in my absence. It was like having a day off for me. Well, half a day. Upon my arrival home, Asher instantly wanted to rough-house and battle for his squeaky ball. Eventually, we headed out to feed the horses.
The barn was in perfect order. The only difference between the way I do things in the morning and the way our helper left it was a closed door where we usually leave the top half open during the day.
I found myself taking close-up photos while waiting for the horses to eat everything in their feed pans.
The wind was whipping up some ripples on the surface of the waterer.
Close inspection of some of the hay that was delivered to us last season reveals a lot of woody stems and a very bleached coloring. We’ve been mixing it with partial flakes from 30 bales we received from a different supplier. I’m guessing the difference is first-cut versus second or third-cut.
The horses are very skilled at not eating any hay they don’t like.
It’s a lot more like straw than hay. The horses just let it drop to the ground.
This morning, Asher gets a car ride to Hudson for a day of play with other canines. It’ll almost be like another day off for me, except I’ll be picking up Cyndie’s grocery order and hauling it into the house.
The latest update on Cyndie’s convalescence is all good one week after surgery. Maybe even ahead of schedule for what she was originally expecting. The swelling is under control and she is already moving around using only one crutch while controlling pain with nothing but over-the-counter acetaminophen.
She is doing well to keep herself at rest and icing and elevating her ankle regularly.
I’m hoping she will be able to get back in the action by the playoffs. Whoops. I mixed her surgery up with all the injuries happening in the NFL. Between concussions and ruptured Achilles, it seems like there is a risk of teams not being able to field enough backup players.
Here’s hoping Asher doesn’t pull a muscle racing around with other dogs on his play date today.
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Relative Something 