Posts Tagged ‘dog behavior’
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.
.
.
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.
.
.
Autumn Scenery
I started to title this post, “September Scenery” before I realized it’s already the eleventh day of October. Since it doesn’t feel at all like October, I went with, “Autumn.” I needed to mow grass again yesterday because it is still growing, despite the mornings starting frosty in our low-lying areas.
It might be frosty, but it really doesn’t feel like October.
I wasn’t able to give Light any extra attention yesterday because my time was constantly being demanded by Asher. Cyndie headed for the airport before Asher and I were out of bed in the morning and when he wasn’t begging me to distract him from loneliness, he was searching for where Momma could possibly be. She flew out of state with friends for a few days to celebrate each of their different milestone birthdays occurring this year.
Asher didn’t seem too happy to discover it was just him and me and he failed miserably when it came to employing any self-soothing skills.
His skills of stealth in the woods were still as keen as ever, though.
You might think that’s just a shot of one of our paths into the woods, but look closer…
Sometimes Asher can hide in plain sight.
While he and I were playing with his Jolly Ball in the front yard I heard a familiar screech overhead. I figured I knew what it was but Asher’s wrestling prevented me from being able to turn my head skyward right away to look. The screeching continued enough times that I finally pushed him away so we could both look up.
Sure enough, it was a bald eagle. Three bald eagles, in fact, were circling surprisingly low directly over our heads. I wondered if the screeching was a comment on our activity. Both Asher and I stared for a while as the three majestic eagles circled higher and higher away from us.
I wasn’t quick enough to capture a photo before they were too high to easily see.
Plus, Asher was back to bashing his Jolly Ball into my leg so I would resume wrestling over control of it.
Since Cyndie wasn’t home when he went to sleep last night and won’t be home when he gets up this morning, I’m hoping it will be a little easier for him to adjust to her absence and sync up with my solo routine for the next few days.
It’s not that big a deal for him, but I fear my sanity depends on it.
.
.
Neck Pain
Why does my neck hurt this morning? Maybe it has something to do with being flipped head over heels by our lovely dog yesterday. You’d think by this point I would be smart enough to not turn my back on him when he is charging with all his energy in a manic spasm of invented urgency.
I was walking through the woods from the house toward the back side of the barn while Cyndie lagged behind on the driveway above with Asher. The first thing I noticed was Mix getting startled by the sound of Asher bolting over crunching leaves on the trail. I glanced behind me to see Asher coming and looked back in the direction of the horses because now they were all getting jumpy.
Wanting to settle the horses with an assurance it was only the dog racing toward us, I barely got a word out when Asher plowed directly into both of my legs, sending my feet in the air and my upper body to the ground with such speed that I’m not entirely sure what hit first.
My right arm underneath me hurt but so did my shoulder. The headache came later. Did I hit my head? I’m not sure. This morning it is my neck and back between my shoulder blades that are registering complaints.
Do these kinds of collisions hurt the dog, I wonder? Did he protect his head and neck when barreling into me and somehow hit me with his shoulder/side? I have no idea. He seems to be no worse after the impact.
In the end, the most important question has to do with prospects for him maturing enough to stop thinking that running into people at full speed is acceptable behavior.
We should probably put in an epic effort toward getting him to obey a “STOP!” command.
STOP trying to roll in manure!
STOP going into the landscape pond!
STOP digging up Cyndie’s garden!
STOP trying to jump into visiting vehicles!
STOP running full speed into John!
We were really looking forward to having a dog that didn’t need to be leashed full-time, but it has presented a number of different issues than we ever had to deal with when we had Delilah.
I’m looking forward to discovering if I’ve learned to not turn my back on him when he is racing anywhere in my general direction.
.
.
Staying Ahead
My second day of solo Asher duty went a little better than the first. I planned on working to keep a closer eye on him and hoped to stay one step ahead of his shenanigans. For the most part, it worked.
At the beginning of Tuesday, Asher gave me a little time when he hung around and chilled in the shade near where I was working on a new wood sculpting project. Hoping to buy a little more time similar to that, yesterday I offered him a portion of an antler to chew on while I worked. It kept him occupied long enough for me to get set up and start working before I noticed him walking away to bury the barely-chewed antler.
A brief moment later, Asher showed up with a spool from our trimmer in his mouth. He had gone into the shop to find an object that I very definitely didn’t want him to have. So much for my time to sculpt.
I gave Asher almost no time to himself and when he was off-leash I did my best to keep his attention on me. There was no new stink from horse manure rubbed into his coat throughout the entire day. That was a victory for me.
He didn’t seem as sharp as usual at figuring out where I hid treats in his bin of dog toys. Probably because he didn’t witness me putting anything in there. It was all a part of my staying one step ahead of him in hopes of reducing his chances of doing things I wished he wouldn’t.
Asher is doing a good job of teaching me to let go of my urge to have things in an orderly state. I feel like I’m being groomed to become more comfortable with chaos in my surroundings. Do I want the bathroom trash bin on the floor or up on top of a high surface? Maybe I’m not supposed to care.
Do I want a landscape pond that is beautiful to look at or one with netted fencing surrounding it?
I outsmarted Asher by squeezing food pellets between his Kong ball and a circular chew toy.
If he would just pop the ball out the treats would come free all at once but he didn’t figure that out. He tried licking after them instead. Didn’t offer him enough reward. I was surprised to see he didn’t have the patience to stay engaged with it long enough to be rewarded the first time.
If I’m going to stay ahead of him another day, I’ll need to change something in my “hide-the-treats” exercises. For half a day anyway. Cyndie returns today and that should be enough to keep him occupied for a long while. I’m sure he’ll want to show her all the new places where he’s found things to chew on that he’s not supposed to have.
I suppose I could put the bathroom trash bin back on the floor for him.
.
.
Horses Easier
My first day of solo Asher duty was not a pretty one. He got the better of me more than I’d like to admit. It seemed to start well with his perfect off-leash companionship on the morning walk through the woods to the barn. I emptied over 2.5 inches of water from our rain gauges on the way.
Asher waited patiently in the barn for me to finish feeding horses and cleaning up manure. I got him to stay with me on the way back to the house for both of our breakfasts. I confined him to his crate in the house while I mowed down by the road and then let him out with me while I mowed around the barn.
He took advantage of my being fully occupied to find manure out in the hay field and completely smeared his orange vest as well as his body, face to feet. I tried to wash him off despite his vehement objection to the process and ended up feeling like the smeared horse shit just went from him to my soaking wet pants and shirt.
That stink just sticks to everything it touches. I couldn’t wait to get out of my clothes and thoroughly scrub with soap in the hope of clearing that stench out of my nose. Well, Asher’s collar still stinks so the smell just lingers.
In my clean clothes after the shower, I was hoping to avoid contact with the dog for the rest of the night. He took that as a sign he needed to up his antics to get me to give him a hug. First, he got into the bathroom trash and shredded used tissues.
I took him outside where he could chase thrown balls. When he tired of that exercise, I offered to head back inside where he would have the choice of many dog toys. He didn’t want to come in with me so I sat outside with him. He found a stick to play with. Next, he grabbed the Jolly Ball that was in the yard.
He would pause to chew acorns or think about digging into the mole tunnels in the grass. Then he disappeared for a while.
What else could he find to coax me into a wrestling match? Well, there’s always the landscape pond that Cyndie resorted to fencing off to keep him out of it.
He came running into the front yard with the pump intake filter in his mouth and proceeded to shred it before my eyes. When I tried to negotiate an alternative chew option, he knew the game was on.
“Keep away! My favorite game,” Asher says to himself.
All I wanted was to be clean and dry and all Asher wanted was for me to get wet and stinky again.
I went around back and saw he had flattened the netting that was supposed to keep him out of the pond. He figured out how mad I was getting and decided it was time to bolt out of sight. I don’t know where he went but assumed it likely would have something to do with getting dirty or stinky or both.
Honestly, I was prepared to leave him outside all night at that point.
Taking care of the horses is so much easier than watching Asher. He finally returned just before dark and I avoided checking too close before ushering him to his overnight crate so I could be done with him for the day.
Only two more days until Cyndie gets home. I wonder how dirty he can get in that amount of time.
.
.
Days Two
Family who slept over Saturday night were treated to a second day of the events of Hays Days, starting with a breakfast of baked double-berry French toast and a perfectly spicy egg bake.
Asher made sure everyone received a warm greeting to start “Days” two.
If they had tented overnight, weather conditions would have allowed them to pack a dry tent in the morning but not if they waited too long. We finally received a small amount of precipitation and I’m not going to complain because a little is better than none at all.
We received just under a half-inch of rain out of a mid-day shower.
Indoor activities included plenty of cutting and pasting for collage projects, then some delicious pasta-making, and ultimately, fabric painting.
It has been confirmed for me once again that an overnight stay increases the connection among relatives at family events dramatically more than just a one-day visit.
I’m not sure what it does for pets. Asher had endless opportunities for human interaction yet he began behaving as if he wasn’t getting enough. What started as one isolated incident of picking up a tossed sock and trotting off with it eventually became a never-ending routine of grabbing a shoe or a shirt or a bag of dice, anything in reach that he seemed to understand wasn’t one of his toys.
At first, I wrote it off as him being out of sorts due to so many new people occupying his living space but after everyone had departed yesterday evening, Asher twice absconded with one of my slippers. At bedtime, after we put him in his crate, he uncharacteristically whined and whined until I finally came out of our bedroom to sit near him and watch Lionel Messi playing for Inter Miami on AppleTV on my laptop.
Asher quieted down immediately. I think he likes Messi.
.
.
Search Worked
Walking Asher unleashed through our woods yesterday, I took a picture of him trotting in front of me because he was so calm and happy. I was even happier because he stayed on the trail and was not manic about the sights and smells constantly vying for his attention.
Shortly after I captured that image, his trot picked up pace and soon he was running out of sight ahead of me.
It was nice while it lasted.
No trouble came from any of his brief excursions out of our sight on multiple sessions of walking with him unleashed. Asher generally explores the woods adjacent to our property and returns within roughly one to five minutes of vanishing. Since he has yet to reliably respect our voiced recall commands, our off-leash walks happen more toward the wooded end of our property as opposed to the open fields near the road.
We do not trust he would know enough to stay away from traffic passing on our street. I suspect just the opposite; he would be inclined to dangerously chase after moving vehicles at this point.
On one of our trails, we passed something I don’t recall ever seeing before.
Do you know what critter makes this?:
There was a half-dozen of them in relatively close proximity.
I added my foot to one of them to give a size perspective.
Just ignore that brightly colored leaf stuck in my boot. [I can’t keep my eye from looking at that distraction.]
Cyndie suggested we do an image search after uploading one of my photos. I figured that wouldn’t work but I was very wrong. She quickly found many photos with striking similarities to this one of mine:
Based on the search, the likely creatures are ground bees. Color me surprised.
I’ve seen bees disappear into a hole in the ground but I’ve not seen the ant-like piles of granules with the perfect pencil-sized hole on top like these.
I learned two things from this. One is obviously the discovery of ground bees. The other is to not doubt Cyndie’s problem-solving prowess.
Married for over 41 years and known her since we were teens in high school. You’d think I would have already learned not to doubt her abilities by now.
.
.
Great Greeting
When you haven’t seen your dog for a week, it’s hard to contain your excitement when you arrive home and see his sweet face again. If we get too amped up, so will he, and that’s not a behavior we want to encourage.
It was lucky timing that Cyndie walked in the door in the middle of Asher eating his serving of dinner because that made for a perfect distraction. He stopped eating long enough to check on Cyndie and then got right back to finish his food.
No overexcited jumping involved.
After he finished eating there was plenty of time for Asher to say hello to Cyndie’s mom and lean up against me for a massive dose of scratching, but he was perfectly well-behaved throughout all the greetings to a degree that has us feeling really pleased.
We took him for a short walk in the heat to check on the horses and found things in satisfactory order and the herd calmly spread out around the fence under the overhang.
They were spaced apart as if in an attempt to keep away from each other’s body heat. Their reaction to our return wasn’t so much a greeting as an acceptance of the realization their caregivers were changing back to the usual people.
When we stopped in Hayward to fill Marie’s car with gas before the drive home, Cyndie spontaneously hustled into our favorite pizza place right next door (Coop’s [though under new management]) and quickly grabbed a couple of frozen ones to go.
The pepperoni pizza dinner last night at home felt a little like we were still up at the lake, despite the lack of a lake.
Gee, but it’s great to be back home.
.
.
A Destroyer
Before I get to tales of Asher’s skills as a destroyer of dog toys I would like to self-report my successful destruction of the largest walleye fillet I have ever been served.
I made sure to put my fork on the plate for reference. Had I known it was going to be that massive I would have ordered the broiled option instead of batter-fried. I made it through half the serving at dinner Thursday night and enjoyed the rest for lunch yesterday. That was a BIG fish. Oh, and delicious, as well.
Now, Asher’s destructive skills extend well beyond his ability to annihilate bowls of his food at meal times. We have been happy to employ the trick of tossing old toys in the tub with a scattering of treat pellets but it has led to him choosing to reduce the number of toys getting in his way.
Yesterday he pulled the stuffing out of three different items. The challenge for us is that his escapades in this realm require constant supervision. When he gets wound up/bored/anxious/hangry/frustrated his behavior often drops down to biting pillows, cushions, or furniture corners.
We need to quickly steer his teeth toward sanctioned chew toys. Then we have to studiously watch for the threads and fabric shards Asher tries to eject off his tongue without pause between fresh attacks of the object of his attention.
Then comes the stuffing. He appears to feel great pleasure in pulling out massive wads of the cottony padding. Thankfully, he shows no interest in consuming the stuff. It leads to some comical gyrations as he works to push it out of his mouth as fast as he is pulling in the next bite he can get his teeth on.
Our hands are kept busy trying to grasp the sloppy clouds of stuffing that show up –some sticking to his chin or getting caught on a tooth– while staying clear of his busy canines.
We are not there to interrupt his project, just safely facilitate his progress and keep the disaster scene from becoming overly gruesome.
With Asher’s penchant for the total destruction of purchased toys, we have added an incentive to employ the advice we received in the obedience classes about alternatives that didn’t come from a store.
He is not allowed to take things out of the recycle bin but we are allowed to give them to him if we so choose. A few morsels of his food slipped into an empty box will provide several seconds of entertainment for us and a distraction from his urge for chewing on unauthorized items.
It feels a lot like an exercise in reverse psychology to me. Allow him to shred some trash before he surreptitiously sneaks off and does it on his own. Instead of getting in trouble for it, he finds out he is behaving as expected?
Whatever it takes to keep his mind busy solving entertaining challenges that don’t consume our life savings is worth a try in my view. We don’t want this dog to destroy our financial future. [I’m exaggerating, I hope you’ll know…]
.
.
Relative Something 