Posts Tagged ‘pets’
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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Mia Protecting
Our dog, Asher demands a lot more attention than the horses so I gave him an extended session of intense physical play thinking that would earn me a chance to switch to looking in on the horses later. Getting down on my hands and knees in the front yard, Asher and I wrestled hard as he challenged me to take away the variety of balls he would bring my way.
Whenever I got a free ball, I would throw it as far as possible for him to chase. After he pounced on it and turned toward me in a crouch, I would provoke him from afar which would trigger him to charge toward me at full speed. That enabled me to practice my best evasive moves at the very last minute to avoid a collision.
It really helps to be able to see him coming.
When I made it out to check on the horses, they were milling about in the paddock. As I was making my way toward Light there was some movement among all the horses and Mia started backing toward me. I assumed she was just making space for Light who was in front of her. As I adjusted my position to come around in front of Mia to approach Light, Mia pinned her ears back.
I was the only one near her and that signal, combined with the backing toward me a second earlier, helped to clarify who she was “talking” to. I don’t think she wanted me bothering Light at all, whether I had good intentions or not.
She didn’t need to tell me a third time. I retreated to the other side of the gates at the overhang and watched from a distance. Mia stayed beside light as they slowly made their way toward the far side of the large paddock.
Later, as I was coiling up hoses in front of the barn, I kept hearing one of the horses let out a scratchy squeal. I guessed it was coming from Light but never witnessed it.
Mia and Mix were in view, so I knew it wasn’t them. When I stepped around the corner to look, Swings and Light were just standing there like nothing was going on. Light may be going into her heat cycle, in which case I will give her all the space she needs.
I’m impressed and rather pleased to see that Mia –notoriously the lowest-ranking member of the herd– was stepping up to control activity for once and not just reacting to what was going on around her.
That doesn’t mean I gave her a free pass when she nipped at my glove as I held it out for her to sniff as I was picking up empty feed pans later. That was just being unnecessarily snooty on her part. Too bad I can’t wrestle the horses like I do Asher.
By the way, he doesn’t get any free passes from me, either. I can’t let him win all the time or he’ll think he’s the boss of me.
I mean, I know he is, but I don’t want him to think that I know he is.
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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.
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Irrepressible Digger
Our dog, Asher, runs with a hop that conjures thoughts of a bunny or a leaping whitetail deer. Someone suggested his bouncing down the trail reminded them of Tigger from “Winnie the Pooh.” That struck a chord with us because it precisely describes how his energy looks as he springs in the air. His nickname could easily become, “Tig” because of the way it rolls off our tongues when we see him prancing out of the woods to join us on the way to the barn in the morning.
However, even more than being like Tigger, Asher is 100 percent a digger. He LOVES to dig and he is very, very good at it. When he gets manic and explodes into hyperspeed zoomies, his antics are often punctuated with what looks like an uncontrollable need to dig between huge figure-8 lap rotations.
He pauses for just a second or two and unleashes several strokes against the earth that send turf flying, instantly creating a hole deeper than the trenches made by the resident moles.
Trying to stop him is worthless because the digging is over quicker than words of admonishment can be uttered and then he is off again with another race around some imaginary track.
Maybe his nickname will become, “Dig.”
Yesterday, I was working on a variety of projects that had me moving between the shop garage, the manure composting area, and back near the labyrinth. I came out with Asher and we wrestled in the front yard for a while with his favorite “Tug-N-Toss” Jolly Ball before I wandered off to accomplish whatever I could. He didn’t follow me.
I figured he would run through the woods for a bit and then either return to me or head up to the house to lay on the front steps as has become common of late.
He remained out of sight long enough that I figured Cyndie had let him back in the house but as I came around the barn one time we practically bumped into each other. I immediately noticed his hackles were raised but I didn’t know why. It was clear to me that something was up.
Stepping into the barn, it was easy to see what he was excited about.
He had dug after one of the many burrowing critters that frequent our barn. He dug so much, he turned up two rubber mats and completely dislodged one of the bricks supporting a wood cabinet.
There was no evidence that he achieved any reward for his effort. If there was a rodent in the immediate vicinity, I’m sure it got the message there is a new sheriff in town.
As fitting as it would seem to call Asher, “Dig,” I hesitate to use that moniker because it sounds too much like a command to do exactly that. He doesn’t need any extra encouragement from us in that regard, that’s for sure.
I like it a lot better when he looks like he’s having “fun, fun, fun-fun-fun!” leaping with that big bounce down the trail.
That’s what Ashers do best. Hoo-hoo-hoo!
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Avoiding Calamity
More than six inches of rain caused flooding in New York City yesterday. Our property was surrounded by massive lightning-filled blobs on radar but the areas of greatest intensity just missed our exact location. At sunrise, when I would normally be walking Asher and tending to the horses, dramatic rain and thunder were peaking in intensity.
When I finally ventured out between the waves of rain, I found the horses squeezed under one side of the overhang, understandably jumpy. The roar on the metal roof when precipitation is heavy amps up the drama factor considerably.
As I made my way cautiously around and between the frequently rearranging foursome to clean up manure, the threat of potential calamity was noticeably increased. Avoiding an unfortunate issue relies on luck as much as intelligent decision-making.
As far as I can tell, the horses weren’t aware of the flooding in New York. They don’t know that the dysfunction of elected officials in the U.S. Government is once again threatening a shutdown of our federal workers. They have no idea that health insurance premiums continue to climb out of balance with individual incomes. (Cyndie moved to Medicare this year leaving me alone on our previous plan. The cost for one person [me] went UP! when she was removed.)
The horses are masters of dealing with the immediate moment and their immediate surroundings. I find it wonderfully soothing to clear my mind of the calamities playing out in the world and pause my activities to stand with the herd to feel their energy, even when that energy is one of heightened alert.
Nothing else matters.
The moment the weather calms, the horses do the same.
I met with some precious luck yesterday afternoon after a slip of footing provided a mental flash of a possible worst outcome which did not materialize.
Asher was making a sudden turn toward a recently placed rodent control station that I wanted to clearly train him was “off-limits.” My hasty reaction led to a step with too much momentum onto a surprisingly slippery rock surface. That fraction-of-a-second thought process recognized I was going down and the destination was covered with many bigger rocks.
Face first was guaranteed calamity. Out shot my right arm and my hand landed incredibly hard. The dog still needed attention and I ignored the pain to deal with him. A moment later I was left trying to assess what bones in my hand and wrist were at risk of fracture.
Cyndie was up at the lake and I was home alone. This was not a good time to need medical treatment.
Fingers all moved. Wrist flexed. Ice controlled swelling. Final assessment: a wicked bruise.
Calamity averted.
This morning, returning to the house after walking through the woods with Asher, I found the rodent control station (which had been secured in place with a 10-inch stake) lying in the middle of the front yard. He obviously had beat me back to the house.
More training will be required.
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Fall Planting
There is a lot of new dirt on our property since the 13 loads were dumped and spread along the edges of the driveway and down the drainage swale across the back pasture. If we let nature take its course, that dirt will be an open invitation for a wide variety of gangly growing weeds common to the area.
One alternative is to plant enough grass to claim the dirt in place of opportunistic weeds. We dawdled for some time during the most recent dry spell, not wanting to put seed down where we can’t reach with hoses to water. Planning ahead, we purchased a 25-gallon tank with a sprayer to water along the majority of the driveway.
The on-and-off rain showers over the weekend have prepared the dirt nicely so we are now ready to go full-speed toward getting seed down. Yesterday, we started in the back pasture
We invited Asher to enter the pasture with us so he could hang around while we worked. It looked like he was doing well in ignoring the piles of manure everywhere, putting his primary focus on running under the shower of grass seeds and straw being spread.
I told Cyndie to watch for grass growing out of the hair on his back in the next few days. Then he came close enough for me to smell that he must have rolled in one of those piles of poop. Silly pooch. He earned himself a rather crude version of a sponge bath before being allowed back in the house.
After lunch, I checked the radar to see if there might be enough of a window of time between rain showers that we could start seeding at the far end of the driveway by the road. With two wheelbarrows, we hauled bags of grass seed, rakes, and a bale of straw down near the mailbox.
Shortly after raking each side of the driveway in preparation for the seed, the dark clouds and rumbles of thunder moving toward us hinted it was going to arrive sooner than I suspected. Fearing the potential for a strong enough downpour to wash new seeds away, we decided to delay seeding for another day and retreated hastily indoors.
We hope to resume planting today. It is tough to know how much time we have left in the growing season with climate warming extending our 80°F days into October and rumors of a strong El Niño lasting at least through January-March 2024.
It will feel better in our minds to have tried to get grass started this fall, even if the percentage of yield is lower than we’d like. It’s a healthy distraction from thinking about embarrassing team losses on the football turf.
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Canine Companion
Life on the ranch with our adopted rescue, Asher, is becoming downright charming in the way he now calmly hangs around areas where we are working. Case in point:
He decided to test out the slope Cyndie had just raked.
I have taken to entertaining Asher with thrown balls for him to chase while I am working which burns enough of his energy off that he gladly lays down near me to rest for a spell.
All the while keeping a vigilant watch on the horizon for anything that moves.
He is becoming much more of a buddy with both of us and loves physical contact. I think he is figuring out the latest situation he has found himself in has the makings of becoming his permanent home.
That’s just the canine companion we were hoping for.
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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.
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Asher Stung
We were having a good time working in the backyard yesterday morning while Asher romped around nearby off-leash, periodically coming over to “help” by digging ferociously. Just like the horses stomping their feet to shake off biting flies, Asher frequently swings around and chomps at flies when they are bothering his butt.
When he made that gyration with amped-up energy to both his left and right yesterday, it caught my attention. There wasn’t anything visible to bite but he reacted as if the problem wasn’t going away. He then sat down hard for a second before twisting around and lifting his leg to bite the inside of his thigh.
That’s when I saw it. The classic yellow and black of a stinging insect was the target of his bite. I guessed that poor Asher was getting stung by a bee. He seemed to cope with it pretty well, although he stayed down for an extended period and licked that spot.
Later, Cyndie caught him standing in the pond so maybe he was looking for added relief from some cool water. We contemplated ways to help him but he wasn’t demonstrating any further signs of need and we had no ideas for any tolerable ways we could effectively soothe his immediate pain.
No other issues arose throughout the day beyond Asher getting a little too hot waiting for us to finish tending to the labyrinth for the day. I was mowing and Cyndie was pulling weeds.
When I finished, I invited Asher to tag along with me as I climbed the backyard hill to return the mower to the shop garage and head inside to cool off. He seemed thoroughly happy with my plan.
After he cooled off enough to stop panting, he and I played some “soccer” in the house with one of his squeaky Kong balls. Then he conked out for a respectable nap.
At bedtime, he loaded into his crate and went down without a peep. Apparently, he has gotten over whatever was stressing him out the night before.
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CSI Wintervale
The only crime to report lately is mud shrapnel showing up inside the house. This spring, it hasn’t happened as often as it used to. The primary traffic in and out of our house has been limited to just Cyndie and me. That is about to change with the plan to adopt Ash, a rescued Shepherd Mix. More mud in the house will be a small price to pay.
Cyndie recently showed me her solution for leaving her boots on while retrieving something from inside the house for a project we were working on outside.
Looked like crime scene booties to me. The tedious hassle of getting in and out of boots for a quick indoor trip finally drove her to bag the boots and forge ahead. Works in a pinch but I don’t think it will be the solution for having a dog living with us again.
Time to get the kiddy pool set up by the front door.
Yesterday, we brought Delilah’s crate in from the garage and set it up beneath the spiral staircase, trying two different orientations before settling on the way we had it before. We have been wracking our brains to remember how and why we chose to do things the way we did ten years ago when we brought Delilah home for the first time. We share a common yearning to catch things we might have done, or conversely, failed to do, toward establishing rules and a firm command of desired behaviors in our pet.
What would we like to do differently from the way we attempted to train Delilah to become her best self? We think there is room for improvement.
Our appointment to pick up Ash is set for tomorrow morning. Cyndie has registered for a class of obedience training for him that will start in a couple of weeks.
It would be a crime if we miss the earliest opportunity to train Ash to achieve the best-behaved potential his mixed breed is capable of after the rough start he may have experienced before rescue. The only obvious issue when he first arrived at his current foster home was food aggression related. Since we don’t have any other house pets right now, that won’t be a big struggle for us at the start.
One of my favorite behaviors Delilah mastered was her patient and reliably obedient adherence to waiting in a designated “Place” until a release command allowed her to approach her bowl of food. I fumble around with a desire to have a dog that behaves with a military level of discipline without us being good at establishing a military level of training.
Despite ever reaching the ultimate level of control we both would have appreciated having with Delilah, Cyndie and I achieved enough success teaching her that we are hopeful for that much and more with Ash. We look forward to discovering what differences his personality will bring to the process.
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Relative Something 