Posts Tagged ‘pets’
Lap Dog
Weighing in at somewhere between 75-80 pounds, we don’t think of Asher as a lap dog. Especially, because he shows little interest in climbing up to sit on our laps. However, he seems to feel differently when he finds visitors sitting down.
Our kids stopped by on Sunday and Asher climbed up to sit on Julian.
Since that doesn’t happen very often, we captured the novel moment with a photo. It was just so cute. Little did we know, it would get even more photo-worthy.
I hadn’t been paying attention until Julian mentioned his legs were starting to fall asleep.
Asher was out cold, sprawled across the arm of the chair and Julian’s legs. Cyndie has tried many times without success to entice Asher to lie down by her to share his warmth. Silly dog.
Speaking of silly, I gave Asher full freedom to dig for something that was really captivating his nose. I’m glad there weren’t any buried cables in the vicinity. He chewed through roots and dug, and dug.
I wish I knew what he was smelling that interested him so much. Ultimately, he came up with nothing but dirt.
All that digging appeared to tire him out but still, he showed no interest in resting on our laps when we got back inside.
Maybe we should refer to him as being a selective lap dog.
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Around Again
Sitting on the cold, hard ground with a pile of dog treats beside me, I watched as Asher passionately made another manic pass around the neighbor’s outbuilding. Their cat had dashed under a tiny opening to avoid capture. Sure, I was feeling angry. He had clearly disrespected my commands for the last twenty minutes as he freely trotted along well beyond the repeatedly demonstrated limits of our property, but that wasn’t entirely unexpected.
No, what was irking me even more was the way our horse, Light, walked right up to my face while I was cutting through the back pasture and without warning, reared up on her hind legs giving me a much too close encounter with one of her front hooves. WTF, girl!
My startled audible response was enough to get all the horses to react, rearranging themselves to different positions. I didn’t have time to deal with them at the moment because I was on a mission to regain control of Asher while thinking about what model of shock collar I wanted to convince Cyndie we should buy.
When I crested the hill of the hay field, I caught sight of Asher and saw him turn toward me in response to my call. Then he crossed the road and continued his illicit sniff-fari along the cornfield’s edge in gross defiance.
I phoned Cyndie and asked her to ring the “dinner” bell at our front door because we’ve trained him to return to that and sometimes it actually works. He definitely heard it. He turned and began to run. I thought we had him and I started running for the gate near the driveway to meet him, but he kept going along the road and headed directly for the neighbor’s place with the cockapoo and the barn cat.
Did I mention it was cold? I really didn’t want to be sitting on the ground, but it was obvious that Asher was not going to allow me to catch him. I needed him to come to me. Offering food was not enough enticement. Each time he came around the building, he returned to the spot the cat had snuck under. Each time he took off around again, I moved closer to that spot.
Finally, I was able to reach him and attach the leash to his harness. I am not proud of my performance as I practically dragged him back the long walk to our house on that leash.
The ambiance in the house was warm and pleasant as I whipped dog and leash through the door before slamming it angrily to go feed the horses and pretend I wasn’t thoroughly pissed with Light’s unsafe behavior.
I was triggered, majorly. My old self would have proceeded ignorantly. I wanted to shut down. I didn’t want to look at the dog ever again. I didn’t want to be the only one feeding the horses every day. I didn’t want animals. I didn’t want to be married.
You see where this was headed. But, I know better now. My depression has been treated by professionals.
I have also learned life lessons from horses. I quickly got back to grazing. Deep breaths. When Light began her spastic leg flexing that always ends up spilling her feed pan, I stood beside her and moved my hand soothingly along her chest and leg until she calmed down.
We don’t always take the time to do that for her. In this case, I was also doing it for me.
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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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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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Nothing Particular
It’s been a quiet week in Lake Wintervale-be-gone. The only thing close to drama yesterday was a visit from Johanne, our handler from This Old Horse, delivering feed bags. I told her we still had ten bags left from the last time she delivered and inquired about how many she had brought this time.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I was talking with the person helping me load them and we didn’t count.”
She said a couple of pallets of bags had been set aside for her and she just took them all.
We moved all the bags from her truck to the pallet in our barn and counted them. Instead of the usual two-week supply, we now have enough for almost two months. I will let her know when we get down to a one-week supply so she can plan the next delivery.
This is all happening because they changed suppliers of the feed. I didn’t ask for any details or reasons for the switch, choosing to stay out of the business end of things. I’m more than happy to remain oblivious.
Cyndie is continuing to make good progress in taking care of her ankle and preventing excessive swelling. The two stitched wounds look good. She has an appointment next Tuesday to have the stitches removed. At this rate, we feel confident that the procedure should be able to happen right on schedule.
Asher seemed like he was seeking out more hands-on snuggling attention than usual after the previous day away from us where he was carousing with other canines. At the same time, I felt like he was also missing the companionship of other dogs.
No, we will not get another dog. Do not mention it.
Asher hasn’t been given much chance to add drama because I’m continuing to confine him to a leash after the neighbor had to call me to report his whereabouts. Firearm deer hunting season starts here next week, so he won’t be free-roaming again until that ends on the Sunday after Thanksgiving.
Another aspect of our quiet week is the calm weather we have been enjoying. That is, calm in terms of low precipitation and mild temperatures. With respect to airspeed, the wind has not been calm at all. I would say we have reached the point of no leaves left in the trees except for a few oaks that always hold them for most of the winter.
Oh, and I finished the 2000-piece jigsaw puzzle I’ve been assembling for about a week.
Honestly, that’s all I have to report. That’s it from Wintervale-be-gone, where the woman is strong, the man regular-looking, and the animals always above average. Peace, out.
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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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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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Relative Something 