Posts Tagged ‘runaway dog’
Delayed Escape
I’m still at home this morning. The snowstorm that the weather service named “Lola” created more work than I could complete in a day. And it was miserable work, indeed. On most occasions, I actually enjoy clearing snow. Yesterday was not one of those days.
First of all, we awoke to more than 8 inches of heavy, windblown snow plastering everything. Beneath that coating of white was a layer of slush left from the gradual transition from rain to sleet to snow. All of that rain had nowhere to go since the ground is frozen and once again, hydrostatic pressure pushed water up through the concrete floor in the basement or along the block walls and soaked all the area rugs.
Cyndie said she would tend to the horses so I could get a start on plowing. It would have been easier to stay with her. The wind was ferocious and new snow was still falling. My goal was to try just breaking through with a couple of passes to make it a bit easier to do when it stopped snowing. It was barely possible. The machine and I got coated with a complete layer of sticky snow as I tried blasting my way through the deep drifts with the blade only lowered part of the way down.
After breakfast, I was using a roof rake to pull down the giant drift overhanging our front door and letting Asher play with his favorite ball while dragging his 30’ leash behind him. I noticed he had stepped away from the ball and I called to him to command his return. He gave me that look of mischief, turned, and ran full speed the length of the driveway.
I knew right where he was headed, to the neighbors across the road, where he started barking ferociously at their cat. I needed to trudge through the deep snow on the unplowed road to climb the rise to their driveway and was completely exhausted when I finally reached him. The ONLY redeeming aspect of this angering situation was that I got to visit briefly with our neighbor, Eileen.
Walking the equally arduous distance back in my seething frustration left me too tired to finish shoveling away the snow I’d pulled off the roof. I went in for lunch and waited for it to stop snowing while Cyndie took up the task of clearing the mess of snow in front of the garage doors. Every scoop of the shovel would end up sticking.
It’s hard to plow by the house because there’s nowhere to push the snow, so hand shoveling is usually easier. When there is almost a foot of snow, nothing is easier.
I made reasonable progress cleaning up the rest of the driveway with the plow in the late afternoon. The township plow on the road left quite a thick mess I needed to hand shovel because it was too much for the Grizzly to push. At least the driver was nice enough to be cautious around our mailbox this time.
Looking back toward the barn, you can see by the snow line in the trees how that hill protects from the north wind. The whipping wind had cleaned all of the upper branches, but the lower half of all the trees still held snow.
I won’t be surprised today to find blowing snow has drifted into the driveway again. I’d like to head up north before dark, so I intend to do the absolute minimum of additional plowing or shoveling with that in mind. Best laid plans, and all that… Wish me luck.
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Lower Branches
There was a time when I neglected to put effort and energy into trimming the lower branches of pine trees, especially ones growing in the natural field on the north side of our driveway. I’ve changed my mind.
My old thinking was that trees out in a forest don’t have people trimming branches. I wanted nature to be able to take its course. My new thinking is that pine trees look better when their growth is managed, and the sooner, the better.
Over the weekend, I was able to give some of our long-neglected pine trees fresh attention and found myself surprised by what I learned. Even though we strive to always pull out vines that start growing up our tees, unseen vines were making their way up most of the trees I trimmed.
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The tool of the hour, day, and weekend was my Stihl GTA 26 cordless chainsaw pruner. Even in cold temperatures, the battery lasted longer than I did. That saw is perfect for this chore.
After seeing how poorly some of the trees have grown, in terms of putting energy into long lower branches instead of strong leaders gaining overall tree height, I made a point to start early on all the young trees I came across.
Why wait?
While I worked, I had Asher tethered to my hip on a 30-foot leash, occasionally enticing him with dropped handfuls of his food bits for him to snuffle through the grass to find. His patience lasted until he spotted someone walking on the road. That led to extreme straining against the leash and annoyingly desperate barking.
After a lunch break, I decided to reward his mostly good behavior of the morning with a chance to play off-leash. He did not make me proud. Sprinting directly from our front door to the neighbor’s woods in pursuit of squirrels, he disrespected every attempt I made to entice him to return.
He nosed around in their woods, extending the distance away from me with each zig-zag. When he got out of sight, I headed off across the cornfield to intercept him but by the time I got there, I spotted his paw prints headed in the direction of the neighbors’ place with the outdoor cat.
Fool me twice… shame on me.
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Longest Disappearance
This morning I am writing while seated near our front door, wondering if Asher will ever return. Moments before Cyndie was to drive off on an errand, Asher bolted into the woods as she was about to bring him inside and feed him.
I had just finished feeding the horses and came up to find Cyndie planning to drive to the neighbor’s place where he had recently made unauthorized visits three different times. She didn’t find him there.
Now she is gone and my walk around in search of any sign of him proved fruitless. This is the longest he has been awol in the six months we have had him.
Watching two squirrels chase each other around the trunk of a tree out the front door informs me that Asher is still not in the vicinity. He has trained them well to seek the highest branches and get out of sight whenever he steps outside.
The sight lines are wide open today, which is a drastic improvement over yesterday morning. While feeding horses yesterday, it looked like we didn’t have any neighbors because of a heavy fog. We could hear cars driving on the road but we couldn’t see them.
At least Asher won’t have any trouble seeing our house if he decides to return. Since his recent forays to the house across the road, we have been making him wear his orange vest to which we attach a leash to restrain him. At least he will be easily identifiable as someone’s pet by that vest.
Cyndie was slowly granting him opportunities close to the house to move off-leash while she lured him with treats to pay close attention to her.
Yesterday, after the fog lifted, we lounged on the back deck with Asher tethered on a long leash. He basked in the warm sun.
I hope that my post tomorrow will be able to describe his return without incident. I may spend today thinking about how big an area we could fence off to contain him if that ends up being a solution.
After failing to achieve control with our previous dog, Delilah, I am hoping we don’t end up in the same situation with Asher…
He’s Back!
Before I finished typing the previous sentence, I spotted Asher slowly walking up the driveway. His orange vest is more dirt colored than orange. He took a big drink from his bowl but didn’t seem the least bit worried that he hadn’t been served his usual breakfast.
I don’t know where he’s been or what he may have found to eat, but he seems rather exhausted and perfectly content to just lie down and rest.
I wish that his return would make me feel just as perfectly content.
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Four Tattletales
Our lovely dog, Delilah, took advantage of Cyndie’s decision to allow some time off leash in the afternoon yesterday, while she shoveled away the accumulation of Wednesday night’s snow. After a couple of successes, in which Delilah returned to Cyndie when called, there came the great escape once again.
Out of sight in a blink.
Cyndie hollered and whistled for Delilah. She walked through the barn and found the horses in the paddock, looking at her while she made the ruckus. They’d witnessed this routine enough times before that they knew what was going on. Cyndie decided to drive the roads in search of our wandering canine. She hiked up to the house to get the truck keys, but was stymied by a dead battery.
That’s an ongoing occasional drama for another time.
She went back up to the house to get her car to widen her search. Down the road, when she spotted a flock of turkeys luxuriating in a field, she knew she was in the wrong spot. No dog in that vicinity.
As she returned to our place and pulled into the driveway, she spotted all four horses, now in the hay-field, lined up and facing one specific direction. They didn’t even turn to look at her, as is their usual behavior, but rather, maintained their intense stare in that single direction. They were clearly signaling a message for Cyndie, compelling her to look at what they were seeing. She turned her head to follow their gaze and immediately spotted the bright orange flash of Delilah’s vest across the street, in the neighbor’s field, past the snowmobile trail leading into the woods.
Cyndie described how it was the distinct posture of each of the horses which made the message so clear. They were not lolling around aimlessly, or relaxed in the stance of a nap, but instead were straight and tall, flexed as if on a specific mission. She would totally have missed that Delilah was in that direction, had it not been for their help.
The horses had totally ratted out our dog on the lam.
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Disappearing Delilah
My inability to master the art of dog training is revealed in our lovely canine’s increasing confidence in behaving any way she pleases. Just two days ago, I was lamenting our failure thus far to stop Delilah’s behavior of jumping up on people engaged in hugs during greetings or departures.
She just wants to participate in the hugs, of course, but her nails on unprepared backsides are not something we feel our guests should have to deal with when they are otherwise occupied. Both Cyndie and I recognize that we have failed to gain the upper hand on demanding compliance with our instructions. The formula of training by way of rewarding good behavior, as opposed to a focus on punishing bad behavior, evades us when it comes to the current challenges.
Cyndie has been doing a heroic effort of conditioning Delilah to stay close to us when we allow her the freedom of being off-leash, frequently calling her back for check-ins and rewarding her with treats when she promptly complies. It had been working well for quite some time, until I distracted Cyndie in the barn yesterday when I sought her assistance installing my first half-sized slow-feeder box in Cayenne’s stall.
That brief period of our distraction from Delilah’s whereabouts led to the hunter girl wandering off in search of irresistible prey beyond the borders of our property. Cyndie didn’t want to give up without a fight and scoured our trails, blowing her whistle and calling Delilah’s name.
She even drove the truck in a search of the roadways immediately surrounding us. The only thing that came out of that effort was a texted greeting from George, after he saw her drive past their place. Once again, Delilah was in the “dog house” with us. From past experience, I knew our dog would eventually show up at one of the doors, happy as could be, covered in burrs, and clueless to the level of transgression she had pulled off.
After a long spell, just as I expected, Delilah did return home. We treated her matter of factly, allowing her a long drink at her water bowl, after which, Cyndie took her outside to remove the burrs.
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I don’t know how, but she seemed to recognize our displeasure. Her behavior for the rest of the day and evening was akin to her having put herself on a “time-out” all on her own. She didn’t demonstrate any of her usual playful behaviors, repeatedly seeking attention by bringing a ball or other toy to us, or simply walking up and putting her head in our laps.
She demurely laid low the whole time. I can only hope she was using that time to think about what she had done wrong, and was feeling entirely remorseful. Sadly, the other possibility is that she was just so exhausted from having had such a fantastic getaway that she needed the rest and was saving up her energy for the next opportunity to do it over again.
Trust me, she is back on full-time leash protocol again, and will be for the foreseeable future, whether she understands the correlation, or not.
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Relative Something 