The Camera Is Our Friend

Hello! Hope everyone is having a great summer. We're back from a few months' vacation from the computer and blogosphere, and eager to "catch up" with all our blogging friends! One of the projects we've been working on this summer is Katie's camera phobia. A dog simply cannot live in a household with me, the Queen of Shutterbugs, and be terrified of cameras. So I launched a rehab program that consisted of pairing the dreaded object, the camera, with a fervently desired object - peanut butter. Slowly but surely it's working. Check it out!

I will stand here and wait for peanut butter,
but I will make myself very, very small.

And I will look away. The camera cannot steal your soul if it can't see your eyes.

Better not take any chances. I'm outta here.

I don't understand why my brother looks so happy.

Okay, I'll stand here for just a few seconds.
This peanut butter is really good.

Wordless Wednesday

Let's All Have Cake and Presents!

Lucky, Lady, and Lucy are of the firm belief that birthdays should be a communal affair. Or at least that's what one would deduce from photos of a recent birthday celebration. Take a look and see what you think.

Love and Loyalty

We long for an affection altogether ignorant of our faults. Heaven has according this to us in the uncritical canine attachment. ~George Eliot

*As an interesting side note - George Eliot (1819-1880), one of the leading writers of the Victorian era, was actually Mary Anne Evans. The English novelist, journalist, and translator used the pen name George Eliot so that her work would be taken seriously. 

Weekend Warriors

Chance Encounters

If you stop to think about it, life is a strange thing. We weave through the tapestry of existence, our journey a single thread crisscrossing countless other journeys and lives. And we often never know which encounters hold greater significance than any others until much later. A conversation with a stranger in a coffee shop, like the infamous flutter of those butterfly wings across the sea, can set into motion a sequence of events that would never have happened had you decided to skip coffee that day. Even encounters with books and movies can alter the color of the tapestry and shape our lives. 

Lady is a member of this family because of an American author and ecologist I've never met. Anne LaBastille wrote the book Woodswoman as a memoir of her experience building a cabin in the Adirondack Mountains and living completely devoid of modern conveniences such as electricity, running water, or telephone. In it and her next book Beyond Black Bear Lake, she chronicles her friendships, romances, her close bond with her German Shepherd dogs, the ebb and flow of nature, and her conservation efforts. I was in my 20s when I read these books, and I was captivated. I wanted to build a cabin in the wilderness and live there with my German Shepherd dogs. Never mind that I had a perfectly good job in the city, and no dog at all. But the seed was planted. 

I never built that cabin, but I did fall head over heels in love with the German Shepherd breed. I felt like I knew Dr. LaBastille's shepherds Pitzi and Condor. When I was finally at a place in my life where having a dog made sense, I knew exactly the type of dog I wanted. 

Jessie turned out to be everything I'd imagined a German Shepherd to be. Her intelligence astonished me. Growing up, we had what I'd considered smart dogs, but Jessie was way beyond "dog-smart." She was "people-smart." She understood English, and was perceptive in a way that amazed me. Lady is a completely different dog than Jessie, but she has many of the same characteristics I've come to love in this breed. She's beautiful, sensitive, and loyal beyond all reason. I love the way she watches out for every member of the family, human and furry alike. She seems to sense that kitties and children need a higher level of supervision, and acts accordingly. I am grateful that the thread of Annie LaBastille's life touched mine through her writing. My journey has been richer because of the German Shepherds sharing it. 

 

Bedtime Drama

Time for bed, and all is cozy, calm, and good with the world... right?

WRONG!!!

Lucky is in the wrong bed. Lady prefers the round bed, and Lucky knows it. Look again at the top photo and notice the put upon expression on Lady's face, and the sheepish look on Lucky's. In Lady's opinion, this sleeping arrangement is wrong, wrong, wrong.

This doesn't happen every  night; most of the time Lucky sticks with the program and uses the square bed. When it does happen though, it just amuses me to no end. I don't know what could possibly be so wrong with the square bed. It's actually three beds piled on top of each other to make it extra soft and cushy. And if you look closely, you'll see that I even prop the back of it against the dresser, in case the issue is having something soft to lean against. But no go - it's still the "yucky" bed.

If Lucky is already in the round bed when Lady comes to bed, she will stand in the doorway and stare at him, and he will try to pretend he doesn't notice her. It's too bad I don't have a video clip of this, because then you could hear her dramatic sigh of resignation as she drops into the "wrong" bed.

It can play out in different ways, all of which involve lots of quiet drama. On this particular night, Lady laid there unhappily for awhile. Then she stood up and walked to the other side of the bedroom, stopped, and stared at me. I feigned ignorance, my head ducked into the book I'm reading, Cutting for Stone. When she realized I was not going to intervene on her behalf, she returned to the dog beds, but just stood there miserably. Finally Lucky couldn't take it anymore, got up and gave her the bed she wanted.

What a dog. I can't figure out why he gives her everything she wants, but he does. Interestingly, in groups of dogs out in the community, Lucky tends to be the more dominant of the two, and Lady more submissive. But at home, it's all about what Lady wants.

NOW things are right.

A Message From Lady

I have been very good this week. I have not eaten butter, or raw chicken, or cake, or anything made out of aluminum (there was that one turkey tootsie roll I snagged off the driveway, but heck, it's not like the people want those - so they shouldn't count). I have not broken anything either. I never mean for anything to break, but you should try getting things off the counter with no hands. It's not easy. But I'm not going to do that anymore, so we'll not worry about that. I also did better walking past other dogs this week, with only a single bark or two. Not a single full blown psycho-dog episode. Yaaaaaay me!! I am a good dog.

Bad Dog

Ever since that cake tin eating incident back in December, it's as if Lady has discovered this entire new world of food and fun that can only take place when she's left alone. It's hard for me to wrap my mind around a dog's behavior changing so drastically, in the middle of adulthood. For the past four years, food has been perfectly safe on the counter. Of course you'd never have to worry about Lucky. Why just the thought of such an offense would make him shrink in shame. This is what the face of innocence looks like:

But even Lady, who admittedly has a rascally side to her personality, has never bothered food left on the counter. Entire cakes or pies, steaks thawing...anything could be left on the counter. Garbage sack in the corner waiting to be taken to the garage? No problem. That was then.

This is now.

Yes, she has even figured out how to open the cabinet door to get the trash can out from under the sink! It strikes me that the door knobs look like a pair of crazed eyes, nervously watching out for the furry intruder. Now whenever Lady is left alone, there's an entire process to go through of making sure the doors are secured, trash put up, and all food secured. But still, she figures out a way to wreak havoc.

When I left for the gym at 8 am, this butter dish had a lid.

That's before it went crashing to the tile floor and shattered into a zillion pieces.

Butter???? Thank goodness no one was hurt.

Ugh. Guess it's time to retrieve the crate from the garage. What a bummer.

The Ramp Is Here!

After months - no, years - of grappling with the decision about whether to order a vehicle ramp, here it is! Lucky is getting older (11 now, if the shelter's estimate of "4 years" was correct back in 2004), and the new truck bed is even higher than the last one. He's still jumping with no difficulty, although I usually help him get a running start. But the height makes me nervous. More than one dog owning friend has had to deal with the dreaded "torn ACL" injury, and I know we don't want to go there.

I never needed a vehicle ramp for Jessie in her elder years, although I did build a handicap ramp for the front porch. I was so proud of that ramp. I'm not exactly what you'd call the "handy" type, but I couldn't stand to watch her struggle with the 3 or 4 steps to the front door. Covered with indoor/outdoor carpet, that ramp worked like a charm, and I could tell she appreciated it. Accessibility was never an issue with the car, however. The Subaru wagon I had then was fairly low anyway, and Jessie developed a method of putting her front paws on the threshold and waiting for me to gently lift her back end up into the hatch area.

But Lucky would never do that. If I tried to teach him such a thing, he'd be convinced I was trying to kill him. Different dog. So, we've almost ordered the ramp a dozen times, but always stopped short. Would it be worth the cost? Would it be too heavy and unwieldy to be practical? Would he even use it if we got it? This is a dog that approaches every new experience with suspicion and dread.

Finally though, we took the plunge and ordered the XL heavy duty ramp from Foster and Smith. When it comes right down to it, what's $150 compared to the cost of orthopedic surgery? A little dose of prevention just seemed worth the gamble.

So finally, the big moment was at hand. I was surprised how easy it was to handle, and pleased with the wide, non-skid surface. Not surprisingly, Lady scrambled right up the ramp with just a little encouragement. Lucky...well, we got him up, but it took some doing.

Here you can see Lady eagerly awaiting the next bit of adventure ("shall I came down now? would you like me to come down?"), and Lucky huddled in the farthest recesses of the truck, hoping we'll forget he's there.


So, a little practice was in order.

When facing any challenge, it's important to have the right mindset. For Lucky, this involves shifting his mindset from "this is a horrible experience that's going to kill me" to "oh boy, this is fun!" Lots of smiles, clapping and happy voices are involved. Come on Lucky, you can do it!

Yaaaaaaaaaay!!! Good boy!!! Yaaaaay!! 

All ready for the next adventure!! A bit safer now for the old guy.

Trickster Dogs

The dogs are playing tricks on me this morning! They've thrown a little twist into the usual routine.

Lady and Lucky know my morning routine well. After I get back from my workout, we feed the birds. Lady is resentful that the birds get to eat before she does, and she gazes pointedly at the dog food bin as I twist the top off the bin that holds the birds' food. Resisting her efforts at mind control, I grab the small sacks and the three of us head outside. They follow me around to each feeding station as I put sunflower seed out for the cardinals, suet for the woodpeckers and blue jays, mealyworms for the wrens. The sharp, cold air makes Lucky frisky and he gets a case of "the skittles," skittering about, prancing, and then suddenly darting to and fro. For an old guy, he can move pretty quick when the spirit moves him. Then, just before frostbite sets in (this morning, I happen to be wearing bike shorts), we scurry back inside. Time to get the coffee started. I've got a bag of fresh roasted local coffee this week, and within moments the delicious aroma fills the kitchen.

Hot mug of java in hand, I head to the computer. Lady settles onto her bed by the sliding door, but Lucky follows me. He has learned that "waiting for the computer to boot up" time is excellent dog massage time. Invisible dog though he usually is, he'll sidle up to my computer chair and lean into me. I rub my fingers through his soft black fur, while looking out the window at the first birds to appear with the dawn.

A mockingbird has been visiting this past week. I've never seen a mockingbird at one of my feeders before, but she seems to appreciate the dried mealyworms. The hard drive makes a staccato clicking sound as it comes to life. I wonder - is that a normal clicking? Or a worrisome clicking? I rub Lucky's head, down his spine, then around to his chest as he leans his full weight into me and sighs with contentment. Then I look down.

"Lady??! Where did you come from?? Where did Lucky go??" He is nowhere to be seen. But Lady looks happy to have taken his place.

Lady, My Beautiful Enigma

The walk was going great until we rounded the corner. My afternoon reverie vanished in an uproar of barking, yelping, and lunging at a small poodle who unfortunately happened to be rounding the corner toward us at the same time. "No!" I said urgently to Lady as the startled woman pulled her now yapping dog off the sidewalk and hurried past. "Leave it alone!" But in that brief instant, Lady, who mere moments ago had been serenely enjoying the walk, was transformed into an insane, agitated 90 pound bundle of anxiety. I could read the woman's thoughts as she glanced back at us - "Geesh, have you ever heard of dog training?"

Embarrassing/frustrating dog walking moment #938.

Lady joined the family just before Easter in 2007. And since that time we've tried just about everything in the book to change this behavior, fondly referred to among family and friends as Lady's "crazy dog" routine, since that's exactly what it looks like when it happens. A dog behaviorist consulted this past year validated intervention techniques tried thus far, provided a few new suggestions (which have been helpful), but best of all, shared her experiences with her own "Lady," a German Shepherd she rescued 6 years ago. That was so reassuring. Because at some point you do start to wonder - what am I doing wrong??

I was drawn to Lady because of my experience with Jessie, my first German Shepherd. But the two dogs could not possibly be more different. None of Lady's "issues" were present in Jessie. But according to the dog behaviorist, it isn't uncommon for German Shepherd dogs to exhibit these behaviors, that to an extent have been intentionally cultivated in this breed.

Essentially, Lady's problems stem from an overdeveloped instinct to protect, guard, and watch over her family. That's her "job." In the right environment, her behavior wouldn't be problematic, it would be valued. But considering we don't live on a Scottish moor with a flock of sheep to keep together and protect from wolves, well...her skills and instincts are a bit of a mismatch with the current environment.

So Miss Lady continues to be a work in progress. One of the goals is to teach her which elements in the environment merit a reaction, and which don't. I can still remember the day I was driving down I-40, and Lady, who was riding in the enclosed back end of the truck, suddenly exploded into a pandemonium of barking. Startled, I quickly looked around, trying to find the source of the uproar. There was nothing. There weren't even any cars around us. And yet Lady continued to bark, that loud frantic dangerous barking that says "I am going to tear you apart if you get any closer!!" About the time I was thinking to myself "I really DO have a crazy dog," suddenly I heard a familiar sound. A helicopter. I glanced out the side window and up, and sure enough, there was a helicopter up there, apparently too close to the truck for Lady's comfort. Then I just had to chuckle. I have a dog that protects me from helicopters.

I have to reassure her that I am in control, so she doesn't need to be. She has made a lot of progress over the past 3+ years. And she knows when she's done the right thing. When we pass a dog on the sidewalk, and she manages to restrain her almost unrestrainable desire to create a ruckus, I say "Good dog! Good leave it!" And she looks up at me with this unmistakably proud smile on her face, just beaming and prancing, as if to say "See! I did it! I'm a good girl!" The first time she uneventfully passed by another dog, we had such a party you'd have thought she just won a gold medal in the Olympics. Now she "gets it." I know she does. However sometimes she does the right thing, and sometimes not. It's very hard to figure out the rhyme or reason.

When I was considering titles for this post, the word "enigma" popped to mind. I looked it up, thinking perhaps another word would be a better fit. But the first definition for enigma read - "mystery: something that baffles understanding and cannot be explained." That's pretty much it. Despite all I've learned, Lady still baffles me. Why will she ignore 3 dogs out of 5, but go bonkers over two of them? Why does she persist in doing things that make us all feel bad - even though she knows better? And how can such a frustrating dog also be so wonderful and lovable?

The instructor of Lady's first obedience course wrote a personal note at the bottom of her end of course report card. It read "beautiful spirit!!" I was touched by that, because although Lady had only been with us for about 3 months at that point, I felt it too. There was something about her, a brightness and love that shone out from those soulful eyes.

Lady has a sweetness of spirit that exists in such sharp contrast to the chaotic energy that erupts in the face of a perceived threat. She is kind to the cat, and by way of greeting will lick the top of her head in a maternal way (much to Lucy's chagrin, I imagine). Her concern for members of the family, instinctive though it may be, is nonetheless touching. If I decide to get up from bed at night to make sure I locked the door, she goes with me, even though she was comfortable and half asleep. She'll patiently wait for me, and watch, while I check all the doors, then we both head back to bed. Lucky could care less. "You heard a crash in the basement? Go check it out and let me know if its anything to worry about." That's Lucky.

I've never had a dog that would wake me up if I'm having a bad dream, but Lady does that. She'll put her paws on the bed and gently nuzzle me until I wake up. As soon as I awaken, she quietly returns to her fleece bed, settling back down with her characteristic heavy sigh. The first time she did this, I couldn't believe it.

She also takes care of Lucky, watching over him outside and demonstrating concern if he wanders too far. When Lucky wants something, Lady is the one to come ask, on his behalf. It's surprising, and cute. This behavior is never reciprocated, but she doesn't seem to care. And as I've blogged about previously, Lady will serve as bodyguard for the cat if asked. It's clear she understands that job and takes it seriously.

What an enigma you are, my beautiful Lady! Dainty and feminine, fierce and protective. You can be impossibly stubborn and strong-willed, and yet you sit obediently waiting for the command that it's okay to eat, while the cat - who doesn't know any of the commands - proceeds to help herself to your food. Unlike Lucky, you will drop everything and come rocketing across the dog park when called, but completely ignore me when distracted by something.

So "in tune" with me, you gaze into my eyes and cock your head this way and that, trying with such intensity to discern my thoughts and intentions. Yet at other times you disregard my wishes with wild abandon. And I can't believe that after three years, you still seize every possible opportunity to get on the couch, even though you know its forbidden.

Oh, and although we haven't figured out how a 90 pound dog can tiptoe up and down a flight of wooden stairs without being heard - we know you do it. Lucy never eats her bowl completely clean. Your attempt to be sneaky would work better if you left a little of the food in the bowl.

We love you Ladybelle, you beautiful enigma. Keep looking after your family - it's appreciated. But trust the humans. Most of the time, we really do know best. We'll keep working on it together.

MEOW

Lucy wants something, heaven only knows what. She's skulking around the house, meowing loudly. It's her complaining voice too, not her happy voice. I've given her a treat, petted her, tried to engage her with a wadded up piece of paper, and finally - at my wit's end - opened the sliding door for her. Lucy stays indoors most of the time. There are just too many hazards out there. The neighbor's cat was killed by a coyote last year, and large hawks lurk overhead. But sometimes, when I can't take Lucy's meowing any longer, I give in. Fortunately, her outdoor forays only last 5 or 10 minutes. And lately what I've been doing is sending Lady out too, as a kind of bodyguard.

I'm not sure how, but I'd swear the dog knows what she's being asked to do. She'll stand nearby, watching Lucy the entire time she prowls around. Sometimes it even looks like Lady is scanning the surroundings for potential hazards. Lucy will give the yard a quick check, and when assured that no strange cats have trespassed, is content to come back in.

This morning, however, I stand with the door open, letting the icy cold air billow in for many long seconds, while Her Highness gingerly sniffs the air, ultimately deciding - "no, I don't think so, too cold."

Lucy has an impressive array of vocalizations to match her myriad wants and needs. She's not necessarily loud, although she'll certainly get loud if you aren't responding.

Have you ever watched someone trying to communicate in a foreign country? Often the hapless person will repeat the misunderstood phrase louder and slower, in an attempt to get the foreigner to understand.
"THE BATHROOM. WHERE....IS....THE.....BATHROOM?"
As if speaking louder will suddenly allow English to be translated into Italian or whatever.

Lucy does this. She starts out with a polite: "meow, mee-aeow, meoooow." But, if you can't figure out what she wants, she gets louder and slower, drawing out the meows. She'll look at you earnestly and repeat herself:

"Meow.....mee-aeow.....meoooow!"

A written description really can't do this justice, it's one of those things that has to be experienced to be appreciated. One trick that usually works to interrupt the cycle is an old down comforter. I fluff it up into a heap on the sofa, and pat the middle of it. "Look Lucy, look how nice. Don't you want to come see?" If I can entice her up there, she seems unable to resist the coziness of it. She'll begin kneading her paws into the soft folds, while I stroke her head and talk soothingly to her "Good kitty, go-o-o-d kitty." Then, quietly, oh so quietly, I tiptoe backwards away from her. If I remain very quiet and get lucky, often she'll decide to settle down in the blanket and take a nap. Whew!





Ahhhh... peace at last!!