2015 begins

Here we are at the start of a new year. I am so lucky. All my family, and all my animals, are in good health and we have sufficient to eat, to be comfortable and secure with a roof above our heads, and the prospects for the rest of the year look wonderful.

Right now, the old cat (she is 18-1/2 years old) is sleeping in the bed. I can't make the bed when she is sleeping in it because her level of comfort, her sweet old calico self, her warm curled limbs, are not to be disturbed. She is like a picture made of sand - so beautiful, but the lightest touch would change the warmth and serenity she exudes. We cannot destroy the picture so there she lies, and the bed is unmade.

The Labradoodle is on his mattress in front of the bed. He has had several big days lately - run on the beach, run in the woods, walked in several towns, visited wineries, and just after getting over the holiday company which wore him out. His ears are a bit sensitive so he needed to go to town for a trim so that his inner ear doesn't get smelly and hinky, and that bit of beautifying is also exhausting for him.

Yesterday, he rode with us for hours, visiting wineries (he didn't taste). He was so very excited to be part of the day. Excitement is something he wears every day, like a favorite pair of boots. It is his birth right. In the correct place (at the beach, for example), his excitement is beautiful to see. He greets each day with wide, brilliant eyes and a gently smiling mouth. He arises in the hope of fun, food and happiness, greets his people with a joyful light, and spends his hours napping, chasing around the yard, fussing with "his" cats, annoying the old dog (Raksha), eating, sometimes training, sometimes car rides, sometimes bike runalongs, ball games, lovely hair brushing. When he runs, his youthful, muscular body gleams in the sunlight, and his longish curls flow like a river bouncing across the sward.

However, the tension in those muscles, and the excitement in that little mind, must be assuaged or he simply cannot control himself. I realized this yesterday. When we visited wineries (I was the driver; the husband was the taste tester), Yanqui was readily allowed in all of them. We are grateful to live in such a dog-friendly area. However, despite the recent holidays and the latish hour, the wineries had plenty of visitors and Yanqui's disposition requires him to be the Official Greeter, wherever he lands.

We struggled a bit, Yanqui and I, with his ---- enthusiasm. Yanqui has a natural attractiveness and an interesting look that draw attention to him. Unfortunately for me, his admirers have a tendency to lean in and grab at him, pet him, chirp to him, over-stimulate him, everywhere he goes. Without a nice dog-training club in the area, where one can "set up" situations, creating controlled interactions where one's dog may learn to respond politely to greetings of strangers, it has been challenging to assist the pup in learning that greeting an admirer does not require leaping up to kiss the nose of same, nor a well-meaning effort on the pup's part to slide between their legs and knock them over.

After a 10-minute session inside one winery, where I attempted to settle the dog with some long, but friendly, down stays and a bathroom break, the dog and I return to the car to renegotiate. My husband was still enjoying the camaraderie (and Zinfandel) in the winery, so I had the moment to myself.

Yanqui LOVES the training game. With or without the clicker. However, only with the clicker can he learn which moves get him where he wants to go. If it is a simple matter of treats in the pocket, while that makes him more attentive (he waits for the clicker game that he adores), if the next moments remain informal - that is, we are not working on behavior, just hanging out - he loses focus and goes into his "demented poodle" zone. The people around us do not see it. Yanqui isn't a "bad dog." But I see it.

Luckily for my dogs, I always take responsibility for their lack of manners. It is my responsibility to teach my dogs how to interact in the social situations I take them into. It is my responsibility to comprehend which social situations are correct and appropriate for the dog in my company. So while I cannot say I was not a bit fatigued by all this HAPPINESS, I knew that responsibility for mitigating the excitement lay directly on my shoulders.

Then I realized two things. (1) Yanqui needs more exercise. (2) I have been remiss in the consistent application of social training.

Yanqui does best and behaves best when he is taken daily, or as often as possible - i.e. 5+ times a week - on a bicycle runalong. If he trots a fast three miles a day, it takes all that edge off him, allowing him to be more sensible and engaged. If he does not get his directed runs, then an energy I deem "toxic" (because it makes him [and me] uncomfortable) begins to build in his body and he cannot get rid of it on his own.

Were he a hunting dog (the Doodle being a combination of two hunting breeds), he would be taking directed runs in the woods for 6 hours at a time, so he does have energy to burn. Were he a wild dog, he would be doing the same thing, only in that case, he would be self-directed to find food or die.

However, he is a companion dog and the only way he can work off energy is with my help. Some folks believe that having a big yard, or even a few acres to run in, will drain the energy from their dogs. If the dog is running in a pack, this can happen. Although it will not improve the relationships between dog and human, pack interactions that include long runs and instinctive hunting, will definitely tire a dog. However, a dog alone, even if it runs all around the yard, is indulging in self-stimulating behavior. Self-stimulating behavior is always repetitive and becomes obsessive-compulsive. OC behavior is toxic and builds up in the body creating peculiar behaviors in the dog that are very difficult to overcome later in life - it might be coprophagia, it might be rock hunting and chewing, it might be mindless barking, it might be running until the paws are injured and toenails torn. OCD is NOT where we want our dogs to go.

On the other hand, "directed" exercise is stimulation that has parameters, a beginning and an end. The dog is not in control of it and must focus sufficiently to engage in the exercise. By creating directed exercises for our dogs, we rid them of toxic energy build-up, create focus, and empower our own relationships by enjoying active time together wherein we are also in a leadership position with the dog.

For Yanqui, the best directed exercise is running with the bicycle. I am unable to move fast enough, or jog fast enough, to move Yanqui beyond a striding walk. He is too big, too muscular, too fast to get any real exercise walking with me unless we walked for many hours. And when the  weather is poor - too hot, too cold - I tend to let down on my end. When bicycling isn't fun; I don't make myself do it.

Further inquiry into Yanqui's exciting day at the wineries brought the realization that while Yanqui gets out and about almost every day, I prefer the home life and the land and walks nearby, whereas my husband likes to take Yanqui to town with him. My husband makes every effort to handle Yanqui correctly and consistently, but - let's face it - I am the practiced dog trainer and handler. If Yanqui needs to learn something new, or needs to learn how to behave consistently in social situations, it is I who needs to take him and teach him.

I have been remiss in this due to my preference for home. When I was unattached, naturally I ran all the errands and had to go here, there, and the other place, usually in the company of my dogs. In the past, I have also been most fortunate in finding nearby dog clubs where my dogs could spend time learning in a controlled environment. The situation here and now is different.

So it was not really Yanqui "being uproarious" at the wineries. The fact was that Yanqui was under-exercised and under-trained for the situation. Dog problems are almost always the reflection of some lack of skill or action on the part of the person in charge. Healthy dogs, in a natural environment, won't have problems. But in the unnatural environment of domesticity, dogs need support to learn how to get the most out of every day and every moment we provide them.

As for the other animals here: the two humans are doing very well. The two other house cats, Fiona and Teddy, are very happy. Although they must share time in the living room with the old lady cat (we don't put the three together as then it becomes two younger ones versus one much-older one), and they only get minimal outdoor time, their lives are wonderful and they seem to recognize that. We are fortunate to have them. Teddy, 8 years old now, was found as a 5-week old kitten, trying to cross the freeway. I was able to pull over and rescue her, even though she was feral at the time. The gods were with us both on that day! Teddy is small and heavy set, with a very distinct personality and a whiff of the wild wherever she goes. Fiona was brought home from a rescue, to be Teddy's pal. She is now 7 years old. Delicately put together, very beautiful - rather a fuss-budget when it comes to other cats.

They have each had their small physical challenges. Fiona is a bit allergic and sometimes gets too many tears in one eye, which need to be gently washed away. Teddy once had a very distressing UTI. But both are well and happy now - a great way to begin this year.

Then we have the two boys that moved into our yard. Both are semi-feral and belong to the neighbor but they have moved in here. They sleep around our yard and beg for food, which we have given them after holding out for almost two years. Because they are always here (and the neighbor doesn't do it), we have become responsible for de-flea and de-worm. She does give them innoculations. They contact our cats and dash in and out of our house, so we cannot let them bring health or pest problems into the environment. Not that we would wish to do that anyway, even if our other animals were not at risk.

One of these cats (I call him Cinders though that is not his name), came to us on his own. He was always around the house, since we moved in. But after about a year, he began to come to the door, crying and talking. We knew he was well fed, and innoculated, but he certainly didn't look great and he never stopped scratching. Somehow I made friends with him sufficient to allow me to touch him and look him over. He had a terrible case of fleas and a terrible case of worms. Easy enough to sort out. I de-flea'd him with Frontline and de-wormed him with an OTC powder mixed with tuna. And afterward, he never left again.

The second cat, a tuxedo like Cinders, had also always hung around our property but mainly peripherally - never coming close. However, after Cinders moved in, the other cat began to come to the door for food. He would stand on his hind legs, and scratch at the window, looking in like a lost child. Eventually, we gave in to Fat Boy's food demands, and he too began to sleep around the porches and decided he would only "go home" in the early mornings when canned food is being given out across the way. Fat Boy, once situated, decided he needed to tell all the other cats that they needed to stay away and that was an interesting phenomenon to deal with.

I began by interceding between Fatty and any other cat, and then I would purposefully walk toward Fatty, vibing him with my "powers" and sending the message that, if he started fussing, I would escort him off the property. Raksha had been shown both cats and told that they were "mine"; therefore, she is not to chase nor harm them. Other than scouting for cat food bowls that may have been left out, she has ignored them both ever since.

Yanqui, on the other hand, decided that he could assist me in keeping Fat Boy from fussing and feuding. I have had German Shepherds that assisted me in herding animals, and that kind of made sense, although one wonders how the dogs realize what we have in mind when we are trying to keep two animals separate so they don't fight. However, with a Labradoodle, basic hunting stock, it was surprising to see that Yanqui understood my technique of getting in between the combatants and then gently moving the fussing one off the territory.

Whenever Yanqui goes out in the yard, night or day, good or bad weather, the outdoor cats rush to greet him, sometimes running in at top speed from some other part of the property. Rubbing on him, playing with him, mimicking his grass eating, and lying between his paws when he takes a rest.

Last but not least, our beautiful Raksha. Our Caucasus Sheepdog. Our Russian Shepherd. Our Kavkaz.

Raksha is almost 13 years old. She loves to be unfettered and is restless in the house, except in the evening, or when my husband is out of town. The restlessness is not related to his presence, as she does not like to stay in whether he is at home, on errands, or working. However, if he is out of town, she is aware of that somehow, and then she wants to be inside. It is obviously part of her genetic code to "watch the sheep" (in this case, that would include myself, Yanqui and the cats).

In the spring and summer, and most of the fall, we are in and out, or outdoors, almost as much as she - and all the doors and windows are open to the air (and to wandering dogs and cats). During the winter, it is more challenging to give her the special time for herself and me that we both need. We compensate by having her bed in the laundry area where we spend a lot of time anyway, and by giving her walks at night under the cold moon, which she really enjoys. She also requires, and receives, a lot of grooming for her long, thick coat. Rocky always sleeps indoors at night, which gives us cuddle time and time for extra dog treats which she earns by sitting or lying down on command, and then by turning her head away from the treat until it is left on her pillow. Then it is her time to "guard." Once Raksha is given her cue to "Guard," she remains in her sleeping area on her own, and rests quietly until the dawn.

Recently, Rocky was out of sorts. Because she is very old, especially for a large dog, her less-than-enthusiastic way of being was presumed to be age related. As always, she was eating well. Struggling a little to get up - but hip xrays several years ago proved that her hip sockets were deteriorated fairly acutely so difficulty getting up was not a surprise. Then she urinated on the carpet, and I knew she was sick.

At first, the vet - again, looking at age - thought it was probably behavioral. But this is a dog who has never had an accident in the house, even as a pup. The CO is a very "clean" breed - in other words, very easy to housebreak in their puppyhood and with a strong built-in desire to leave waste products far from where they eat and sleep. We gave her a urine test but the results, although a bit inconsistent, did not show UTI. We know, however, that un-differentiated urine tests are pretty unreliable and we began to treat with Keflex. The results were amazing. Not only did she get better, but within 24 hours, I had a different dog.

When starting treatment, this 12-1/2 year old dog was like a 13 year old dog nearing the end of its earth time. After a day of treatment, I had a 10 year old dog, happy with life. After completion of treatment, Rocky is bouncy, smiling, and bright eyed. When I looked up UTI general information, I discovered that not all individuals, including humans, even experience discomfort related to a bladder infection. And that there are many ways to culture out urine tests. While a lab test may easily confirm a bladder infection, it also turns out that a negative culture is still inconclusive. Important information, as an undiagnosed and untreated bladder infection can kill the individual.

Although I was able to describe a few symptoms of unwellness to the vet when we took Rocky in, the entire set of symptoms became more apparent to me after she was on the road to recovery. Going in, we noticed she was lethargic and had urinated on the carpet. Furthermore, she smelled terrible. We could not determine if the odor was from her longhair pants, or her breath, or coming from her sleeping mats. It smelled like pee or cabbage or morning mouth - altogether - and strongly so. Just nasty.

However, now that she is better, I would add: she had stopped wagging her tail. Her eyes had dimmed and become a bit unfocussed. She panted a lot despite the weather having turned cold. She struggled to get up, not because she was trying to use front end alone to arise (typical with bad hips) but because she had lost the strength or get-up-and-go to arise. She was also a bit stumbly and walked very very slowly indeed, though she still struggled up for her night time walk unless I was very very late and she was deeply snoozing by the time the walk was proposed. Her coat was dry and her poop was like a goat: marbles.

Now she is bouncing, bright-eyed, happy and smiling. Her stomach is working properly. She struggles to avoid her hips when getting up, but is happy and willing to arise. Her coat looks fantastic. She is ready for fun, walking at a good pace for her age. Her housebreaking issue is gone (although I do think she is reaching an age where when she has to go - she has to go!).

I am SO VERY GRATEFUL to have this old dog in my life. To be able to care for her needs, to prolong her life so she can continue to enjoy the warm sunshine, her people, her "pets" and charges, and - of course - her grub!

Rocky loves a cuddle above all things. She enjoys being groomed and relaxes with a grunt when it begins, although she will lift her head and look at me should there be any hair-pulling or rough cutting of strands beginning to mat. Her expression is mild and benign but a bit accusatory: "you wouldn't pull my hair, would you?" she seems to say. Rocky loves to tell me things about dogs, as did Kazbek (also a CO) before her.

She has told me that dogs do not live "only a few years" as we sadly believe. But, rather, they live at a much slower pace, so that each fast year for us is as 10 long years to them. This allows them to see, scent, savor and observe. They are able to move at such sudden speed - to catch a rabbit, to pull a Frisbee from the air, to snap a fly out of existence - because in their slow motion world there is plenty of time to see and react to what is occurring. For us, running on a charged battery and going as fast as we are able, multi-tasking, running in place on the chess board of life, it is hard to see or feel anything except as a fleeting sensation. But dogs are in it, feeling it and living every moment of their lives.

This is a wonderful lesson and a wonderful model for we humans to follow. Genetically, we are born to live much this way but due to environment, social pressure, and "progress," the world will not allow us to do so.

Wordsworth said it:

         THE world is too much with us; late and soon,
          Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:
          Little we see in Nature that is ours;
          We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
          The Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
          The winds that will be howling at all hours,
          And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
          For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
          It moves us not.--Great God! I'd rather be
          A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;                          
          So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
          Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
          Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
          Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.
                                                   

Triton blows his horn still for my Raksha. And in her strong and beautiful company, I hear his call. I feel the wind and know from which way to best scent it. I watch the gathering clouds, embrace the pink sunset, and walk beneath a blue white moon or a thousand stars, with an old dog at my side.

And thus begins, for this small family of two and four legged ones, a new year. Bright, beautiful, full of hope, and the opportunity to love.

Happy New Year

to the Earth

and All who Live

upon it

Need to Believe - Christmas 2014

Need to Believe

Christmas, 2014

We need to believe in a better world, where people cherish family, love and raise their own small passel of children, where everyone can be educated who wishes it, where major illnesses are cared for without financially destroying people, where men and women, children and animals, are supported in their right to live freely, breathe pure air, drink clean and plentiful water, and be free of oppression and suffering perpetrated on them by mankind itself.

Somehow we have been sold the idea that peace is wimpy and violence is not only the essence of manhood, but fun - entertainment. Yet it is peace, love and healing which lie at the core of all joy, wisdom and prosperity - the soul in civilization itself. Only in peace can the human mind be deeply creative; only in peace can we raise children who will be kind, responsible, humane and hopeful; only in peace can we do lasting good in the world. Only with love can we see beauty, experience it in our souls, cherish it and make it grow. Only by healing, ourselves and our planet, can we even hope to survive.

So say a prayer, whisper a good word, think a good thought, touch someone you love, look into the eyes of your friends, hold a child's hand, embrace your lover, pat your dog. Write a letter. Sign a petition. Save the planet. Pay it forward, and love back.

A Day in the Life: Yanqui's sire

Soft sunshine today, after days and days of rain, overcast and drizzle. However, the moisture has been more than welcome. At last, our Labradoodle, Yanqui, can get a bike run. He has been trying so hard to hold himself in and not be Crazy Boy. He's fine until I try to play with him, then he gets so excited he stomps on my feet and keeps bumping me with his nose, so he really needs this run. When my sisters visited over Thanksgiving, the weather was fine and we biked most days and also walked. Since Thanksgiving it's been rain, rain rain. 

Last night, we got out under the stars. Poppi was snoozing, but the dogs and I walked beneath a blue moon. There was a bit of mud, but - according to the dogs - everything smelled delightful. The frogs are back, singing in the vineyard ponds. Tonight is the Christmas Parade and I am hoping we can make it into town to see it. The parade is a very "small town" event, with some floats but mostly regular cars, lit with strands of bulbs and carrying hometown revelers. There are always families with dogs in the parade: dogs in antlers; dogs in Santa hats.

We met Yanqui's Sir-to-be at the first Christmas Parade we attended here. It was so cold, and, after introductions, I "asked" the Standard Poodle next to me to keep me warm. During most of the Parade, he either leaned on me or sat on my feet, despite having a loving owner on the other end of the leash. He was also a very well set-up dog with excellent bone and a nice solid head. So I asked his owner about him and she said he was going to be at stud, but not for Standards. She was going to raise Doodles. Mikey, having had a long term love affair with Labradoodles wherever we met them, got her name and number. Two years later, Yanqui was born. I had just had surgery and didn't feel I was yet ready for a pup, having only the use of one arm at the time. But we went to see the last pup left from the litter, also the biggest, and I took him for a walk. At 14 weeks, and with little previous experience, he responded perfectly to leash pressure, and had a very nice, easygoing yet friendly and chummy way about him. Mike was sold when he went back to the car to get something and the pup ran after him, as if to say, "Aren't you taking me home, Mister?" 

We had to leave Yanqui (then "Samwise") with the breeder that afternoon, but were back the very next morning to pick him up. On the first day in his new home, Yanqui donned his "Raksha collar" (made from her fur). We hoped that his being a pup, plus smelling like her, might encourage or fool her into accepting him as one of her own. With a slow, 2-day introduction, they met and were comfortable together from the beginning. He wanted to play, but she wanted him to be a good boy, and stand back a bit - puhleeze! Now they are a team - a weird team, admittedly, but a team nonetheless. If he hears her bark, he runs to back her up (while staying out of her way - very diplomatically!) If she notices that he hears something she can't hear, or sees something she hasn't seen, she responds to his cue. Yanqui is the only creature, besides myself and Poppi, who is allowed in Rocky's sacred Laundry Room space (which contains the food bins and a well-used and well-loved orthopedic dog bed). Rocky won't even allow our cats in there. Due to her advanced age, we permit her this small grudge. 

Below is the Dynamic Duo. Who says opposites can't attract?

KAZBEK and the ATM

KAZBEK STOPS A ROBBERY

Kazbek and I loved to wander at night. We would hop in the van around 8:00 p.m., take off to the burger stand (I admit to a one-time addiction to the Inn-n-Out Double-Double burger). After a feast, we would head off to a park, or to the wilderness of Vasquez Rocks, a desert recreation area which was a vast and magical terrain under the full blue moon.

One evening, around 11 p.m., I realized my purse was empty and decided to stop by the sidewalk ATM outside the bank. This particular machine was next to a large grocery that stayed open until midnight. When we drew up to the well-lit parking lot, I noticed a decent number of shoppers were still out and about - a comforting sight.

Like so many women, I cannot just park and get out of the car. I have to rummage in my purse first, maybe put on some lipstick, check to see if I have my keys, and so forth. Kazbek, a very relaxed and pleasant passenger in the car, laid low in the back seat while I was doing all this.

While fumbling through the before-I-exit routine, I saw some young people horsing around. The "game" didn't seem to make much sense but I couldn't help notice it. It went like this: an older teenage girl stood next to her car with her cell phone, making a call. Down another part of the parking lot, away from the grocery and not well lit because the surrounding stores were closed, stood a young man - also on a cell. In the meantime, a teenage boy on a banana bike rode up and down in the same general area. Gestures and eye contact made it apparent that the girl on the phone and the guy in the shadows were talking to each other. Why the kid was bicycling at 11:00 p.m., I did not know. None of it made much sense to me. "Kids!" I thought.

I got out the bank card and started to exit but hesitated; on a whim, I decided to walk Kazbek over to the ATM with me. He walked wonderfully on a leash and you would never believe such a huge animal could be like a feather on leather! I loved going places with him and seldom thought of his built-in utility factor.

We were about 10 car lengths and a driveway distant from the ATM, so it took a minute to get there. The card buzzed in its slot while I waited for the cash.  Just as I took the money out, bicycle boy came riding fast, straight at us. Kazbek immediately charged the boy on the bike - a full frontal assault. The youth hit the brakes hard, skidded and fell sideways but didn't crash. I took my time putting the cash in my wallet, allowing Kazbek to posture and growl while I continued to look into the boy's eyes, letting him see that I understood what he was about and had no fear of him.

As I returned to the car with Kazbek, the youth followed at a distance. He asked me if I could "spare some change" and I said, No. He asked me if the dog would bite him, and I said, Yes. He then asked if he could "borrow" some money!

I told him to ask the dog.

Of course, after the event I could see the whole ploy: the innocent looking girl in the visible area of the parking lot uses her cell to tell the guy in the shadows she has spotted a likely target. That man then alerts the boy on the bicycle; they watch for the right time, give a signal and the boy rides in to grab the purse, or the cash, or whatever, from the intended victim.

Victim profile: woman - with wallet - alone in the  night. But not so alone as they thought.

Dogs of My Life - Wolfgang (Covy Tucker Hill's Wolfgang)

Wolfgang

I purchased Wolfgang, a handsome six month old German Shepherd, from a famous show kennel. I had done my homework - or thought I had - but did not realize that there might be a difference between a "reputable kennel" and a kennel "with a big reputation."

Wolfgang was beautiful, brilliant, devoted, kind, and an excellent watchdog. He seemed generally healthy until he was almost two, when he began to develop seizures. These seizures were controllable, with medication, for about a year and a half. Then even with medication, the seizures became uncontrollable and Wolfgang lost his fight for survival before he was six years old.

At one time, I thought that his seizures were related to his breeding, and while they may have been (the breeders became incommunicado even before I had the opportunity to ask questions as to what was happening), I now believe that his epilepsy resulted when my vet started him on the first oral medication for flea control. The medication was withdrawn from the market within a short time, but this was before the Internet and easy access to information about dangerous drugs. Even today, the oral anti-flea medications on the market are still causing epilepsy in some dogs, as well as other dangerous side effects, up to and including death.

However, from his first months with me and until he was well into his fourth year, Wolf was the most brilliant dog! He learned so many words - some via training, others from the natural conditioning of repeated speech. Sometimes I would sit in a chair and tell him "dog" stories. They went something like this: "Cookie, Wolfy? Ball? Go for a walk? Let's eat. Where's the car?" and so on. He would look into my eyes. then cock his head, first to the right, then to the left, his ears erect, trying to figure out what the story of words might mean in his world. 

Wolfgang, Wolfgang, you were a joy to me. 

Wolf was my first school-trained dog. We attended many formal classes and spent a lot of time on the homework. A typical GSD, Wolfy ate that obedience stuff up, and he was a very mannerly guy. I could take him anywhere; he was always the gentleman.

Until the day, setting up for an event, I was in a public building with Wolfgang at my side, off-leash: a kind, naturally calm and attentive German Shepherd just hanging out with his gal. Involved in and distracted by my tasks, I suddenly realized Wolf had left my side, growling under his breath. I turned to look and saw two young men I'd never seen before, standing in the doorway. One sported an arm sling and seemed to be mumbling; the other was staring at me intently, but changed to a fake smile and asked if he might have some coffee. Now my dog was circling the room, herding them away from me.

I don't remember what my response to the request for coffee was, but the two guys began to come in closer, the man with the simper maneuvering position while the other guy continued to avoid eye contact and mumble. I should say, they "tried" to come into the room because now Wolfgang, a good 100-pound animal, began to bark loudly, pacing in front of them, back and forth, making that eye contact. The mutterer finally looked up, stared straight at me and made some creepy, carnal remarks - I don't remember exactly what he said, but it was unprintable and included sex and knives. I froze for a moment, relying on Wolfgang to keep the peace while I plotted an exit. Just as the tension built to the point where either the dog was going to do something or the weird guys were, several invitees showed up, most of them men. The mumbler turned on the new guys and began to threaten them. The normals immediately perceived that the other two were very strange, but tried at first to be nice about it, telling the odd fellows the event was private and they had to go. From this point, the situation deteriorated completely and a wrestling match ensued. Gents won hands down, and the two weirdos were forced to leave and firmly advised not to return. I later heard that those peculiar boys had both been released that very day from a nearby mental facility! So Wolfgang was right on, and acted appropriately on his instincts. 

Wolf was also my first trial dog. Thus far, I had only managed to mangle training on the bull terrier years earlier. I wanted to be a great dog handler but had NO IDEA what I was doing. There are many things one learns if one wishes to achieve those AKC obedience certificates, but, as is typical in the dog training world, while the realities of what the dog is expected to do are clearly laid out by your instructors (he will heel on lead, sit, down, sit-stay, down-stay, recall, and then you will leave), the human side of handling is largely ignored. There are many books written on the subject of how to train a dog for obedience trials, but the fact that you, especially if you are a newbie, are going to probably be out of your mind with stage fright before you begin your first trial is seldom addressed. To be honest, other than what I just said there, I never read a thing about it! Human stage fright is, in my opinion, the number one reason why, when it comes time for the ring, the dog that performed well in class or at home turns into "the thing that cannot be controlled." 

Fortunately, Wolfgang was totally bonded to me - more than I deserved, I assure you. Although as far as lifestyle went, I was an outdoor girl, and with good vet care, good food, training classes that he loved, and lots of hiking, I think Wolf had a pretty good life and was fulfilled in his basic needs. Be that as it may, he was wonderful in trials. His lowest score was a 195 and the only reason he was in the ring that day was because I didn't want to lose the entry fee and the event was very close by.

As I said, Wolfgang had all the diseases of the German Shepherd breed, except those that exhibit late in life because he didn't have a long life. One of his problems was panosteitis, which plagued his youth for about a year. So, even though I had entered him in a trial, he was a bit feverish and lame for about a month before the trial, and we did not have an opportunity to practice. However, the day of the event, Wolf suddenly recovered completely, so we jumped in the car at the last minute and went. We actually missed our call-up but they let us in as the last to compete, and we drew a 195 and 3rd highest in trial that day. Wolf's other scores on other days (there were no 4-show weekends back then) were a 196 and a 197. As a result, we were invited to the Gaines Regional Obedience Trial in Oregon. I don't believe that event exists anymore but it was a thrill to be invited and it was all due to Wolfgang because, frankly, I barely knew what I was doing much of the time. 

However, as noted, Wolfgang was not a healthy animal. And I was a poor young secretary living on my own, spending hundreds of dollars, almost monthly, from the time he was barely two years old until he was six years old, trying to cure him. In particular, I wanted to cure or control his epilepsy, but within a few years, no drug or combination of drugs available could assuage his condition. By the time he was six, the pills had left him in a kind of eternal stupor, with skin sores and weakness, condemned to a half-life of anxiety and medication as his daily portion. 

It broke my heart to let him go. Our own vet, having worked with us for years trying to save the dog, told me it would be more than his professional reserve could support for him to come put the dog down so I called around for a vet who would come out to the house. This kind gentleman gave Wolfy a tranquilizer first, then gave us our moments to say goodbye. Somehow the tranquilizer seemed to relieve the dog's mind and body and for the first time in years, Wolfgang and I looked into each other's eyes with complete recognition. There was his intelligence; there was his heart. He was quiet for the final injection, no struggle. And then he was gone. 

If you lose your mother, your brother, your spouse, your best friend, the world sympathizes with you. People bring cake. Speeches are made. Flowers are sent. But when you lose your best friend, and it's a dog, few people are truly sympathetic. "Get another dog," they say, "that will cheer you up." Some folks look at you - your sadness, your tears - as if you are soft in the head. Even dog lovers sometimes avoid the friend who's lost their dog because they haven't the strength to share the pain, having been through it themselves. You are lonely because the one who shared every day with you, and added fun, safety, exercise and activity - the special one, the beautiful one - is gone. And you are made lonelier by the fact that there is nowhere to go with your pain - a sadness that disturbs you and separates you from others. 

Several months after Wolfgang's passing, I mentioned to a friend how badly I felt about letting him go. His body could have kept moving for a few more weeks or months, although his mind was not really there. Should I have stayed my hand and kept him longer? Did I do the right things by him, or was I all wrong in everything? My friend told me to try this: Go somewhere quiet and call up memories of my Wolfgang. See him sitting beside me and look into his eyes, look deeply - what do you see? She said that if I did this it would relieve me. 

One evening, alone in my little house, I did as my friend suggested.  Taking a few deep breaths, I closed my lids, and brought Wolfgang to me. I looked into his deep, dark eyes - so wise and benign. There was nothing of the parent there, with the "you should have's", nothing of the sibling with the, "she loved you best" rivalries, there was only the soul of a dog, and it said to me: I see you. I know who you are. I don't see what you are fearing and what is searing your soul with grief and self-doubt. I know about it, but I don't see it. I see inside you to the golden light that is your soul and is your connection to the gods themselves. I have always seen it. That is what I was devoted to. That is what I loved. That is what I came to when you called me today. I saw it then. I see it now. I will always see it. And when you return to us one day, to we who have loved you so, you will see it too. 

Thank you, Wolfgang, for loving me. For loving me even when I could not love myself. You are ever in my heart.

BILLY, THE TAME BLUE JAY

This is the story of my friend, a California blue jay, whom I called Billy.

One afternoon I was in the living room, which was on the 2nd floor of our upside-down house. We had a huge sliding door onto a balcony deck, and also a fireplace with a big mirror above. There were several windows adorned with white shades left up for sunlight.

The sliding door was partially opened to let in the pleasant afternoon air. I was poking around with a dust rag in my hand when, all of a sudden, a blue jay swooped into the room. Very disoriented by finding itself indoors, it bumped into a wall, then a mirror, and then it fluttered into the large mirror above the fireplace. At last, it landed on the mantle, it's little chest going up and down with its fast heart beat.

With no practice or preparation for such an event, I followed my instincts and began to move slowly about the room, closing curtains and speaking gently to the bird, quietly telling him to calm down and hold still  - that I would see him safely out. He sat there, staring at me with his black bead eyes, his little heart still beating so fast it was visible. But he stayed still.

After I pulled each curtain (there were four), I stretched the slider curtain over the solid glass pane, leaving only the door itself uncovered. Then I hauled the slider open to its full width, and gestured to the little fellow. He immediately flew outside via the opening provided, and so to freedom.

After this event, the blue jay returned to the porch, and sat on the balcony railing several times, as if visiting, so I bought some peanuts for him. He watched when I brought the bag of peanuts upstairs and when I set a few out, he immediately dropped down onto the railing and ate some. He was so cheeky and confident that I put some peanuts in my hand, and he came right over and took them from my outstretched palm.

From that day forward, we were close friends and I continued to feed and interact with him several times a day for two years. If he was hungry, he would come to the porch and look in the windows until I came out. He did seem to disappear for a few months each year, late in the season - maybe December-January. I'm not sure what months. For some reason, I began to call him Billy, and he answered to the name. I could call him to me by saying "Billy Billy Billy" in a singsong voice. He was usually nearby (apparently we were part of his territory) and would fly up very fast, looking for peanuts.

The following spring after the original rescue, Billy had a mate. She would sit on the phone wire but I only once saw her come down and grab a peanut. When Spring began, Billy, looking fat and sassy, very bright blue, worked hard to feed his family. As weeks passed, his feathers began to look disarrayed and he lost weight. I knew it was all part of his hard work as a family man. He was not ill and he continued to visit.

At the end of that nesting season, Billy did the most amazing thing. One day I was out on the balcony with the peanut bag and Billy showed up with two juvenile blue jays. The mother jay still would have nothing to do with me, but the juveniles, following their papa's lead, began to come for food as well. By the end of summer, Billy chased his boys away, but they continued to hang around and grab peanuts when they could. Eventually, only one son remained (they seemed like males) - and Billy, who was obviously the bigger boss bird, also remained as king of the territory.

The following year, the same thing happened exactly the same way. Although I am not sure if the fledglings from the second nesting stayed in the area or not because all Billy's children began to look the same to me. Only Billy was completely tame, and very cheeky; he was also much bigger than the younger birds.

The next year, the third year, Billy no longer came. I imagine he had lived out his blue jay years but I missed him. However, his son did come and I have video of that. I still called "Billy Billy Billy" to get the blue jays to come; you can hear that on the video.

The jay on film is one of Billy's first group of sons which he introduced to me; thus, it is a pretty tame bird. Interestingly, the next (4th) year, a new group of fledglings was born from Billy's tame son, but these birds, although they stayed in the territory, showed no tameness whatsoever and did not come for food, although they did hang around the house - probably because they were born to the territory and stayed in it. I was fine with the change from tame back to wild, as it isn't wise to make unfettered wildlife dependent. However, Billy the first, the impudent, intelligent, beautiful little fellow, chose to be my friend; and as a result of his actions, two of his sons were also tame with me. These events were gifts from the gods - all I did was help Billy escape the terrors of an upstairs living room on one long ago, sunny afternoon.

(The video (on YouTube) is a 1-2 sequence showing the tame 2nd generation blue jay).

See: Part 1

http://youtu.be/j931KOa5CoE

See: Part 2

http://youtu.be/u_hR6jvsAaY

Photos of Billy

The Intuitive Dog

Intuition: the ability to understand something immediately, without the need for conscious reasoning.

Wisdom in miniature, Baby Kaz

Kazbek and I had many unusual experiences together - unusual in the manner in which Kaz understood and responded to what was going on at times when I had no viable way to explain the situation or requirement to him. 

The following are two examples of Kazbek's intuition:

KAZBEK WORRIES

At one time, my sister and I were roommates. She worked an evening shift, but - being a night person myself - I was often awake when she got home, usually around 9 p.m.

Kazbek was friendly with my sister, but not really bonded since she had her own dogs and spent most of her moments with them or at work. The times she spent with Kazbek were shared between the three of us, and I was the Chosen One - the person to whom he deeply and permanently bonded.

One evening, I was home alone, relaxing and watching television in the bedroom. My sister was due home but running late - not an unusual event. Kazbek had been resting, stretched out on the floor nearby, when he suddenly awoke, came over to me, sat down in front of me and bumped me with his nose. Kaz was not a nervous or demanding indoor guy, so I casually gave him a pat on the head, expecting him to go back and lie down, which he did not do. Instead, he remained seated in front of me, staring fixedly at me. He was not receptive to the usual blandishments; he was not relieved by petting nor did he go chew his bone, so I took him outdoors, thinking perhaps he needed to go out and use the bushes. Outside, he continued to stay close, nose-bumping or staring at me. Now I began to feel uncomfortable. In California, animals often know when an earthquake is coming, and because Kaz was acting so strange, I began to worry about that. However, none of the several other animals were showing any signs of unusual or anxious behavior.

Kazbek continued to stay near me, continued to make eye contact, as a hungry dog might do for his dinner; however, he was obviously uneasy, yet unable to make his needs apparent. This behavior carried on for about an hour, then the peculiar performance abruptly ceased. He left me, laid down and slept.

About an hour later - two hours later than her usual time - my sister arrives home at last, with a story to tell. She explained that when she left work - around the time Kazbek began to "talk" to me - she discovered to her dismay that her car had been stolen! After looking for it (thinking as one does that perhaps she had forgotten where she parked), she returned to her workplace to get help. One of her co-workers then drove her to the nearest police station to make a report. When she had done everything she could, the friend drove her home. The discovery of the theft, the contact with work friends and the subsequent police report, during which time my sister was obviously very upset, anxious, and worried, took about an hour. Afterward, she was able to calm down and accept a ride home, knowing that she had done all she could for the evening. 

The timing of all this was exact to Kazbek's becoming anxious, notifying me as best he could of "trouble in the pack." His subsequent release of anxiety also correlated to my sister's acceptance of the events of the evening and her realization she had done all she could, which had naturally brought her back to a calmer state of mind.

Nothing else worrisome had occurred that night to explain the dog's behavior. Kazbek's health and appetite were fine. There were no earthquakes. No one, other than my upset sister, was sick or suffering. That was the only time during his life that Kazbek behaved in such a peculiar way. The whole event sequence was so unusual that it has always remained in my mind.

KAZBEK IN THE SNOW

It was a beautiful winter day in sunny southern California. White clouds drifted on the pale blue background of the sky. The afternoon was chilly for that area, in the 50s, but it was a wonderful day to walk a dog.

I packed up a few provisions and the Caucasian Ovcharka, Kazbek, and we drove to the Angeles Crest Highway, which meanders 60+ miles - a 2-way road through the mountain pass that separates the northeastern deserts from the busy southeastern freeways and populations. Because the route passes through the protected Angeles National Forest (which comprises tens of thousands of acres), development is very limited. The Angeles Crest is also a popular "body dumping" area and the scene of many peculiar crimes, but what can you expect a few miles outside of the vast metropolis known as Los Angeles?

With a C.O. at your side, you tend to be brave and hike and travel where and when you please, and so it was with us that winter day.

Kazbek, a dog with hundreds of generations of mountain dogs behind him, never seemed happier or more at peace than when we roamed high trails and barren places. As I drove, I stopped here and there to photograph the area and the dog as well.

Kazbek plays St. Bernard while Mrs. flops in the snow off Angeles Crest.

Eventually, about an hour into the drive, I decided it was time to take the big guy for a stroll. We found an off-road area with a trail and parked in the almost frozen mud. I leashed up the dog and off we went, wandering on a trail surrounded by a maze of high brush and dead weeds. The bright cold air and the spectacular views made me forget that the sun sets early in the winter. During the last ten minutes, we had also been experiencing light snow flurry, which - since snow is seldom seen in Los Angeles itself - was delightful as the flakes made the air sparkle and dance with life.

However, when I turned around to go back, I suddenly realized that all that delightful snow had begun to cover the dirt trail, which was more of a deer track than a hiking path. An unpleasant feeling of panic began to build in my chest. We were at least half an hour from the car, but, I realized, I had been that Fool in the Wilderness - I had in no way marked our trail, nor had I mapped it out in my head. With the sun setting and dark coming on, all I could do was turn and trek toward the sunset as I knew we had been going east on the trail, and, of course, the sun sets in the west. However, in a very few minutes, there was no trail. There was no road. There was no car. And it continued to snow more heavily.

I teach all my dogs a "get in the car" cue, which I use consistently. They also learn "find it" games, but these relate to hidden treats not lost cars. But all I could think of to do, as white flakes continued to drown all landmarks, was to utilize our get-in-the-car cue and hope that somehow Kazbek would figure it all out. So I told him, "Find the car." And, dropping the leash so I couldn't unintentionally pull him the wrong way, I encouraged him again to "find the car." Kazbek immediately put his head down and took off at a light trot. He only stopped once to sniff a bush and I reminded him, "no, FIND THE CAR! Within about 15 minutes, me following and he trotting along, all business, we came out at the trail head, exactly where I had parked. Long sighs of relief from me and an ordinary, "let's get in the car Mrs." look from him, and we were off - back to the lights, back to warmth and safety. Back to ordinary.

While many dogs are taught to be wonderfully adept at tracking and finding (as in Search & Rescue work), Kazbek was never really trained for any of those skills. Thus, his ability to understand what I wanted and deliver it was ever a source of amazement and curiosity. Perhaps the happy result of his finding the car was simply because we turned back on the trail rather than continuing forward, and he therefore assumed the walk must end in a return to the car. Perhaps. However, Kazbek was an intact male set off-leash in an area populated by small rodents, medium-sized predators, deer, and occasional human hikers with their dogs. He nonetheless ignored all extraneous scent and just trotted back to the car through the snow, on an invisible trail. Because I needed him to - what can you call that but intuition?