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.
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
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