Rain and Mud

It's too wet to go to the range today. I would likely sink up to my knees slogging out to change targets. It's just not worth it. Maybe tomorrow. I think I'll make a pawn shop run instead.

Cassie loving the weather though.....

Biker Cassie

Guess who got her first bicycle lesson today?

Go here to learn how to teach a dog to run alongside your bike.

A Dog's 10 Commandments

1. My life is likely to last 10-15 years. Any separation from you is likely to be painful.

2. Give me time to understand what you want of me.

3. Place your trust in me. It is crucial for my well-being.

4. Don't be angry with me for long and don't lock me up as punishment. You have your work, your friends, your entertainment, but I have only you.

5. Talk to me. Even if I don't understand your words, I do understand your voice when speaking to me.

6. Be aware that however you treat me, I will never forget it.

7. Before you hit me, before you strike me, remember that I could hurt you, and yet, I choose not to bite you.

8. Before you scold me for being lazy or uncooperative, ask yourself if something might be bothering me. Perhaps I'm not getting the right food, I have been in the sun too long, or my heart might be getting old or weak.

9. Please take care of me when I grow old. You too, will grow old.

10. On the ultimate difficult journey, go with me please. Never say you can't bear to watch. Don't make me face this alone. Everything is easier for me if you are there, because I love you so.

Hat tip to Mr. Completely

The Yellow Dog

Oh my goodness..... Daddy left and came back home today. I smelled dog all over him. I didn't know what he had been doing, but he scratched me behind my ears to let me know I had not been betrayed. He's pretty cool that way. Then, he put me in my crate and he went outside. I started to pout because he had not been home long, and it just wasn't fair. I heard him unlock my our Jeep outside, and then close my escape hatch in the back. The next thing I knew, he came back inside with a....... DOG! Darla and I started barking furiously.

I don't know what Daddy thought he was doing, but he walked that dog right past our crates and into the back yard. I heard the back door open again, and he came inside. I barked again, and he came to my crate to let me out. Bam! I was right to the window and I saw a yellow fuzzy dog outside in my yard. Then Daddy let me out the door.

I bristled and strutted around and went to pee in twenty different places. I wanted that dog to know who was boss and who owned that yard. She was pretty cool though, she said she was just hanging out and didn't mean any harm. She didn't really know why she was here. She said she was put in jail by her owners and didn't know why.

I didn't know there was a doggy jail, so I asked her about it. She said it was an OK place, but you didn't get to run and play much. The floor was concrete, and there were a lot of terriers named Jack Russel there. She said that Jack must have been as prolific as his mate was unimaginative. I guess so if all she could think of was Jack for a name.

I asked the yellow dog what her name was. She said she didn't know, but there was a red tag on her cell in the jail. That didn't sound good. She asked me what this place was. I told her it was my back yard. "You like to play?" she asked.

"I work....." Dadgummit! She nipped at me! "Hey!" I barked. She took off. I wasn't going to take this! She went crashing into the palms. "Stop! There's boogie cats in there!" I barked. She came crashing out the other side and I grabbed her and wrestled her to the ground. "You had better pay attention!" I growled. She whimpered. "Look, I know you're young, and you're new here, but at night boogie cats come out."

"What?"

"Boogie Cats. Freakin' ring tailed jabbering boogie cats!"

"Can you eat them?" This girl was dumber than a rock. You would have to pour a five gallon bucket of stupid on a rock to get a rock this thick.

"NO! But they might eat you. They travel in packs and if you don't keep your guard up, they can be vicious!"

"I could help you with that......"

"You? What do you know about boogie cats?"

"They're ring tailed, vicious, and they jabber."

The kid learns quick. "All right. You get to stay. I will teach you. You had better be on your toes though, because when they come again, I might not be able to keep them from killing you."

"All righty then."

"You mocking me?"

No, I'm just keeping an eye out for those boogie cats........"

I'm starting to think that this could be the beginning of a great friendship.

Merry Christmas

Butters

A seven month old Golden package of exuberance abandoned at the Dog Pound for the crime of digging up flower beds. A photo taken with the cell phone.

Should I or shouldn't I?

Darla is a domineering matron of a dog. Ilsa needs a friend.

Transcendence

It's been a tough weekend. Work began for me on Saturday morning at 6 AM. It was a series of difficult, stressful cases, worked with a skeleton crew dubbed the call team. I did have one break in which I published the AR piece between cases. I had hoped to publish a bit more, but it was not to be. The schedule was relentless. When I finally got home, I ate no supper. I collapsed on the couch in my scrubs lest I be called back again. Around ten o'clock, I sleepwalked to the bedroom and fell face down on the bed.

Then my wife woke me up to the horror of Vivi's death. I found Vivi laying in the street, in a pool of blood a block away in our neighborhood. Her skull was crushed, her back broken. I took her back home, and laid her out. I briefly had the insane notion of burying her in the darkness, but after I had gathered the shovel and tried to pick a grave site in the blackness, I realized the futility of it all. I called both hospitals to check the schedules for today, and both schedules were empty. Thankful of my good fortune, I resolved to bury her in the garden at first light.

I could not sleep, and since Sunday looked like a free day, I blogged assisted Ilsa with her blogging. Then, as the sun came up and my breath blew out in puffs of white mist, I labored in the cold to dig Vivi a grave while my family slept. I awoke my wife, and we lowered little Vivi to her rest.

I stripped down to my boxers, took a shower and crashed into immediate REM sleep on the sofa. Beep beep beep beep "Whaaat" beep beep beep "th'" beep beep beep "Hell?" beep beep beep beep beep! It was the first case of the day. The emergency room night staff had neglected to call it in, and Dr. Balogh was upset that there was nobody there to help him work. I looked at my watch. It was 7:15 AM. I had slept for about twenty minutes. I put on my scrubs and got in my car.

I was too exhausted to be pissed as I staggered across the hospital parking lot in the cold. Dr. Balogh was writing notes as I tapped his shoulder and said "So, I understand someone might have a job today huh?" He smiled. At least I wouldn't have to endure a doc angry with me this morning. He had discovered the root of the problem, a nurse who did not know how to schedule a case, and who had decided to do nothing rather than learn how.

The rest of the crew filtered in, and we set the case up in record time. We scrubbed in, and we got to work. I did not mention the events of last night to Dr. Balogh. He could tell I was tired for some reason. We talked about LSU getting beat by Alabama in Death Valley instead. Jealous-U had lost in overtime 27-21. Dr. Balogh let me know we had one other case at the other hospital. As soon as I could, I sent half the crew there to begin setting it up. Later, when the day's work abated to the beeper again, I drove back home bleary eyed. My sofa was waiting.

When I awoke, My wife and Little Darling were asleep. I needed to ride. Alone. I put Ilsa in the back yard (I checked the gate) and I rolled the Raleigh Grand Prix out into the crisp air. I wanted an uncomplicated bike. Nothing to think about, except me and the wind. With my beeper attached to the collar of my hoodie, I set out.

I began to ride aimlessly about the neighborhood. I had to stay relatively close to home in case I received another page. A physician's tolerance only goes so far. I wanted my response to be swift if needed. The choice of the Grand Prix as my steel steed was a good one. It glided quietly and with grace beneath me.

As I rode, I thought about the morning's cases. I thought about how the ward clerk had slipped me a note telling me LSU had lost last night. I don't follow college ball, but the physicians I work with do. It's always good to have the latest basic information. As I rode, I ventured farther and farther from my home base, feeling more and more free. Still, I studiously avoided one area of the neighborhood.

Finally, I made the turn towards the fatal intersection. To the bloodstained black top where automobiles still sped through a residential district in excess of 50 miles an hour. As their tires spun past my dog's dried blood on the pavement, I tentatively edged my front wheel closer. Not knowing what else to do, I snapped a photo, and then another, and I retreated from traffic. I was well aware that my fate in a collision with one of these self absorbed fools would be no better than little Vivi's.

As another speeding car ran over what remained of my dog splattered on the pavement, I felt a great anger rush to my throat. I felt an urge to stand over the crimson spot, to protect it, to raise my fist in defiance towards unrepentant monsters who kill loved ones and drive away as though nothing happened. But I did not. I made the sign of the cross and said a prayer instead. I prayed for little dogs who just want to run free in the night, and for the souls of those who would take a little girl's beloved puppy and not even stop to say "I'm sorry."

I rode past the blood on the pavement. There will be no wooden crosses at the scene of this accident. No wreaths, and no orange cones to slow traffic. Eventually the crimson stain will be washed from the pavement, but little Vivi will not be forgotten. A Cardigan Welsh Corgi is a special dog. Ilsa thought Vivi was her baby, and they wrestled constantly. Ilsa would roll over and let the short legged growler gnaw on her throat. Then they would play chase again.

Vivi was an imp, and the instigator of all the doggie pranks that occurred in our home. She was so happy to be with us. She had found her pack at last. Much to Darla's chagrin, Vivi herded her. An older Pembroke Welsh Corgi should not be herded by any dog, but Vivi was insistent. Of course, Little Darling will never forget the first dog that was truly hers, even if only for a short time.

My wife, too, is mourning the loss of the little grizzled creature that used to sit proudly beside her. Her grief is worse of all, having felt responsible and being the first to find Vivi as I slept last night.

I continued to ride with greater haste as the sun sunk towards the horizon. I was alone and one with the bike. I did not know what else to do. I had done all I could. Sometimes being the father is an elusive thing. Fathers are supposed to know the way in which to lead their families. I did not know which way to go, but I had been there when needed. Perhaps that will be good enough. This evening though, I rode my bike. I felt the freedom and life that Vivi once felt, but I did not ride for Vivi, and I did not ride for me. I rode for transcendence.

Something In The Night

"Xavier, wake up. I need you."

"Ummmgh"

"Come on. Wake up. Vivi is is the road. I don't know if she's hurt or not."

"Is Little Darling awake?" Daddy asked as he released the headlight from my bicycle, the quickest flashlight available. "Where is Vivi?"

"A block that way. She's in the road."

"Crate up, Ilsa," he told me.

"What? I'm coming with you!"

"Crate up!" he commanded. I cannot deny a command. To do so is to destroy the pack hierarchy. In times of trouble, our survival depends on the hierarchy. Daddy is the boss. I complied.

I waited for what seemed like a long time. Finally, I heard Daddy outside, and I whimpered for him to let me out. He came for Little Darling first, and he woke her up. In the middle of the night. She started crying. Something was wrong. Maybe he had forgotten me, and maybe I could help. I did not want to question his authority, but I couldn't stand it any longer. I scratched the front grill of my crate. "Let me out!" I pleaded.

At last, Daddy opened my crate, and he sat down with me and Little Darling. I've never seen a human look like that. Her eyes had water pouring out of them. I licked her face and then I snorked Daddy's armpit. He had been working. He smelled like he does when we work together or ride my bike.

I sniffed his legs and feet to find out where he had been, his shoes smelled like grass and blacktop. I smelled my pal Vivi on his arms and chest. "Where is she?" I whined.

Daddy went to the front door and retrieved my lead, and I slipped my head through my working collar. He took me outside. I found Vivi in a flash. I'm a search dog, you know. The scent was overwhelming, all urine, and poop and.......blood. She wasn't moving. A shiver went down my spine and I felt my hair rise. I couldn't control that. My tail curled upwards. I did my best not to growl. This wasn't right.

I licked at her face and feet, but my friend would not get up. Daddy sat down on the concrete beside me, and told me to sit, and then to lay down. The concrete was very cold. Daddy placed his hand on my head, and he scratched me underneath my chin and behind my ears. I placed my head in his lap. "We will always search, but we might not get to rescue," he said. Then he began to cry.

I have never seen my daddy do that. Mommy and Little Darling were still crying inside the house, but I could not cry. Daddy tried to say something else, but he couldn't. His voice broke. I nuzzled his chin and licked his cheek. Then he got it out. "You're a good girl Ilsa," he said. I already knew that. I nuzzled his chin again, and he scratched me behind my ears for a long long time.

There was a chill in the wind, and as Little Darling's sobs subsided into sleep, I heard the trees rustle over our heads. Dry leaves fell around us. I sat up. Ears forward. Eyes straining against the darkness. Snork! Alert. This is not a drill. I have a job to do and something is out there in the night.

Purina Dog Food

"As soon as our food leaves our factory, it is no longer our responsibility."

Yep, it looks like that's what they said.

Dorado

Omar Eduardo Rivera, who is blind, worked as a computer technician on the 71st floor of the World Trade Center until September 11, 2001. On that fateful morning, Rivera was at his job with Dorado, his four year old Labrador Retriever. When the two hijacked airliners smashed into the twin towers, Rivera had to make a loving and humane choice.

"I stood up and I could hear how pieces of glass were flying around and falling. I could feel the smoke filling up my lungs and the heat was just unbearable," he says.

"Not having any sight I knew I wouldn't be able to run down the stairs and through all the obstacles like other people. I was resigned to dying and decided to free Dorado to give him a chance of escape. It wasn't fair that we should both die in that hell.

"I thought I was lost forever. The noise and the heat were terrifying, but I had to give Dorado the chance of escape. So I unclipped his lead, ruffled his head, gave him a nudge and ordered Dorado to go."

Dorado was swept away by the crowds of people fleeing the chaotic inferno. But in the hellish searing pandemonium, the dog fought his way back to his master. Having accepted that he would die, Rivera felt the animal at his side. Then through dark stairwells in a descent that stretched out over an hour, with terrified people shoving past them, Dorado guided his charge to safety.

On this day of remembrance, visit Mental Floss for more inspiring stories of canine loyalty.

Ilsa Update

This evening, I removed the staples from Ilsa's incision. She is finished with her antibiotics as well. It looks like her wound healing was a success.

Now if I can just get the hair to grow back on her bald spot....... I wonder if this comes in black....... Maybe some fantasy fur......

Ring Tailed Boogie Cats

Hi doggie readers, it's Ilsa with a BOLO and a safety update. Sometimes when you are providing protective services, the nutritional byproducts just hit the oscillating blades. When that happens, you have to know how to take care of yourself. It's something that can happen to any serviceman, or service dog.

Last night during a home invasion, I was chasing a boogie cat in the back yard when it tried to get away by running under the deck. It was one of those ring tailed boogie cats with a mask on it's face. I wasn't going to let that happen, after all, I'm a German Shepherd Dog. As I was diving under the deck at full tilt to corral the boogie cat, I felt something scrape me near my eye. The boogie cat had co-conspirators under that deck, and I was being ambushed! The oscillating blades were starting to spin.

I jinked to the side and as I squeezed under the next level of deck to get at the boogie cat. Then I felt something dig into my back, right at my butt. It didn't bother me much, German Shepherds wear a pretty tough coat, almost kevlar. I kept going, but that darned boogie cat scooted under the other side. I did get some of his tail in my teeth though. My sister Vivi went on through, pressing a level response, and chased him up a tree. I was too big though. I could hear him up there talking trash to her, and I backed out as quick as I could to help out. I have her back, you know....... By the time I came out the other side, she had taken care of business. She's learning quick.

After Vivi and I barked the ring tailed boogie cat out of the yard, we went to pee. Then Vivi said "Ilsa, what's that?" I didn't know.... "I think you hurt yourself," she said. We went in to find Daddy, and my back started to hurt. It wasn't too bad, kind of like a big flea bite. Vivi was kind of scared, and she keep babbling on about the ring tailed boogie cat having a concealed weapon or something. I don't know about that, but if he had a concealed weapon, it wasn't legal. There is no way a ring tailed boogie cat could get through the application process.

I nuzzled Daddy's hand and he scratched me behind my ears. I stood up and rubbed against him, but he had gone back to his reading. So, I sat down, and Vivi started to examine my injury. She's pretty good, but she's not a nurse like Daddy. He's highly trained, plus he has opposable thumbs and they just work better than a tongue on some things. I got back up and rubbed against his leg, and finally he took a look. When he saw the blood on his leg, then he knew.

To make a long story short, Daddy got a friend to help him, and I ended up getting my butt shaved. Then they poured some really cold foamy stuff in there, and they taped me up. This morning I went to see the white coat guy, the one with all the dogs and cats. He's a friendly sort.

He gave me some good drugs, and started poking and prodding around in there. Then they took little metal fingers, pulled me back together and put a weird pair of pliers on me. Pow! Pow Pow Pow! Ouch! Pow Pow! Ow! Pow Pow! Eight times they snapped those pliers on my back.

I snoozed a while after that, and when I woke up I really needed to pee. Daddy was there to take me outside to pee, and he got some little green bottles of really strange kibbles for me too. He gave me a couple of them tonight. One of them was like plastic, but he wrapped it in bacon and it was OK.

So here's the deal doggie readers, be on the look out for ring tailed boogie cats with concealed weapons. They are probably traveling in gangs, and the modus operandi is to lure you in and attack you from behind. They are vicious little sons of bitches. If you get into an altercation with one, take the fight to him. The gang will separate pretty quickly. They don't work in packs very well. Use your pack instincts and persevere, but if one of them nails you, then go find your daddy. He will know what to do.

This afternoon, Daddy got his hammer and crawled under the deck and started pounding away. I'm still trying to figure that one out. Maybe he was putting no trespassing signs for ring tailed boogie cats under the deck. I don't think that will work, those guys are criminals with no regard for the law, and half of them can't read anyway. When he lets me outside again, we will see.

Best Friends

Vivi came to our home under tragic circumstances as a rescue dog. Her only owner of three years could no longer keep her due to an unexpected diagnosis of terminal illness. Little Vivi was taken from her owner and kenneled at the veterinarian, where she remained for two and a half months. Unwanted, she was scheduled for euthanasia when she came to us.

Initially we were concerned that Vivi would have problems accepting her place in our pack. She had always been an only dog, and a pampered one at that. She and Ilsa made instant friends though. It seems Ilsa believes she had a puppy through immaculate conception. Maybe Ilsa thinks her mommy and daddy went to the vet to get her a little sister. I don't know what's in her head, but she has claimed the three year old Vivi as a litter mate. Ilsa chews on her head, and Vivi gnaws on Ilsa's ankles. Vivi is definitely the instigator, and Ilsa strives mightily to keep the short legged scamp's record clean. They are constant companions, sharing the sofa with daddy and curling up together at night to go to sleep.

Vivi has been attending Beginner 1 obedience class with Little Darling. Little Darling worked independently in the class with Vivi. She learned about dog training, canine motivation, and a little about herself. They graduated on Thursday, and I'm proud of them both. That's what this post is really about.

The bond between humans and dogs is an ancient one, it's origins lost in the shroud of time. Whether it was a cave dweller who found a litter of wolves, or a wolf who approached the fire in search for food, the symbiotic relationship between man and dog perhaps changed history. The dog provided an alarm and protection against predators, and greatly assisted in the hunt, allowing man to survive. Man gave the dog the protection from the elements and a sense of greater purpose. Without the other, both dog and man are lessened. There is a lot to which man gives the dog, but it is repaid in triplicate immediately and without hesitation.

Properly trained, a man can be dog's best friend. ~Corey Ford

Update on Riding a Bike with a Dog

It was a cool Saturday morning, with dew on the grass. Ilsa had been waiting several days to go for a ride, watching mournfully as I rolled the commuter bike out on the porch each morning to ride to work. This morning though, was her's. She lept into her training vest as soon as I removed it from the hook beside the door, jerking it out of my hands in the process. "Settle down girl," I told her, "We're going to ride......." The word ride just made her tail beat the floor more vigorously.

Ilsa is a large exuberant dog now, and the possibility of disaster increases with every day she doesn't get her ride. I also wanted to take photos this morning, so I was looking for a safer way to manage Ilsa's enthusiasm than simply holding the leash in my right hand on the handlebars with the loop around my bicep. After some experimentation, I found that I could run the leash from my bicep to my right hand, then around the bike's handlebar stem, and finally to Ilsa. This arrangement gave me the mechanical advantage I needed to to better control the dog while using the camera. I have decided to use this arrangement at all times now, and I have wrapped the quill of the Raleigh cruiser with electrical tape to prevent the leather leash from chaffing the black finish of the handlebar stem.

Here are a few more pointers I have learned along the way. Remember your riding buddy is running barefoot. Avoid taking your dog biking when the pavement is hot. Monitor your buddy's feet. The pads of a dog's feet wear down at a faster rate on pavement. Be aware of glass and other sharp objects in your path not only for your tires but also for your dog.

Your canine is going to get thirsty. They will become thirsty faster and to a greater extent than yourself. They are running in a fur coat. You are riding in comfortable clothing. Take an extra bottle of water for your dog, as well as a collapsible dog dish.

All of the other advice about training and using a cruiser bike with a coaster brake still applies. Make the ride fun. Let your dog set the pace, you set the direction. Take treats. Play some games at your destination. Enjoy the ride. Your canine certainly will.

Read the original post on Bicycling with a Dog.

Ilsa Searching

Ilsa worked a bayou tributary today, and as she worked, I marveled at the intelligent and beautiful dog she has become.

Yep, I don't think any dog other than a German Shepherd will do anymore.

Summer Games

I didn't know where we were going when I hopped into the Jeep with Daddy today. I knew it must be fun and games because he didn't have me dressed in my super dog vest. We drove a while and I got kind of sick, but I didn't puke. Daddy doesn't like it when I puke in the Jeep.

Finally, we got to a big building and we went inside to a huge doggie playground! This place was like Doggieland! There were things to jump over, jump through, run over, and under. The only thing that was missing was an automated belly scratcher. There were a lot of dogs there with their parents, and one by one they got to play on the playground. There were all kinds of dogs, even those weird Dr. Seuss pseudo-dogs. Those foreigner dogs look silly with their strange hairstyles, but I know we are all the same underneath, even if some are still puppies.

I watched them over and over from the stands with Daddy, and I wanted to go play too. One game they had that was really freaking me out was the long dog fun house. They would run in the front and then out the back so quick that they couldn't have checked things out very well inside. That seemed kind of dangerous to me, so every time one ran inside, I would woof a warning to tell them to slow down. They never did. Stupid dogs. If there was something to find in there, they were just running right past it.

I whimpered and wagged my tail at Daddy to tell him I wanted to try, but he just scratched me behind my ears. That's when it dawned on me.......I was at the Doggie Olympics! These guys were pros! Sometimes it takes a head scratchin' to make me realize what's going on, but I pick up on it pretty quick. I notice Daddy scratches his head when he needs to think too. We are a lot alike in that way.

When we went outside, there was this huge water bowl with water flying out of it. It was the weirdest thing I ever saw, almost spooky. They really didn't need to do that, but I guess with dogs coming from all over the world to compete, some of them might not know where the water was. They must have still been looking because I was the only one drinking from it.

It was a fun time, but I really wanted to get to play too. I know I could knock over more sticks than those dogs did, and I could pick them up and bring them to my Daddy too!

The Unsinkable Molly Brown

She became lethargic and listless. She refused to run or play. Her normal heart rate was 80 beats per minute. Now her heart rate fell to under half of that. Diagnosed with a heart attack, Molly was also found to have a complete heart block as a result of the damage.

A complete heart block is one in which there is no electrical conduction between the atria and ventricles. It is a grave condition. The ventricles fall into "rescue mode" and keep the body alive with a greatly reduced inherent rhythm of their own. Unfortunately, the suction of blood into the ventricles versus the pumping of blood into the ventricles by the atria creates a very strong probability of clot formation from the churning of the blood itself. The clots lead to further coronary artery blockage, cardiac ischemia, and death. A complete heart block is a condition that on humans, demands a pacemaker.

Unfortunately, Molly was a dog. She was, in fact, a beautiful chocolate Labrador Retriever. Further, she was a proven Search and Rescue dog with a career of finding disaster victims and murder victims. Owners Allen and Alicia Brown of Saginaw Michigan were facing over $2,500 in surgery, vet and travel costs alone. Through donations including a two thousand dollar donation from an anonymous businessman, a plan of care was devised. Medtronic Inc. donated the internal pacer. On May 22, 2008, surgeons at the University of Missouri College of Veterinary Medicine implanted the lifesaving device. Molly was the one rescued this time.

Molly is on activity restrictions for another month, but is expected to make a full recovery and return to K-9 search and rescue work. Training a search and rescue dog for both live body and cadaver retrieval can take up to two years. Buying a fully trained SAR dog can cost up to $20,000. "If she could save one more life or recover one more body for a family, it would be worth it," said Patrice Graham, another member of the K-9 SAR team.

Indeed.

Spooky Steps and Catzilla

Daddy took me to some really spooky stairs today. These stairs were slippery but not wet. When I stepped on them they went woingy woingy bing bong. It was like I was walking on a vibraphone.

It was late in the day and I had spent most of my day watching Daddy make bangs at a cardboard man. He does that a lot, and at first, the bangs were spooky but I got used to it. The steps he took me to today were just about to get on my last nerve though. Every where I went, bing bong woingy woingy tink tong. Daddy wouldn't let me walk on the concrete either. He made me go up and down those musical stairs after my toy over and over. He did give me a lot of praise though.

Then just as it started to get dark, I saw him out of the corner of my eye. He was the biggest damned kitty cat I think I have ever seen, and he was moving towards stalking us. I whirled around and gave him a couple of warning woofs and he froze in his tracks. At first, I was scared to death he would eat us both, but my woofs were so fierce that I petrified him with fear. He just stood there. If Daddy would have had some pliers we could have pulled his fangs out he was so petrified. You gotta respect the woof of a German Shepherd Dog.

You never know when a giant petrified kitty will snap out of it, so I advised Daddy that it was time to go. Thankfully he agreed. He can be hard headed sometimes, but I'm glad he listened to me today. He's getting better that way.

Bubba

"I was just a sittin' out thar at the' contry club when this here feller took me and put me in his vehickel. I'd been out thar fer aboot two months and th' eatin' was purty good. I'm hoping he takes me back thar.

Heck that feller took me to his house and took all my ticks. If'n he was a wantin' some ticks, I coulda showed him whar ta look fer 'em. He's a sayin' he's gwyn ta find me a home but tarnation...... I had one whar they fed me steak and T bones. He done snapped a collar on my neck and went ta callin' his friends.

I just don't know if'n I can take it......."

Dog found. Owner sought.

New owner found. Dog gone.

Looking For Sippy

It was after lunch when Daddy loaded me up in the back of the Jeep and I curled up to sleep while he drove and drove. He said we were going to look for a missing sippy. I was kind of worried about that, because I was willing to look, but I didn't really know what a sippy was. I was sleeping like a dog when all of a sudden the vibrations of the Jeep changed and I looked up. Yowsers! The Jeep was in the biggest kennel I had ever seen!

Then suddenly I realized it was the great big spaceship that we had almost been sucked into a month ago! I didn't know what to do.....I got up and I almost lost my lunch, but then I heard Daddy say "It's all right, good girl Ilsa" and I gulped the kibbles back down. He really has a way with words, and I knew he was in control of the Jeep, so I just placed my life in his hands. Before I knew it, he had escaped the spaceship's tractor beam again, and we were heading back to Earth.

When we landed, and he opened up the rear of the Jeep, I was a little bit ashamed of myself. I was drooling all over, long stringy drool that I had a hard time sucking back up. It had dripped all over, and he knew that I had doubted his ability to evade the moonbeamers. That's not good for a dog to do. He didn't get mad though. He just scratched me behind the ears and said he would be back in a little bit. Then he closed the hatch. I decided the best thing for me to do was to go back to sleep, so I wiped my mouth on my pet rope and I laid back down. My two Corgi sisters were back home, so I didn't have much to do until Daddy came back.

Before long, Daddy came back and opened my hatch. He asked if I wanted some water, and I wagged my tail. He swapped leashes for me, and I hopped out. After I slurped up some hydration from my water bag, I sat down to let him know I was ready to work. He told me to heel, and walked me away from the Jeep. Then when we turned around......... Good Lawdy-a-gartion! There was a gargantuan moonbeamer hatching out of a giant red egg right there! I knew it must have been a moonbeamer because it wasn't a dog or a cat or a human at all! It was at least fifty dogs tall, big dogs too!

I barked an alarm to let Daddy know we were about to be attacked, and then I barked some more to make sure that moonbeamer didn't hurt us. I must have really scared it, because it got petrified like cats do when they recognize a dog's superior intellect. It kind of made me wonder if moonbeamers and cats were related. I don't know about that, but if they were, I wouldn't be surprised.

Finally, Daddy loaded me up and took me to a lot of water. I mean a lot of water. He must have thought I was really thirsty after all that barking. He didn't take out my plastic smelly thing, but I took a good whiff of it anyway. I knew what to do then. I jumped out of the Jeep and tried to remember the scent. I raised my head and sniffed the air for any traces of it on the breeze.

I could smell really well around all that water, because there was a lot of air moving around, but there was a lot of scent too. There was the smell of people, gas stations, fish, grass, shrimp, bugs, and a bunch of other things. I started to try to imagine what a missing sippy might look like, but I knew that it was best that I not do that. I trust my nose.

A bunch of birds suddenly flew up while I was looking for sippy. That kind of spooked me, but I settled back down and tried to smell Sippy in the air again.

Finally, Daddy took me inside a big house, and we talked to some other people for a while. I didn't say much, I just sat down beside Daddy. He likes that. After a while, he touched a spot on the wall, and the wall opened up! That was pretty weird.

It was a little room, and we went inside it. Then Daddy touched another spot on the wall, and the room jumped! I was afraid the giant moonbeamer had picked us up and we wouldn't ever get out. When a bell rang, the wall opened back up. I need to get a bell like that. When I looked outside the room we were somewhere else. I guess we got lucky that time.

I was happy to get out of that little room! We walked down a corridor to another room and went inside. This one was cool inside, and it even had a chair just for me. Daddy laid down and started snoring, so I curled up beside the door just in case the giant moonbeamer tried anything again.

When Daddy woke up, my bladder was like a basketball, so I told him I had to go do bidness. He leashed me back up, and we went back to the little room in the wall. This time it put us back where we started from. That's when I realized it was kind of like an inside the house Jeep. We went outside, and I did my bidness. It was already night.

Daddy took me out on a wooden porch that was over the water. I looked up and saw the moon. I started to bark at it, but then Daddy started to sing. I decided to sing too. We performed a midnight opera out on that wooden porch for all the moonbeamers. BurrroooooOOOOO00000OOOOOOoooooo. I guess we pleased our galatical audience, because I could see their eyes winking back at me. I wagged my tail and we went back inside to finish sleeping.

I never did find Sippy. I guess he will have to just stay missing, but I sure had a good time with Daddy.

Temperment Training

I took Ilsa riding this afternoon, and we worked on her training. The temperament standard for a German Shepherd Dog is an important component of the breed.

The German Shepherd Dog has a distinct personality marked by direct and fearless, but not hostile, expression, self-confidence, and a certain aloofness that does not lend itself to immediate and indiscriminate friendships. The dog must be approachable, quietly standing its ground and showing confidence and willingness to meet overtures without itself making them. It is poised, but when the occasion demands, eager and alert; both fit and willing to serve in its capacity as a companion, watchdog, blind leader, herding dog, or guardian, whichever the circumstances may demand. The dog must not be timid, shrinking behind its master or handler; it should not be nervous, looking about or upward with anxious expression or showing nervous reactions, such as tucking of tail, to strange sounds or sights. Lack of confidence under any surroundings is not typical of good character.

To this end, I introduce Ilsa to new and potentially frightening experiences that will help her build greater and greater confidence and trust. It is not that the confidence and trust is not there, but whether it will serve her well, no matter what the circumstances. Canine stress inoculation. One of the tests I know she will have to accomplish is the elevated grate. Grates are spooky things to dogs unaccustomed to them. Ilsa's test will be twenty feet up with gusts of wind and even water coming through it.

.........So how does Ilsa react? She lays down and takes a rest.

Ilsa's willingness to stay on task, snorking every potential hidey hole for the scent she in trying to follow is exemplary. I commonly use one of the local high schools or a park as a training ground because of all the confusing layers of scent from the many different people.

We use a section of capped off and drilled out PVC pipe containing used socks and underwear from the person being sought as the search object. Occasionally, if possible, we will enlist the assistance of the actual person.

When she is tested, Ilsa will have evaluators trying to distract her from her task. Evaluators have all manner of distractions including other dogs, cats or squirrels introduced into the search dog's path. The first human encountered is the Registration/Entry Clerk. As the dog continues to work, the Neutral Stranger shows up. Next, a Friendly Stranger arrives with treats trying to lure her off task. If she continues on task, a Can Rattling Stranger pops out from behind a corner. A Gun Shooting Stranger has a starter's pistol waiting in the brush. The Umbrella Opening Stranger usually carries a supply of umbrellas because of failing candidates. Finally there is the Weird Stranger, who may have any sort of costume, designed to freak out any dog they approach. They may be dressed in tinsel playing bagpipes with an accomplice or two waving flags. Anything goes.

This is the Triathlon of Agility. Through it all, Ilsa must stay on task.