Last Lap

Boone the Brindle Greyhound

Nearly 14 years into the run, Boone, who retired from the track with a racing record of 0-0-0 (undefeated, as George liked to say) crossed the finish line, when we said goodbye to the sweet old greyhound on Saturday.

In the past couple years I have taken Boone to the vet three times, expecting that he would not be coming home with me. But the visits seemed to inspire a determination to stay out of vet clinics, as each time, he rallied, refusing to give in to his frailties. The boost from our January visit however, proved to have a shorter shelf life, as the winter’s ice and snow took it’s toll on the big brindle dog.

His joyful spirit remained intact, which complicated the most dreaded decision of pet ownership. To choose to end the life of a loyal companion is a decision made only after a great deal of soul-search, prayer, and tears. But in the end, he was unable to pick himself up after an increasing number of falls, and that’s not much of a life.

I loved this old greyhound as much as I’ve loved my many lab and golden retrievers, but he left me still trying to figure out what made him tick.

I never really understood why he wouldn’t work for treats or squeaky toys, but I was humbled to watch him do almost anything I asked, just for opportunity to lean on me for a scratch of the ears.

I never really understood why he got so excited at the prospect of a car ride, then spent the entire trip plastered against the seat back, ears pinned to his head, panting and drooling, but I admired his courage to face the fear of travel, as well as his obvious optimism that whatever the destination, it was worth some temporary discomfort.

I never really understood his understanding of the word “walk” which seemed to be all about stopping to smell the roses. And the dandelions. As well as the tree trunks, tall grass, mowed hay fields, melting snow banks, and muddy footprints. We took so much time that we never covered much distance, but I appreciated his devotion to simply enjoying the world around us.

I never really understood his interactions with other animals, as he was afraid of the cats and the horses, showed little, albeit cordial, interest in other dogs, but I respected his ability to move Rowdy off the coveted family room dog bed by simply standing next to it.

Boone was the Leader of the Pack with a Peaceful Easy Feeling. A sweet and gentle presence who listened to kids in the libraries, ran figure-8’s in the horse arena, held his own with the house cat and made friends with all he met.

I didn’t really understand him, but I did really love him.

Brindle Greyhound — Photo by Tangerine House of Design http://www.tangerinehouseofdesign.com

Lost in Translation

Maybe visions of fireworks stilled danced in his head. Perhaps the extra sleep that is the benefit to the rest of us, of Boone’s new anti-anxiety medication protocol provided an energy boost. Possibly 15 minutes of fetching a rubber ball before breakfast, at 7:00 a.m., when the temperature is 80 and the humidity close to the same, is not enough. For him.

Whatever the reason, rowdy Rowdy showed up this morning at the Maple Lake Library. We started out nicely, well within Acceptable-Therapy-Dog-in-Public parameters. Unless we count that part where, for the first time ever, he crawled from the back seat over the center console to jump out of the truck as I wrestled our supply bag out of the front seat. He hit the sidewalk before the bag did, but sat nicely and waited patiently as I snapped his leash on the buckle. Good dog! Sort of.

Dog lying in library He greeted the kids nicely, lying quietly, taking stock and taking advantage of the many bare toes presented at nose level. He could not resist the opportunity to sniff and smooch. Most of the readers tolerated, even enjoyed, the interaction, though one little girl was only too happy to use the towel I offered.

Our rough patch came during the actual Reading of the Story, which, given our goal of helping kids read by “sitting quietly on a blanket, listening to children without judgment, so that they build confidence in their skills”, does not bode well for our success rate of the future.

Rowdy seems to interpret “sitting quietly” to mean wriggling on his back, rolling over repeatedly, mouthing the leash, and/or pawing the edge of the blanket to craft himself a pillow.

Dog watching child write The approximate total of 5 minutes of indiscretions seemed like 5 days, but as is becoming our routine, he composed himself and controlled his impulses by the we end of our book. Just in time to endear himself to his readers and his handler by closely overseeing the group’s work to solve a crossword puzzle.

The Reading with Rowdy spellchecker.

He even renewed a few friendships from last week’s joint session with the pre-schoolers, who came over to replenish their weekly reads. As I checked out books for the young patrons, with the Happy Hooligan on a “Down/Stay” under the desk, he did as instructed. With his head peeking out just far enough for them to pet his ears and him to kiss their feet.

It’s all in the interpretation.

Dog sleeping on blanket

First 4th

Twenty-five children with kazoos and flags.

25 Children.

With kazoos.

And flags.

Most of them under the age of 6, fingers still sticky with breakfast, little toes teeming with summer’s best barefoot bouquets.

Add an unfamiliar venue, a few strollers, a bunch of new friends, and you have Reading with Rowdy meets Marie’s Pre-School Storytime for a 4th of July celebration with the Maple Lake Library.

It was All Calming Strategies On Deck as the event started, and preliminary activities presented Rowdy and me an opportunity for some helpful Down-Stay, Heel-Sit-Watch Me-Good Dog! practice, along with a little work in appropriate greeting behavior, assisted by our now-veteran junior trainers, introducing their toddler siblings to the Very Happy Hooligan.

A group photo for the local paper provided a bit of a challenge, but if 25 youngsters could sit still long enough to be organized into 3 rows and have their names recorded for identification, it seemed reasonable to expect 1 golden retriever to do the same.

Which he did very nicely until we had to scooch in for a last-minute adjustment, bringing any kids within sniffing, snuffling or smooching distance directly into Rowdy’s zone of Too Much Temptation.

Fingers crossed that the shutter snapped during an acceptable Therapy Dog moment.

Our grand finale, the always-anticipated parade around the block, brought out a few cheering merchants, 25 kazoo-humming, flag-waving children, and one prancing pup, who handled the whole experience pretty well if you don’t count the part where he kangaroo-hopped across the intersection.

Next week we return to our regular programming. A smaller crowd, a single book, a few games.

And no kazoos.

Dog and flag

Enjoy a happy healthy Independence Day!

Peanut Butter Peace

Dog with kids in library

Another rainy Monday morning started with the potential for setback in our ascent to Therapy Animal superstardom, or even Therapy Animal suitability, but my slightly-damp dog eventually dried up and quieted down to hang out with the 11 young readers, who came out to Reading with Rowdy at the Maple Lake Library.

We began with something less that our best behavior today, navigating a few rough patches of vigorous back-scratching and insistent paw offerings, but once rambunctious Rowdy found his Good Dog gear, he settled in and chilled out.

It’s possible we benefitted from the plot of our children’s chapter book, which revolved around some missing peanut butter treats. Hearing the name of one of his many favorite snacks may have lulled the happy hooligan into a dreamy state of Skippy slumber.

Following our story and mystery message activity, the readers had an opportunity to practice proper greeting behavior with Rowdy, who was very happy to cooperate and (mostly) calmly accept several scratches under the ear.

Every week gets a little bit better, and next week we’ll face a whole new challenge when take a short break from our “Figure It Out” theme to join with the pre-schoolers story-time group for some Independence Day activities, including the annual 4^th of July Parade around the block. No fireworks or marching bands, but lots of red, white and blue, many children waving flags, several local merchants waving hands, and one golden retriever, excited to lead the festivities.

With a peanut butter chaser.

Dog dreaming

Putting the Pieces Together

The weather calmed, and so did Rowdy, for our second week of the summer program at the Maple Lake Library.

Dog listening to reader

My convivial canine greeted 11 young readers this morning. Well, greeted as in sat calmly, watching children enter the library, without whining or wheedling to worm his way closer.

As a bonus to our story and game time, we talked a bit about how to safely approach a dog, even a too-friendly type like Rowdy. Those who wanted, took some time after the story to practice their dog interaction skills, waiting until he was sitting quietly, and then petting the pooch on his favorite just-under-the-ear spot. It may have been Rowdy’s favorite part of the morning, and possibly a light-bulb moment his library career.

Dog watching children

It is definitely progress and he seems to be catching on to his role in this work. He only rolled over to scratch his back with great gusto twice this week, and only tried to park his posterior in my lap once.

That’s progress my friends.

So we will continue to practice a lot and pray a little and trust the process.

And figure it out.

And so We Begin

Dog in library

This morning brought rain and readers to the Maple Lake Library, for the inaugural gathering of Reading with Rowdy.

Seven young book enthusiasts dodged the drops to meet the Happy Hooligan, take turns reading aloud from a short chapter book, then solve some word and picture puzzles.

Reading with Rowdy replaces the popular Books with Boone summer program, as an effort to encourage students to enjoy some summer reading time. The retirement last fall of Boone, the big brindle greyhound, leaves some pretty big paw prints for roommate Rowdy to fill, but he’s up to the task.

Maybe a little too up, but let’s think positive.

There is hope. Apparently, rowdy Rowdy paid some attention to my session-starting conversation with the kids, as by the end of our hour, he seemed to have figured out his part in this program.

Dog with children at library

Birthday Boys

May is a big birthday month here at Four Sticks Farm.

Boone begins the festivities on May Day, celebrated this year by a visit with Dr. Wilcox for his annual checkup. Other than the obviously rickety rear end, and some pretty gamey greyhound gingivitis, our Teen Idle is a healthy 13 year old hound.

Greyhound on bed

Two days later, Chicago turned an astonishing 21. Astonishing in that it’s been 15 years that this big red beast has taken up residence in my home and my heart, and we’re both still around to tell our tale.

Now that he’s reached the age of maturity, Chicago is finally starting to look more like the Paint horses on his pedigree, growing even more handsome, with all the spots showing up on his sorrel self.

His tail lightened a few years ago, but other than that, most of his color (besides the 3 white stockings that inspired his name) hid beneath his mane or under his belly. Now his white hair is out for all to see.

Finally, a horse who resembles his owner…

Paint horse

Rare is the blog entry missing mention of rowdy Rowdy, and this one is no exception. The gregarious golden turned 2 on May 17, inching his way out of puppyhood, with it’s built-in excuse for bad behavior. He continues to live with energy and enthusiasm, eager to engage in whatever life extends, always under the assumption that everyone else shares his excitement.

Someday, an owner who resembles her dog…

Golden retriever on blanket with books

Rowdy is only weeks away from his first official Therapy Dog gig, with the “Reading with Rowdy” program scheduled to start in mid-June. Our theme this summer is “Figure It Out”, initially intended as a reference to the series of mystery stories we’ll read, and puzzle games we’ll play, though I suspect it will apply equally to Rowdy’s effort to perfect his library manners.

And he will figure it out. Now that he is 2, the day grows ever closer that my happy hooligan masters impulse control.

And that will be a day of serious celebration.

Slow but (Mostly) Sure

Just when I thought it was safe to go back into Barn Brain, I find myself once again steeped in the world of canine cognition. It’s all about Rowdy. Still.

Though we passed our Therapy Dog evaluation in January, I worried about Rowdy’s over-exuberant greeting behavior, so with visions of my eager young dog bowling over eager young readers in the children’s section of our local library, I enlisted the help of a private trainer.

Lynn Smoliak of Dogs Way Dog Training came out nearly a month ago and spent some time showing Rowdy and me the benefits of working from a softer, calmer frame of mind. Time to channel my inner Dog Whisperer. No more “Hey, Hey!, HEY!!” command for us.

With only a couple attention-getting little pokes, Lynn snapped her fingers and “Tsched” rowdy Rowdy into an acceptable social state in a matter of minutes.

I, of course, did not. My finger poke needed more “Settle Down Sir” and less “Liven Up Man!”, my finger snap needed more snap, and my “Tsch” needed more “I WANT YOUR ATTENTION” and less “I’ve got a secret”.

After a couple hours though, Rowdy and I showed enough potential for progress that Lynn left us with recommendations of diligent practice, and encouragement that I’d be delighted with the light-bulb moment sure to follow our daily commitment.

In a minimum of 3 weeks.

I hopped right on that road, so perfectly paved with good intention, only to be almost immediately set off course by a series of unfortunate life events, several unseasonable snowstorms, and a pinch of self-indulgent sloth.

Dog Sitting at Attention We haven’t practiced every day, and when we do it isn’t always pretty, but we’ve made some progress. Some. Slight.

Once in a while he’ll still run through his entire repertoire – sit, down, shake right, shake left, speak, rollover – with the occasional bonus behaviors of drooling, sneezing and smooching thrown in – while I wait for him to settle his little golden puppy brain. Which he does. Eventually.

Just often enough to maintain our motivation to keep slogging onward. Almost every day.

But Rowdy does finally seem to be developing a “quieter” brain. Possibly because his trainer is doing the same. I know we’re in this for the long haul, with much learning and training and imperfection and fun in our future, so I’m mindful of the small successes, appreciative of any accomplishments.

Loose-leash healing continues to improve, though I’ve not yet braved the challenge of the local Running’s or (even more daunting) PetsMart stores. We have, however, passed a couple dogs in the park without growling, howling, whining or other inappropriate, unacceptable and/or unattractive antics, which gives me hope.

His Stay-And-Wait-Until-Released ability has been relatively solid for a few months, and now he moves into the Release-part with more trot, less gallop.

Except for that recent goose-chasing incident, which occurred at breakneck speed, but given his genetic predisposition for getting game birds, and the fact that they were creating a raucous ruckus right there in our pasture, and that he responded to my (ok, 3rd) call to come, with the same swiftness, I cut him a tiny bit of slack. This one time.

Meanwhile, on the other side of that pasture fence, my big red beast and his potbellied palomino friend continue to enjoy what has become the winter of their great content. No pressure to perform, being asked only to mind their manners when entering and exiting their stalls for the daily snack-and-snooze period. Chicago and Biskit may be the biggest beneficiaries of the current canine boot camp – happy to be livin’ the life of Rowdy.

Dog and Horse in the Snow

But soon enough, the snow-filled arena will return to sand and I will exchange the leash for the lead rope.

Just a few more snaps of the finger.

Greyt Life

Several of his library friends have asked me about Boone lately, which serves as a heartwarming reminder that rowdy Rowdy isn’t the only golden boy in this four-legged family. The big brindle sighthound made some pretty powerful friendships while lying on that blanket listening to little readers, and we both appreciate their loyalty.

Since he managed to get through the month of January with no near-death experiences for the first time in 3 years, I decided to not tempt fate, so we skipped the usually-annual under-anesthetic dental work this year, for which the humans who inhale the same air he exhales will likely pay a far greater price than the old hound dog.

I’ve found some alternatives to the major veterinary procedure which are an almost acceptable substitute, but his dog breath is seriously canine – unclean, unflossed, and definitely unpleasant. He couldn’t be happier.

Actually, he seems quite happy about a lot of things. Daily walks; bits of venison sausage, string cheese or dog biscuits mixed into his bowl when the kibble just isn’t enough; unleashed access to our wooded areas, with all the trees, tracks and other animal litter a guy could want, if a guy is a greyhound.

Sometimes, he’ll snuffle his way around the yard, taking stock of all the recent passers-through, then come racing up the hill, grinning his goofy greyhound grin, every bit as pleased with himself as back in the days of his youth, when he ran full-speed figure-8’s in the horse arena.

That’s generally about the time that Rowdy comes running even faster, barely skidding to a stop before ramming into Boone with the ubiquitous big blue squeaker ball, pestering Boone to play chase. This does Not make Boone happy.

Though he needs a little more time for planning and preparation, he can still jump into the truck and onto our bed, which makes him so very happy, as the truck is the mode of transportation to any number of area parks, and our bed is still (barely) the only spot in the house where Boone can enjoy his dinner without the Happy Hooligan drooling over his shoulder, prepared to lick the bowl clean at the first opportunity.

Of course no bed offers any obstacle for Mocha, who jumps up and leans in for as much dog dinner as he wants. Or at least as much as Boone wants him to have, as the old dog seems to relish his occasional opportunity to be the boss of the Siamese-Who-Would-Be-King.

Dog and Cat eating out of same bowl

He takes a daily joint supplement with his breakfast, but pain medications have been reduced to an as-needed basis – as in when weather prevents an outdoor adventure for more than a couple days, or when Rowdy blindsides him with the ubiquitous big blue squeaker ball.

So Boone is well my friends. He is old, a little rickety, a little blind, a little deaf and a little sleepy. But a lot happy.

Careful What I Wish For

The light is changing here at Four Sticks Farm, bringing hope of the spring soon to come. If only I can ignore the glare from the snow-covered ground that makes my eyes water and my nose run; the sting of the still-icy air that numbs my chin and reddens my ears; the grimly naked trees that expose the red squirrel who rejoices in tormenting the Happy Golden Hooligan, the feel, or lack thereof, of my fingers frozen one more time by scooping hay stems out of the automatic waterer and snapping the metal fasteners on Biskit’s blanket.

If I can ignore all that and look only at the brilliant blue sky, with a few wispy clouds and a big bright sun, I can believe.

It Will be spring. We will still see some snow and cold and ice and cool and slush and chilly. But spring will come. It always does, though it’s easy to forget that as we trudge through these bleak, record-cold days that are the weeks of February.

Horses at the fence Soon though, I will shed a layer of outdoor clothing from my barn chore apparel and strip a layer of horse hair and mud from my polar ponies.

Soon, I will start a spring conditioning program for my Big Red Beast.

But don’t tell Chicago that.

Soon, I will close off the pasture to allow it to grow without competition from equines eager for the pleasure of grazing green grass.

Don’t tell Chicago that either.

Soon, I will sweep down the winter-crusted cobwebs from the barn ceiling, slog through the alley mud to muck out the manure, drag out the paddock posts and divider fencing, wrestle 2 bulky blankets into plastic bags for transport to the tack store cleaners, curry off several more layers of horse hair and mud – first from the horses, then from their groom, clean and condition the tack that’s been hanging idle since September, scrub off the season-ending stall-window scum, wipe down and hang up the stall fans, towel off 8 muddy dog paws multiple times a day, lug deck furniture down from the garage-attic and up from the barn-shop.

Soon, it will be spring. Hmmm…

Let it snow!

Dog in the snow