Category: Boone

Dog Smarts

BooneThinking

To look at Boone is to think “dog of very little brain”. After all, his skull is barely bigger than my fist, and he spends the greater part of his day searching out the biggest sunspot in which to sprawl his big striped self. How many neurons can possibly be firing?

I think an animal’s intelligence is less a simple label of “smart” or “dumb” and more a measure of it’s response to the events and environment in which it exists. I also believe that as the one with the opposable thumbs it’s my responsibility to figure out what makes him tick, be it a word, a treat, a toy or a free pass to Petsmart, and after four years together, it turns out there’s a full scoop of kibble in this dog’s bowl. He will consent to the basic “here”, “sit”, “down”, as well as the emergency “hey, Hey, HEY” and “I SAID NO!” commands, but his true genius shines in his independent study.

For example, Boone understands that the yellow tote bag and green fleece mean story time with a young reader, which also means either a walk or a ride. Yea! Good Dog!

He gets (most of the time) that lying on the green fleece, listening to a young reader is much preferable to standing at the door, staring out at anybody other than the young reader. Treats for my four-legged friend!

He knows that when I change out of the barn overalls and into the walking pants, we’re headed outside for our morning scratch and sniff. Yahoo!

He’s learned that a cat with claws gets priority seating. Such a savvy sighthound!

And though his eyes clearly express his sympathetic certainty of the futility of my efforts to zip my freshly laundered and dryer-shrunk jeans, he simply turns his head and looks the other way.

Brilliant.

Boone’s Beginning

BooneThinking

Though a lifelong golden retriever girl, when my Old Yellow Dog Zenga aged into Bonus Time, I decided to go with Something Completely Different, and adopted a rescue greyhound from  Northern Lights Greyhound Adoption. And they are truly a whole different breed. While the golden shouts “Pick Me! Pick Me!” the greyhound, with a polite but barely perceptible nod murmurs “Thank you so very much for your consideration.”

Boone came to Four Sticks Farm less than a week after he left the track in Kansas City, retiring at the age of 3 with a racing record of 0-0-0. Because he spent his young life in a kennel, and had been neutered only days before moving in with us, our life together started with a few fundamentals:

1. Lifting your leg on houseplants or Zenga is unacceptable.

2. A screen door should be opened, not barreled through.

3. The dog in the mirror is You, and you will not find you by running around the mirror into the kitchen.

4. A dog treat is considered by most canines to be a very good thing, and one worth performing some small act of obedience for.

Fortunately for all involved, Boone transitioned quickly to a life of mostly leisure in rural Wright County. He LOVES his morning walk, no matter what the weather. He has boots and a jacket for the extreme conditions, though he prefers to go au naturel, possibly because the boots have to be cinched circulation-stopping tight to stay up on his stick-skinny legs, and the jacket is Minnesota Viking polar fleece – ‘nuf said.

Boone also loves to run around the horse arena, which he does with great enthusiasm for about 37 seconds. Then, he returns to the house and spends the better part of the day recovering.  37 seconds of joyful outburst followed by 23 hours, 59 minutes and 63 seconds of blissful recovery. On our bed, the guest bed, or any sunny spot he finds in the dining room.

Next to his morning walk, Boone loves a good nap more than any other activity. Including eating. Boone eats only as much as is required to maintain a functioning system, and his long legs, defined waistline, maintenance of his racing weight, and a minimalist attitude toward food makes for a case of an owner who wishes she resembled her dog. Big thighs are the one physical attribute we share, only on an animal who once made a career of running hard and fast, they’re an asset. On a woman who sits at a computer writing about an animal who once made a career of running hard and fast, they’re not.

He makes me laugh though, and since becoming an only-dog has assumed the responsibility of Greeter with great gusto. He plays well with others, including the barn cats and his new boss, the Kwik Trip Kitten. Well, except for that baby bunny he picked out of the ditch on our first walk together. But even then, his cooperative spirit shined through when George pried Boone’s mouth open and dropped the little rabbit onto the grass, setting it free to hop away with a great story to tell its grandbunnies.

Boone is bright and engaging, albeit with a style totally different from that of the sporting breeds of my past. He is certainly no golden retriever. But he is an excellent greyhound.