I don't share well......

I've discovered I don't share well.  Just typing that makes me feel like time out is right around the corner.  Reno, his son who's visiting and I have all been sharing one computer this week.  Hmmm, not much fun for any of us.  Wishing my fairy godmother would get her wand out and "poof" present me with a lap top.  Realistic, no, but hell, why not dream big?

Speaking of playing well.  Miss Sophie is discovering that the yard is something to be investigated. We're past the quick trip out to potty and the mad dash back in.  Maybe she's liking the yard better now that it's not covered by a couple feet of snow. I like it better that way too.   Of late, I've been ready to come in before she is.  Big progress for this little bit of a pointer.

I think we're almost ready to begin invisible fence training with her.  On one hand, I think training will go fast with her.  On the other hand, she does seem to have a high prey drive.  Our backyard forays at night always amaze me.  She knows right where the bunnys are and I can't even make out their shadow. One night all three dogs were on point and I couldn't see what the big dealio was.  Until Mr. Bunbun made a run for it. 

It will be fun, when she's trained, to see her scamper and run for the fun of it.  Every so often she gets the zoomies in the house and man, can she scoot!  She's learning, and becoming more relaxed.  Baby steps for Sophie.  Baby steps for me as I work on that sharing thing. 

Creepy Crawly Things and Play Dates

First of all, let it go on record that snakes give me the heebiejebbies.  I don't like 'em at the zoo, in the garden, in photographs and especially not in the house.  Sometimes Mick will hunt them in the yard and have great fun with them.  That creeps me out too.

Today I encountered one inside.  It was coming up the steps from the basement.  Holy crap bat man.  If snakes could be cursed to death it would have happened today.  If shrieking could render them into a sudden coma followed by a speedy death, there would have been a fatality.  But nooooo, it doesn't work like that.
Said snake was scooped into a box (not by me) and deposited in the garden.  I wonder what my blood pressure was at that point?  No dogs around, naturally, for this episode.

Later, I discovered a second one.....more, even more foul language ensued.  I thought perhaps I hadn't used the right string of language to eliminate the first one.  This freakin snake had the audacity to be sunning itself in the front room by the window.  Yes, I will understand if you never come to visit here again.  Frankly, I don't much care to live here anymore either.  This time the dogs were in the house!  Helloooo???  Hunting dogs - what the hell were you thinking??  Obviously not of protecting the manor.  Although the roof raising vocalization of outrage and fear did get their attention.  It was not a good day, and I am not sure I will survive.

On a more positive note, and at this point anything would be more positive, Sophie had a play date today.  Perhaps calling it a meet and greet is a better description.  She got to go in the car - always an adventure.  Before I'd backed down the driveway she crawled into the front seat and scurried under my feet on the driver's side.  Hmmm, not conducive the driving.  She wasn't going to budge, so we parked and got out of the car.  Lifted her back in and tethered her in the back seat.  Off we went. 

Sophie's new friend is Sugar.   Sugar is a 6 month old golden mix who has plenty of energy to burn.  They didn't play, but they sniffed.  Sugar tried her best to engage Sophie.  Sophie trembled, tucked tail and stuck pretty close to me.  She did investigate the edges of the patio, let my friends toddler daughter touch her and let Sugar lick her tongue.  Over and over and over.  I think the meet was a success.  For a first visit I think we've set the stage for success down the road.

For me, it was nice to have some fun excitement as opposed to the kind that I had earlier today.  Thank God Reno was home to slay my dragons, or at least move them out to the garden.  I'm sure it's one of those "remember when" days.  I'm sure you probably wondered where all the screaming was coming from .  Now you know.

What's Your Thing?

I have a thing for dogs, jewelry, flowers.  That goes pretty much without saying.  Sometimes it takes a while to discover our "things".  Sometimes our "things" evolve over time.

Sophie has a thing for the blanket that covers the sofa, the OU rug, and the sofa cushions.  Sure Kongs, balls, and chew toys are okay, but they don't present the challenge the sofa does.  If I could stuff the sofa with dog treats she would think she'd died and gone to heaven.  Trouble is she only likes to "play" with her things when I'm not in the room.  She knows the difference between toys and sofa's.  But, like chocolate, sometimes only a sofa cushion will do.  Whoever adopts this girl needs to know this about her.  Sofa cushions are Sophies thing.  Of course, if Mr. Hanky or Mick would play with her the sofa would not have so much appeal.

Speaking of Mr. Hanky.  We are celebrating a year of being his foster home.  This time last year we made the journey to Red Oak, IA to fetch this boy.  Of course the plan was to foster and move him to a forever home.  But plans do change.  I always wonder what make a person deem a dog "not worth" the time, the trouble or the expense.  Was he a failure in the field?  Was he dumped because of his cancer?  Was he one too many mouth's to feed in a money tight economy?  Maybe he was all of the above, or none of the above.  Lucky for us he found his way here.  Our thing is to love him the way he is.  Not hard to do at all.

We all have our things, our quirks, our passions and our sofa cushions.  I only pray yours are half as entertaining and enriching as mine are.

Moving Dogs

There is a dog named Bolt in Iowa that I've been working on.  Truth is, I've never met Bolt, and I most likely never will.  I've never met Sheila who helped pull him from a kill shelter, I've never met Loren who has him as a temporary foster, or Deanna, who's helped coordinate vetting and moving him.  I'll probably never meet him or the family that has agreed to foster him.  But, he's been on my radar, and I've been in contact with all of these folks.

We are a family of sorts stitched together by our love of dogs.  Bolt is getting a second chance.  Each of us plays a small, but crucial role in it.

Bolt doesn't know this.  Whoever is lucky enough to adopt him won't realize how many people stepped up to the plate to make this happen.  It starts by one person caring enough to try.  It's followed by a string of emails, phone calls, wishes, prayers, more emails and phone calls, and answered prayers.  All this effort for an animal who was otherwise doomed to be euthanized.

No matter how long I work in rescue it's still amazing how large the network of dog lovers is.  So I would be remiss in not sending prayers of thanksgiving to the unknown people who helped bring all the dogs who've shared my life to me.  Thank you, thank you for all you did, and all you do.

Sign me - proud to work in rescue.....and lucky to love dogs.

Sophie Dances

Sophie dances when no one is looking.  She also plays best without an audience.  Yesterday she dragged a sofa cushion clear across the room.  For being a little bit of a pointer, she can move mountains.  It's tough to get in good corrections when you can't catch her in the act.  Maybe we need those large round mirrors in the corners on the walls so you can see what's going on in the other room.  Or maybe not, that just sounds creepy. 

I am always torn between seizing those training moments and just enjoying that she's willing to play and get into mischief.  Last night she showed me a beautiful point, just gorgeous.  She followed that by testing how long the flexi-leash and my right arm is.  Yes, the right arm is longer now thanks to her!  She is making progress.  This morning, while I was out in my robe of course, she wanted to linger in the yard while I wanted to get in out of the wind.  That falls under the "be careful what you wish for" theory you know?

I suspect, that like Sophie, many of us dance when no one is looking.  But I also think, if we danced spontaneously that others would join in.  So, I have to ask, where do you dance?

Converts

As much as I love pointers, and have been known to sing their praises a time or two, I don't have the ability to convert people to love the breed like the dogs do.  I have to tell you, they worked their magic last weekend.

Hank's magic is the sort of "hey I'm a loveable dufus....pet me....pet me....pet me....can I snuggle with you" kind of magic".  Mick's is more of a "hey, I'm a totally cool dude and a hunting dog to boot" sort of magic.  And of course, Sophie's is a "hey, I'm a cute little pocket pointer....shy...starting to open up....skittish.....silly when she thinks no one is looking....adorable...heart winning" type of magic. 

Truthfully, pull these three dogs together and who?  Who I ask you could resist?  If I could send them on a Pointer Revival Tour to bring pointer lovers into the fold I would do it!  Now, I may be biased.  Or, I may be really on to something here. 

Either way, the pups touched hearts this weekend.  And who among us doesn't need a little more of that in our life? 

A Bird is a Bird is a Bird

To say the pointers are hunting dogs is an understatement.  Mick will hunt anything that moves in the yard.  I've seen him snatch bee's from mid-air.  Now I don't endorse that particular sort of hunting.  It doesn't reflect great genius, as much as pure instinct.  He'll hunt the bunny's, squirrels, snakes, and the crickets.  To me, Mick frozen on point on a cricket is as beautiful as if he was out in the field.   Since I never get him out in the field he compensates however he can. 

Yesterday I observed him from the kitchen window watching, watching something in the garden.  He was most intent about it. Then he started to bark at it, which is way out of the norm.  From my stance I couldn't see what he was hunting.  Of course, it was on the outside of the invisible fence, so his access was limited.   Finally, my curiosity, and his barking led me out to investigate.   It wasn't until I was almost in the garden bed that I saw his "prey". 

I am 100% certain at some point in Mick's life that he prayed for something more exotic to hunt than what he finds in our yard.  He was probably hoping for a pheasant or a duck, but may have been somewhat vague in his petition.   What he got was a tropical bird. 

Now, I don't know tropical birds, but the beautiful lime green of it told me it was someone's lost pet.  I had my camera in my pocket so quickly snaps two pic's of it.  At that point it kept coming closer and closer to us, which was obviously a problem.  Mick is a somewhat less than reliable diplomat in greeting foreign aviary dignitary's.  Hank was right there too.  Face it, two pointers and a tropical bird is a recipe for appetizers. 

I hauled the two dogs in the house, grabbed the phone to call animal control, and by the time I went back the bird was gone.  The bird probably surmised I'd taken the two dogs in to get honey mustard for it's wings.  I went out wondering if I caught the bird what I'd planned to do with it.  I had no viable plan, but it turns out I didn't need one.

I hope it made safely back home.  I'm glad Mick brought it to my attention.  And, it's proof prayers are always answered, just not always in ways we expect.