Reunion

I got up last Friday and told Stella it was her lucky day. If she were a teenager, I'm certain I would've gotten the full blown eye roll right then and there. It was a long busy day and she was surprised when I produced her leash again at 5:30. We drove for a little while and then turned onto a winding road bordered at the back by a creek. I turned the rear view mirror in her direction. She was about to scratch off a ticket worth more than five dollars, I wanted to see her face if I could. Her nose went straight out the window. A minute later we pulled into a driveway we hadn't been in since early January. A familiar black dog headed up to the gate toward us. He blinked, looked behind him and again at us, as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

I waved at him. He knew then, who and what he was looking at. As did his former girlfriend, Stella. She jumped into the front seat, which she never does, and then back to the backseat again as I slowly drove down the driveway and into the parking spot. Now if this were a movie, we'd be at the part where we're all running toward each other through a field of daisies in slow motion. The love fest that followed was so sweet it would rot your teeth. Diesel jumped into the back seat of my car and sat down facing forward, like it was yesterday and when I told him to get out he simply moved over to the other seat and sat down again. It was hysterical. There's no question he's having the time of his life at the farm. He has all he needs there to fill up his days with the things dogs love most. Toys, treats, canine friends, feline friends, love and attention, livestock, a horse trough filled with water. He's still the same lover boy that he always was and although we probably overstayed our welcome (having too much fun - you understand) I still hope we get to do it again sometime. Many thanks to Diesel's mom for the invitation and great DINNER.

Diesel update

Here is a great update from Diesel's new mom Debbie (who we're officially crazy about): 

Diesel and Maggie are good friends now – Maggie’s still the boss but they do play together.  He’s used to the routine now, he goes out in the morning and stays out until night unless the weather is bad…Maggie is scared of lightning and thunder so I always bring her in and it’s not fair to leave him outside so he comes in also.  He’s very good about going to his bed and laying down when he’s in the house although sometimes he gets very excited and runs around like a goofball. [ed. note: I find this incomprehensible.]

I got Diesel a toy that he’s absolutely gaga over – it’s just a squeaky ball wrapped in canvas with several canvas tails so you can play tug of war.  He’s so obsessive about it and it just cracks me up when he squeaks it – he’s loves it.  I have discovered that he keeps it safe by burying it then digging it back up so it’s always muddy and nasty but he will carry it around for hours and hours.

He’s laying out on the deck in the sun right now next to Maggie.  He won’t go near the horses and when I let them in the front yard, he stays under the carport and watches to make sure they don’t come anywhere near him (they couldn’t really care less about where he is anyway).  I’ll be interested to see how he handles the farrier when he comes to do my horses because I bring them under the carport for the farrier so Diesel’s  safe place will be penetrated by those evil horses – what will he do?  So far, he’s a pretty happy guy.

I wonder if you trained Diesel to run on a treadmill.  The first nasty day that he was here and I couldn’t play ball with him to spill some of his energy – I put him on the treadmill and he immediately knew what to do.  It’s wonderful because now if he’s too full of himself and I don’t have the time or inclination to go outside and work it out of him, I just stick him on the treadmill and let him go for a mile or more and then he’s just fine.

He’s a good dog and I’m glad to have him.

How does it feel to only have one dog to contend with? I bet you find you have a lot of extra time on your hands and a lot calmer life.

First, thanks to Debbie for the update. We really appreciate it. Second, as I told her in a return e-mail, I did (in a fit of exhaustion) teach Diesel to run on the treadmill. I hadn't mentioned it here until this very minute because I wanted a good video of it which necessitated moving furniture and setting up a light, but I ran out of time over the holidays. It was a lot of fun and to be honest, I didn't have to do that much teaching. I just had to figure out the logistics of it and say "good boy" a few times and he understood. I held the leash and pretended to walk or jog along next to him.  He did it without second guessing me, without an explanation and with zero experience. It was beautiful. 

Stella, on the other hand..did not master the treadmill. Stella analyzes everything and she thinks way too much. She'll walk up onto anything I ask her to but you let the floor start moving and Stella is going to pick up her marbles and go straight home.

Lastly, life is definitely more calm with just one dog. Especially since the two of them used to play the canine version of Smackdown in my office twice a day. Initially, I encouraged this behavior - in order to teach them  to "stop" on command but they burned some good energy that way too and never once broke anything or turned over a piece of furniture - which I still find amazing. 

Giddyup

Stella and I have had a little bit of extra fun this last week. I know she misses her playmate - mostly because about once a day she leaps up in the air and does the play bow to me followed by some basketball-type moves. She watches my eyes and if she sees anything that resembles adventure in them, the chase is on. We race through the house for a couple of minutes then I catch her and then she doubles back and catches me. I start laughing and fall down in the floor. It's a game she and Diesel played twice a day for the last six months. A game Diesel apparently tried to play some variation of with a horse recently.

What Diesel saw in the horse's eyes however was not adventure. It was more like a sign that read: Prepare to meet your God - little man. There with the blur of horses hooves and possibly some earth rattling.

Then, according to new mom "Debbie" there was "rolling on the ground, staggering like a drunk, screeching like a girl and running for the hills". At first she thought he might have been clipped in the mouth by the horse but further investigation determined that the only thing fractured in the melee was Diesel's ego which we know from experience, can be repaired. In any case, it was high drama but he's fine. Let's hope he remembers it for a long, long time. Anybody have a dog/horse story?


Dogs and Humans, A Love Story by Lee Charles Kelley.

Goodbye and hello!

Thanks to  Coffee with a Canine for having us over for coffee and featuring Carny Dog on the blog today. Welcome to any new visitors that might happen along. Feel free to take the tour, join in and comment. We love to hear your stories too!

This is a photo of my most excellent friends Beverly and Carr having one last conversation with Diesel before he went to his new home on the real farm. They were kind enough to take Diesel in during the first week of his rescue/liberation.

 

The girl

Here is the first day report courtesy of Diesel's new mom:
(editor's note: Maggie is Diesel's new female companion)

Did you know that Diesel buries his food?  He’s a hoarder.  He buried a dog biscuit in one of the stalls and later took a mouthful of food from a bucket and buried in the vegetable garden.

He has met two of the cats and doesn’t seem to want to bother them, they don’t seem to be worried about him either.  He has been outside with them now – I wanted to make sure he wouldn’t chase them but he was too busy checking out everything else to pay much attention to them after he gave them a good sniffing.

You are right about his obsession with the red booda ball…I had to hide it but I think he’s getting the same way about the truck now…he can’t stop looking at it anytime we are outside and he can’t wait to get back in it.

I discovered that he’s pretty good at chasing a stick and bringing it back to me but it’s only because he doesn’t realize that he can be a couple of feet away from me and I can reach the stick…it’s not like a ball where you have to get right next to him to get it…I think it was a big surprise to him that I could get the stick from him.

The fence is completely working now much to his chagrin so he’s been outside on his own while I watch from the house.  He didn’t even get shocked but he’s smart enough to know that it’s on…he can hear it snap.  He hasn’t wandered far from the barn without me but he’s exploring a little on his own.  He hasn’t gotten over the horses yet, they came up to the deck a minute ago to be petted and he was entirely put out by that.

I worked the tractor for a while and he did go a little postal about the tractor…he tried to climb up to the seat.  I had to get my piaffe whip to make him stay far enough away from the tractor to keep him safe…after a few minutes he settled down and just trotted next to it but he wouldn’t take his eyes off of it and kept barking at it.

Maggie thinks he’s Satan.

This was written Friday. Three days have passed and things have begun to settle down, word has it that all is well and that Diesel and his new mom are having fun getting to know one another. He has his own bag of tennis balls and new girl Maggie - though still reserved - may be reconsidering her options. I'm pretty sure it's a done deal. We'll have updates periodically (thanks Debbie) and a few leftover pictures from last Thursday coming before long.

Meanwhile, is Stella pathetic or what? She got to visit the farm too and run in the pasture with Diesel before we went home Friday. He gets to keep his name, by the way, which is great. She's  obviously missed him but I'm certain she'll be fine too. We've gone back to walking in some of her old favorite places  - which is way more exciting for both of us than our standard romp through the neighborhood.

The Adoption

About the time we, the three of us got pretty good at all walking together like civilized animals, Diesel hit the mother lode.

The week between Christmas and the New Year, I got two serious inquiries about him. One was a note stuck to the door from a couple of my good neighbors (yes, they do exist).  I read the note, felt a little pang of impending loss but went ahead and made the call. He got a short interview from that call from friends of a friend, who happened to be looking for a dog. I passed my contact information on to them and waited. The very next day the rescue contacted me and said someone had called asking about Diesel. I had the idea that maybe it was the same person but that wasn't the case. Again, I passed the information along and a few days went by. Then, there was a message from someone we'll call Debbie on the machine. We spent about thirty minutes talking on the telephone and  I wondered after we finished, if Debbie was a hallucination I just had or a really mean joke.

You know how when you're a kid and you get a dog and some time passes how one day you come home from school and the dog is gone and one of your parents tells you that your dog went to "live on a farm"? Some - I'd say even many of you have heard this spiel - you're shocked and sorry, you never really saw the dog go or had a chance to say goodbye but of course it's a wonderful place where the dog can run and play and chase rabbits all day and though you feel just terrible somehow you convince yourself that what your parents said is true and the dog really is going to have a nice life there? Remember that story? This happened at my house more than one time although my mother will deny it to this day, none of those dogs ever went to any farm. They were all taken to the pound or dumped off somewhere or given away. I'll never know the details but it took a lot longer than I'd like to admit to figure out that "the farm" didn't exist and my dogs weren't hanging out at the barn in some canine Nirvana.

Guess what.

There really is a farm. And our friend Diesel found it or to be more precise, the farm found him. It was the second phone call. The dream I couldn't allow myself to have as a foster mom knowing it would obliterate all future candidates, called us right up on the telephone.

Diesel and I went over to Debbie's for a visit. We had a run in the pasture. We petted the horses and had tea - with fruitcake. I know what you're thinking. It was unbelievably good though, handmade-by-a-Louisiana-woman-type good. That was Tuesday. She filled out the application for Diesel and we all traded e-mails. 

It was then I started thinking seriously about Diesel's departure and our long history together. The neighbors, the police, him galloping through my flower beds in the middle of May, every May, his predecessor Buddy - who got hit and died slowly in front of my house the night before Thanksgiving and the rage I felt when his owner asked me to take care of it, because he just couldn't deal with it right now, how Diesel showed up weeks later - the rebound puppy, me already hoping for his liberation as he refused to become the bully his owner craved but howled insufferably on the chain, terrifying some of the dog walkers, regularly evading the dogcatcher and finally, how he won us over - me and Stella and all but the wimpiest of neighbors with his sincere loyalty and good-natured affection and now that I was thinking about it everything that's really good in a dog.

All of this reflection caused a minor league meltdown in the pet food aisle at Wal-Mart. It was warped and poetic, pain and joy all ground together with a discount mortar and pestle against the backdrop of Wal-Mart. It was as my young niece Katie likes to say: epic.

We are so happy to report that as of yesterday, Diesel has his very own family. It is made up of one woman, three horses, a female dog and three cats, a creek and a never-ending supply of rabbits, mice, horse manure and neighbor dogs to run the fence with. I'm guessing if you're a dog it just doesn't get any better than that.

 

 

Treats for humans

Diesel and I got a little birthday present in the mail today. We had a cheapie video camera last year sometime but it stopped working (as expected - it was really cheap). This one isn't top of the line or anything but in nice light, I think it'll be fine and I can use it for my impromptu interviews as well. The sound is excellent.
This little clip was just me trying it out for the first time. I predict someone is going to fall hard for this face when it finally does happen. Until then...

Cracks of dawn

It is well to be up before daybreak, for such habits contribute to health, wealth, and wisdom.   ~Aristotle

This morning I was awakened at five a.m.
By dogs, standing at the edge of my bed like zombies in the dark.
My cat lay silent, awake but perfectly still while they took turns chest-butting the mattress, their mild whimpering drowned out so purely by the sound of pouring rain. I kept my eyes closed and asked God  if he would make them lie down. He laughed along with the cat. 

Why I didn't buy that umbrella that was in my hands at the drug store two days earlier, is beyond me. Mine blew apart a month ago in a similar early morning excursion cum thunderstorm. It went skid-flying off down the street in some dark suburban blaze of Angry Birds on steroids. I was sorry to see it go too. That umbrella came to be mine the night I shot the Grand Opening Gala for the Schermerhorn Symphony Center back in September of 2006. It was a nice black version with their logo and a fake wooden handle, easily big enough to cover a woman and medium-sized dog. I should have known our relationship would end on a street in south Nashville. Enter the hooded raincoat. Boots.

Knowing that the odds of running into a lot of traffic or another dog walker at  that time of the morning in a downpour were pretty remote so I took both dogs. I figured since they woke me they deserved a real walk, no tiptoeing around in the front yard, if we're getting up in the dark to get soaked by rain, why not turn it into an event. Granted, it wasn't a run or even really a hike but it was pouring rain and I did mention that it was 5:00 right? Forty minutes and two plus miles later we were back home before daylight set in. I made coffee and tossed the wet towels down the basement steps. The zombies bounded around through the house, towel dried and naked, like little colts and the cat was not surprisingly, still in the bed.

For those of you without two big dogs in your fence-less house I might add, that at noon... we did it all over again. Rain shower included and yes, I am going to tell you a story about a treadmill the minute I find a video camera.   

They should've named him Easy

She lifts his entire hindquarters with her head and trots him through my office on his front paws like a wheelbarrow. He doesn't mind. In fact, he likes it. When they pass back through, the situation is reversed and now he is prancing, the loose skin of her jowl clenched between his teeth. She smiles and waves on the way by. I am a bystander. In this canine charade, I can only watch and learn and be entertained.

Pretty soon, someone is going to come along [you] and adopt this beautiful foster dog right out from under us. I can feel it. Stella and I will probably cry our eyes out that day but for some lucky person or family, it's going to be a life-changing event.

Sorry we've been slow to update. It's been extremely busy around here and any free time has been spent parading around the neighborhood with the large adoptable dog and his oh-so-ladylike girlfriend, Stella. Soon.

Cutting out the middle man

Here are a couple of stray shots I forgot to include in the last post. Believe it or not, that little duck appeared to be teasing Diesel. It kept coming back to us for the better part of an hour. I guess it gets pretty boring just floating around on the lake. Of course Diesel might as well be wearing a t-shirt that says Rookie on it so maybe it just couldn't resist.

Water Racer

So you don't have a fenced in yard and your dog is unpredictable around strange dogs and his recall isn't what it should be or will be and you have to find a way to drain the energy out of him in order to (as some famous dog trainers might say..) make a clear path to his mind.. So what do you do?

Well, our choices are somewhat limited but the best thing I've found so far involves a lake and a tennis ball. Let it be known that our friend Diesel is a little bit obsessed with the ball under most circumstances but after a few swims, his demeanor is much more relaxed. He begins to "drop it" automatically. This gives me the opportunity to "catch" the behavior and name it for him. Over and over and over again until he is asleep sitting up in the back of my car.

At first he wouldn't swim at all. Then I explained the whole Labrador Retriever thing to him and an hour later, he was a pro.

The Graduate

We got the certificate.
Diesel, formerly misunderstood, outside, chained to the doghouse, could've been a junkyard dog, Diesel - is officially a Pup Scout graduate. Many thanks to his teacher Jane and his anonymous sponsor and all the other pups and owners who graciously put up with us for nine weeks. We commend your brave spirits.

Up to the very last week, he/we had trouble getting into and out of the room where our class was. I mentioned at the beginning we had to pass through an agility training room filled with equipment and dogs each week. At this point in his fresh start - just opening the door to go into this room was like plugging him into a wall socket. He did (mostly) get used to being around the other dogs in class though and that part was very good. That's actually the biggest hurdle we faced and the reason I wanted to take him in the first place. It was established early on that he's some kind of boy genius. Smarter than I ever gave him credit for before. He learned to sit and lie down, stay and come and all of the basics on the first or second try. He's seriously food motivated though so if you don't have any in your hand - his responses vary, for now anyway. For some reason he blew off every trick I tried to teach him and didn't learn a single one, not even with Stella and her oh-so-theatrical demonstrations. We'll more than likely try again on some rainy day or save them for his future owner to work on.

Field Trip + separation anxiety (mine)

Diesel (bathed and manicured) went on a field trip Thursday with a kind person who I reckoned might be a perfect match for him. He got a manicure with the Dremel tool. I can't believe two big dogs in a row have let me use that thing on their toenails. Anyway, I was nervous about him going in the same way a mom is nervous about the first day of school. Would he be good? Would they like him? Would he play well with others? Once he'd gone I was fine. Stella, on the other hand was a little distressed. She laid in front of his crate much of the evening and even manged to parlay that into sleeping in the bed with me and the cat.

It ended up being an exercise as much as anything. Although I'm told he did play well with others for the most part - it was also true he wasn't a good fit for their particular household. There were variables, like work schedules and energy levels and roommates. And roommates' pets that came into play, derailing his chances this time around. The good thing though is that everyone took something from the experience.

This begs the question: Once someone is interested in your foster dog - what is the best way to go about setting up meetings, home visits, etc.?  What's best for the dog and the dog's eventual success. Every situation will be a little different but I found once the interest was there I wasn't exactly sure how to proceed. Should we meet in the park and go for a walk? Should I have them over to my house? Or go to theirs? Sleep over? Loan the dog out for a day or a week? Would two nights be better than one? Do I wear him out before he visits or let them experience (and drain) his energy first hand?

In this first instance, there was someone I knew who could vouch for the potential adopter so though I didn't exactly know him, he wasn't a total stranger either. He suggested the sleepover and I just went with it. He was young and seemed perfectly capable, even well-suited I thought, to tend to the needs of a big goofy dog. Had it been someone that showed up out of the blue, or seemed only partially qualified, I think we would have moved much slower. My friend Beverly suggested a polygraph and a background check (she's taken a shine to Diesel herself) but that could be construed as excessive, working against us in the long run.

Hypothetically speaking, if this person had decided to adopt Diesel - then what? I know the mechanics of the application papers, the rabies tag and microchip transfer, that could all happen in an hour but is there some window of time or schedule of events that's better or worse for the dog? Should I let the new owner pick him up or should I drop him off? 

Am I talking about the dog really or am I talking about me? It's hard to say but I can't wait to meet the person who realizes that he's going to be their next best friend.

Snoozefest

He sleeps on his back. Front paws pulled up tight against his chest, back legs splayed open, a proud display of his man parts, what's left of them. The tail wags when you look at him even if his eyes are closed. That cracks me up. It would be sweet even if you never heard the soft snore that goes with it all. Occasionally when he's dreaming he snorts and whimpers loud enough to garner the attention of his current girlfriend. She rouses from her own slumber and walks over to him, sleepy-eyed and swaying. Careful to pick out a spot just under his rib cage she punches him in the gut with her nose until he stops. Then she goes back to her own bed and lies down. He hasn't suggested anybody make him a sandwich yet but I'm sure it's coming.

Stella and I are headed to the fairgrounds this week if only for a quick peek at this year's incarnation. Ordinarily, we would've gone today but it hasn't stopped raining here for the last thirty hours.

We did get to dog sit this weekend for Banjo and Ginger so we managed a few laps in their pool on Saturday before the rain showed up. Diesel loves the water. I can't wait to take him to a lake.

Webcam Volunteer

The new web cam makes me pretty queasy but Diesel isn't shy. He's sitting in my office chair (all his idea). The real trick, as evidenced in the pictures, was mastering the controls with him in it.

Big Black Dog

Emmylou Harris could sing a song about chip dip and it would be one of the better songs you heard all day. If anyone is in the market for a big black dog.... I know where to find one. I'll even vouch for him. Barring that option, there's a dog over in east Nashville that is on his way to Metro Animal Control. You all know what that means right? His name is Harpo. He was found sleeping in the front seat of a car at the home of some friends. These kind people already have three male dogs and are unable to keep him even temporarily. They (along with myself) have spent the last two or three days calling on all of their friends and offering all manner of financial support in return for temporary shelter - to no avail. Much like the case with Diesel, no rescue was willing to take him unless someone agrees to do the heavy lifting. If anyone either in Nashville or beyond has an idea (sometime in the next twenty four hours) please don't hesitate to contact me here. It's a shame he was probably dumped by someone or left home himself to find a better life and now like so many others, he appears skinny and beat up, headed for death row.

Payaso

It was last Tuesday, the third Good Pup! class at Pup Scouts. We're working on the usual, basic commands and good behavior. Loose leash walking. Sit. Down. Come. My personal favorite: Leave it.

Our patient and talented trainer Holly, got out the long leash and announced that we were about to work on Come, only this time - from a distance. I checked my treat pouch to make sure I had enough to distract Diesel from what I thought (shame on me) would be his downfall. The other dogs.

Thankfully, we walked away from our classmates a pretty good distance before starting. I was still unsure. I peered into his eyes though and said the words: "Diesel, come." Without the slightest bit of hesitation he launched into this cartoon-style peel out where his legs were going like a freight train but his body wasn't moving. He was suspended in time and space. When he finally did get his feet planted he was over to me in about two seconds. It was hysterical pretty much every time he did it. I was laughing so hard the third time that when he came sailing into my arms he rammed his whole head in the treat pouch and cleaned it out. He didn't stop wagging that night until long after we were home.

If dogs could laugh

Back to school

Diesel posing in the dining room chair he claimed at Beverly's house

Obedience school may turn out to be the greatest thing that ever happened to Diesel. Except for the actual getting in the door part that is. And the leaving. During class Diesel is a dream. He's figured out exactly how to get the pay off and really the biggest roadblocks have been that and him joining in in on any and all barking. He is without a doubt the best barker of the bunch so once they get started he's more than happy to show off his skills. It's fine.

The room we have to walk through to get to class is like a small gym. It's set up for agility and there is typically one or more well-behaved dogs off leash, running the course. This drives Diesel mad. Last night we arrived early and when we walked in and he did his thing, everyone felt compelled to move to the other side of the room. I didn't blame them. I would've moved too. Fortunately though, we got to watch the agility class for a few minutes and that was great. Once Diesel calmed down, he was totally fascinated. I mean fascinated in an "I really think I could do that" kind of way. We may be early birds next week too, just to be the audience. Despite the little behavioral issue, I can see him becoming more confident and relaxed. It's really a lovely thing to watch. He was always a good dog, don't get me wrong, he was just limited in the ways he could express all that big dog energy. Meanwhile, we're just here, laying on some foster love and keeping a keen eye out for energetic adults who might benefit from seventy pounds of goofball inspiration.

Oh and if anyone is looking for a new high powered dog treat... try BilJac frozen dog food. I don't know what's in it but apparently it's like crack cocaine for dogs.

I've taken a little hiatus here to install some new software (Lightroom) guaranteed to keep me busy for the next decade cataloging pictures. The good news is: Among other things, I've found a few old carny dog shots that were lost in the cyber-filing cabinet. The bad news is: I may never leave the house or do dishes or for that matter, eat - again.

Don't. Stop. Don't stop.

She walks slowly up to him from behind
careless and refined.
Her feet fall perfectly in line with his
she hesitates in the stillness

Side by side, their eyes meet.
She pulls back then just enough to make him quiver
and presses her face ever so gently into the side of his jaw.

She whispers...
Douchebag.

Next thing I know, it's like a WalMart riot in the middle of my office floor. I've had to get out a whistle. After about a week I managed to get some control over the situation but now they're switching up the time and place.



Fortunately we all went a-dogsitting this last weekend at Aunt Beverly's house (pictures to follow) and the two of them got to get some of it out of their system ripping through the yard and engaging in all manner of Smackdown-type maneuvers. It's really a joy to watch although when they get running I feel like all the humans should have a helmet on.

We're off to obedience school tonight. I hope Diesel can hang with the other dogs and not be too stressed. If he can make that particular hurdle, I suspect he'll be an honor student.