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Tuesday, April 30, 2013

11th Assistance Dog Blog Carnival--call for submissions

Just found out that the deadline for the 11th ADBC has been extended until May 4. That's good for me, because I hope to have a post up before then!

In the meantime, if you are a blogger and are interested in participating, check out Sharon Wachsler's blog to learn more about how to submit a post. Wachsler is the founder of the ADBC.

This edition of the ADBC is hosted by Frida Writes. The theme she selected is Resources and Tools.

Stay tuned.....

Tuesday, April 16, 2013


Four days ago, I left my back door on cross-country skis. A freak spring storm dropped four inches of sleet-sugar snow and I was not going to miss an opportunity. The trails through our 13 acres led me to the Rifle River Recreation Area and thousands more acres of wilderness.

I took cc'd (career-changed) Gus along. 

Gus approaches like he wants to herd me back onto my skis. I had taken them off so I could shoot a photo.

As young, strong and exuberant as Gus is, after an hour and a half I decided to turn toward home--no way was I going to be able to carry his 70 pounds back if he crapped out on me. Never mind what would happen if I crapped out on him!

It was a good choice. The last half-mile was a put-your-head-down-and-slide-one-ski-ahead-of-the-other slog back to the house. But we lived to tell about our wonderful last ski of the 2012/2013 winter.

Yesterday's rain (and today's sun) is making the snow sigh like the wicked witch of the west, "I'm melting, melting! Oh what a life!"

I headed out my back door again, this time clad in hiking boots, not skis, this time with all three dogs. What a joyous, muddy, snowmelt mess! Water ran downhill like miniature waterfalls and filled the hollows into pools.

Dutch's pawprint in the last of the snow along the trail.
"Come on, keep up!" Dutch seemed to say as he looks back at me at the beginning of our hike.

Grousehaven Lake was still frozen over, but open water kissed the shoreline around Grebe Lake. I thought to take some pictures from the iced-in fishing dock on Grebe, which was accessible by a long pier.

The fishing dock on Grebe Lake.

Gypsy and Gus raced ahead. Dutch followed, attached to my waist by a long green lead.


Just a few yards onto the pier, Dutch stepped off into open water; it was deep enough that he went all the way under. His head broke the surface like Shamu-the-whale, his front paws slapped the water like the fins of a circus seal. I guided him toward shore with the lead. He didn't have to swim much before his back paws touched bottom--he bounded onto dry land and shook himself silly.

"What happened?"


Dutch's first swim!

Toward the end of our hike, Dutch looks back at me. What do you suppose he is thinking?

Monday, April 1, 2013

Golden Deceiver

Dutch rears up onto Gus's back and snatches a muzzle full of Labby-neck. Gus ducks and bucks. The golden fur-ball flips, upended; an oversized dog pillow breaks his landing.

Gus postures in play, waiting for the next move, but Dutch lies motionless on his side. His eyes are half-closed.

Gus straightens up and looks over at us as if uncertain what to do. In a blink, Dutch launches a renewed attack, catching the older dog by surprise.

Possum Retriever!