Poetry: Haiku Flying Puppy

FLD Gus comes flying when called!

"flying puppy"

I merely called "come"

little black Lab wheeled and launched
transformed super-pup!

A TROMP IN THE WOODS (patti's "patch")

Thirteen acres of hardwood forest, cloaked in powdery snow.  A marvelous place to tromp with curious dogs...

Snow-pocket bed.

Who made a bed here?  And here?  What creature wrestled these leaves from under the snow?  I imagine warm, furry bodies curled tight, protected from wind in the the snow-pocket beds.

Are these beds evidence of local coyotes?

The indentations remind me of Gypsy's contortions when she rustles up her doggie-bed before lying down at the end of the day.  She snuffs and snorts and digs furiously with all four paws to align things just so.  She'll go on like this for several minutes until, almost out of breath, she stops, looks up at us with an air of frustration, circles, and plops down with a huge sigh.

Gus, sniffing the beds.

Some areas look like there was a herd, or else one or two who, like Gypsy, couldn't get comfy in one spot so tried another.  And another.  And another.  Before finally moving on to another likely site.

Further down the trail I make out a clear track.  NOT coyote--definitely DEER.

DEER tracks.

Snow-nosed Gypsy.

I love how snow enables me to witness what my dogs are tracking, their noses brushing up white fluff.  Gypsy tears off to search beneath blanketed pines, FLD Gus hard on her tail.  I follow.  

Wild rabbit scat?

They discover some scat, most likely rabbit, but it is lighter in color and bigger than the city-rabbit scat prevalent around our old townhouse.

The Deer-Blind Bar.

I squeeze inside an old, deserted deer blind.  Gypsy and Gus look in like they are sidled up to a northern bar for a shot and a beer after the hunt.   

"You buying?"  Gypsy seems to say to Gus.  

Gypsy-doodle at the Deer-Blind Bar.

 "I'm not old enough!" Gus complains.

FLD Gus sidles up.

Come on dogs, it's time for dinner, I say, heading home.  And I AM buying.

The dogs come home.

Tuesday's Training TIP: NAILS!!!

WARNING:  DO NOT TOUCH MY PAWS

As soon as I reach for the dog-nail clippers, Gypsy slyly slinks from sight.  Her negative reaction is due to my not trimming her nails consistently.

Years ago, when Gypsy was only a couple of months old, I tried to make it a weekly practice to cuddle her while I snipped her sharp puppy nails.  Inevitably I cut a nail too short; she yipped and pulled her paw away.  No doubt I overreacted myself trying to staunch the bleeding, and that nail-cutting session was over.

Guess what happened the very next time I tried to clip her nails?

You got it--the memory of that bleeding nail burned in her brain.  The fight was on.  As Gypsy grew, Andy helped hold her still while I did the dastardly deed.  And then the screaming began.  I worried that neighbors might call Animal Control on me for torturing my dog!

During one visit to the Vet, I asked Dr. Hamilton to cut her nails.  Two of his staff and I secured Gypsy while he did the job.  (He cut at least one nail too short also.)  Gypsy screeched bloody murder!  I hoped we didn't scare anyone in the waiting room.

I asked, What can I do to deal with this?

Dr. Hamilton replied, "Play with her feet as often as you can so she gets desensitized, and gradually re-introduce the clipper."

Okay.  So.  I played with Gypsy's feet.  (*See Note.)

Eventually I was able to cut her front paw nails without a fight (and no screaming), but she trembled and moaned anxiously.  I cut her rear paw nails another time.  I tried clipping immediately before heading out for a run, as a way to "reward" Gypsy, and to get her mind off of it if I cut a quick.  Helping Gypsy tolerate nail trimming was, and continues to be, a lot of effort.  Is it any wonder that I am not consistent?

MY FUTURE LEADER DOG PUPPIES

As a volunteer puppy-raiser for Leader Dogs for the Blind, I am expected to touch my puppies all over, getting them used to a "Handler's Exam."  (See my post from June 1, 2010 for more information.)  And I do; however, nail cutting seems to be my bane.

With every puppy I raise, I vow to maintain a consistent nail-cutting routine, but, after the first time nicking a quick, this routine always becomes more difficult.  Puppies remember, and struggle in avoidance.

I used a small human-nail clipper on FLD Gus when we first brought him home.  He didn't mind that at all.  It's impossible to see the quick through those dark black Lab nails, so I just cut the very tip.  When Gus got older, I used the dog nail-clipper.  One miss-clip later and FLD Gus was done with nail cutting!

Luckily, FLD Gus's nails stay short from walking on pavement and romping around, so I haven't had to trim them often.  Still, I've begun the process of desensitizing him.  Here's how:

HINTS TO DESENSITIZE

• Prevention is best. Touch your puppy's paws frequently with lots of praise!  Use a nail-clipper soon, and on a regular basis.

• If you cut the quick, have cornstarch or a bar of soap handy to staunch the bleeding.  Stay calm and don't end your session with that bad clip!  Distract your puppy with a treat in your hand, or a special toy, and keep cutting.  You might need assistance.

• Continue to touch and massage your puppy's paws whenever you can, not just when you trim the nails.

• If, like FLD Gus, your puppy tries to squirm his or her paw away, hold the paw calmly and be ready with a treat when he or she relaxes.  Praise!

• Gradually re-introduce the nail-clipper, perhaps cut only one nail in a session, increasing the number as your puppy accepts the routine.

FLD Gus is starting to let me touch his front paws; he has less of an issue with his rear paws.  (I must have snipped his front quick!)  I wonder how much trouble Leader Dogs for the Blind has with clipping the nails of all the dogs brought back for training.

(*Note:  I even tried the PediPaws-gizmo from the pet store.  I followed the directions to desensitize Gypsy and my then-current-puppy, FLD Mike to it, but the sandpaper head and battery-powered motor were not strong enough to take off much of the thick nails of my big dogs.  I suspect a groomer's Dremel-tool works much better.)

 

Packing Our "Stuff"

We were less than a week away to loading our "stuff" (thanks, George Carlin!) into the biggest U-Haul truck we could rent and hauling it all North to our new digs.  Andy worried that we wouldn't have things ready and asked if our nieces could help.

"Two girls want to help," my sister Anne said when I called.  "I'll bring them right over."

While Andy worked on dismantling his basement wood-working shop, the girls helped me pack books and coffee mugs.  (That was one smart thing we did, using SMALL boxes for books!)  Natalie took charge of wrapping mugs in newspaper; Sofia emptied the bookshelves that Andy had custom-built in our tiny living room.

I had trouble keeping up with the two of them--my job was to tape the boxes shut, label them, and stack them up for moving.  Less than an hour and a half later, our job was almost done.

Packing can't be all work.  Nat and Sofia took particular interest in a glass vase full of wine corks I saved from our kitchen-bridge dinner parties.  "Can we see those?" one of them asked me.  Sure.  We all plopped down at the kitchen table for a rest.

Nat & Sofia's cork log-pile.

"Wow, look at all of these.  Let's take them out."  Small hands regardless, Nat and Sofia still couldn't grab more than two or three corks at a time to get past the narrow mouth of the vase.  I poured us water (Nat preferred Grape Juice) and watched in amusement as they began a systematic sorting, first by color, then by brand-names etched on the corks.  Before long, pyramid-building began.

I wonder what will happen if I take this away?  I said reaching for one of the mugs Sofia used to support the cork log-pile.  Natalie screamed as corks crashed across the table.

Nat screams when I pull the stops out.

Not one to miss out on any action, FLD Gus scampered over.  Gypsy growled as he bumped past.  She wasn't sure exactly what was happening with all the packing commotion, but she was sure it couldn't be good.  She kept in high alert between us girls and the stairs going down to the basement.

Nat slipped off her chair to the tile floor to snuggle with Gus, who no longer fit in her lap.  (See my post from October 11, 2010 to see how much he's grown!)  "You know," she said, "I'm excited and happy for you and Uncle Andy, but still, it's a little sad."

Nat and FLD Gus, who weighed in at 39 lbs at 6 months.

Yep, I know what you mean, I said.  I'll miss you girls...but you can always come and visit.  And we'll be back to see you, too!