Jaci Dawn

Today’s photo of the day is brought to you by Bank of America. It is planted in front of the bank where I stop to make the nightly deposit from work. I’ve never noticed it before, but this week it is in full bloom and I know I want one in my yard.

I am referring to the tree (?) with “black” leaves and the fuzzy purple flowers. HELP???

Poor Harvey. His little neutering surgery left him swollen & bruised. He is on antibiotics and pain meds for the next 7 days in an attempt to reduce the swelling, get him past possible infection and relieve the obvious pain he doesn’t know he is in (did I ever mention bird dogs are rather stupid when it comes to pain? They are).

The vet told me to put ice packs on his scrotum if he will allow me. Yeah, just what *I* want to do with my free time! (Don’t ask what my husband said, it wasn’t pretty.) Anyway, now that you are done blowing liquid out your nostrils: Harvey doesn’t mind the ice pack. He’s very good. For ten minutes. He just lays still. But right at ten minutes, he’s done with ice. That’s OK: ten minutes is all it takes. We hope.

I really want Harvey to be a well-behaved dog. I want him to sit or lay down on command and stay there, not beg in the kitchen when I am cooking or drool on my plate when I am eating, and especially to not pull on the leash when we are walking. I am making him wait to go out doors (I get to go first) and I am making him wait before bolting out of his crate or his kennel when it is FREEDOM time. Sometimes all we get is a couple seconds’ pause, but it’s a pause.

We’re in this for the long haul and when I am finished, I want a good all-around dog that listens when I speak and does what he is told (for the most part, understanding that dogs are not perfect).

I’ve seen some improvement already, but the most gratifying aspect has been his reaction when I come home from work. He wags his entire body! Yup, folks, Harvey is bonding with me. And I am with him.

He has one very serious behaviour issue that I can only touch on right now. Be cause of his surgery, we have had to keep the big dogs apart for the most part: no rough housing or dominance-setting “spats.” It’s hard: Murphy (Don’s 80# dog) wants to PLAY NOW and Harvey has been over-sexed and wants to mount Murphy. We can’t let them get close enough to deal with the issue (but it has happened & I’ve taken the end of the leash to Harvey when he does it).

This issue really ticks me off. Not at Harvey, but at his former “owners”. Maybe they thought they would use him for breeding (although I think he is show quality, not field quality and I have a certain aversion to people breeding bird dogs just for “show”. I owned one of those once, and she was a useless Idiot. Loved her to pieces, but the Smart had been bred out of her. Sad). I don’t know what the former owners thought, if they thought at all. They allowed a beautiful, smart dog to learn some very bad & destructive habits and they didn’t bother to keep him restrained properly or to fully teach him some basic doggie manners.

The mounting thing is a dominant/aggressive act. It is more unacceptable than most of what old Murphy has ever done (including using my sofa as a trampoline).  In this house, Murphy should be King, but if the dogs sort it out in a different order down the road, so be it. But not this way. Growling & sparring are a far better option.

Oh, yeah… Harvey has been allowed on furniture. DRAT. But he’s usually pretty good about not using the sofa as a trampoline. So far.

Anyway… Anyone with ideas? I’m open to humane lessons (given that Harvey gets past this swollen scrotum thing that’s going on right now and we can turn the pair loose to play rough. I don’t know if Murphy will be aggressive enough to knock Harvey on his *ss. He hasn’t tried so far.

(And I thought Murphy had to be the top of the heap. Maybe not…?)

Thank you!!!

Know what that is?

That is a SHADOW on the sidewalk. A shadow is formed when the SUN is out and it is SHINING down on the earth and and object stands between the sun and the ground.

The dark area is where the SUNSHINE is BLOCKED. The light areas are where the SUNSHINE actually reaches the SURFACE of the earth and lights it up.

YES! It is June 23, Midsummer’s Eve in some cultures, and WE HAD SUNSHINE. I don’t need to go out and light a midsummer’s fire tonight because it is warm enough.

I am sweltering, sweaty, uncomfortable and I have two fans running in the upstairs windows and I DO NOT CARE. I’m just happy that it reached a temperature over 65-degrees Farenheit (18 degrees Celsius).

Unfortunately, I do not have any summer clothes out. I need to put the winter ones away still.

I’m just happy that I will have to sleep on top of the covers tonight. Something about stuffy hot summer days… I love them.

Harvey is not going to be a little dog. He’s slightly taller than Murphy and take a look at those paws. Right now, he’s severely underweight (a common problem with some young birddogs – you can feed them and feed them, but like a rail-skinny teenage boy, they don’t gain weight until they’re about five years old.)

Harvey knows a lot of voice commands: Here, Down, Stay, No. I don’t have to raise my voice too much to get his attention. He obviously has a willing heart and he’s rapidly learning that he may not pull or strain on the leash when we go walking. He doesn’t *like* to heel (birddogs want to be out in front, but that’s unacceptable on a short leash), but he’s learning to and my arm doesn’t feel like I’ve been dragged by a dog.

That’s a good sign: I don’t want a dog I have to fight with on the leash! We’ve met two other dogs while out walking and Harvey remained calm while they passed. Bicycles don’t faze him. His only weakness is cats (he wants to point at them and then he wants to chase them… He’s worse than Murphy with cats).

There are challenges with Harvey. One of them was finding a name he responded to, but he likes Harvey and comes every time I say it. Harvey, by the way, was a “pooka” that befriended Elwood P. Dowd in the 1950 movie of the same name (Jimmy Stewart stars). (If you have never seen the movie, rent it NOW.)

Harvey’s challenges:

1. He’s never been crate trained. He doesn’t want to ride in one in the back of the car or sleep in one at night. He wants to sleep on the bed. Even if I was inclined to allow him to seep on a bed, he hasn’t had a bath and he’s urine-soaked at present. He can’t have a bath until his surgery stitches are healed and dissolved.

2. He’s a barker. Sharp, loud, and constant. I didn’t want to resort to such a thing, but a $50 bark collar has been a great help. We’re only using it when Harvey is kenneled (when he is most prone to non-stop barking for attention’s sake). If Harvey wants to bark other times, he is free to do so (at strangers, to “talk” to us, normal “happy” barking – just not attention barking).

3. He has not been kennel trained. Unfortunately, since both Don & I work during the day, a kennel is the only way to keep our dogs safe. The fence is too low in front * & unlocked. Leaving a dog in the house only invites property damage. Fortunately, Harvey did well in the kennel yesterday while we were at home (five hours of supervised kennel time – we did not go out and play with or talk to him, but we monitored him and he knew we were there). He must have done well today (8 hours of kennel time until Don got home) because there were no nasty notes from neighbors on our front door.

Eventually, we will get the big dog run built and he will have more room. It will have a concrete floor and a ceiling to prevent digging and climbing. The kennel had a cover and a plywood floor for the same reason. Murphy’s kennel is on concrete & has a roof, too. But Murphy has always been kenneled. (Murphy also digs…)

and the biggest challenge: Harvey does not understand staying behind a fence. Our first day together, I allowed him supervised freedom in the yard. That lasted until he started digging and pulling at boards on the fence. And then he took a run at the only short fence in our yard, right out in front: 48″. Murphy has never bothered to try to jump THAT fence, but it didn’t stop Harvey, even with his swollen little surgery site. I caught hold of him on the top of the fence as he was scrambling over.

He now has to be on an exercise tether in the back yard, supervised, until we determine how best to deal with his desire to run.

Don uses a shock collar on Murphy when in the field, because Murphy has also been known to attempt to run. Murphy is quite a bit more stubborn than Harvey and he’s had the shock collar up to 4 — only once, but… It works quite well with Murphy. Don has extra collars, but he needs an extra shocker. This is a great idea for when we finally take Harvey out in the field or the woods.

I’m not sure it will be the answer in the yard, BUT – I read that collar-smart dogs can have a “dummy” collar put on them and they will think that it is the same collar… A great idea.

I thought about an invisible fence inside the perimeter of our back yard fence, but that leaves out the Murphy equation. Murphy has never truly challenged the borders (except to hit the fence out front pretty hard and knock boards loose). Murphy would have more freedom than Harvey & I wonder if Harvey would notice??

(Note about that front fence: we plan on changing it out to an 8′ privacy fence. Zoning laws do not prohibit it. But the fence on the north side of the yard is only 5′ tall and Harvey can scale that by climbing just like he did the 48″ fence. Murphy doesn’t even think about it because 48″ is his limit. He’s too big to try for a taller fence.)

Harvey sees the vet tomorrow and I will ask his/her advice (it’s a clinic: we get who we get. They’re all great vets and have all taken care of our pets for over 20 years).

Meanwhile: crate training is going on. I am sleeping on a cot in the studio beside Harvey in the crate so he doesn’t feel abandoned. We’re keeping him in the studio because until his surgery stitches heal, we have to keep him separated from Murphy: no rough housing or doggie-dominance tests allowed until Harvey is well enough to rough-house back.

Murphy is beside himself. Here we brought him a playmate and he can’t PLAY with him! He’s barked, growled, and even stolen Harvey’s toys in an attempt to get Harvey to play with him. (When I say growled, I mean that sort of growl a dog makes when it wants another dog to play – not the “you better be ware” growl.) Tonight, Murphy brought a stuffed animal to Harvey and tried to get Harvey to play. It was a poignant moment. Harvey ignored Murphy.

I spent the past 48 hour trying every name I could think of on this dog. Several friends tossed in their favorites: Albert, Polk (short for Polka-dot), Chance, and I considered Lucky, Plato, Patch, Stripe, Beer… But the only name that Harvey has even remotely responded to on a consistent basis has been the last one: Harvey.

I figure I will lose that extra ten pounds I’ve been carrying in about two weeks’ time. If my walking partner can’t walk fast enough to get my heart rate up, two walks a day with Harvey will. Oh, yeah.

Anyway, the first 48 hours were kind of hairy. Don was very sure he didn’t know if this would work out (pay backs for Murphy!!), but tonight he said that Harvey was wonderful.

The next 24 hours will be touch-and-go: Harvey is slightly depressed, still in pain and swollen and I have a vet appointment for him at 5 tomorrow. He needs a clean bill of health and some pain meds. I think he’d like to be free of the “cone of shame”, too. (From the movie “UP!”)

Not really a cone anymore, but still awkward.

He just laid his head on my foot. Time to go and be a doggie mom.

Javan is a year old and he’s full of personality. He’s fairly mild tempered (so far) which is great because his older brother is very bossy.

I had the privilege of hanging out with the boys yesterday morning: farmer’s market and shopping garages. Zephan held my hand most of the time and looked woefully at the strawberries his mother bought at the market. He also told me about every truck that drove by and made certain that Jay-Phen knew what the rules were.

Later in the day, we all gathered at the kids’ place for strawberry shortcake and “Happy Birthday Choo-Choo.” And I took photos.

Javan is still cruising furniture. His brother proudly told me that is a “Soccer!” in Javan’s hand.

Oh, be still my heart! These little guys grow up so fast! Javan actually smiles a lot now.

The Director. Who, by the way, informed me that Don’s name is “Baba” and mine is “Gamba” or something like that. I just know it isn’t “Gamma” but sounds like Grandpa. He announced everyone who came to the door and he drooled over all the presents. Silly boy!

Well, he liked every present he got. Now that’s an easy kid to please. Wait until he’s 13…

Eating cake is serious business. And Strawberries. And whipped cream. The boy leaves no food untouched.

Then we left and headed home only to see a beautiful rainbow!

We were almost at a rest area when we saw it, so we pulled in to take photos. Every car that pulled in to the rest area did the same thing. It was pretty wonderful to see how many people saw that bow in the sky and had to pull over to snap a photo of it.

One last photo: Baba, Daddy & Javan. Javan kept climbing up in Baba’s lap.

Happy Father’s Day, gentlemen!

322/365

and

Photo 323/365

I have to tell you about the last one.

Don was not terribly impressed that I brought the dog home tonight. We’re so unprepared. And the dog is so hyper! And he is going to be a huge challenge with fences (already trying to dig out to follow the cats!) – but I know in my heart it will all work out.

We had to leave both dogs (Murphy & Sir Unnamed) in crates tonight while we drove to Durham for Javan’s First Birthday Party. The party was fun, but we excused ourselves early so we could come home and deal with socializing two dominant/aggressive dogs. And on the way home, there was this rainbow…

It was intense. It was beautiful. And we saw it before the last rest stop on I-205 north.

I took the exit into the rest area and grabbed my camera out of my bag. Four other cars had pulled over at the same time and the drivers were all bailing out of their cars with cameras in hand.

The rainbow was beginning to fade before we were in position to get a good shot of it, but… it was still pretty.

And by the time we pulled out of the rest area to cross the Abernethy Bridge on I-205, we could see both ends of it. Sorry there’s no photo of that.

Yeah. It was pretty.

I thought it was odd that I didn’t hear from the pound by Tuesday afternoon. The dog was supposed to have been scheduled for neutering on Tuesday & I planned on getting him on Wednesday. By Wednesday, I was a nervous wreck but when I called the pound, all I got was an answering machine. And Thursday when they called me back, they said my home phone was disconnected so they’d given the dog to someone else.

Turns out that they were dialing a wrong number! But it didn’t matter: the dog was scheduled to be neutered on Friday and he was going home with these other people on Saturday.

And my heart went into a tailspin because I really liked that dog and I’d put myself through a lot just finding, meeting, and picking out a dog. Plus, I’d purchased a dog carrier and a temporary dog pen with a mesh cover so the dog would be safe while I worked. We don’t have the big dog run built yet.

I was angry, hurt, disappointed – a billion emotions all running amok in my heart, but mostly angry. Angry at the pound, angry at God, angry at myself. Mostly angry at God.

Who better to blame? Like my brother said in my comments, “These things happen for a purpose.”

I fully believe that, but I’d built up my hopes and expectations so much that when the rug was pulled out from under me, I felt like a five year old kid who didn’t get the lollipop in the grocery store and I was mad.

I went on the search again, wrote down a ton of phone numbers of breeders to call this weekend and searched through the pets for adoption lists online once more. Just nothing jumped out at me. Lots and lots of wonderful dogs that need homes and lots of hoops to jump through to get one.

Did you realize that it is easier to purchase a purebred papered dog from a responsible breeder than it is to adopt a rescue dog from most shelters? There’s the application, proving you have a long-standing relationship with a veterinarian, and having to load up the whole fam-damily including your present dog to meet the new dog in a neutral place. (Trust me: neutral is a key word: what happens when the new dog shows up in the old dog’s turf is what will make or break the deal.) Buy a dog from a breeder and he’ll ask a few questions, maybe require an application, but what he really wants is your money.

It was so much easier to drive to Everett, Washington to get our English Pointer (Sadie who died 4 years ago) or to make the long drive to eastern Idaho to pick up Murphy just 3 years ago. This venture of adopting a rescue dog has just drained me.

I knew I wouldn’t have time to even look today: Arwen needed me to drive her around this morning and tonight is Javan’s first birthday party. So getting a dog today wasn’t even on my radar when I woke up this morning.

What was on my radar was that it wasn’t supposed to be a quiet Saturday morning: I had planned on having to take a dog for a walk early. I groaned and tried to bury my head in the pillow. Finally, I just told God that I forgave Him and He could forgive me for being such a pill, and I’d just get on with my day as best as I could. Somewhere, the perfect dog awaits.

At 8:30, I picked up the phone to call Arwen and let her know I was on the way. There was a voice mail message from the Dog Shelter that just asked me to call them. ??? It was left late yesterday afternoon. So I called. I called at 8:30, at 9, and at 9:30. And at 9:30, I got a live person.

The people who were supposed to pick the dog up today changed their minds. Did I still want him?She went on to tell me that this was the third hold on the dog that had been broken this week: mine and two others.

I leave in about half an hour to go finalize the adoption and pay for the dog.

He *is* coming home to live with us after all.

I think God had a plan all along and it worked out so the dog comes home on a weekend when we have time to bond & get him situated for during the week.

Ugh. I don’t even want to blog about it, but since I dragged you all here: due to a clerical error (not mine!!) the dog is going home elsewhere. So I am back to looking.

<sigh>

Meanwhile, I offer up to you this photo of a fledgling scrub jay that was sitting in the lodgepole pine outside our front window: