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| Yaxley as a pup under my office desk |
Author Archives: Donna Black-Sword
Made of tuff stuff
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| Micron would give this Kong Flyer a Two Thumbs Up, if only he had the obligatory digits. This is a one durable dog toy and big enough to share with a friend or two. |
It happened again this week.
Yaxley are at the grocery to grab just a couple of things. It’s been getting kinda chilly out, which has put me in the mood for some homemade potato soup. What would otherwise be a quick trip (taters, chicken broth, green onions) takes a bit longer with my puppy companion.
A working dog in the grocery is like walking alongside a celebrity. People stop us to ask questions about Yaxley. And that’s okay. Not only do I expect this, it’s actually one of the reasons I take him on this trip. We’re all about raising awareness of CCI and assistance dogs, me and him.
How old is he?, they ask. What’s his name? Is he a Labrador? How long do you have him? So you have to give him up later? Oh, I couldn’t do that. Ah, this is good stuff. Yax sits in heel position as I share information on CCI and he is ever so patient as he awaits the Let’s Go command to continue our shopping.
And then we get the question that unsettles me a bit.
Our new acquaintance will look at the pup, sitting there all handsome, groomed and well-behaved. They lean forward closer to me, tilting their head. The question is spoken using a different, softer tone of voice. With something akin to pity on their face, I’m asked does he ever get to play?
What?
This is the one query that bugs me. I wonder what people see as we’re working with Yax’s socialization in public. Does the pup look nervous or unhappy and I failed to notice? No, no I don’t think that could be it. I’m keeping a keen eye on his reactions the entire time – tail is relaxed, gait is confident. I’m speaking commands to him firmly, but not unkindly – I’m not giving off an aura of ogre. So I consider that some folk have only seen these pups-in-training while they’re on the job. They just haven’t had the pleasure of seeing these fluffies get down and dirty during a play session.
Do these dogs ever get to play? Well, of course they do, people. They’re dogs and nobody can take that simple little factoid away from them, can they? As puppy raisers, we do expect a higher level of behavior than a pet, that’s true. We’re going to be less tolerant of purposeful misbehavior. That’s true as well. We handle these pups as if they have a higher purpose than a pet. Well, because they do.
But you’ve got to open the release valve on these critters and let them run and wrestle with others of their ilk. It’s only humane, as well as good common sense. A tired dog is a good dog, that’s my motto.
But these are merely words on a screen. How about something more visual for our case in point?
I’ll share with y’all a few freeze-frame action shots of Yaxley during a play date with buddies Micron and Karsen. Three dogs against one Kong Flyer. For extra enjoyment of these shots, take a closer look at the ears on these fellas. These dogs were having a full-speed-ahead blast.
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| Now this is a dog I’d take to the grocery. Might just do a quick finger swipe on the grass blade on the tongue. |
Addendum:
Thanks to CCI puppy raisers, Mark and Deb from Ansel: The Life & Times of a CCI Puppy for reminding me of this excellent video from CCI’s Gold Rush Champions chapter.
This really clears up that pesky question of do they ever get to play?
Here’s CCI GRC Service Dogs do have Fun. Enjoy . . .
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The Seven Year Myth
It’s one of those things we learned in our formative years. Like bread crust has more nutrition than the soft bread part or swallowed watermelon seeds will start a melon patch in your belly. Haven’t we all heard to not cross your eyes or your face will freeze that way? Toads and warts? Frog kisses and handsome princes? Pop Rocks, cola and exploding digestive systems?
Bring back any memories? It’s ok, I’ll hang loose a moment while you reminisce.
It’s a loss of innocence, isn’t it? Finding out this stuff that we held to heart just isn’t really true.
Let me help you along with that loss of innocence. Ugh, that’s not sounding right. What I mean is I have one more nugget for you – another childhood tenet to crush right before your eyes. It’s about that dog age thing. You know the one; every one dog year is seven human years.
I know. A lot of you dog people know this just isn’t true. It’s not hard to notice that your sweet fluffy ankle biter has a longer life span than your neighbor’s 150 lb Mastiff. We’re comparing a 16 year life expectancy of a toy breed against the unfairly short life of a giant breed’s typical eight or nine years. And this calculation isn’t even taking into account the dog’s lifestyle or health criteria. (An obese pooch will suffer very similar health risks as us human beans.)
So what if you crossed the petite Bichon Frise with a Mastiff? Throwing logistics and mental images aside for the moment, I suppose you could average the resulting life expectancy of the puppies at twelve years because these poor funny looking critters would come out a large breed, wouldn’t they? (Holy cow, but wouldn’t they look like fluffy gargoyle heads with dripping, ropey drool?)
Now this has completely stopped making sense, even to me. There’s a plethora of opinions and resources out there on calculating dog age. Here’s an article from the Mental Floss website that puts the logic back into my argument. From their story on Fuzzy Math: How do “dog years” work? . . .
The folks at The Dog Guide suggest that when we think about “dog years,” we have to consider the breed and calculate accordingly. Across the board, they say, you can consider the first year of a dog’s life as equivalent to 15 or so human years. By that time, dogs and humans are approaching their adult size and have reached sexual maturity. On their 2nd birthday, you should add about 3-8 more years to your dogs “human age,” depending on size, and value each dog year as being worth 4-5 human years from that point on.
Let’s put this theory to work. The mighty Micron has just celebrated his second birthday on September 23. We’ll start with the 15 years suggestion for his first 12 months, then considering his large-breed retriever heritage let’s add another six years. Fingers and toes tell me that our handsome boy is a mature 21 years old in human years. Yep, I only have ten finger and ten toes, so I had to carry a digit (heh heh – get it? carry a digit? oh, never mind).
Now the final test – does this math make sense when compared to his actual maturity? That is, does Micron fit the 21 year old model we’ve designed?
Well, he’s a college drop-out who’s moved back into my house. [check] The first thing he did when he came back home from dog college was flop onto his old bed and ask when dinner was. And every time he’s out with me in public, the girls flock to him like he’s the bachelor on some reality show or something. So yeah, I’m seeing a match here with the fuzzy math.
I guess that means next September when Micron’s three years old, he’ll really be 26. Huh. Maybe he’ll have a job by then.
Micron shares his birthday month with my favorite kid. The Husband and I traveled to the BGSU campus (that’s a college, Micron) to celebrate with Derek and his adorable girlfriend, Sam.
Derek turned 22 on September 16. So let’s see, doing the math backwards, that makes him around two in dog years; about the same as Micron.
My two handsome birthday boys.
I took Micron to a studio for his two year photo shoot. A few of the better shots you’ll see above. But I just gotta share some of the outtakes, too. I do believe some of these have captured Micron as his true goober self.
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| a sneeze coming on |
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| Oh I get it! Carry a digit! hahahaha |
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| Yeah, I’m so outta here. When’s dinner? |
Photo credits
The studio shots are by Flash Photography of Dayton. If you’re anywhere near the Dayton OH area, you may just want to check this place out. For a flat fee, you’re provided a professional photo session customized to your request. All photos are given to you on a flash drive, along with a copyright release to use them however you wish. No photo packages to stress over, just your digital images.
Thanks for the great photo session, Flash! And for pulling out that Happy Birthday headpiece. Apologies for the squeaky ball, though. Hope you got the dog slobber off of it ok.
We’ll see you again in a couple of months for our Christmas shoot.
Flash Photography of Dayton website is here. Also on Facebook.
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It was a dark and stormy night
August 18 2011 . . .
“It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents, except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.” –Edward George Bulwer-Lytton
Storm’s coming in, says the Husband, I’m going to pull in the window awnings. A storm?! Coo-ell.
Okie dokie, I say, grabbing the Canon. I’ll be at the beach if you need me.
You know, my husband sighs a lot. And he knows there’s little to be done from me making one dopey decision after another. Not only am I just the tiniest bit stubborn, I’m also faster than he is. I’m already outside the RV, screen door slamming behind me before you can say certifiable.
But a storm! Besides pesky rain, storms also mean contrasting clouds and wonderful filtered light you don’t get on any normal sunshiny day. And normal this is not. There’s a beautiful coastal storm on the horizon here at Myrtle Beach. Once we’re back in landlocked Ohio, we won’t be seeing another one of these wonders until the next road trip down this way.
Oh, but let’s be clear on something. There’s a rather healthy amount of self-preservation running through my psyche. These swollen and rolling clouds are merely a harbinger of things yet to come. It’s not like I’m going to stand in torrential rain and risk getting the Canon (my preciousssss) wet. Now that’s lunacy, I say. Naw, I just want to get out there and capture the mood before the heavens open up on us.
So I can get shots like this.
That’s not our sand castle masterpiece. Actually, I don’t know whose it is other than some Pirateland family who had the common sense to get back to their camper when the sky started to darken.
The Husband stops at the beach to check on me during a potty break with the dogs. Micron!, I exclaim, Photo op time, my love!
A couple of quick shots with Sir Micron, brave knight and castle protector. Well, that was my vision. What really happened was more of a medieval-era Godzilla style rampage. I send the boys on their way back to the RV before the rain starts. I’m getting low on Febreze (Sunflowers! Sunshine! and wet dog), you know.
Humm, not only did we seem to lose the third castle tower here, but where did the sticks go? Micron?
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| I got it! I’ll protect your castle, m’Lord! Oh. oops. |
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| Me thinks the tavern wench was a little heavy handed with the margarita salt |
With the boys back in the RV, I start capturing the aura of the imminent tempest . . .
Not easy to see in the panorama above, but the dark section in the sand on the left is the sand castle creation from the first set of shots On the right, you can see folk in the water, still fishing as the clouds move in. Silly people.
Another wondrous thing about evening coastal storms are the sunrises the next day. Here’s a sunrise from a normal day, hazy and humid. Soft, pretty colors, but nuthin [yawn] special, really.
This, however, is the stuff you get the morning after a good storm comes through.
Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about.
Know what else is a rare wonder of nature; something you only see with that elusive, but magical combo of sun and rain?
Rainbows, that’s what. And this time . . .
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| I found my pot of gold. |
And this time, the treasure at the end is for me.
Addendum
I’m rather excited about an improvement by our website host, blogger.com. Photos on the blog can now be viewed through Lightbox. Just click on any of the photos to bring up a large screen view. You can navigate through all the images in the post from the Lightbox view. Very cool stuff indeed, especially for a nerd like me who likes to tell a story through pictures.
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Nature gets uppity
August 17 2011 . . .
A couple of days enjoying sand and surf at Myrtle Beach, then it’s time to blow this pop stand. We dress Yaxley in his CCI cape and we’re off to see the sights. But where to go today? Hmmm.
Shopping at Barefoot Landing
Well, we’ve always enjoyed walking around the shops at Barefoot Landing, an outdoor shopping experience designed to remind you of an old fishing village. Docks, boardwalks, saltwater taffy and alligators. And it’s just a skip and a jump down the road to get there.
We walk around the Barefoot complex, checking out as many of the blessedly air-conditioned stores as we can. Yaxley is a rock star as we meet folk who ask about him and the Canine Companions for Independence program. In all our road travels, we’ve found the Myrtle Beach community as one of the very few places where we’ll encounter a challenge with service dogs in restaurants. So raising awareness of CCI is always time well spent there.
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| If I don’t like the ocean, Food Lady, sez Yax, then why the heck do you think I’ll be a surf dog? |
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| Carolina Vineyards Winery |
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| Elvis sighting in MB |
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| These signs were on every boardwalk at Barefoot Landing. Kinda falls into the same category as “Careful! That cup of coffee you’re about to drink may be hot!“ Thank you, Captain Obvious |
Wheels of Yesteryear
This was a new and different stop for us. Wheels of Yesteryear is an impressive collection of restored classic and vintage automobiles. About fifty cars you can see up as up close and personal as your little V-8 heart desires.
Being a dog person, this could have been a yawner for me. But no, as we pull into the parking lot, the marquee is shouting out at me with “SEE JOE DIRT’S CAR”
Holy Cow! Joe Dirt’s 1969 Dodge Daytona?! From the soon-to-be-a-classic movie?! Well, why didn’t you say so before?
Dang.
Sadly, I’m not kidding this time. It’s a fun movie and if I’m flipping the channels around and discover Joe Dirt is on, then I’m heading for the microwave popcorn. It’s true. Sorry you had to find this out about me.
But it gets even worse. The Husband tells me that as I walked up to the car and looked inside, I actually said, Da-a-ang. I have no memory of this happening, but I’m inclined to believe him.
Because he was laughing at me.
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| Joe Dirt’s car (!) from the (destined to be classic) movie |
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| Dang |
Brookgreen Gardens
What a treasure this place is. I just love Brookgreen Gardens, both an outdoor sculpture garden and nature preserve. So much history there. It was my reward for surviving the car museum, cuz marriage is all about the give and take, isn’t it?
Because of the nature preserve, we decide to leave Yaxley to relax in the air conditioned RV with the other dogs. As puppy raisers, we’re asked to avoid taking the young pups to zoos and such. And you can get pretty darn close to some of the animals in the Low Country Zoo, especially in the aviaries.
For example, we enter one particular aviary to greet a big flippin’ turkey vulture skulking about the boardwalk like some kind of bridge troll. Huh. So, do we keep walking and hope he doesn’t go all medieval on us? Or back away slowly to the double door exit?
Never one to shy away from a really bad decision, I went for Option C, which was to raise the camera to get a close-up shot of his ugly mug. Turns out, turkey vultures are camera shy. Well, who knew? Put that little nugget in your field guide, Audubon.
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| That’s right. Fly away, tough guy. |
Yeah, I know that photo is near impossible to make out. But this is the back of the big, bad turkey vulture as he takes flight so the Canon lens can’t steal his dark and shriveled soul. Just below the center of the photo you should at least be able to see his gnarly yellow vulture feet, then squinting may help to make out the wing span. [shudder]
Anyway, Brookgreen’s sculpture garden is truly a one of kind experience. As my usual style, I took a gadzillion and two photos. But to keep in the theme of all things canine, here I will share my shots of Louise Peterson’s Bella and the Bug. The sculptress created this image after watching her Great Dane concentrate on a fly crawling on a wall. I think this lady knows her dogs; she’s absolutely captured the spirit of the moment.
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| Bella and the Bug |
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| Not trusting those beady little eyes |
We take a break from walking around and rest on a bench under a shady tree. Rustling above reveals a squirrel busy at some kind of urgent tree rat business. Ah, a fox squirrel. We don’t have these fancy critters back home.
Hoping to get a nice clear shot of the fuzzy tailed rodent, I get closer and closer until . . . I say to the Husband, If this thing jumps from the tree and goes all militant on my head, you’ll save me, right? The Husband, still back on the park bench, is looking straight ahead as he takes a sip of his Sierra Mist. He says in reply to me Sure, I got your back.
Right. Well, rodent, I say. It looks like it’s between you and me. Now just hold still a sec, willya.
An experience in fine dining
The Husband and I joke about folk who come back from a vacation at some exotic locale only to talk in grisly detail about the what they had to eat on the trip and what the best restaurants were. We say it’s a sign that you’re getting old.
And I suppose it’s possible that we could be creeping into that distinction as one of us had a milestone birthday during this vacation week. To maintain dignity, I won’t disclose which of us it was. I’ll only say that I’m the younger one and leave you to do ponder on it.
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| All right, my mateys! It’s Shrimp Night! |
The kid called to check on us and asked what our big plans were for the night. Why, it’s Shrimp Night!, I say excitedly. O-o-o-o-kay, is the reply. Hey, ever since we saw the sign in Pirateland’s parking lot that Hog Heaven BBQ was showing up, we’ve been looking forward to this dinner.
With the sound of the waves crashing and the ocean breeze blowing gently through our campsite, we settle down at the picnic table to nosh upon some barbecued crustacean goodness. Now this is what I call a (stop that barking in there, dogs!) vacation. Some white wine in a plastic cup is the icing on the cake, so to speak.
A lovely ending to a busy day.
Go. Do. Be Dog. 