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Category Archives: Micron

Made of tuff stuff

Posted on October 2, 2011 by Donna Black-Sword
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.

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

Posted on October 1, 2011 by Donna Black-Sword

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.

a sneeze coming on

Oh I get it! Carry a digit!  hahahaha

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

Posted on September 20, 2011 by Donna Black-Sword

 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?

I got it!  I’ll protect your castle, m’Lord!  Oh. oops.

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  . . .

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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Pawprints in the sand

Posted on September 18, 2011 by Donna Black-Sword
CCI pup-in-training, Yaxley, watches
his first South Carolina sunrise

August 14, 2011 . . .

The briny smell of the sea, the roaring sound of the waves, the skin blistering heat of the South Carolina sun. Yup, we made it to Myrtle Beach. Not just Myrtle Beach, my friends, but we’ve scored a great beachside campsite at our beloved Pirateland Family Camping Resort.  What’s that you say?  Arrr, Matey. Pirateland?  Really?

Oh, really.

Now we’ve done the MB vacation a few times over the past years and gave a couple of other local campgrounds a try. When you travel in an RV, you’re tempted with thinking, hey we don’t need to plan ahead. Campground reservations are for sissies. Guided by the glossy RV magazine ads, we cruise around believing we can park this beast anywhere we want, whenever we feel like stopping.  Sadly, this is not always true. It’s possible your destination of choice may actually be booked solid and you end up needing to find an alternate spot for your arrogant self and the house you rode in on. 

So this one year, we were able to snag a spot at local mega-campground when Pirateland was full.  We’ve certainly heard of this other camping resort, but had never checked it out before. The place was touted as being voted “best in MB” and family-oriented. This will be just fine, we said. We arrive in late evening and navigate our way into a labyrinth to find our site. And found ourselves entering an alternate universe. It was like some dystopian city where the entire adult population, and their 16 year old kids, were driving a golf cart. Full speed ahead, they all say, let’s take these babies to warp speed!

Anarchy, martial law and no apparent traffic rules. Ever see a golf cart traffic jam? Not something on my bucket list, either. It seems everyone was in a rush to get to the beach to set off bottle rockets and other such fireworks for the next few hours. Which had one of the dogs in hyper alert mode the entire flippin’ night.

You never know what the tide will bring in.
(holding back on the otherwise obligatory seahorse quip)

Bleary eyed, we packed up the next morning and moved on with renewed vows to always call Pirateland ahead of time. And of course we did for this summer’s trip by reserving one of their great camping sites within just a few steps from the beach.  We can actually see Russia the ocean from our house. 
 
The public beach rules in MB have restrictions on when you can take your dogs out there to enjoy the sand and surf. Before nine o’clock in the morning and after five in the evening. Understand, agree and will comply. The dogs aren’t here to sunbathe or read a cheap novel on the beach anyway, so not a problem to keep them out of the heat of the day.

Jager, a true road dog, has been to the beach before. This fastidious little Felix Unger incarnate can go for a mile walk along the surf and come back clean and dry, with not even a grain of sand between his prim little raccoon toes.

I’m so shiny, clean and bright!

Jagermeister and water just don’t mix well.

Boiling acid sewer lava!  nooooooo . . .

The big yellow dog, on the other paw, is a whole nuther animal, so to speak. Micron has those webbed toes for a reason.  He’s a natural water dog.

Micron channels his inner sea lion
Doing the doggy twist

I love watching dogs as they discover the wonders of the seashore. Once Micron worked out that the rolling, foamy stuff was made of water there was no keeping him out of it. We held tightly to the leash, fearing that if he started swimming we’d be left ashore just watching his bobbing noggin as he dog paddled across the murky deep towards the horizon. The big goober.

I think I see a Squirrel out there.

Yaxley, however, had a different experience altogether. While he was trying to get his head around the sand shifting under his paws, he next realized the roaring ocean just ahead. A little overwhelming for the little yeller feller, so we just sat by the sand dunes and watched the waves for a few minutes so he could process all this through his puppy brain.

Why won’t the ground stay
still under my toes?

Yax and I took the rest of the week in puppy steps until he found his comfort level. By Friday, we made it to the shoreline and he ventured into the water. Well, ventured is a strong word. What really happened is he stuck one toe in the surf and said, Yep. That’ll do.

In the end, the best we got out of the pup was a tolerance of this nonsense. Ok, Yax says, I can accept this weird moving ground and whatever the heck is going on over there with the water. But I don’t have to like it.  His favorite part of his beach walks was finding washed up dead things to try to roll in.

But the mighty Micron is a social creature. He just attracts new friends like flies on a . . . oh my, I need a better analogy than that. Anyhow, I’m reminded again of my dashed hopes for his future as a Facility Dog for CCI.  Which leads me, like a smack to the head, to the renewed realization that this is my dog.

And that I am one lucky chick.

Others have mentioned it to me as well, so I do believe there is a positive energy about this dog. Folk want to be in his presence. Being around Micron just makes you feel better. Kids want to be with him; dogs want to be him.

A beach walk with Micron is a time to meet some of our Pirateland neighbors. Like these two delightful kids, who tell us they have six (six!) dogs back at home. They miss their dogs, can they give Micron a hug?

Of course you can, you adorable young people. Take your time and enjoy him.

Mmmmwah!  A kiss for Micron. He returned the affection
with a tongue up this poor kid’s nostril.
A hug seems a safer bet for brother.
No tongue for me, he says.

Micron made some dog friends, as well.

Micron  meets his doppelganger

A couple of parting shots of the two good-lookin’ yellow dogs taken in the warm glow of the morning sun.

Hey, I can see our house from here!

No, actually I can’t dial down the handsome.
Sincere apologies to all the other beach dogs.

Next post – more fun with dogs in MB

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Recipe Swap – RV Road Dawgs

Posted on September 17, 2011 by Donna Black-Sword

August 13, 2011 . . . 

Recipe swap time!  I want to share with you one of my all time favorites.

RV Road Dawg Adventure

The SWRCT*

You’ll need:

  • One yellow dog, about the size of a moose (sweet)
  • One CCI service-dog-in training (not quite ripe)
  • One freaky little terrier mix (extra spicy)
  • One college kid (optional – a hard to get ingredient)
  • Someone that can drive a house on six wheels
  • Another someone with amazing navigational skills
  • Approximately 30% of the contents of your home

and

  • One ginormous RV that has more character than class
  • An exotic destination

Combine the first seven ingredients into the RV, but don’t stir! You’ll just make it worse. It’s enough to have a closet filled with enough dog food to feed an Iditarod team for a week, dog beds, dog bowls, dog toys, water jugs and leashes and harnesses and such. Then we start packing for us, which is pretty much just some food in the fridge and a couple changes of clothes. Well, more than that really. Some pots and pans so I can (yes, I’m an idiot) cook on vacation, too. Lots of books, my laptop and camera gear for personal entertainment.

By the time we get all this stuff in the coach, we’re exhausted and pretty ready for a vacation. Some folk say it’s the journey, not the destination. And I would buy in on that, if the SWRCT* didn’t end up at a local Camping World on every trip because something broke. Again.

(*SWRCT – the Six Wheeled Rolling Cat Turd. My somewhat affectionate nickname for our house on wheels. The thing has, oh I don’t know, “character.”  Like it has a nice personality, I guess you’d say.)

This time it was the air conditioning, which took a dark turn from unreliable to completely defunct. But on the positive side of things, it was only the dash air. The roof air units are working great and we can run those when we park. See, the glass is half full!  I’m an optimist, I am. I’m one sweaty, short-tempered, positive thinking chick.

We’re on our way to the land of sea and sky, Myrtle Beach. Living in the Midwest gives us a craving for the ocean. To see a treeless horizon, the rolling waves and such. It takes us a couple of days to get there, so we drive for a day and stop at a KOA campground in Wytheville, Virginia to recharge our batteries. And to turn on the roof air conditioner.  (half full, half full . . . )

We’ve darkened the driveways of many a campground rolling in with the SWRCT and I’ve found that KOA’s can be relied on to be dog-friendly places. Many, if not most, of the KOA’s we’ve stayed at have enclosed dog parks. It’s a beautiful thing to let your dog off leash so they can run off the day’s travels. A tired dog is a good dog, I always say.

The Wytheville KOA goes a step further and has separate fenced in areas based on dog sizes. That’s cool. So we throw the two yellow dogs in the Large Dog park and look down at Jager.  He’s standing on tiptoes and saying that he is not a Small Dog, thank you very much. Well, Jager, there’s not a Medium Dog park and you’ll get creamed by the two yellow dogs and you know that. But we shrug and send him on to meet his fate. There’s no reasoning with terriers.

Micron and Yaxley pose in the master bathroom at the Large Dog park
Just a sec. Lemmee check my messages.
Three happy and tired dogs

As proof of their dog-friendly nature, the Wytheville KOA had some clever t-shirts in the gift shop.

And a couple of parting shots of the campground before we pulled up anchor and headed back on the road the next morning. Good-bye roof air conditioner (sniff). We’ll see you again tonight! (half full, half full . . . we’ll be in Myrtle Beach by nightfall).

Micron is all regal looking and everything, like a superhero dog.
I’m picturing a thought balloon over his head that says “Squirrel!”
Lookit Micron! I’m doing you!

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