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Princess of Confidence Town: Population 1

Posted on July 21, 2013 by Donna Black-Sword

Kentucky Horse Park – Part 1

I’ll be in my office if you’re looking for me.

Why do you call her Princess? asks my niece, Morgan. 

I look down at Miss Euka.  Did I just call her that? I ask.

Ah, I realize that, yes this is indeed true. And giving myself a moment to ponder, it comes to me that our petite puppy even responds to her girly-girl nickname. Heh, guess I should be checking that little habit.

I call her Princess, I say. because she walks around with an air of inflated self-entitlement.  

Another Euka truism.  We have us here a remarkably confident pup and a girl comfortable in her own skin and coat. She steps into every situation with an attitude of one who grants audience to her people. 

Whatever y’all were doing before, says Euka.  You can stop.  I’m here now.

But before you fully form the thought that I’ve created a monster, I want to say that this is not my fault. Wait, no, what I mean is that as a volunteer puppy raiser I would much rather deal with an confident and dominant pup than one with fear issues to overcome.  Our Miss Euka has shown us from the very beginning that she is ready to embrace all that life has to offer, hasn’t she? 

Bring it on, says Euka.  And keep it coming.

Well, so far we’ve taken on shops, restaurants, grocery stores and countless budget meetings in the office. What’s next on the socialization list for this pup in training?

How ’bout horses and lots of ’em?  The nieces and I had packed our gear into the Toyota for our annual road trip to the Kentucky Horse Park. And because things are always more interesting when you include a dog, we toss Euka into the back seat to transport her to her first equinotic encounter.

Now I’ve been making this horse park trip for twelve or  thirteen years or so and the nieces have been my cohorts for the past few. Aunt Donna’s only rule for the horse park adventure is you must be at least eight years old. Oh, and it helps if you like horses. That one’s not a hard and fast rule, but it seems like you’d have a much better time since Horse is all you’re gonna see, hear and smell for two entire days.

CCI pups are exempt from these rules, of course.* Despite what Euka thinks, she really doesn’t have a say in the decision.  Her participation is mandatory, however I will leave it up to her on whether she enjoys the company of horses. Actually, I was pretty darn curious to see how she takes in these noble beasts. Could it be possible that our princess may get an equine assisted attitude adjustment?

I’m thinking we should start small and build up with this horse exposure experience. Let’s just walk around and soak up some sights and smells and Ack, Euka don’t!, I cry.  Road apples, those sweet manure treasures, are sending out their siren’s call in wafting waves of sensory temptations.  As I redirect Euka’s attention from a steaming hay brownie, a quarter horse with rider passes by on clomping hooves. 

Well, so much for starting small. The horse is close enough to touch in his casual pass by. I see Euka give the fella a once over, from hooves to both heads, and pretty much give the scene a dog shrug as she looks back to the delicacy baking on the pavement. I could take him, she says. With one paw tied behind my back.  No fur off her back, our brave girl.

I see you, dog. says the Titan.
I’m your huckleberry.**

In the covered arena, we take a few minutes to watch a drill team of some very skilled young ladies and their gorgeous horses performing in the ring.  Euka gets a second row seat to watch the action with perked ears. By second row seat, I mean she’s in a Down at the end of an aisle to enjoy a dog’s eye view of the drill team. I watch her reaction and wonder just what the heck she’s thinking.  Four legs on these things, but two heads? They’re running and playing and yet don’t smell like a dog at all. Too big to chew on, but I bet if I grabbed a leg  . . .

Even as the riders approach the front row spectators to allow their horses to be patted on their velvet noses, Euka doesn’t move to break her Down. She loses interest after a bit and closes her eyes for a quick not-a-cat nap.

This is good, I think. Let’s bump it up and check out the stables for the event’s guest horses.

As we cruise about we encounter Tennessee Titan, the miniature donkey in all his tyger-spotted glory.  Tennessee Titan is a super star of mini donkeys, so I was hoping to get a photo op, but was told he’s not a big fan of dogs. We respect that, of course. Especially since at this point I couldn’t tell you if Euka was a big fan of mini donkeys.  I get a quick click of the OK Corral standoff and we move on.

We come across a second photo op with another delightful, and more dog loving, miniature critter.  Johnny Rocket and his handler are gracious to allow us a moment of their time. Euka is still brooding over the stuck up donkey and refuses to look at the mini horse, no matter how kind he is.  Nobody out-attitudes the princess, it seems.

Oh, and I have to tell you about our run in with the law. See, I shot the sheriff and . . . sorry, that’s going to be a pun so bad even I can’t finish that sentence.

Ok, I took a photo of Lena, the equine half of a mounted patrol team for the Sheriff’s Department. Lena is sixteen and a half hands of Friesian with an attitude of one who does not gladly tolerate fools. My impression of this lady is she is one of the most rock solid horses you’re ever likely to encounter. A chick it would be unwise to piss off, I would think.

Hmm.  Oh Euka, I sing. Let’s go meet the Sheriff’s horse. Maybe I’m taking things too fast here, going from mini whinnies to a hardened Friesian.  But never being the kind of girl to shy away from a bad decision, we give this a try.

Horse people may notice Lena’s ear posture in this shot. Right? Now look at Euka. Well, as best you can.  Our little girl with the Irish tan has gone super-nova into the background. But I think you can get the general goings on here.  Another Friesian has just passed by. Lena is reacting to that horse.

And Euka is not. Her posture is relaxed and she is going about her day like this is nothing much more than being in the office, only without air conditioning.

Alrighty, now check out the next shot. Here’s what happens when cocky meets confidence. Lena leans in to  meet her new pale canine admirer. Meanwhile Euka is sure the horse is a new entry into her fan base. Give her one of my CCI bookmarks, says Euka to her people. She can read about me on the internet later.

Again, we have a confident posture exhibited by the pup. Ear flaps relaxed, tail down and paws in a casual stance. In fact, you may notice that she has not even moved from her spot from the first photo. Neither in retreat nor in the interest of an excited greeting. Nice.

Hail there, my tiny pasty friend, says Lena.  Well met.

Of course, it helps quite a bit that the girls are so at ease with both horses and dogs. Morgan has the leash, which is transmitting her positive vibes to Euka. All is well in the world, say the leash vibes. Carry on, y’all.

Hang loose for Part II of our Kentucky Horse Park adventures coming soon. I’ll even throw in a drama-filled story from the hotel.  It’s a cautionary tale about why you don’t always want to allow folk to pet your service pup in training.  Euka’s not the only one needing life lessons here.  Sometimes I need a smack in the back of the head.
  

________________________________________
 
* Yaxley, our CCI pup #3, joined us on the great horse park trip a couple of times.  His adventures are at Freshly baked road apples and Poptarts: Not just for breakfast anymore.  Due to timing, this will be Euka’s only trip with us to the Kentucky Horse Park.

**Quote from Tombstone (1993) as said by Doc Holliday (Val Kilmer). Best read with a drawling southern accent of sorts in your head.


 

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Happy Ten Month Birthday to the E’s

Posted on July 14, 2013 by Donna Black-Sword
At ten weeks and ten months. The Ohio E’s consider their progress as they look their former and future selves.


Hold onto your britches, folks, as we direct your attention to the nearly inconceivable factoid that Euka II and her E littermates are celebrating their ten month birthday today.

Yep, indeed the little furry cotton balls we met seemingly just a few weeks ago are growing into the amazing dogs they are destined to be.  The precious Euka is not our little girl anymore [sniffle].

I could lament over this puppy growth in the same manner as I deal with the knowledge that I’m the parent of a college grad. Sometimes it hits me all at once and I sit wondering how I could possibly be old enough to have a kid out of college.  What the heck just happened here? I think. Wasn’t he just working on his science fair project in middle school?

So putting things into perspective, watching a ten month old puppy grow is not as impactful to my fragile self-esteem. Our lovely Euka has gone from a bouncy carpet stainer to her canine teenage phase and you know what?  I’m still pretty much the same age as when we got this thing started.

And there you have it.  Yet another wonderful thing about volunteer puppy raising.  The benefits are just never ending with this gig.

We had the Ohio E’s together for a training session a couple of weeks ago. When Ella, Emma, Everett and Euka were a young two months old, we introduced their puppy noggins to some new experiences during a group training.  You can see what we covered back then in the post Time to Ramp It Up.

In this next session, our maturing pups were proofed on commands for a greater proficiency and asked to do a few new things as well.

In this photo on the left our E’s are in a Sit with an implied Stay.  For CCI commands, a Sit or Down comes with the Stay command unspoken yet still attached. That is, the pups learn that they are being asked to maintain their spot until the next command is given.  A very helpful mindset to have wired into their mindsets are they learn to be service dogs.  And so as the pups mature, we extend the Sit/Downs with the implied Stays for longer periods.

Puppy raisers are just out of the shot to provide a quick correction for any distracted furry thoughts. Should one of these E’s decide to move on from their Sit, they’re met with a verbal correction and get their bum placed right back to spot they were warming up just a moment before.  See the orange thing by Ella? Yeah, we were tossing a football dog toy into their space for the extra challenge.

Pretty much the same things going on here with the photo on the right.  To proof the Down command we walk between, around and step over them. And yeah, the orange football has a bit part here again in this scene.

Note the pups are in a sternal position and we also like to see them roll onto a hip. Alert, but relaxed is what we’re looking for here.

Our training facilitators, Emma’s puppy raisers, have provided some props to bump up the session for additional challenges.  A ladder flat to the ground provides a walking experience over a novel surface.

A teeter totter and a wobble board is set up to help with puppies adjusting their walk and overcoming any concerns about putting their paws on an unstable surface.

 
And the tube, that glorious thing, is out again too.  Everett and Ella at ten weeks old had enjoyed some camaraderie moments in the blue tube. The two pups fit well within its confines and found the environment snug, yet comfy enough to move one’s body about for a robust wrestling match.
 

This time around, they do still kinda make it in there together. But it’s more like trying to fit into your jeans from high school. Sure, you can stuff some leg in there, or for some of us maybe it’s just an arm, but it’s clear that the zipper isn’t going seeing any action.

Any anyway, our confident *cough dominant cough* Miss Euka prefers ownership of the thing for her own purposes.


I have conquered the tube, says Euka.
It is mine.

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Well, Hello Deer

Posted on July 7, 2013 by Donna Black-Sword
Why, hello deer

You know, I’ve always kinda liked the humble little burgh where we live.  So much so, that apparently I’m willing to drive an hour to my job, which is located in a more upscale locale with a denser population. We’ve grown roots here in this town, we have. Family, friends and many of our interests are comfortably close by.

We chose this community to put the Favorite Kid through the local public school system, having moved from an even smaller town*. The schools here have boasted an Excellent rating for several years and now that I have a college grad for a kid I can lay claim that we made a pretty good choice coming out this way.

A couple things I miss out here, though. It would be lovely to have bookstore with a coffee shop to lounge about in.  And . . . well, actually that’s pretty much it. Oh wait, no.  A bookstore with a coffee shop and an outdoor patio.  Some flowers, a couple of throw pillows** . . . [sigh]

But when I tell The Husband about the upcoming training event for the CCI pups at a Cabela’s in Columbus, I realize that a big, honkin’ sporting good store might spark the interest of some folk as well.

Google Maps tells us to expect this to be an hour and a half drive to the new Cabela’s, the first of its name in Ohio, located within all the bustle of Polaris commerce. As we navigate through this fancy commercial area, we’re reminded of all the other shops and eateries missing from our simple burgh. Polaris shows herself to be a rapidly growing area. Similar to watching your buildings time lapse like in SimCity 4, there are new stores of all genres going up on every street and avenue. And just when you think you’re on a main road, it’s all nope, this is just a sub-street to a parking lot and you have to find another route across to get to where you want to be. Like a labyrinth, but one designed by a city planning engineer.

But no matter, we make it on time for an obligatory after-the-drive potty break for Euka and to join the other CCI puppy raisers outside Cabela’s entrance.  Walking towards the gathering group I realize, if memory serves, this is only the third time Euka has been in the presence of so many other CCI puppies in training.  We give her a moment to process this info across the canine neurons (play or work?) before we move into the training event in the store. 

I catch a shot of her with a ponderous look.  Such deep thoughts, one has to wonder what profundity is working through the noggin.

Don’t labyrinths have minotaurs?

This isn’t our first visit to a Cabela’s with a CCI puppy, so we had an inkling of an idea of what to expect inside with Euka.  Every dog is different, of course, so best to not get distracted from any signs that the puppy is feeling stressed. In dog language, a full on stare and stiff body exhibited by another dog is an aggressive challenge. So it could be that a full size taxidermied critter might bring on a fight or flight response in a puppy. Be aware, but don’t be stressed about it — the puppy will pick up on this too, we know.
Micron’s trip to a Cabela’s a couple of years ago in Virginia, back when he was a mere pup in training, was a non-eventful affair. No problems then with staring prong-horns or beady eyed catfish in the aquarium. Well, just that one worrisome moment when I thought the big guy might claim a stuffed jackrabbit as his very own fluffy bunny, but that passed without security getting involved.



Oh, c’mon, people. Even a dog can make a smore.

Euka doesn’t have the same stuffed animal fixation as the mighty Micron, so we move smoothly among the taxidermy art to practice Ups, Unders, Visits and such in this distracting environment.

On left is Euka demonstrating Up, a command that the CCI trainers will build on as they teach the dogs to turn on light switches.

Do note the boxes on the left display there.  Those are campfire smores kits. In a box. When I was a kid, we had to make our own smores from raw ingredients like stale graham crackers and sticks out of the yard, and not from some prefab stuff in a box. You kids today have it so easy.

Moving on, in the photo below Euka is demonstrating her Derp face as she performs the Under command.



Derp

At the fish tank, Euka shows no interest in the whatever those are finning around in there. No, our little tart is more interested in the cute guy on the left.

look at me look at me look at me

Next to the Dead Thing Mountain display, we have the pups do a Jump onto a cedar bench. I’m not in any hurry to work on this one. With that Tigger spring in her butt, Euka has no problem with Jump.  She can jump efficiently, even without a command. Like the time she jumped, all four paws now, onto my desk at work to get a better look at a favorite co-worker. Yep, this white girl can jump alright.

So we watch the other pups. Euka is in a Down observing one pup after the next.  Jump!  Good Dog! [photo op] Next . . .

Oh, this “Jump.” I thought you
meant the other one.

We go last, nearly everyone else has moved onto the next training challenge. Which, in hindsight, I’m grateful for. Because yep, shore nuff, Euka has completely forgotten this skill that she was, indeed just this very morning, so very proficient in.

Euka! I say. Jump!  Euka puts both front paws on the bench and turns to look at me.  She is smiling and wagging her tail like she just did the most amazing thing.

Well, I say. Good “Up”, Euka.  I swing her back into position and repeat the Jump command with the same sad ending. Alrighty, let’s try this again. Darn it, she knows this one.

You know how they say to determine that you’ve gotten a bit unhinged in the noggin parts?  You keep doing the same thing over and over again while expecting different results***.

So yeah, fine. Just fine. Oh, for . . . just pick her up and put her butt up there, I tell The Husband.  I want a picture of her with the deer in the background.  I look at the digital image in the camera, deem it a pretty crappy shot yet somehow good enough because I’m getting stupid frustrated about this whole refusing to do the Jump thing.

Which is, of course, exactly why it’s so important to do these training outings.  No, not just to frustrate me. I can get that at home without the three hour round trip drive. Rather this is a good reminder of why we need to proof these puppies in unfamiliar and distracting environments.  Euka certainly knows her stuff at the places we frequent and it’s so very easy to set this as a pattern of behavior. But as she showed us at the cedar bench, we need to practice her commands in the new and different. Something we’ll now throw ourselves into with a renewed effort.

A thank you goes to Cabela’s and staff for being such gracious hosts and supporting the puppy raisers for Canine Companions for Independence.  We had a blast meeting y’all. And sorry about that Dead Thing Mountain comment. But it kinda is, right?

______________________________________________
*Ok, it wasn’t even a town.  Our prior residence was a village, a farming community.  When we put the kid through kindergarten screening was when we decided it was time to bolt.  Get this . . . after testing my five year old, we were informed that because he couldn’t skip, he would be certainly be a poor reader.  These scholars were ready to slap a remedial label on the kid before he even stepped a sneakered foot into a classroom simply because I never bothered to teach the boy the essential life skill of skipping. They even handed me a paper how “research has shown us” this factoid of theirs. Yep, I actually still have that paper. And apparently from this little rant, the grudge as well.

**Young Frankenstein (1974)

***A quote attributed to Albert Einstein, but a disclaimer that I have not fact checked this. It does sound like something he would say though, right? And wasn’t he just a bit, um, eccentric too? So if you claim to be insane, are you really? How would you know? Oh, never mind.

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"Baw"

Posted on June 30, 2013 by Donna Black-Sword
I was wondering why that tennis ball kept getting bigger and bigger*, said Micron.  Then it hit me.

In A Big Little Life** author Dean Koontz tells a story about his neighborhood walks with Trixie, a golden retriever CCI retiree that he and his wife adopted.

Spoiler alert: this book is awesome. Something that which inspires one to awe. The entire, splendid thing.

In this particular walking-the-dog tale***, we get an understanding of the deep appreciation Trixie had for tennis balls.  After the usual passage of tennis courts along their stroll, one evening Trixie is disappointed to not have found an abandoned tennis ball or two this time. It is her daily joy to discover a fuzzy yellow ball to roll around in her mouth on her way back home.  But on this evening, something else is different too.

Trixie balks on the leash. She stops and turns to look back at the tennis courts. Dean Koontz’s wife, Gerda, is on the other end of the leash, wondering what is on her otherwise obedient dog’s mind.  In Dean Koontz’s words:

“Looking up at her mom, she opened her mouth and thrust her muzzle forward as though straining to produce a sound — then spoke.”
 
“Baw.”
 
“This sound — pronounced like the word awe with a b in front, slightly attenuated — was so unlike anything that came from Trixie before, was delivered with such an earnest expression, and was accompanied by such tension in our girl’s entire body . . .

Turns out, she realized there was a ball hidden under a bush and she needed permission to go back and get it. She merely hesitated, because Trixie was a good girl and not the kind of dog that *cough micron cough* will forcibly drag their hapless person across three tennis courts to retrieve a high value treat. And so it seemed to Gerda that Trixie’s vocalization was an attempt to say exactly and simply what was on her mind.

Wow.

Ok folks, that story, and the golden butterfly one that opens A Big Little Life kinda gives me chills just a little.  Whether fact or the fanciful stuff written by a prolific writer of fiction, we Lovers of All Things Dog are well experienced in the magic of the human-canine bond, aren’t we?

Those of us so fortunate to spend our days with our dogs at our sides find ourselves somewhat bilingual with at least a basic level of Dog Speak.  We know to watch body language to determine if that yawn indicates a sleepy dog or a stressed one.  Or listen to specific vocalization as a clue to what our furry friend is thinking.

While lying around like a shedding carpet, a softly uttered moan indicates the mighty Micron is exhausted, but low groan is passive-aggressive communication that the big guy needs to use the lawn facilities. The latter requires him to actually get up and move, which I suspect is where the groaning comes in.  There ain’t nobody as skilled in the art of Relaxation as the mighty Micron, you know.

Oh, but outside play time is a whole ‘nuther animal, so to speak. Being a retriever, our Micron is hard-wired in the noggin to carry things about in his maw.  Of course, one should never expect this fellow to articulate a “Baw” to express his infatuation of tennis balls. But it is indeed clear when a game of Ball is on his mind. Micron keeps it easy for us.  He simply finds one of the dozens of tennis balls strewn about the house like little fuzzy landmines to roll an ankle on — and brings it to you.

With a wide doggy smile and plumed tail waving like a flag, he drops the slightly damp ball upon a lap and takes a step back.  His thoughts are radio waves with one simple repeating message: throw the ball throw the ball throw the ball . . . .

And we do.  We throw the ball — over and over. 

Noting the photo on the right, a ball in the mouth and second one to chase just might cause a short-circuit the canine neurons.  This situation, says Micron, blows my mind a little. I love them both so much.

Speaking of love, a friend with a new puppy was asking for advice the other day.  She has so much energy, says my good friend. And she chews on everything, even the furniture. What should I do?

Um, I say. Lookit, we all know I’m merely a Lover of Dog, not some kind of obedience expert. I have no more business giving this kind of advice than I do talking about tax laws. But in the Hippocratic spirit of “First, Do No Harm”, I give it a shot.

Well, I say. Sounds to me like she’s acting just like a normal puppy.  Good luck to ya. 

Ok, I realize that’s helpful not at all. So I follow-up with the benefits of crate training, Bitter Apple, and professional obedience classes.

But in the meantime, I add, here’s what will really help to bond you two. Simple things, really. Always be in the same room when your pup is eating and interact with her. Make sure she knows this wonderful experience comes from you. Give her a lot of positive attention when she’s good, especially so during those rare quiet times.

And this is really important, I continue. Play with her. Exercise her. It will help her burn some of that destructive puppy energy and she’ll eventually link these good times to your presence. It’ll take time, but some day this dog will know you as the Best Thing Ever. And it will be her mission in life to please you. 

She’ll want to play ball with you because she sees it makes you happy, too.

I’m confident with this bit of advice. I am.  Because it goes both ways, this playtime with my own dog. 

See, every time that Micron drops a ball into my lap and I look up from my book to meet his smiling, root-beer brown eyes, well . . .

That’s the Best Thing Ever, says me.

  

 
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*You see it, right?  The tennis ball?  Just follow Micron’s line of sight to see it hovering there in the top part of the photo.

**A Big Little Life, a memoir of a joyful dog named Trixie by Dean Koontz.  This tome is a wonderful introduction to Trixie and her life with Dean and Gerda Koontz.  And the glorious Trixie has told her own story in such treasures as Bliss to You: Trixie’s Guide to a Happy Life and I, Trixie, who is Dog.  There’s a whole feel-good series of these things. I recommend the lot of them.

***This story is found in Chapter XIV Freedom of Speech

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Attack of the Ten Foot Sea Spider

Posted on June 2, 2013 by Donna Black-Sword

Cedar Island – Day 1

Ow! I cry.  Gosh darn, it Micron!  You idjit!*

In Dog Training 101, one of the first bullet points to be emphasized is the need for consistency.  Our relationship with our dog is at its best when expectations are clear, right?. Like, Ok Miss Puppy Dog, you can jump on the sofa when invited. See, it’s understood that a command is always given to provide this privilege.

But not so good is relying on vague understandings such as, Alrighty then Mister Spotted Dog, you can sit in my lap anytime you feel like, except when you smell like you rolled around in a rotting raccoon carcass. Yeah, I’m looking at you, Jager.



Let us out! We want to come back in again.

I’m fully aware of this canine mindset on Sunday evening as we settle down for our first overnight in the vacation rental. At home, the mighty Micron has full approval to be on our bed. Anytime and for any reason, no questions asked.  He’s a beloved pet and we enjoy his company.

Two problems with the suite rental at Cedar Island, however.  The primary issue at hand is respecting the owner’s request for no dogs on the bed and furniture.  That is difficult to explain to Micron. 

Here’s your dog bed, I tell him, pointing to the fluffy mat on the floor. Sleep tight, don’t let the bed fleas bite.**  The big dog lies down and relaxes.  All is well.

Until the crack of dawn shines through the curtains.

Hey Food Lady! Micron says. It’s morning again! I LOVE new days, don’t you? Hey, I need to go outside! Wake up wake up wake up!

And he jumps on the bed. This is the second of the two issues. It’s different than our bed at home; sitting much higher*** and I’m in a different spot than the dog brain’s Consistency Requirement allows to process.  This realization hits me like a brick as a baseball mitt paw lands right on me.

By right on me, I mean he smacks me right in the tender eyeball. Yowza. This seeing-stars experience is enhanced as he tries to gain purchase on me while sliding back off the bed.

At the bathroom mirror, I’m assessing the damage to the money maker**** with a surprising amount of vanity that I usually don’t possess.

Are you ok? asks The Husband. 

I think so, I call back.  Just don’t be wearing a stained sleeveless t-shirt today, cuz folk will think I sassed you real good last night.

That’s not funny, he says.

It kinda is, I say.

And we begin Day One of vacation with dogs.

Pelican’s Rest

We rolled into the Pelican’s Rest vacation rental late on Sunday night, all of us road weary and exhausted from the long drive.  Cedar Island is rather remote, so more stars in the sky than street lights by the quiet roads.  I thought I saw water as we neared the suite, but couldn’t be sure.  So, Monday morning I was ready to set my remaining eye on the local sights.



Drawing the line in the sand, so to speak. Jager will not get
any closer to the water. This is him being brave. He wants
you to know that.

This place is just one wonderful surprise after another.  The generous deck overlooks the bay, cool enough.  But even better is that it’s gated so we can let the dogs roam and sun themselves without worrying about that random canine roaming that they are wont to do.

A large pool, a hot tub, a gas grill. Check, check and check. All private and just for us. And oh so quiet here. Laughing seagulls, lapping waves, the wind in the tops of the trees and some weird bird with a trill that sounds a little like an old fashioned ringing phone.

None of the golf carts of Myrtle Beach campgrounds or screaming kids. Or moms hollering for their kids. (A lingering memory of a campground is a love-lorn adolescent fella vigorously calling for his crush, Anastasia, in the deepest southern accent I’ve heard to date. That’s a full three . . . second. . . name, now.) No, we just had that one chick here cursing at her big yellow dog, but was only for a minute or two and then it stopped.

The price of this sans tourist environment?  Well, the nearest grocery is about a half hour drive and it apparently took most of the restaurants with it.  We’re gonna have to head out to get some basic essentials.  The island’s convenience store nets us coffee, cereal and such miscellaneous and sundry items. And somehow we get out of there with about forty bucks hitting the credit card. So we decide to drive to neighboring Beaufort where rumor has it there’s a Piggly Wiggly.

But lunch first 

We rely on the GPS to help us make the completely random decision of Snapperz Restaurant in Morehead City for lunch.


Euka poses by the custom mosaic fireplace at
Snapperz.

The server is looking at me funny, I say. I know I’m just being sensitive about this I-walked-into-a-door shiner I’m sporting , but still. I can see her watching us from the bar, obviously wondering if she should offer up the wine menu or if perhaps it was a reckless affair with a mango margarita that brought me to this state in the first place.  I gotta come up with a better story than my dog stepped on my face.

We could get you an eyepatch, says My Favorite Kid. You could go with a pirate theme this week.

Say arrrr, says The Husband.

R, I say, not really feeling it. I need a parrot or a mojito or something. Although I’m kinda liking the eyepatch idea. That sounds just a little awesome. Yeah, I could growl my r’s effectively with a macaw, an eyepatch and a mojito, I think. 

I dunno, maybe it requires rum.

But sadly none to be had this fine afternoon. So, later fortified with non-Yankee sweet tea, crab and shrimp cake burgers, all local seafood, we’re ready to see what’s what with this sea town of Morehead City.

Greeting a young admirer as we depart
the restaurant.
 

Attack of the 10 Foot Sea Spider

The Husband pulls into a parking lot near some piers.  Whatcha got in mind for this stop? I ask.  

You said you wanted a photo of Euka with the giant crab, he says. 

Heh. Did I actually say that out loud? I wonder. I’ve been working from home some lately and it has me concerned that I’m turning somewhat feral, talking to myself and all. So yeah, time to switch on the internal filter, girl.

It’s true that I did want to introduce Euka to the giant Spider of the Sea, the inflatable version. We saw this eye-catching advertisement for an aquarium as we were driving to the restaurant earlier. This is a training opportunity, y’all — The Novel Object Exposure.

I’ve seen dogs raise their hackles and bark at a trash bag stuck to a chain link fence. And step back when encountering a helium-filled balloon floating at their eye level. There are some unnatural things that don’t make a clean process through a dog’s instinct driven noggin.  A service pup in training needs some early exposure to help things along here.

This air infused bug is not only making an odd hissing sound brought on by the generator inflating the thing, but it’s swaying in the wind as well.  Has Euka seen such a creature in her eight months of life?  Of course not.  I’ve been around a lot longer than her and I’ve never encountered a ten foot balloon crab either.

But we stroll to the sea monster like this is just another walk on a sunny day.  No hint of confrontation, just la-la-la normal stuff here. My Favorite Kid has the leash so I can observe and direct if the puppy neurons click to a fight or flight response.

Or if this is just another photo op to satisfy the Food Lady. Which is where we end up.  Euka barely gives the crab a sniff, can I chew on this?, and does a solid Sit between the slowly waving crab claws.

This event does not ruffle the courageous Euka one little bit. She’s more interested in the onlookers at our photo shoot.  Two older gentlemen are waiting on the sidewalk for me to finish, like this is something that they see every day. I don’t know, maybe they do around here.

And we take it one step further. Well done, little girl.



No prob. I can take this thing down.

Down by the water, I know there’s an official seaworthy word for those things in the background sticking up from the pier. But I’m from landlocked Ohio and we don’t have such fancy stuff.  But I do want to draw your attention to the fact that there’s a seagull sitting atop each one.  And they’re each of them watching the dog with ill intent.

Imagine thought balloons over them with “Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.” like in Finding Nemo.***** 

More salty dog adventures coming up. A stormy day, an enraged mud turtle, and I’m considering posting a photo of me on a horse. Still thinking that one through.

________________________________________________________
*Paraphrased. 
**A manner of speech, that.  Micron doesn’t have fleas.
***I’m a tenuous five foot, three inches. Each night, I’m climbing into this behemoth bed in a manner reminiscent of a chubby Gollum scaling Mt. Doom.  It’s not becoming.
****My face, the money maker.  Sarcasm, folks.
*****Finding Nemo (2003). The scene is pretty much like Seagulls: Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. [repeatedly]  Nigel: Oh would you just shut up? You’re rats with wings!

_________________________________________________________

ADDENDUM:

It was after writing this post, I recalled a dream I had that starred, for-real, a menacing giant crab. The fact that this dream occurred before vacation was more than a little interesting to me.  So per usual, I brought it up with my Psychology/Sociology double major college grad and favorite kid for evaluation.

I like to think that my vivid, and sometimes disturbing, dreams are filled to brimming with symbolism.  Elevators that are difficult to operate and never take me to my destination are obviously a clue that I should stop eating Chinese take-out so close to bedtime. But when consulting with my college grad, the usual response is something like That’s really messed up, Ma.

But I try again. So I’m at a beach, I tell him. with a friend, but I don’t remember who it was now. We’re wading out of the water and back to the beach when the surf rises and a two-story tall slow-motion wave appears behind us. I look back and through the water I see a giant crab, not walking towards us, but being pushed by the water our way.

My friend and I start to run, but the giant crab reaches out a claw and grabs me.  The thing is pulling me towards his maw when I wake up.  I can still feel my fear even thinking about it now. What d’ya think it means?

I see your problem, Ma, he says.

Really, I say.  What?

You need slower friends, he says.

True story, y’all.

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