DO DOGS HAVE ANGST?

Last night Cooper came in and asked to come to bed with me. Actually it was about 4:30 and I thought he needed out, but when I asked, from the depths of my pillow, he said no, he just wanted to get in bed with me.

So I scooched over and got a pillow for him and he climbed up, flopped down, sighed happily and we fell asleep, my arm thrown over his back and chest so I could pet him a bit before we both dropped back into sleep. When I woke up at 5:30, he was gone. (He gets uncomfortably warm. It would have to be about 20 degrees in the room for him to stay.)

But later, I began to think about this. He does this every now and then. But I do not know why.
Does he have bad dreams? Do dogs have bad dreams? Do they dream that their food bowls have run away, or that they have been left behind and no one comes back, or that they have taken their owners for a walk off-leash and now they cannot find them? (I dream that-- in reverse-- and it is almost always Cooper who has vanished.)

The psychologist Piaget determined somehow that small babies, when a parent leaves the room, seems to think the parent is gone permanently. I am not sure how he drew this conclusion from non-verbal babies, but it has been a long time since I read the experiment.
Do dogs think this way?
I am told dogs "live in the Now". Are we sure?

Here is Cooper on a day when I was cooking. When I cook, he flees the house. Why? Because he is afraid of the smoke alarms. When I cook, sometimes the smoke alarms go off and he leaves the house and stays away for at least an hour, no matter what the weather. I cannot coax him in, I cannot catch him, not even now that he only has three legs, he is still a lot more nimble than am I. What is he thinking? With what unkown danger does he associate the stove being on? How did he manage to figure out that the smoke alarms mean danger? If he would come right back when they go off I would think he just doesn't like the sound, but it is more than that. He associates it with something terrible. Surely a dog like this can have bad dreams.

This looks to me like an animal that has the ability to live not only in the now but in the past and in the future.

Where IS she? She left and maybe this time she won't come back. She's going to leave me with HIM. I mean he's ok and everything, but he isn't HER. Is she out someplace fooling around with those big damn..whatcallem--HORSES again? They'll eat her alive. Should I try to get out, go find her? Yesterday she left and came right back. This time it's been....damn I wish I could understand that time thing--the clock. Is that her Va---no.....

This is a dog who does not have that problem. This is a dog who I am pretty sure has no major Angst and can be said to "live in the now" which consists mainly of naps, barking at squirrels and taking things off the counters.
This is a dog who gets into the car full of hope even if we are just going to Vet, and the next time he gets into the car he will be full of hope even tho we are going to the Vet AGAIN. The only time I think he has Angst is when I roll open the door and he is at a dog show, and then he does not want to get OUT of the Van. This is the one time when I suspect he is able to think forward.

Dogs get lost because they don't think forward. It does not occur to them that they will not get home again. Most dogs. Bassets and beagles often simply backtrack home. Not always.

This is a dog who knows deep in his soul that if he disobeys something unspoken and dreadful will happen. He will not be beaten, or thrown out of a car or anything like that, but I might scowl at him.
Right now in this picture he is thinking that there must be some way of getting rid of the short-legged ones so he can have the house to himself again but by the same token he knows this is wrong-think, and is, therefore, deep in Angst.

IT WAS A DARK NIGHT

I awoke last night about 2 in the morning, and laid still. What woke me? There was no dog at my bedside begging to go out. I had no pain anywhere (I hadn't noticed it yet was all) and I didn't have the flu so why was I awake?

And then came the soft growl from the crate nearest my bed. Again, louder.
And an answering growl. I heard then the soft scuffle of feet in the other room: the sound of dogs up in the night, moving quietly in their house first at one door and then a sudden growl from the living room and the sound of a big dog moving towards me: the gentle sound of Llewis's bad leg not quite clearing the ground and yet more growling now from around me, rising in intensity.

And then I heard it.

The shrill noise of---a dog in distress?--outside. And again. And again. High-pitched (my imagination instantly envisioned a Maltese or a Shih Tzu) and trailing off into an odd hoppity voice. WTF????

And around me, in the dark, the dogs amped up their voices and finally Conley barked his INTRUDER ALARM bark.

So I got up. The hairs on my neck on end, I grabbed a flashlight and my muck boots and leaving the dogs inside went out in back, hitting the floodlights as I went, not liking surprises like coyotes in the yard, or a small tiger or perhaps a Leopard--who knew?

And discovered I had also left the back door wide open. Oh well.

Out into the yard-- the dogs now thundering behind me and John's sleepy voice as he edged into alertness-- "WHAT'S GOING ON???" -- and then the tremulo high pitched bark began again sending the dogs into a frenzy.
"That" I answered. And stepped outside.

I illuminated every darkened corner of the yard, the sheds, behind the sheds--the neighbor's yard ( they must have loved that) trees--nothing. But the yap was louder now, and then, abruptly it stopped. There was nothing in the yard. I returned to the deafening roar of dogs on a hunt and let them out and they streaked, as one, to the far corner of the fence, frantically leaping up at it, burying their noses in the dirt, shouldering each other out of the way, growling and yarring and scratching at the fence, lest I think SOMETHING had not been there. I got the message. SOMETHING had been in the yard. Whatever belonged to that treble voice.

I got them calmed down and back inside after a short time. Disappointed all of them. Whatever it was it had been in the yard but was gone. Damn. Another chance to rip something apart had been lost. Stupid human, she waited too long...

So I turned on the computer and began hunting too. Listening to the shrill but not shrill enough calls of coyotes and then, on a hunch, on to foxes.

AHA! My nighttime visitor was a fox! Calling out to the world. "I got something". (Maybe the neighbor cat? Out without his claws? I hoped not.) Or a squirrel? YES!! That would be fine.

Now, knowing what it had been, I was ok. And I went back to bed and slept well until the dogs decided it was breakfast time, and when I let them outside, they ran to that corner again--just to be sure. But there was nothing.

Growls in the night. Boy, I just hate that.

                                (photo borrowed from Google)

WHEN THE EARTH WAS GREEN

Many years ago I belonged, kind of by default, to the Iowa Ranch Horse Association.
I got more outstanding horsie photos from that year or two of visiting Iowa Ranch horse shows than in my whole life.
The first year I went out with Susie and a friend of hers had just had a crop of foals. What could be more appealing? Kittens, maybe. Some puppies. But foals--- all knobby knees and ears and little, ineffective whisk-broom tails...With their mama's-- all eyes and flattened ears and nerves. Who are YOU? What are you doing near my baby? You think so, do you?

(Mares with foals are not something you mess with unless you know them or they are well socialized.)

(There is a photo that makes the rounds now and again, that I think is supposed to be funny and maybe it is unless you have seen with your own eyes what is about to happen: It is a dog, running full tilt with a horse close behind, ears flattened tight against the skull and neck snaked out low to the ground, mouth agape, hooves pounding.

 As I said, I believe it is supposed to be funny unless you know how fast a dog-hating horse can move and what they do if they catch up. I knew a mare who went through a fence, down the street and up onto a porch in an effort to kill a dog that had passed through the pasture. Feral dogs had killed her foal the season before. She never forgot. Periodically, we would find trampled dogs in the pasture....Cindy always caught them.) I find the photo scary as hell.

I digress.
So last night going through some old photos I found the baby horse pictures, one in particular appealed to me: a foal investigating a tin of oats. And I decided to paint. It isn't great. Maybe not even good. I am, however happy with a painting that took a couple of hours and used one of my favorite subject matters. No lonesome houses, no leafless trees, no snow: just a baby horse...

                            I had fun, even if it isn't very good.

I AM NOT A BASSET

This is Cooper. There are some Cooper's on the Drool that are Bassets. I want to make it clear that I am not a Basset. I am a Belgian Sheepdog. I do not look like a Basset, nor would I ever be mistaken for a Basset, a beagle, a cocker spaniel....no.

This is a Basset hound.
Note the long, swingy ears.
The short hair.
The long, swingy ears.
The goofy expression.
The long, swingy ears.
Note the short legs.

The large feet.

Note the colors. Brown, white, black....

I am a Belgian sheepdog. Note the longish coat, the black color and the upright ears. Also the alert expression. Most Belgians have four long legs. I happen to be the sporty model with only three due to illness. But the legs are LONG, and have SMALL PAWS.  Notice the white "frosting" on my elegant muzzle: it is a hallmark of the breed. We begin developing that at about two years of age. It is not because I am old. I am only ten.

Please observe than I am standing, three-legged on a table. This is the picanic table and I can still jump up there and down again, altho down is a little scarey.

LIVING IN WATERWORLD

It is raining today. It rained yesterday. I believe we had one day without rain but my brain is so soggy I am not sure.
Everything is wet.
The yard, the dogs, clothing, carpeting....is there still a sun? I'm not sure anymore.
Last night it was supposed to thunderstorm but by the grace of Madam Nature it did not, which meant we all slept, including Cooper. The dogs are bored.
The grass is long and getting longer by the second, fed by -- rain. The poop piles are harder and harder to locate and softer and softer to pick up.
The dogs go out and come in stinking and muddy and wet.

Conley considers his options. He came around this way because the other way means stepping off the deck:

Which is even less desirable. While the dogs do not like getting soaked, they will eventually slog through this to get to the muddy end of the yard where they wander around yarring at the dogs in back, who no doubt are equally filthy. Why don't I bathe my boys?
Well to begin with they are blowing coat like mad and it would plug up the tub. Even with a drain cover it plugs it up and then we have to have the plumber out. The plumber is about 85 yrs old (no kidding) and while he is a good plumber still, he leaves a trail of debris.
The other reason is this:

Why bother?

The lawn, I must say, where it hasn't drowned, is quite lush. In spots it is about 4 inches to 6 inches high. It's a pity there is no way to mow. We do have a sump pump hooked up to pump the backyard out but at the moment it is a losing battle. This is mostly because we had to cut off the drainage system at the insistence of a neighbor, a system they gave us permission to put in in 1987. Part of it was on the very edge of their property and they wantd it out. So we dug it out. You have heard this story before, but this is the result.

On the other hand, my Lilies are going to be huge and fantastic.

If it quits raining you will hear me cheering. Until then...glub.

OUR HAWK IS BACK

(photo from Google)

This is a Cooper's Hawk. No, it isn't Cooper's hawk, it is called a Cooper's Hawk. The first time I saw one it was in our hedge trying to eat something. This was a number of years ago. Whatever dog we had at the time got too close and flushed it out. It took a number of sightings and a lot of time for me to positively identify it as a Cooper's Hawk and not a Sharp-shined Hawk.

Since then I have seen one or more around the house every year. I do not know if they migrate out in the winter or not. There are always a few Red-tailed Hawks around in the winter and a few smaller ones. The trouble with hawk identification is that so often you (or I, in this case) see them only in silhouette against the sun and not so the markings are readily visible.

From below, all you see anyway is a streaky breast that could belong to any number of hawks. We also have a few Kestrels around but I know they leave and I saw the first one a couple of weeks ago.

But this morning, standing at the sink I saw a bird moving in the yard in back of us and as he approached he landed on our wire and paused. And I saw that it was one of my lovely little Cooper's Hawks. I grabbed my binoculars but just then it started to rain hard again and he took off. He'll be back. We have an overgrowth of squirrels, and while that's a big animal for a Cooper's to tackle maybe it will lure some Red-tails into the area.

I like hawks. Can you tell? I am one of those horrible people who do not mind when a hawk snatches a bird at a feeder. They have to eat, too.

Where I stay in Des Moines, with Susie, they have owls in the huge oaks that surround the backs of the houses. I love waking in the night and hearing the owls talking back and forth. I have not heard one here for years. I miss owls.

Welcome back, Cooper's Hawk, and good hunting.

DUCKS FOR BREAKFAST

As some of you may know we used to have a drainage system in our backyard. All this area was swampland before it became a town. As a result, the yards are frequently under water when it rains. Our back was so bad that we had drainage tile put in, and with permission ran it (underground) along the neighbor's side of our driveway to the sidewalk. Our yard was lovely. No more ducks when it rained (seriously, we had ducks swimming in the yard.)

Recently our neighbor got her undies in a bunch and ordered us to remove the tile that was on "her property". Ok. So John spent a back-breaking couple of weeks digging it up. It was put in with a backhoe, so it wasn't a couple of inches under the soil. He got it out but then had to plug up our end so that it would not puddle up at the corner of "her property". Consequently, when it rains, the yard fills with water. And I mean, it fills. Pond time.

It's really a mess.

This morning I decided to have breakfast. I put some onion, tomato, cilantro and a handful of cheese in a little bowl. I got out the eggs, sliced some pepperjack cheese, sprayed the pan with Olive oil, turned on the burner and looked out the window.

Ducks.

Two of them, a drake and a hen Mallard swimming around, eating. Now there is a lot of fence back there. There is fence around the mosquito trap to keep the dogs out, and fence behind to keep the dogs off the big fence. But there were the ducks. Happy as can be.

This is what the area looked like before we took the drainage tile out:

As you can see, it is dry and there are no ducks. So I grabbed my camera and tried to take pictures from inside but it was hopeless. Ve-ry quiet-ly I tippy toed out the door and began taking photos except that it was very chilly and I was cold and so either I moved or they moved and then I took one step too many and off they went.

Our ducks.
And then, only then....did I remember the pico da gallo in the little dish, and the pepperjack cheese, and the very sharp knife on the counter and I came flying in, to be greeted with an empty dish, no cheese, knife on the floor and, worst of all, the PAN ON THE STOVE, smoking like mad because I had left the burner on!!!! And just then, of course, the smoke alarms went off and Cooper, after a night of thunder was completely undone and while I tried to cool the pan down he fled out the door and now will not come back in the house.

John, who was asleep until the smoke alarm went off, turned it off and I washed the dish and picked up the knife and stared at Conley, who smiled.
What could I do? I left it all right there for the dogs. Right within eyesight, nose-sight and tongue-reach.
The ducks are gone, I'll have breakfast later, and Cooper is barely visible outside in the little spot he has found next to the fence.

(A lot of this will be cleaned up in the next few weeks, but you can see the pond that the ducks were in, to the right --and left-- of the birdbath.)

I guess I should welcome them back. But somehow...............................