Nigel considers the probability of goodies from his own spot on the bed...
He watches for Santa, or burglars, or neighbors, or relatives or stray food
I am the early warning system
Ooooooooo squirrel.....
MERRY CHRISTMAS, EVERYONE
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
CHRISTMAS DY 2012
And all through the house etc etc:
Conley finds a spot with Mr Biskit, on the bed, in the bedroom....
Nigel considers the probability of goodies from his own spot on the bed...
Llewis comandeers a bed too small for Nigel but just right if you fold up like an accordian....
And Doc?
Nigel considers the probability of goodies from his own spot on the bed...
Saturday, December 22, 2012
DECK THE HALLS
Ho ho as we await Plumber #2.
We have no workable bathtub.
Usually it is the Microwave that goes out on the eve of a Holiday on which we are having guests, even if it is just family, but this year the screw-up gods upped the ante and cursed the bathtub.
The first plumber, a charming young man, worked for a long time and said the tub could not be fixed, that we would have to
1. tear out the kitchen cabinets to get to the pipes or
2. tear out the tub to get to the pipes.
We think perhaps there is a middle ground. But we don't know that so we have to pay ANOTHER plumber to come out and either fix what the first could not, or validate the first's opinion.
Plumber #2 said he would be here yesterday afternoon but was unable to get here so is here now, this moment, at 8:30 in the morning, much to the consternation of the [crated] dogs.
Hope, as they say, springs eternal. It would be nice to have a shower before Christmas day...
*************************************************
Two days ago I cleaned the backyard without a coat. This morning it is 14 degrees. But we have sun, for the first morning in I don't know how long.
OOOO SQUIRREL!!!
Meanwhile, Life goes on. We did not get more than a smattering of snow. Enough to eat, but not enough to recognize as an alien encounter. Since Doc eats everything, he ate the snow. Every morning lately, he looks taller than he did the day before.
All the boys, including Mr Biskit and I, wish everyone a Happy Holiday.
We have no workable bathtub.
Usually it is the Microwave that goes out on the eve of a Holiday on which we are having guests, even if it is just family, but this year the screw-up gods upped the ante and cursed the bathtub.
The first plumber, a charming young man, worked for a long time and said the tub could not be fixed, that we would have to
1. tear out the kitchen cabinets to get to the pipes or
2. tear out the tub to get to the pipes.
We think perhaps there is a middle ground. But we don't know that so we have to pay ANOTHER plumber to come out and either fix what the first could not, or validate the first's opinion.
Plumber #2 said he would be here yesterday afternoon but was unable to get here so is here now, this moment, at 8:30 in the morning, much to the consternation of the [crated] dogs.
Hope, as they say, springs eternal. It would be nice to have a shower before Christmas day...
*************************************************
Two days ago I cleaned the backyard without a coat. This morning it is 14 degrees. But we have sun, for the first morning in I don't know how long.
Meanwhile, Life goes on. We did not get more than a smattering of snow. Enough to eat, but not enough to recognize as an alien encounter. Since Doc eats everything, he ate the snow. Every morning lately, he looks taller than he did the day before.
All the boys, including Mr Biskit and I, wish everyone a Happy Holiday.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
NIGEL'S NEW BED AND OTHER STUFF
We have had a lot of trouble getting Nigel through the night. This is especially vexing since I do not sleep well to begin with, and his waking and whining was getting critical. (We share a room.)
Granted, his pen is (as are the other dog crates) on an outside wall, and the house is poorly insulated and this room used to be the garage so is especially drafty. But he had blankies and pads galore in there, in his pen, which he would ruck up into this mess and curl up and sleep.....for awhile.
And then, about 1 in the morning, he would begin to whine.
I never knew what, exactly, he wanted. But he was dedicated. Nothing shut him up.
And then, the hand of fate and Mr.Biskit stepped in.
On one of his routine perusals of various retail establishments, DH (aka Mr Biskit) found a little bed, a dog bed, and after some deliberation (the cover does not come off and it is actually too small) he brought it home for Nigel.
And the rest is history.
Yesterday morning, after his second sleep-through-the-night-in-his-new-bed experience, Nigel did not even move when I opened his pen. Usually he bolts out, but yesterday he did not even raise his head, simply rolled his eyes in exasperation.
I have to admit, he looks cozy.
Never underestimate a Basset's quest for creature-comfort. He gets in and out of that bed without the use of his back legs, and it is clearly his favorite place in the world.
Meanwhile, his playmate Doc, continues to be weird, at least to a basset's way of thinking.
He looks more like a coyote than ever, but now and then I see a flash of what he is going to be.
Today, in fact, he is 5 months old.
The standard says:"...always in motion when not under command".
Granted, his pen is (as are the other dog crates) on an outside wall, and the house is poorly insulated and this room used to be the garage so is especially drafty. But he had blankies and pads galore in there, in his pen, which he would ruck up into this mess and curl up and sleep.....for awhile.
And then, about 1 in the morning, he would begin to whine.
I never knew what, exactly, he wanted. But he was dedicated. Nothing shut him up.
And then, the hand of fate and Mr.Biskit stepped in.
On one of his routine perusals of various retail establishments, DH (aka Mr Biskit) found a little bed, a dog bed, and after some deliberation (the cover does not come off and it is actually too small) he brought it home for Nigel.
And the rest is history.
Yesterday morning, after his second sleep-through-the-night-in-his-new-bed experience, Nigel did not even move when I opened his pen. Usually he bolts out, but yesterday he did not even raise his head, simply rolled his eyes in exasperation.
I have to admit, he looks cozy.
Never underestimate a Basset's quest for creature-comfort. He gets in and out of that bed without the use of his back legs, and it is clearly his favorite place in the world.
Meanwhile, his playmate Doc, continues to be weird, at least to a basset's way of thinking.
He looks more like a coyote than ever, but now and then I see a flash of what he is going to be.
Today, in fact, he is 5 months old.
The standard says:"...always in motion when not under command".
and sometimes that just gets to be
a bit
Much.
Friday, December 14, 2012
STICKS
First,
Find a stick.
You may want to go to a quiet place and chew on it for a few minutes to make sure this is the RIGHT stick.
Be sure to pay attention to your companions. Sometimes they seem oblivious to your presence. A clever comment should get their attention.
To get others interested, make sure they know that you have the very best stick in the whooooole yard. There are lots of sticks but your stick is better than anyone else's.
If they are still not interested there are ways to peak their curiosity.
Tell them that they may not have your stick.
Make it seem very important.
Remember:this is the best stick in the world. Don't you wish you had this stick? There is probably not another stick this good anywhere.
Sometimes, no matter what you do you cannot get others interested in your stick.
Well. What a bunch of boring friends.
But that's ok.
I still have my stick.
Rats. A perfectly good stick and they all went inside.
Wait! What's that noise? Is is chewing? Is Biskit Man in there??
You may have the stick.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
STILL NEW THINGS
Apparently I have not had the stereo on since I got Doc. This is entirely possible as I do not always listen to it: I will go months without turning it on. He knows about the box with the pictures and sound. Sound without a picture is new.
This morning I put on EmmyLou Harris's DUETS. Whoa!! Whazzat???
I am watching him trying to work it out. I can tell from his look that it really worries him, this sound without a picture. "What kind of magic is this? Why wasn't she happy with just the box with pictures and sound, the one with the big dogs running after the other big animal? That was very exciting, and I watched it, and I liked it. And there was the one with the music and what she said was a piano. I liked watching the hands. But what is THIS?"
"I am looking around for the picture. For the big dogs or the hands. But nothing. I don't understand."
"She does these things that absolutely freak me out. Like, why does she run out and pick up our poop? She knows if she just left it we would clean it up for her. The Bassets taught me that. Mmmmmmm.
Nevermind."
Yes nevermind. Which is why I run out and pick up the poop. The Bassets have taught him some very bad habits.
And I might add, he bites. Yes he does. When he is very excited he bites us from behind, grabs our clothing which really annoys the Biscuit Man. And he bites my butt of which there is plenty. I have never had a Belgian do this, altho I have seen others do it. It is a very bad thing to do, open to mis-interpretation. It is a herding thing, which makes me fear for any sheep I might eventually try Doc with.
Nevermind again. He is still a baby.
This morning I put on EmmyLou Harris's DUETS. Whoa!! Whazzat???
"I am looking around for the picture. For the big dogs or the hands. But nothing. I don't understand."
"She does these things that absolutely freak me out. Like, why does she run out and pick up our poop? She knows if she just left it we would clean it up for her. The Bassets taught me that. Mmmmmmm.
Nevermind."
Yes nevermind. Which is why I run out and pick up the poop. The Bassets have taught him some very bad habits.
And I might add, he bites. Yes he does. When he is very excited he bites us from behind, grabs our clothing which really annoys the Biscuit Man. And he bites my butt of which there is plenty. I have never had a Belgian do this, altho I have seen others do it. It is a very bad thing to do, open to mis-interpretation. It is a herding thing, which makes me fear for any sheep I might eventually try Doc with.
Nevermind again. He is still a baby.
Saturday, December 8, 2012
QUILLER
Quiller was my first Belgian. He came to us in 1989 from Susan Spinhirne and Melodee Tragnitz.
Midnight Acres Quiller.
Fired my enthusiasm for the breed, a hunger to show, and unleashed a multitude of sins.
This is Quiller
He was a goofy, intelligent, loyal, protective friend every day that he lived.
He taught me about finding good trainers (I didn't at first and ruined him.), about dog intelligence (much greater than I had even imagined) and, ultimately, saying goodbye.
He worked hard to teach me the ropes of dog ownership 101, paving the way for a better understanding of each succeeding Belgian. I am on only my 3rd. I have Belgians one at a time.
Bassets pack up well. Mostly they get along. A Belgian requires my full attention. Otherwise they teach themselves amazing things,many of which are not things I would have them learn at all.
Quiller desperately wanted to please, to do it right.Unfortunately I picked a newbie trainer who had learned to do it the old-fashioned way, with jerks and collar corrections. In an effort, I believe, to stop the corrections (I think now that Quiller did not know what we wanted him to do, so the corrections were not corrections. He did not understand why he was being punished. It breaks my heart.) Anyway he began grabbing the leash. This became a lifelong habit that carried over any time he was stressed. He would grab the leash and yank back. "Here!"he'd say, nearly jerking me into traffic,"How do YOU like it?"
No amount of training ever broke him of that.
Somehow. and I no longer remember the actual path that led me to this, I finally decided that he was anxious, and that in his anxiety, he would have to chew on something. Grabbing the leash was like chewing gum. The more stressed, the faster the gum was chewed.
In a stroke of not-repeated genuis, I took a flat slip-lead from the clinic, tied a knot in it so it could not slip, put it over his head and cut it off,leaving about 6" dangling. I taught him-- when in doubt, grab the tab. And he did! Forever after, he wore the tab anytime we went out. Passing by dogs behind fences challenging him--he'd grab the tab and carry it past the fences. Gradually, over the years, he got better and better, but he ALWAYS had the tab when we left the security of the house.
And no, I didn't show him anymore. "He's nice" one Judge told me, after watching him gallop around the ring dragging me with the leash in his mouth, "but he's a little wild."
Quiller at one of his very rare shows
Quiller with, I think, his Mother, Louie. Louie had a slew of titles. I do not remember them all but they were good friends for many many years. Quiller is on the right. This is the International Kennel Club show, when they actually HAD benches, and when we all decorated.
Everything Quiller did, from sheep-herding to tracking to conformation he did with enthusiasm and nervous energy. He taught me more than I ever taught him. He became a star patient at the University of Illinois. "He's so sweet: so well behaved." They said, after removing a cancerous tumor and 1/3rd of his lower jaw.
I had told them, honestly: tell him what you want and he will do it.
He never complained. He kept going as long as he could carry it off.
When I finally put him down, after the cancer had come back nearly a year later, he laid in my arms on the floor of our house. I don't think he even knew Dr C was there. He went quietly, possibly relieved. My Big Black Dog.
Midnight Acres Quiller.
Fired my enthusiasm for the breed, a hunger to show, and unleashed a multitude of sins.
He was a goofy, intelligent, loyal, protective friend every day that he lived.
He taught me about finding good trainers (I didn't at first and ruined him.), about dog intelligence (much greater than I had even imagined) and, ultimately, saying goodbye.
He worked hard to teach me the ropes of dog ownership 101, paving the way for a better understanding of each succeeding Belgian. I am on only my 3rd. I have Belgians one at a time.
Bassets pack up well. Mostly they get along. A Belgian requires my full attention. Otherwise they teach themselves amazing things,many of which are not things I would have them learn at all.
Quiller desperately wanted to please, to do it right.Unfortunately I picked a newbie trainer who had learned to do it the old-fashioned way, with jerks and collar corrections. In an effort, I believe, to stop the corrections (I think now that Quiller did not know what we wanted him to do, so the corrections were not corrections. He did not understand why he was being punished. It breaks my heart.) Anyway he began grabbing the leash. This became a lifelong habit that carried over any time he was stressed. He would grab the leash and yank back. "Here!"he'd say, nearly jerking me into traffic,"How do YOU like it?"
No amount of training ever broke him of that.
Somehow. and I no longer remember the actual path that led me to this, I finally decided that he was anxious, and that in his anxiety, he would have to chew on something. Grabbing the leash was like chewing gum. The more stressed, the faster the gum was chewed.
In a stroke of not-repeated genuis, I took a flat slip-lead from the clinic, tied a knot in it so it could not slip, put it over his head and cut it off,leaving about 6" dangling. I taught him-- when in doubt, grab the tab. And he did! Forever after, he wore the tab anytime we went out. Passing by dogs behind fences challenging him--he'd grab the tab and carry it past the fences. Gradually, over the years, he got better and better, but he ALWAYS had the tab when we left the security of the house.
And no, I didn't show him anymore. "He's nice" one Judge told me, after watching him gallop around the ring dragging me with the leash in his mouth, "but he's a little wild."
Everything Quiller did, from sheep-herding to tracking to conformation he did with enthusiasm and nervous energy. He taught me more than I ever taught him. He became a star patient at the University of Illinois. "He's so sweet: so well behaved." They said, after removing a cancerous tumor and 1/3rd of his lower jaw.
I had told them, honestly: tell him what you want and he will do it.
He never complained. He kept going as long as he could carry it off.
When I finally put him down, after the cancer had come back nearly a year later, he laid in my arms on the floor of our house. I don't think he even knew Dr C was there. He went quietly, possibly relieved. My Big Black Dog.
Thursday, November 29, 2012
IKC
(Zelda was the only dog I have had who actually went off for 6 wks with Jackie as handler.)
My aim with Doc is to get him ready to attend the IKC show in Feb. He will be JUST 6 mos, which is the youngest allowed at AKC shows.
It is a huge show and benched, which means you cannot leave.
It is stressful on both humans and dogs, especially youngsters who are not prepared for the noise and activity.
I will try to get my friend Susan to show him. She is a better handler and has finished all her Belgians. Doc, light on his feet, deserves a better profile than having me lumbering about next to him. She does NOT like this show. I, on the other hand, love everything about it except getting in and out, which is a real major pain in the ass.
Cooper and Me
Mitchell getting a major with Jackie Fogel
One of my favorite photos from a dog show. This was at the IKC.
I am virtually the only person I know who loves this show. Everyone hates it. They hate getting in and out, they hate the crowds, they hate the benching. Philadelphia is also benched. Westminister is benched.
I don't know what other shows are benched but I live in terror that someday the powers will decide to unbench the IKC, which would take all the charm (if you can call it that) away.
It is actually 4 shows: Thursday and Friday are 2 other Kennel Clubs and those shows are not benched. Saturday and Sunday is the International Kennel Club and that is benched.
I have taken one dog for three days once, and was so exhausted and the dog so stressed I vowed never to do it again.
A very young Conley in a rare photo with his tail UP.
I don't know where we are but someone else is showing him and it is not Jackie. So I would guess that is Lake Shore.
It is also an expensive weekend. The entry fee is high, the parking is exorbitant even with a parking pass, and the wine is $5 or $6 a glass. Extortion.
Some of the really neat vendors have pulled out because they are reputedly not treated well. The price for a space is over a thousand dollars and in the past couple of years I have noticed a drop in both new, cool Vendors as well as people attending to see the dogs.
As with all "hobby"-driven activities,dog shows have been hard-hit by the financial climate. It is very depressing. It is also the reason show people are picking shows very carefully. Between the training, the entry fee, the gas and hotel bills, you want to get points if you win.
I expect the IKC costs me much more than I get out of it. We shall see.
Sunday, November 25, 2012
GAME TIME
This morning Nigel got off his place on my bed and was hauling around on the floor in my room. Nigel is usually on the bed or on the couch. Because he "leaks" I really don't love having him scoot around in the main part of the house. The rug in here is easily steamed clean.
Now. Doc has met Nigel but they have not interacted. Doc has not yet figured out how to use stairs (onto the bed) and the bed is just a bit too high for him to jump onto.
But this morning I had to leave the room,and I left the two of them together, Nigel on the floor, and Doc loose.
When I came back, they were laying on the floor, alligator-mouth wrestling. Both were clearly into the game, but neither was being as rough as I know each of them can be.
The game went on for about 40 minutes. Then they kind of lost interest. Doc needed to go out-- Nigel wanted back on the bed.
But this was as much stimulation as Nigel has had for awhile. It was kind of amazing to me that they meshed so well. (Nigel can be a real grump, and Doc can be a real brat.)
Now. Doc has met Nigel but they have not interacted. Doc has not yet figured out how to use stairs (onto the bed) and the bed is just a bit too high for him to jump onto.
But this morning I had to leave the room,and I left the two of them together, Nigel on the floor, and Doc loose.
When I came back, they were laying on the floor, alligator-mouth wrestling. Both were clearly into the game, but neither was being as rough as I know each of them can be.
The game went on for about 40 minutes. Then they kind of lost interest. Doc needed to go out-- Nigel wanted back on the bed.
But this was as much stimulation as Nigel has had for awhile. It was kind of amazing to me that they meshed so well. (Nigel can be a real grump, and Doc can be a real brat.)
The Friends
Saturday, November 24, 2012
FROM DOC (with CONLEY)
Yeah well I godda do dis cuz MPerson say I gotta so dis whut Doc tell to rite so donit go blaming me if he say stupit stuff.
Conley
Dis Me Doc. I growin by leeps an bones ebberday. I lernin to be a showy dog. Gotta lern ta stan still an let odder peepels touch me all ober an lookee in my mouf. I dunno whut dey lookin for in my mouf. I no got nuffin ob theirs in my mouf. Jus teeth. Lotsa teeth.
Dis me tawkin ta Conley tellin he whut to rite:
See I gots da teef in dere but nuffin whut dont belong to me awreddy.
Here me wif Uncle Llewis. We plaze togedder a lot. He getz we in trouble by barkin alla time.
He got dis fing where if I whoosh inn his eer he go shakin his head sumfin fierce:
Dis next one is UncleLlewis tellin me not to go whooshin in he eer no more.
An den I shows you me: Dis whut I look like on dis side.
An den dis whut I look like on dat odder side:
I be hannsome.
Dats all. Dats me. Dats Doc.
Conley say dis kid a reel brat but we gots to put up wif he. I done writed what he say to me and now I get a peece of turkey. I done.
Lub to youse all, Conley
Conley
Dis Me Doc. I growin by leeps an bones ebberday. I lernin to be a showy dog. Gotta lern ta stan still an let odder peepels touch me all ober an lookee in my mouf. I dunno whut dey lookin for in my mouf. I no got nuffin ob theirs in my mouf. Jus teeth. Lotsa teeth.
Dis me tawkin ta Conley tellin he whut to rite:
See I gots da teef in dere but nuffin whut dont belong to me awreddy.
Here me wif Uncle Llewis. We plaze togedder a lot. He getz we in trouble by barkin alla time.
He got dis fing where if I whoosh inn his eer he go shakin his head sumfin fierce:
Dis next one is UncleLlewis tellin me not to go whooshin in he eer no more.
An den I shows you me: Dis whut I look like on dis side.
An den dis whut I look like on dat odder side:
I be hannsome.
Dats all. Dats me. Dats Doc.
Conley say dis kid a reel brat but we gots to put up wif he. I done writed what he say to me and now I get a peece of turkey. I done.
Lub to youse all, Conley
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