FAIRLY DULL

Life has been a little slow lately. We had our opening at the Gallery and no one came except the people who have stuff there. I mean, it was ok. We had maybe 4 sales and 20 people who wandered in because they were lost. It ended up being kind of a private party.

Doc got the rest of his shots.
I am going to stay away from training this week until the stuff has a chance to hit his immune system, what with this "new" Parvovirus out there. I don't trust anyone else when it comes to vaccinations. I need to know MY dogs are protected because I am never sure what other people are doing. (Or, more precisely, NOT doing.)

    (This is just something I am throwing in to break up the text.)

I asked my Vet about the new Parvo but she had not heard much: I probably have more info about it than she does.

Doc tore open 3 twenty pound bags of dirt that John had out back and dragged one halfway across the yard. I was going to put pics of it on here but John cleaned it up.

              Beaver-chewed tree along the Mississippi river

                                 IKC-- Bichon Frise aisle

           A career I am delighted my son never even considered.

THURSDAY

Thursday is a pretty quiet day here usually. Neither DH nor I have anything planned ahead of time. Monday is dog training. Tuesday is the Gallery. Wednesday is John's day. Thursday is...not much. Tomorrow, the 16th I have a Gallery opening to attend most of the afternoon and evening. It is our annual holiday sale.
Incidentally we DO have a website--www.salonartistsgallery.com
It is only about 1/4th done.

So anyway I wanted photos of American's next Top Belgian while he was gaiting. I hired DH to do the photography since I couldn't do it and gait the dog.
It is hard to explain to someone who doesn't do it, what you want in a gaiting photo. I need both side movement and down and back. (I forgot about the down and back. So we had to do that later.)

 

 

 

So back and forth we went and then we stopped and stacked. And it wasn't bad. Puppy did pretty well considering he has only had two lessons.

Then I realised I hadn't done the down and back. For this, the photographer had to squat on the sidewalk (see at least I did this before it snowed) and these aren't as nice--Doc was all  over the place and I didn't seem to be able to keep him in a straight line. Something that he will learn. (one hopes).

 

 

Not too bad. Especially for one so young. And then came the final shot, the one showing all his attributes, the one that takes your breath away and shows exactly what a magnificent dog he is going to be:                                   

                                                    (treats are thataway----)

 

 

BELGIAN SHEEPDOGS 101

Several people have asked me about Doc and what he is going to look like.
He is a Belgian Sheepdog or Groenendael (take your pick) and he will be about 50-60 pounds, square (German Shepherds are rectangular) and have a medium-long black coat and a ruff, similar to a collie ruff, but black.
For show, he may have a little white on his chest and a little on his back toes. The "frost" you see on a Belgian's chin is the hallmark of the breed, and they all have it. The tail is carried below the line of the back when in movement, and down when stopped.
The ears are pricked and upright. We hope they stay that way in the ring, altho mine have all had the habit of laying them back against their necks at just the wrong moment.

This is Doc's Mother

 

Ch. Liswyn's Quiche La Neige

 

Because I do not have a photo of Dad, I am going to borrow one of Cooper:

 

 

Cooper did not have as heavy a coat as some males. But generally, this is about the kind of coat Doc will have.

End of Lesson

 

LEARNING TO LEARN

Went to conformation training with Doc last night. Ummhmmm.
I made liver first.
I hate liver.
It stinks up the whole house. I nuke it first untill it is basically cooked then add some garlic powder and put it in a 320 oven for about an hour, hour & a half.
It doesn't look anything like the stuff you buy at the shows but the dogs don't seem to mind at all.

The trainer is a Judge and someone I have known for a long time.He had a dog from my Basset breeder, a wire-haired dachshund named Mikey who did really well. He doesn't judge herding breeds but has been around enough to know when a dog is well put together no matter what the breed. There really are not too many that had strange angles or extra special parts.

Anyway the trainer really liked Doc, liked his personality and thought he has very good structure which of course is what one wants to hear.

Doc did ok for a 4 month old who has no clue what it is I want him to do. By the end of 45 minutes (all he can do even tho the class is 2 hours: I do not think I have ever kept even a grown dog there for the full 2 hours.) he was doing pretty well but sitting a lot. I think he was pretty tired.
 He was very interested in the other dogs, but we were exceptionally cautious (I was ) since some of these were pretty good-sized dogs -- Setters and a portly Bouvier. (Bouvs always look portly to me. But I think this one actually was.) There were some itty bitties there too-- snack size even for Doc. He met a Malamute he liked.

Around we went and stopped and stood and stayed and around and stop and stand and stay. I have no fingertips left, they have been chawed right off.

He was  very dignified.

None of this:

 Or this:

(That's a tracking flag and no I do not know how he got ahold of it.)

and especially not this:

(That's what you get for playing Alligator Mouth with a Basset who needs a dental!!)

PIECES

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NEVER LASSO A POSSUM

This is a cautionary tale. A true one.
Once upon a time (I am just starting it that way because I like it, not because it is made up.)
there was a little black dog who preferred the company of others when he went outside after dark, either Mom with a flashlight or one of the grown-up Bassets.

Or even better, both.
So this particular night he and Conley and Mom and the flashlight went out for a routine potty break, and instantly, right off the get-go, Conley's nose went down and he began ahrooing and tore off into the semi-dark (it was early.) Doc, the black puppy, tore off with him, without knowing what was going on.
Mom and the flashlight brought up the rear.

And there, hidden behind a straw target next to the firetrap we call the summerhouse, was a large possum.

(photo from Google)

 

I do not like Possums. I shooed the dogs into the house and waited and 20 minutes later he was still there, hissing. Oh yeah?

 

So I got a kennel leash. The kind made of plastic rope that have a sliding loop at the end.

And after a little song and dance routine, I slipped it over his gnarly little neck, and I popped him out into the yard and escorted him to the gate where it ocurred to me that I was stuck since the gate falls apart if you open it. (It doesn't get a lot of use for this reason.)

 

I paused, kind of momentarily trying to think when the Possum took matters into his own paws and shot under the gate, yanking the leash out of my hands.

(Well come on, now. I didn't think he'd be that strong.)

 

I ran through the house, scattering dogs and rugs and husbands every which way but by the time I got out front the Possum was gone.

 

Now I have to deal with the thought that if the leash doesn't just shake loose like they usually do, the Possum could be hung up someplace strangling or starving. I look for that bright blue leash all over the neighorhood but I haven't seen it.

 

The dogs check that spot every time they go outside.

I have not seen the Possum again.

I feel awful.

 

 

VOICE LESSONS

Yesterday,
or the day before. The Watchdog spotted a woman walking past the house with two dogs.

 

He immediately alerted the other two watchdogs

 

 

And in the very best hound style, they began to bark. And bark. And bark, and then one of them, I am not sure which one, kind of dragged the bark out and within seconds it had become a

 

HOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWL

 

And of course the others tilted their heads back and one after another THEY began to howl, and soon all three were howling.

 

In the midst of this stood

 

 

The baby. With no idea what was going on. No clue as to why his housemates were yowling. All he knew was the pack was doing this and so he put his little black nose in the air and began howling, too.

 

It isn't much compared to the big boys.

It will never be as deep and melodious as theirs.

And right now it is more a Falsetto than anything but

the important thing is, he tried. And he belongs.

He is part of the pack.