The significance of DockDogs titles (and record keeping)

Whew! What a weekend we had! ;D We had a blast; hanging with our friends, it was a really competitive event in every division, played with our dogs, ate good luck brownies, and rang cowbells until the final dog splashed down in the amateur finals.

I've always loved the competitiveness of DockDogs, and love to challenge my dogs and myself by setting a goal each year. Our goal is to always have jumps that are consistently 'just a little bit better' or a improve by 'a lot' :D Maybe cheesy to some people who just say they're 'only' here for the fun of the the dogs. Humbug! I say HECK YEAH I'm here to have fun with the dogs. But....while we're having 'fun', we can be competitive too. In fact I would rather come in 8th place against teams that kick our butt fair and square, than take home all the first place ribbons in an event where we out -jumped all the other dogs by several feet. What can I say....My knees won't let ME compete in sports anymore, but I still like to play hard. So...that's always kind of been MY thought anyhow, but now I'm in a quandary! [note]-I have kept records of every single jump from day one for all of my dogs. Many years later, it's SO COOL to go back and see what we did 8) Henna's first competition jump was 12' 02" in January 2005 (she was just a few months shy of 2 1/2 yrs). She had one more junior jump that day, and finally earned her senior title (2 events later) in March 2005. January, 2006 (3 events later) she hit her first 20+ footer. Henna then went on to earn her master title about 5 months later in June of 2006. In August 2006 she hit her first 22+footer (now THAT was fun day) 8) ;D The ENTIRE next season was just plain weird :-\ She started jumping ALL OVER the pool. Sometimes 15-feet with an occasional 20+footer. But not until on year later in August 2007 did we FINALLLLLLY see some consistency again. She was flying steady around 20'-22' for the remainder of the season, and into the next one. But one morning, in the winter of 2008, she wouldn't get up. She had degenerative disk disease, and had broken off some loose boney pieces on her spine. After a 6 week stint of crate rest, we worked slowly to get her back into shape to play and be a normal dog. Her neurologist recommended we retire her from Extreme Vertical (it was a good thing the new game of Speed Retrieve came out) :D We installed a swimming pool (veterinarian's recommendations don't ya' know ;)). Henna regained her strength by daily swimming, and returned to jumping. Once again her distances continued to improve, and she soon moved from 15-footers and back on up to 22-footers once more. But on July 30th, 2008 she hit a 23+footer, an then a 24-footer on the same day :o We had a BIG party on the dock after that one!!! One more week went by and we went to another event. She hit 3 more big jumps and, after ALL THIS TIME, she earned her Elite Title on August 8th (she was just one month shy of her 6th birthday). Last season I let her fly at 7 events (we did a LOT of traveling last year...LOL). She only hit one elite jump, and her distances are back into the low 20's and even sometimes the high teens. I've had to cut back to a couple practice jumps (and limit her to one wave a day) so that she may continue to play. She's 7 1/2 years old. We have a WHOLE LOT of 'thanks for coming' ribbons (as we call them here in the Northwest) to show for our last year of work. But I still pick up each and every one, print the event date and jump scores on the back, and keep them in a safe place. After all those years of hard work to earn an Elite Title, I've never wanted to take it away from her. She earned it fair and square...so it's all hers! But now I'm starting to wonder......[i]should[/i] I request a decrease in our title? Am I cheating us both out of something we worked so hard for, just so we can get 'places' again during competitions. I just can't make up my mind! ....and these are the things that keep me awake in bed at night.....LOL (how sad is that)! ::)

Another Dip in the Pool (Oso's Rescue - Day 25)

You were doing so well at swimming, I thought it would be fun to take you for another dip in the dog pool at Bow Wow. But this time I thought it might be interesting to bring Mossy with us.

Being the head bitch of the household, she had a difficult time accepting your arrival. But as the days ticked by, she was warming up. You had taken her cues well, and fell into place in the order of our pack.

You had a slight deviousness about you, though. Usually Mossy would carry the stick or the toy and run through the yard with her head and tail high, begging to be chased. Trying to beat her at her own game, you tried to pick up an even bigger stick and prance back and forth in front of her, sometimes tossing your head playfully side to side. You were antagonizing her and trying to entice her in a game of chase Oso instead. I worked frequently, and the two of you ran large circles through the tall fir trees in our front yard.

We teased Mossy about being beat at her own game. Being a puppy allowed you to get away with a little more than you might have otherwise. I’m certain that if Mossy could’ve rolled her eyes with the proficiency of a teenaged child, she would have. But I think she might have just possibly secretly liked you; even though, from time to time, you were the pestering puppy.

You immediately jumped off the side of the decking at the pool without my coaxing you this time. I was so pleased! You picked right up where we left off the last time we came to the pool. You and Mossy took turns in a high speed game of retrieve; in the pool, fetch the toy, run around the side of the pool, deliver it to my hand, and back in the pool again.

I tried to play with you both alternately so that one was on the deck, and one in the pool. This way I had enough time to ask for a short sit and stay before tossing the toys into the pool. I wasn’t asking you to do anything more than sit, stay, and retrieve at this point. You were still learning that swimming and retrieving could be fun, and that you must bring the toy to me so you can play again. I simply wanted to focus on no more than that concept.

I would say that by now you had this drill down pretty pat, but there was nothing like lots of positive reinforcement to really drive the point home. Besides, you were having a great time!

You and Mossy both swam hard for just over an hour. Going to the pool is much different that a leisurely play at the beach. At least when the dogs are at the beach, they occasionally get out of the water and trot across the sand. At the pool, the majority of the time is spent swimming in the water. It is possible to swim the dogs at the pool for an hour, and expect that they will be pretty much tuckered out for the rest of the day. A tired dog is a good dog!

Keeper of the Squeaky Toys (Oso's Rescue - Day 24)

This morning it was raining hard again. The dreary weather outdoors was incentive enough to plan for a day indoors to do some work on my computer and just enjoy being home with the dogs. I figured this would also afford you the chance to do something we hadn’t been able to do yet; just hang out around the house without having to bounce off the walls, the furniture, and the other dogs.

You were having a hard time trying to learn to relax when you were indoors. It seemed that most of the interactions you had with the other dogs or us, resembled something more along the lines of Romper Room. You had spent quite a bit of time inside your kennel in your special corner in the living room; especially during your 2 week kennel cough quarantine. You were still in the early stages of the good house-dog manners learning process.

I had a short, 3-foot tether clipped to the corner of your kennel so that you could socialize with the other dogs to an extent. But this also allowed the other dogs to be able to get away when you became just too much. You were still a little rambunctious and would prefer to spend your entire 24-hour day pouncing on top of Buddy, tunneling underneath Mossy’s short belly, and bumping into Henna.

The tether came in handy by allowing me to wait until you were relaxed and calm, then swoop in on you to give you attention and praise for behaving. When you were overexcited, rowdy, or jumping around on the end of your tether everyone in the house was instructed to ignore you. This way, the only attention you got was when you were good!

This was a trick I learned many years ago when Henna was an adolescent dog. We attended a seminar given by an animal behaviorist who had recommended this tethering technique for teaching appropriate household behavior. In our previous house, we had a tether that would clip into an eye bolt that had been screwed into a faceplate in the wall, near the floor.

Every once in a while I would have someone curiously look at the small silver ring that protruded from the wall and ask me what it was for. Once I explained the concept, most everyone ‘got it’. It was an ingenious idea actually. I have no idea where this concept originated, but I had utilized it fairly regularly to teach a dog to be calm indoors. I had even used it to teach a dog not to barge the door when the pizza guy made his delivery to our door.

Now entering her early senior years, Henna was by far the most relaxed and mellow dog in the house. But in her puppyhood, she had been aptly dubbed ‘Devil Dog’ by one of our good friends during a camping trip to the sand dunes of Oregon in an RV. She was about 6 months old during the trip and woke our friend daily by leaping onto his chest and licking his face until she managed to essentially harass him out of bed.

It was because of Henna that I sought out many of the dog activities I still take part in to this day. She had such a surplus of energy that she was in dire need of some sort of outlet; something that would give her direction and teach her focus.

Henna was a good training tool for me. She was a quick learner which made her fairly easy to train. This allowed me to get my feet wet in more advanced levels of training that I hadn't done before. The problem with this, though, was that I made many mistakes along the way, and still ended up with a dog that essentially made me look good in competitions. I know now that I had been spoiled! I didn't realize the extent of my spoiling until years later when we acquired our second Chocolate Labrador, Mossy. Mossy took considerably more time, patience, and a multitude of creative approaches to the same point across.

You were considerably more mellow at 8 months than any of the other dogs. But since training is a lifelong work in progress, I was certain that someday down the road I'd be comparing your personality, energy level, and training stories too. But with the day's soaking wet weather, I was ready to spend the day watching you do your thing, and be there to guide you into appropriate inside play.

I was time. For the first time since you arrived, I was about to give you free access to the toys. I opened up the sliding door of the coat closet, where I kept a basket of toys. The large wicker basket sat on the floor and was chock full of dog toys that squeaked, tough tugging toys, large rubber chewing toys, and even a few rubber balls that were fairly slime resistant.

You joined the other dogs as they began unloading the toy basket one toy at a time and carrying them to the large area rug in the living room. It looked like we were about to have a carnival with the variety of colorful toys. The all time favorite toys seemed to be the ones with the loudest squeaks. They were made out of various colors of rubber and were more than twice the size of a typical tennis ball. I would sometimes step on them to get the dogs attention. As I released the pressure from my foot, the air would fill the toy and make a loud, hoarse, squeaking sound. This always riled everyone up in a hurry.

A couple of the toys had been de-squeaked. I'm not sure who was the culprit, as they all had a habit of working and chewing on the small cylindrical squeaker stuffed in the end of a toy. Once it had been extracted they usually delivered it to my hand or spit it at my feet, wagging their tail as if I should be so proud of their successful surgical accomplishment.

I never really understood why they did this. Because inevitably, once a toy had been de-squeaked it became much less interesting than a toy that still had it's squeaker intact. They still tossed it about and chomped on it. But I could see them turning it over and over in their mouth, still trying to figure out how to make it squeak. Eventually they would give up and abandon the squeak-less squeaker toy.

I the hours that followed you had a grand time prancing around the house with various toys dangling from your teeth and taking turns at games of keep away with the others. Sometimes you would pant heavily after a good roll on the floor with one of the squeaky toys. Your tongue flopped off to one side and hung out from between those labrador jowls, and you looked silly and happy. Occasionally you laid your back you would hold the toy between your front paws and raise it up in the air; only to drop it again into your mouth.

You played hard for an hour or so before collapsing into stretched out doggy slumber on the floor; only to get up and do it all over again a short time later. You repeated this series of playing and napping all day long.

During one of your naps I noticed that you managed to commandeer all three of the coveted squeaky balls; a yellow character, a pink elephant, and the blue frog. You flopped down on your side, and stretched your legs out in either direction so you were sprawled out across the floor. The three balls were tucked close to your body and moved slightly with the movement of your body and you sleepily breathed in and out.

Miraculously, none of the other dogs made a move to abscond with your loot as you slept. I had just finished cleaning the kitchen countertops and quietly grabbed the camera, hoping to capture the scene. I tiptoed around you, snapping a few pictures.

During a slow, deep and sleepy, breath one the balls rolled over and bumped your front leg. You sat up and immediately glanced, annoyingly, right at me. I couldn’t help but laugh. You calmly repositioned yourself, this time using your paws to gath

er all the balls between your front legs and your chest, and laid your head back down to finish your nap.

Swimming in The Bahamas (Oso's Rescue - Day 23)

After a couple of unseasonably warm days and blue sky, the temperature had taken a dive. It was below freezing this morning and the grassy front yard was covered in icy crystals. This chilly weather put a damper on our plans for the day.

I was hoping to meet up with Suzanne and Piper sometime this morning. We were planning to head to a lake near the foothills that we had never visited before with the dogs. You still hadn't quite fully grasped the concept of swimming yet, so I was hoping to take just a few dogs; or no other dogs at all. This way we would be able to practice the retrieving game we had played in the living room the previous night into the water.

I throw the toy. You go fetch the toy AND bring it back. We had practiced this many times now, and you were finally starting to catch on. The other night when I was throwing the toy over the bench that I had turned on it's side in the living room, we even played another similar game (but with different rules). In this game I would hold on to your collar when I tossed the toy. I asked you to wait. The idea of this game was to try to teach you to stop, behave, and focus (all at the same time).

Still quite the puppy, sometimes when I would toss the bumper, you would only focus on it for a spit second. Instead you would whip your head from left to right to see if there was anything else going on. Then, deciding that the toy was still the best thing happening at that moment, you writhed and wriggled in attempt to break free to fetch the toy.

But gradually, even this game was helping to improve your focus little by little. Now whenever I tossed the toy, you were beginning to watch it intently. You starred hard at that little toy with the purple rope on the end and waited for me to say the magic word, "Oso"!

Once I spoke your name, you would peel out on the carpet, bail over the bench, and pounced on the bumper with your front feet. You quickly picked it up and made an about face. You always returned a little slower, but without the distractions of the other dogs, you were returning.

You accomplished all these steps while still on a zippy leash. This way I could wrangle you in when you occasionally got a wild hair and decided that a little victory lap was necessary. You pranced across the floor with your head and tail held high in the air. And just out of shear giddiness, you flipped the bumper up above your head and tried to catch it. It's a good thing the other dogs were put away, a least one of them would have simply darted across your path and snagged it right out of the air.

After breakfast I took the dogs out for our usual short walk around the front of the property. It was freezing! The fog was hanging low to the ground and I could feel a slight mist on my already frizzy hair. It was much to cold for first time swimming lessons at the lake. On a whim, I decided the best plan for the day was to make the hour and a half-long drive north to Bow Wow Fun Towne, which had an indoor swimming pool for dogs.

Despite the drive, this was a fairly inexpensive way to spend the day with a dog. Although, the price went up exponentially when we brought all the dogs to swim. Swimming a single dog was quite affordable. The ten dollar cost was well worth spending time out of the weather for me, and letting you swim to your heart's content in the balmy 75 degree salt water.

I had hoped that by brining you swim in the warm water, you might not have to get out for being too cold. Although you were finally growing some muscle mass, and had filled in and bulked up since we brought you home, you could probably tolerate the cold water just fine.

Labrador Retrievers were derived from the St. John's Water Dog (which was actually an ancestor of the Newfoundland Dog) who were bred for retrieving fishing nets and floats from the icy waters of the island of Newfoundland. You were built for cold water. But even though I could pull on a wetsuit as swim in the chilly Puget Sound for an hour, I would still prefer to float around for hours in somewhere like the bahamas (Not that I've ever been able to actually visit the Bahamas; but my imagination of it is nice).

When we first arrived at the pool it was mid-afternoon. Between dragging my feet in the morning, getting the dogs fed and short list of chores done, and picking Suzanne and Piper up the next city over, the day had flown by much to quickly. It took another hour and a half to make the drive up to the city of Kenmore, on the North side of Lake Washington, with mid-day traffic.

The swimming pool was just one part of a doggy daycare facility. It was owned by a woman I met about 2 years prior during a dock jumping competition, hosted by members of the Puget Sound DockDogs club, during a large 2-day street festival. Mary told me that she recently purchased this facility, which came with a swimming pool, and thought maybe it could be a place where some of our members might like to swim.

Although it was some time before I again approached her about the swimming facility, we finally worked out a deal that would benefit her business and provide a place for our DockDogs club to have twice monthly practices. This was a match made in heaven, and afforded dock jumping dogs of all breeds and sizes the opportunity to bring their dogs to closest thing to the Bahamas for dogs in Northwest Washington. The pool was 30 feet long and nearly 20 feet wide. It was a respectable sized pool for most dogs to safely swim or jump into.

Today we were going to Mary's place not to focus on jumping, but to work on more basic skills; swimming lessons. Suzanne brought a change of clothes and was prepared to wade chest high into the pool in the name of teaching you how to swim. I had more confidence, and figured you would eventually get into the water under your own accord.

Over the years I learned that if I was planning any swimming activity involving dogs, that I should plan on being prepared by having a complete change of clothes close at hand. It is inevitable, that if I forget a change of clothes, I will be the one soaked to the bone from top to bottom or the one who was just sent tumbling into the pool. Although I have yet to fall in the pool, I know it's just a matter of time and luck.

In hopes to beat the odds, I have become like a well-prepared scout. I carry a backpack with a complete change of clothes, and at least one extra towel, to every dog activity taking place any distance from my own home. Complete with socks, underwear, shirts, pants, and shoes, I am prepared for the worst and expecting to ward off a potentially soggy ride home at the end of the day.

When we arrived at Mary's, one of her new employees greeted us and checked us in at the front desk. We each paid the ten bucks, grabbed our towels, and walked you and Piper into the pool area. I reached behind me and closed the door to the reception area . The door was meant to prevent dogs from leaving the pool area, skidding across the reception area, and mopping the floor as they go.

Piper was excited, and you were feeding off her energy. You weren't really sure what was so exciting, but you knew there was something, simply because Piper was excited. Piper, being a fairly mellow dog, wasn't always excited. But if there is one thing that she learned to be excited about it was coming to Bow Wow to go swimming with any of her friends.

Around the pool was a large amount of decking. Nearly 10 or 12 feet on two sides of the pool, it provided a good amount of room for the dogs to play around the two sides without bumping into one another.

There was a long ramp that stretched from an area near the door and ran the length of the pool. Where it met the pool decking, there was a small picket fence gate with a latch. I unlipped your leash, and you and Piper ran up the ramp to the pool together. You were following Piper's lead. I unlatched the gate and walked over to an area where I generally stored anything needing to be kept dry. I made sure to remove my cell phone from my pocket and dug through the backpack for the knobby white retrieving bumper we had been working with at home.

I had been using the toy fairly sparingly. I only used it when we played together, then would store it up high on the bookshelves where you could easily see it (but not reach it). Every once in a while you would walk through the living room, pause to stare at it, and think on it for a few seconds. You knew right were it was kept. The end of it stuck out a few inches past the books it was sitting on top of.

Suzanne walked over to the long side of the pool and tossed Piper's toy in the water. Piper gleefully leaped into the pool with a splash, retrieved her toy, and swam to the ramp. The 4-foot wide exit ramp stretched over eight feet long, rising out of the water from the bottom of the 4-feet deep pool and attaching to the decking. This made a nice gentle slope dogs to get in and out the pool.

You cautiously stood at the top of the ramp and waiting for Piper to retrieve the toy for you. It was a pretty grand scheme you had going; or so you thought. Upon exiting the pool, you attempted a snatch and grab from her. But she wasn't going to let you have it. She effortlessly pushed by you, taking the toy back to Suzanne to throw again.

I played a short game of fetch with you across the deck. I tossed the bumper across the carpeted surface three or four times hoping to get you wound up. You were getting much better about letting go of the toy when you returned to me now, and each time I would quickly toss it again as a reward. But this time I had tossed it into the pool just past the end of the ramp. You were going to have to swim for it.

Puzzled about how to go about getting your bumper, you tiptoed down the gently sloping ramp and stretched with all your might trying to reach the toy floating just a few feet away. It took a few times or gradually moving the toy further away, but eventually your body began to float, and you responded by swimming.

You were swimming nearly vertical in the water, splashing wildly with your front paws. This was a tried and true puppy swim. The at it's earliest stages it was awkward and clumsily inefficient. You swam like this the first time you leaped into our pond, having no idea how deep it was. I thought for sure I was going to have to jump in a save you that time. It was shortly after that little stunt that I discovered you had never swam before.

After a few seconds of flailing in the water, something clicked and your body leveled out enough that you began to move forward. I stood on the deck, on the exit ramp, cheering you on. Suzanne was whooping and hollering, "good dog!"

You quickly gathered yourself and made a b-line toward the bumper that had now floated halfway across the pool. You swim wasn't the prettiest one I had seen, but you were figuring it out. And more importantly, you had just retrieved the bumper and had returned to the exit ramp.

Thanks to Mary's tropical paradise, you continued to swim from the ramp time and again. Each time you hit the water with more and more confidence. During one retrieve I had moved to the long side of the pool where Suzanne was working with Piper. You brought me the bumper, and without thinking, I tossed it right back in the pool. Without a single thought, you darted back around to the other side of the pool to head down the ramp. But you had gathered enough speed that you took the corner just a hair too sharp, and slid off the side of the ramp and right into the pool.

Suzanne and I starred at each other and began to laugh. No worse for the wear, you quickly recovered and headed out to the middle of the pool. I figured that after such a brave recovery, you might just be ready to try jumping off the side of the deck for the first time.

The deck around the pool was only about 10-inches from the surface of the water, but that was plenty of height for today. You carried your bumper, and we walked to the opposite end of the pool together. I utilized a park bench sitting on the pool deck to block your route to take the easy way out by going down the ramp.

I teased you by holding the bumper up above your head for you to try to grab and spun in a slow circle while letting you chase and catch it. Eventually I pitched the bumper in the water, just a few feet from the edge. Immediately you tried to make a break for the ramp, but the 'cheater's route' was blocked. You leaned over the edge and began to whine. You REALLY wanted that toy, and the usual route wasn't going to work this time.

I crouched down on my hands and knees, leaned over the edge of the pool right next to you and dangled my fingers in the water. You shifted your eyes back and forth from the bumper to my fingers; watching intently. I splashed water toward the little white toy as it began to float away and continued to encourage you. Your front feet were touching the water in the pool, and your hind end was boosted up in the air. Eventually a combination of gravity and heroics kicked in, and you slid like a seal, head first, into the pool.

Just about that time Mary

Too wet to hold my camera, I found a high ledge near the end of the pool to prop it on to shoot some video of your first water entries. Now that you knew that you could get in the water this way, we practiced this move many times on video. In a matter of short time you were retrieving the bumper from the pool from the dock side. Each time you plopped into the water, your water entry improved. And just as the batteries quick working in the camera, you were beginning to shove off with your hind legs and launch into the pool.

This was a momentous occasion, and now we could add "future DockDog" to your growing resume. I wondered if we would ever look back on this day and recall your first ever plops into the pool at Mary's place. I had really hoped that you found a home within our dock jumping community, so I could see you grow up. I wish that someday you soar high above the swimming pool to the sound of a cheering crowd. That would really be some story to tell. It could happen!

If there is one thing I have learned in the sport of DockDogs, it's that it doesn't matter who you are or what breeding you came from. Every dog has it's day. Someday I hoped you would get your chance to shine with the special people who made you part of their lives. What an adventure you would have!

We played fetch a few more time from the edge of the pool before calling it a day at Bow Wow. You had a successful day, and had improved by leaps and bounds. I made a mental note to bring you back for another swim in the Bow Wow Bahamas soon.

Before we left, Mary stopped by the pool to meet you. Convinced that we should keep you to be part of our family, she teased me about how much time I had spent working on training with you. I assured her that as lovable as you were, I was still searching for the perfect home for you. We were going to miss having you around, but I was determined to make this work out for your sake.

After I dried you off, we purchased a few pounds of the bulk organic dog treats that Mary sold in her store inside the facility. I needed to re-fill the cookie jar at home badly, and this way we could pick out a large variety of cookies to make the stash last a little longer.

I changed into my dry clothes, said our goodbyes, and loaded the dogs into their kennels in the back of the truck and headed for home. Keeping our tradition, we made a stop at Starbucks Coffee on the way home to warm up our insides with a couple of small mochas. We chatted about our swimming session as we drove home, and decided that you and Piper were a perfect match for this kind of play. Though there were a few times when you insisted on retrieving your bumper AND hers all in the same trip, the day was fairly relaxed.

By the time we got home it was late in the evening. You were still tired, and now hungry. I prepared all the food bowls and made you wait with the other dogs while I set them down. You were now able to sit and wait for your food, which meant you could now eat in the kitchen with everyone else.

You occasionally climbed up and curled up on the couch with me a few times throughout the evening. We play rounds of musical dogs as the night wore on. Mossy would lay by me for a few minutes, only to be bullied off the couch by her big brother Buddy. Henna stood with her chin on the cushion, waiting for the invite to come up for a cuddle. You would nearly jump into my arms when it was your turn, but quickly settle down and lay still for a good petting.

It was so nice that all the dogs were getting along fairly decently. My dogs were finally adjusting to the most rambunctious member of the house, and you were beginning to calm down and had stopped playing the part of the obnoxious puppy with no manners (most of the time anyway). But all in all, the improvements were beginning to stack up. You were going to be a wonderful dog for a lucky someone.

This is the way we clean the house (Oso's Rescue - Day 21)

I'm not sure if it was having a young pup in the house that had kept me so busy, or working on my newest role helping to build new clubs on the West Coast with DockDogs Worldwide. But somehow, over the last two and a half weeks, I had less time to spend cleaning up the inside of the house, and it was beginning to feel like a very large kennel. The time had come to take a day off and whip the house back into shape.

I started in the bathrooms, and worked my way from one side of the house to the other. You followed me into the bathroom and watched as I used a bristle brush to clean the inside of the toilets. Your head bobbed around in a tiny circle mimicking the swishing motion of the brush. I had to remind you that this whole routine was not to entice you into playing with the brush later on.

"Leave it", I said in a cautioning tone. I know we hadn't really practiced that particular word, but I was pretty sure you had an idea of what it meant since you snapped out of your toilet brush trance and took a small step backwards. Everyone in the house uses pretty consistent vocabulary with the dogs, and "leave it" is one of those staple words. It ranks right up there in the usage frequency with "enough" and "ah, ah, ah".

As I moved on to the vacuuming portion of the

housecleaning, you and Buddy did your part to shed as much remaining brown dog hair on the carpets by wrestling and rolling around on your backs on the carpets. Buddy would flop over onto his back and let you pin him down. You happily obliged the invitation and playfully tugged on his ears and chewed on the scruff of his neck. At 2 1/2, Buddy will still quite the puppy himself, and he tolerated your somewhat lengthy and rambunctious game that carried on off and on throughout the day.

Buddy and you had become quite the friends.

Maybe it was because you he was closest in age, that he is a male, or perhaps because you and Buddy have a lot in common. Frankly, it could just be that Buddy was the only one that would put up with that obnoxious puppy behavior without putting you in your place. It was hard to say why the two of you were building a bond, but you were quickly becoming best of friends.

I figured the two of you had conspired to deposit even more on the floor than there already was. Knowing that I would be cleaning the carpets later, I rolled the vacuum slowly over the floor in order to collect as much dirt and dog hair as possible beforehand. By the time I finished vacuuming our almost 1800 square-foot home, I counted 3 times that I had to empty the bin on the vacuum cleaner. I suppose all that dirt and dog hair could've contributed to that feeling of being in a kennel.

I unwound the hose from the vacuum used for cleaning around the edges of the carpet. The corner behind your kennel was thick with dog hair, so I ran the hose attachment along the edge and sucked up every last tuft of the remnants of your shedding. As I began to put away the attachment, something had grabbed your attention. Teasingly, I ran the attachment over your back. You wiggled and could've cared less.

You thought this thing was way cool, and were going to give it a little taste. Little did you

know that as you brought your lips close to the end, the suction would pull at your flaps and your whiskers. But you thought his was pretty fun. So you tried it again several times; lean into the hose, it would start to suck at your snout, pull away from the hose and stare at it while I giggled. I bet you did this at least a dozen times, trying to figure out it's concept. Eventually, you began to lick at it. This was fun, but I had more work to do.

I had really made a mess after I dumped out the container from the vacuum, and decided a paintbrush and a suction tool would be the best way to try to clean off and restore the machine. Being sneaky, you tried to sliver in front of my and nibble on the bristle side of the giant paintbrush. When I was done I tossed the paintbrush a few times for a couple of fun retrieves in the living room.

Later, when I was telling Chris about your funny affections with the paintbrush, he filled me in. Once, when you were a tiny puppy, he was doing some painting work in the apartment you lived. His brushes had been put away for the night, but your owner let you steal the brushes and then chew them up. I could see how you could do that in a matter of minutes with such a soft wood handle. You were quite silly running around with a paintbrush in your mouth.

Later in the evening, I put the other dogs away for a bit and we worked on obedience and some fun drills in the living room. I had a low bench which I had tipped over on it's side. The idea was to practice a bit of jumping, and confidence building by having to get over the bench.

I sat on one side of the bench and tossed the toy over to the other side. The first time, you literally 'stepped" over it many times before you would actually jump. This was going to come in handy later once you learned to swim.

I tossed a bumper over the bench for you for the good part of 15 minutes. In between I gave you loads of belly rubs, then tossed it again. We were building your toy and play drive, and you didn't even know it!

Just before bed it was time to let all the dogs out to relieve themselves before we called it a night. When I called th

em all back inside, they all headed straight to the kitchen for their customary bedtime cookie. I tucked you into your kennel and turned out the lights.

The Very Long Day (Oso's Rescue - Day 18)

This morning we awoke to sunny blue skies. There was much work that I could do around our five and a half acres, so shortly after breakfast I laced up my boots and headed out to start the day with all five Labradors in tow.

You trotted ahead of me as we walked around the large walking paths that wind down to the ponds and across the property. I chuckled at the sight of your goofy, puppy walk. Your paws looked too big to be on the end of your lanky legs, and sometimes you tripped over them if you didn’t lift them up high enough. At this stage of your growth, you looked more proportionately like a cartoon drawing than anything. Your head seems too big for your body, and your tail is a tad longer than any of the other labs. You haven’t yet grown into your extra puppy skin, and when you run the flabbiness would flop up and down over your neck, back, and sides.

You love to carry sticks. Although I had seen you carry sticks many times before, I noticed that you would carefully observe Mossy when she picked up a stick. You would do a quick visual scan of the area surrounding you, dial in on the perfect stick, hurriedly retrieve it, and then proudly trot close to Mossy to show off your mad stick choosing skills. I think you were trying to impress Mossy.

Mossy is the only dog that was having trouble accepting you into the pack. Although, being a bit of a head case, it was not unusual for her to act this way with such an exuberant new pup in ‘her’ house. In fact she was considerably more tolerable when the two of you played outdoors, as opposed to in the house.

I scouted out my project for the day. I had planned on digging up several small trees and other starts of native shrubs and plants to replant them in large areas that had once been covered in large swaths of Scotch Broom. Scotch Broom is an invasive bugger of shrub that takes over large open areas and causes ecological damage by inhibiting native growth. Upon the blooming of its deceptively sweet, yellow flowers, a large majority of the population clamors to the nearest drug store in search of something to cure itchy, watery eyes, incorrigible congestion, and incessant sneezing caused by its potent pollen. We had cleared the scotch broom early in the fall, but the hilly landscape now needed to be brought back to life with other vegetation.

With a small shovel in hand, I weaved through the forest on an adjacent side of our property. I envied the benefits of your smaller size and four legs allowing you to travel easily through the overgrown forest. A high speed game of chase with other dogs ensued; over, under, and through the undergrowth.

I gathered up the freshly dug bushel of immature plants in my arms and began to make my way out of the forest. Henna followed closely behind, sometimes stepping on the heels of my boots. She often chose to stay close by my side hoping to receive the occasional pet and a nice ear rub without the meddling from the other dogs. As the most mature Lab in the pack, she has figured out when the best time is to seek out the full attention from mom.

As I worked my way around, planting the areas above the lower pond, I let you play freely with the other dogs within eyesight. Every few minutes, I’d glance up to take a head count, “one, two, three, four brown dogs and one black one.”

Every so often I’d see at one or two dogs had gone exploring, and were on the verge of being just too far away. I pursed my lips together and sounded a sharp whistle meant to bring everyone back to check in. You were good about taking the lead from the other dogs and quickly returned to me each time. We played this game of ‘explore and recall’ throughout the day.

If the afternoon I took a break from working and thought I’d try to combine a bit of obedience with the tossing of a few sticks. While the other dogs sat, you pranced around trying to position yourself many times over, hoping to figure out what might trigger the release of the stick. You were starting to figure out that it was a ‘sit’ that actually made the stick go, but you insisted on testing various locations first (as if to find out if it was the placement or the ‘sit’ that made the stick fly).

We had been practicing sit, wait, here, and lay down on a daily basis. In the beginning a sit command meant thirty seconds of wiggling before sitting. Sometimes you would actually sit for half a second, but only to bounce yourself upright and wiggle and prance for another few seconds before I corrected you with an, “ah, ah, ah.”

Molding you like a piece of clay, I would work my hands over your chest and rump and reposition you back into a sit. That was the reason I ended up blowing the dust of an old clicker I had stored in the dog closet; to speed things up a bit. You were very responsive to the ‘click’ and you were quick to associate the sit command with the sound and piece of string cheese. In a few short minutes, in the house with no distractions, your rear end was hitting the ground so fast I could hardly push the clicker button quick enough. It had been a long time since I used clicker training for anything other than party tricks for the dogs. I had forgotten how effective that tiny little tool could be.

I tossed the stick down the hill toward the lower pond, and you darted off after it. It was nearly a hundred yards of steep incline before you reached the edge of the empty pond. Buddy beat you to stick, and you turned to follow him back up the hill. I noted how much your endurance had improved. Today you only shadowed the pack by eight or ten feet. This was so much improved over several weeks ago when you weren’t even half way up the hill, and panting hard, by the time the other dogs were ready to head back down again.

Just as the sun began to fall behind the trees, you engaged Mossy in another game of chase. You were getting faster and starting to learn how to play her game. Our friend Brandon was watching you play with Mossy. The two of you were making large laps around the front yard; her with a stick, and you happily barking as you chased behind her. Mossy is built like a sports car. She is small, sleek, powerful, and built for speed and maneuverability. She loved to run the other dogs through a maze of tall fir trees at the front of the property and make ninety degree turns around the large tree trunks trying her best to peel off her siblings and leave them straggling behind.

When Mossy brought a large stick to Brandon to throw, he instead handed it right to you and said, “GO!”

You may have not known the meaning of what he said, but I watched you peculiarly glance around at each of the other Labs, then directly at Mossy. I swear I could see the little wheels and cogs working in your brain. Then it clicked. You took off like a shot across the grass. As she quickly caught up with you, you made a series of sharp turns each time whipping your head and body away from her. While she paused and formulated a new tactic, you trotted around with your tail wagging wildly. This was fun!

This time Mossy tried to cozy up to you, but you didn’t buy it for a second. Off you went again executing fancy footwork that looked like it was taken right out of an NBA playbook. Eventually you surrendered the stick to Mossy. But I was pretty sure you had scored some bonus points in her book. Not a hackle was raised nor was there a barring of teeth, or even a growl. I was thrilled to see the general happy nature of this pack. Mossy had been maintaining her distance, and still gave you a wide berth when you came through the door, but that space was narrowing by the day.

I built a small fire near the edge of the property. We had some tree limbs to burn up, and roasting marshmallows sounded like a great idea. You were simply worn out. This was the longest outdoor day you had ever experienced, and it was dog heaven. Once I lit the kindling, and heat began to radiate from the fire, you laid down in just a few feet away.

You lay with your nose toward the fire, and I could see your heavy eyelids working hard trying to not close. Eventually you lost the battle, and the warmth and sleepiness gave way slumber. I let you lay there on a thick cover of fallen pine needles undisturbed.

You were very handsome. Your coat, as dirty as you were, looked remarkably shiny still. Your nose was dark and moist, with a light brown coating of dust nearest your snout. I noticed that when your eyes were closed you had bashful, long, eyelashes. Every once in a while your nose would wrinkle up and your paws and eyebrows would twitch. I wondered if you were too tired to dream.

A short while later, we headed to the front of the house where I brushed the dirt out of your coat and wiped you down from head to toe with a clean towel. Elizabeth whipped up a quick bunch of hearty dinner bowls. With such a long day of play, she gave each dog extra kibble to make up for all that burned up energy. You inhaled your food, sipped water from your dish, and then snuggled in on top of the baby blue fleece blanket over the rug in your kennel.

I gave you some loves before we went to bed for the night, and told you what a good dog you were. I left instructions with the family to let you recover from your hard day of play over the weekend. Short plays were okay, but another day like this one would’ve simply been too much at this point. You were doing outstanding, and I didn’t want to lose all the progress you had made.

The realization was beginning to set in that you were ready to go to a forever home, should we happen upon one. There were only one or two serious considerations so far. I had really high standards in mind for you, and planned on sticking to my guns.

You MUST go to a home where you can be indoors with the family. You truly love people (including kids), and are very relational. You need to be by your people.

I feel it is important that your persons take on a doggy activity with you. I don’t care if it’s agility, obedience, DockDogs, or just being a great companion that gets long walks in the evening and a frosty mornings trudging through a field rustling up a pheasant or two. You want and need a job.

I would fail at breeding dogs, because I would be so particular about their new homes. Each one has a personality and disposition to be ‘something’ special. It’s just a matter of spending the time working as a team together to figure out what that special something is. In my heart I believe everyone can have the dog they always dreamed of. Whether they want to achieve a sporting title like in DockDogs or agility, show off a nifty bag of tricks, or just enjoy time with the best friend they’ve ever had, it IS possible. When a person works with their dog for even a few minutes, a few times a day, they instantly begin to build a bond. As the years pass, and time spent daily continues, that bond begins to grow stronger. Pretty soon, their furry pal is as smart as a whip, and they realize that THIS is the PERFECT dog.

Occasionally sleeping on the bed would be great too!

The First Adventure (Oso's Rescue - Day 16)

After breakfast this morning, you watched my every move with curiosity as I bustled about in preparation for our first big outing to the dog park. We were heading off to Marymoor Dog Park in Redmond, Washington. It's well managed 40 acres makes it the second largest dog park in the region. The park is well known for its fields of tall grass, walking paths, and many swimming holes. Although the park is far from our home it is well worth the occasional visit.

I grabbed a large stack of towels and several leashes and collars from the dog closet. The other dogs, knowing the meaning of these items, pranced with excitement as they followed close behind me. A backpack with a change of clothes for me, a small ziplock back with a handful of dog kibble, a second pair of shoes, another stack of towels and we were almost ready.

I carried Mossy and Buddy's dog crates from our bedroom, through living room and out the front door. Since I hadn't planned on taking your giant wire kennel, that left me with 2 large kennels, and Buddy's extra large (Godzilla-sized) kennel to chauffeur all four dogs. Mossy, being so little, would be able to share a kennel with Buddy. But this would give both you and Henna your own kennels for this trip.

I let everyone outside to make sure they had all relieved themselves before loading them all into the back of the truck. It was drizzling outside, but the sky was bright, and I was hoping the rainy stuff might just let up long for a few more hours while we played.

You watched as first Buddy and Mossy jumped onto the tailgate of the big white truck, and quickly settled into their kennel. Henna, being older and a having a fragile back, was lifted up and placed in the truck. She dove right in her kennel, made a few circles inside, and lay down. Uncertain as to what was next, you looked at me inquisitively. You had only been in the truck twice before; both times for a trip to the vet. Taking note of how much heavier you seemed since the last time I had done this, I picked you up by wrapping my arms around your chest and rump and muscled you up onto the tailgate. Once there, you whipped your head around looking for the nearest escape route. It was perfectly understandable since neither of your last trips in the back of the truck had ended in any sort of fun.

I swung the door of your kennel open and with of a bit of insistence and helped guide your head and shoulders inside. While you weren't exactly the most willing participant in this affair, eventually you resigned and stepped inside on your own. I was sure to remind you what a good boy you were, and assured your that we were headed somewhere much more fun today.

Once the truck was loaded we sped off from the peninsula where we lived and toward the city to pick up a friend. My good friend, Suzanne, and her Black Labrador, Piper, were going to accompany us this day to take advantage of some good ol' off-leash play in the wide open spaces of this park.

Over the last year, Piper had figured out the sound of my big diesel truck. She alerts here mom to my arrival well before my feet reach the doormat of their front porch. Suzanne says she can hear me blocks away, and starts to dance around in anticipation. To her, the big truck almost always means we're going on an adventure.

When I opened up the tailgate, the usual sounds emanated from the back of the truck. Buddy's tail made a loud thump, thump, thump on the sides of the kennel. Mossy whimpered; excited to see her favorite friend. Henna made a small noise to make her presence known, but greeted her friend with alert, sparkling eyes and a happy pant. There was just one thing that was out of the ordinary on this day. The kennel nearest the rear gate held a different brown dog, and this one was barking excitedly. You weren't sure what to think of Piper, and she wasn't sure what to think of you. Your mixed bag of happy and warning barks quickly ceased off after I warned you with a sharp, "Quiet," slapping my hand against the side of your kennel to get your attention.

Piper climbed into her special corner against the cab of the truck on her favorite thick travel blanket. Piper was the only dog in the bunch who became a nervous wreck when put in a kennel, so she regularly rode in the corner behind the driver, tucked close to the other kennels. She was a shy, reactive, rescue dog who would shut down and tremble with fear whenever she was pressured into an uncomfortable situation. Suzanne had made great progress with her in the last few years using positive reinforcement to help her gain confidence and overcome many of her fears. Piper's confidence had improved through involvement with doggy daycare, obedience classes, agility, and DockDogs. Being in Taj Mahal-sized soft crate was now finally acceptable to Piper, but a smaller hard-sided crate still created a unfathomable reaction in which she became overwrought with fear.

As we drove the 45 miles north, Suzanne and I laughed as larger and larger drops of water splattered against the windshield. It was pouring down rain, and I had left my rain jacket at home. This adventure might just be a little wetter and muddier than I had intended. Fortunately the several swimming holes alongside a local river would provide a nice rinse off feature, at least for the dogs, before heading home.

Just as we reached the parking lot a large van, with business logos covering it's sides, pulled up right beside us. I saw the female passenger waving happily at us through the window. She and her business partner, who ran a successful franchise dog training company , were coming to the park to meet with a perspective client. She said she immediately recognized my big white truck with decals and a website address on the windows of the canopy that read dockjumpinglabs.com. We chatted for a few minutes about local dog events and our upcoming DockDogs season.

She shifted her eyes to the back of the truck and said, "How's that puppy? Did you bring him?" I tipped my head back and chuckled. News sure travels fast in the local dog world, I thought. She wanted to know which dogs I had brought to play, and we chatted while I systematically unloaded each dog and asked them to sit and wait at the back truck. I unloaded you last, since I knew you weren't quite ready to manage a sit/stay at the entrance to the dog park.

Once inside the dog park, I knew our friends had work to do, so we said our goodbyes and headed off across "Soggy Doggy Bridge", down a bark covered path, and into the rainy afternoon. You were busy zooming from one dog to the next, saying hello to anyone, with two legs or four, that would give you so much as a hint of attention. A field whistle hung around my neck. My whistle is one of my most favorite tools. With it I can call my dogs without yelling and stop them dead in their tracks with a sit command; a handy skill for them to learn that can be used in an emergency.

Every so often I'd give a few sharp tweets to remind you to take a pause from your busy socializing and check in. You seemed to enjoy Piper's company, too. With a new dog to learn from, the two of you explored tall grass along the fence line together and checked for any signs of the bunny that Suzanne had seen cross the field only a few minutes earlier.

The five of you made quite the striking pack. The sound of twenty paws thundering across the earth reminded me of the sounds one might hear as the horses cross the finish line during a race. Five tongues dangled, with drool flying every which way. Five sets of wild, sparkling eyes danced with excitement. Five sets of soft Labrador ears happily bounced with every step. It was a beautiful thing.

As we made our way around the outside edges of the 40 acres, you came upon a large black Bouvier dog. You danced around him, trying to engage in play. He was nearly triple your size, and startled you when he lunged into a play bow. You quickly turned tail and ran back to the protectiveness of your own pack. We giggled at your silliness.

About half-way through our walk, we came upon a large crossroads. To the right was a pack of nearly a dozen dogs. We suspected they were part of a day care or dog exercise group, since there were only two women with the pack. You wanted to investigate, and sprinted over to check out the fun. You played a quick game of chase, enjoyed a playful wrestle, and even greeted one of the women. I watched from a distance and admired your outgoing personality. I was delighted with your good nature and fairly confident social skills; something that can be a struggle to reestablish with some rescue dogs.

When it was time to move on, I hollered your name and called you to me. You were far enough away that the sound of the rain and noisy play from the other dogs nearby muffled my voice. But I thought you should have heard me. I was prepared to have to walk over and enforce my recall request, but decided to try plan B first. I reached down and brought the bright orange whistle to my lips and gave a series of sharp tweets and paused. That got your attention, and you immediately looked over at me. I stretched my arms out wide and called you loudly, "Oso...Here!" You came bounding across the grass, over the barked path, and straight to me. I gave you heaps of praise. You responded with a happy wiggle as I mussed up the wet fur on your side. Then, quickly, you jetted off to be with your friends.

The last leg of our journey took us by the river within the park. This was the perfect spot to have a last bit of fun and rinse off the mud splatters. A wonderful thing about having dogs with solid brown coats is that most of the time they always appear clean (even when they're actually filthy). Often the best way to tell if they need a bath is to just run a hand over their coat. This usually leads to one of two conclusions; clean and smooth, or filthy and chalky with dust. But when there were spatters of mud, there was no question. You, and your compadres, were taking a dip in the river before even thinking about getting back in the truck.

The other dogs had picked up stray tennis balls along our trip around the park. I had seen you carrying a tennis ball earlier, but you seem to prefer to running with a stick most of the time instead. We kept busy throwing the balls far out into the river. When the other dogs were a good distance from shore we took turns tossing a ball just a few feet from the edge for you to retrieve. You wanted to play so badly, but you were still struggling with that transition from wading to swimming. You were having fun, all the same, so other than encouraging you to retrieve the ball, I didn't push you to swim. All in good time!

Ironically the rain began to let up just as we headed back to the truck. Despite your time in the water, you and your other furry companions still managed to get plenty muddy on the way back to the truck. The green, earth toned, towels I used to dry you off were now covered in muck by the time I rubbed down your undersides. We laughed at the ridiculous pile of dirty towels tossed in a heap in the back corner of the truck. One to wipe off the majority of the mud, a second one to prevent rubbing more mud back into their coats, and yet a third dry towel in the bottom of each kennel to lay on. No need to do the math here. Plain and simple, each outing like this is generally at least one whole load of laundry (and sometimes at least two).

I was cold and wet and now was the time to dig into that nice dry change of clothes. Sitting on the seat of the truck with the doors propped open I carefully scoured the parking lot for any signs of life. With not a single soul in sight, I quickly stripped off my soaking wet jeans, slipped into something a whole lot drier, leaped into the drivers seat, and cranked the heater. Ahhhhh!

It was time to head south. Oso had a quick vet checkup at 4:30; giving us just about an hour to beat rush hour traffic and get there on time. After we dropped off Suzanne and Piper at their home, we made a quick trip across town and arrived at the vet office just in the nick of time.

When I walked Oso through the door, the vet tech stood up and peered over the counter at him. "Oh my gosh," she exclaimed. "Is that the puppy?" She raved about how much better he was looking. She commented on how nice his coat looked, and how much healthier he looked in general. I walked him over to the large scale and had him sit so take his weight; just a little over fifty pounds.

"Wow!" I said out loud, "fifty pounds!" You had gained roughly nine pounds in the last 17 days. The tech made a note in your chart. Apparently the three meal a day program had worked wonderfully. I had done some reading online when I first brought you home about how to safely put the weight back on an undernourished dog. My research had suggested feeding two main meals, and supplementing with a third mid-day meal. Besides the kibble, I had been feeding you cottage cheese, Natural Balance roles, and boiled sweet potatoes. Gradually, as the weight began to level off, the suggestion was to taper off the middle meal. I think we had now reached that point. Success!

Since we were already at the vet, and Dr. W had some open time in his schedule, we decided to take care of Henna's yearly check up. He gave her a clean bill of health and asked me about how her arthritic back was doing. I explained that occasionally, after long hikes or a hard day of play, Henna required her anti-inflammatory pill. But other than that, she was doing spectacular. He warned me to keep her lean and try to keep the dry land jumping and rough and tumble play to a minimum to help protect her prematurely aging joints.

It had been two winters since Henna's incident with her back. After an average day of play in the yard she went to sleep one night on her bed. The next morning I found her laying in the hallway outside our bedroom, and unable to get up. When I tried to pick her up she yelped in pain and snapped at me. We made daily visits to the vet for injections into area around her spine for almost a week. We scheduled a cat scan at a specialty clinic to investigate the damage. She had severe arthritis, and she had broken off a few pieces of bone in her back that had previously been fused together due to arthritis. Her bones were essentially twice the age of the rest of her body. Dr. W feared the degeneration in her spine had gotten so bad it was compressing her spinal cord, and suggested I might consider her quality of life and put her down.

She was unable to stand or walk on her own for nearly a week solid. I would help her up by using a sling under her back hips to help support her enough to stand in order to relieve herself. As a medical professional, I was determined to give medicine more time to work, and hope for the best, before making any rash decisions. There were a lot of teary nights those first few days. Henna was just 5 1/2 years old.

One night, about a week later, I was making up food bowls in the kitchen and just as I turned around, Henna had wandered from her bed in the living room and was standing gingerly in the doorway. I was so thrilled, I nearly dropped her food dish.

We enforced a strict, six weeks of crate rest in hopes that her condition would improve. During those long six weeks, I researched ideas on therapy and information about canine orthopedics. I learned a lot, and began a regular routine of stretching and slow, low impact, exercise to build her stamina and core muscles after her six weeks were up.

Six months later, Henna soared 24' 1" (her farthest jump ever) during a National DockDogs competition in Oregon. Her spirit blew me away. She proved everyone wrong about her original grim outlook and repeatedly broke her own personal best Big Air (long distance) record that entire summer season.

Now, in partial retirement, every single clean bill of health gave us a reason to celebrate. Another year older, another year wiser, and still just a wiley Labrador pup at heart. We shared the news with Chris when we got home, fed everyone dinner, and spent the evening relaxing in front the fire.