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!