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.

Bring on the toys! (Oso's Rescue - Day 15)

I think today was the day you became a member of the pack. This morning you could hardly wait to be fed. You pranced and danced in you kennel as I prepared all the food bowls in the kitchen. Everyone is on different amounts of food, various vitamins, and one on medication. There is a large piece of paper taped inside the dog closet, just above the food. It reads:

Mossy - 1 flat cup

Henna - 1 1/2 flat cups

Buddy & Chuck - 2 1/2 flat cups

Oso - 2 flat cups (and a daily kong)

Since, at some point, every member of the household has a turn feeding the dogs, the instructions are the best way to assure that everyone gets the right amount of food. During the summer months or at times when the dogs are hunting, competing, or just playing hard, we usually have to feed them at lot more to keep them from losing weight. The note in the dog closet gets changed every few months. I figured out the math one day. During the off season, this equates to 133lbs of high protein performance dog food per month, in addition to the occasional healthy vegetables and meats I might cook. The ongoing joke at our house, is that I cook better for the dogs than for the humans. The truth is that I tend to burn less for the dogs than I do my family. I am a terrible cook, but I can boil up a mean batch of sweat potatoes!

After breakfast we spent some time together inside the house. Your energy level is sky high in the mornings, so it was easier to keep you dialed down a bit when you were alone. For a while I let you play with Henna. But your idea of play was to tuck your butt and do high speed laps through the living room, around the couch, into the dining room, and around the kitchen table. I had to remind you several times that doing your best imitation of Parnelli Jones was not acceptable in the house. Realizing I wasn't going to get any work done, I sent you outside to play with Chuck while our friend Brandon worked near the front of the property. In short order, you had buddied up with Chuck. I even saw the two of you have a pretty evenly matched wrestle. Although, you were now soaked from rolling around on the wet grass.

Eventually I finished my work, and myself, Mossy, Buddy, and Henna headed out to enjoy a rare bit of blue sky and sunshine. I wandered around the yard and watched you interact with the pack.

You had definitely figured out Mossy. You knew that you could chase and play with her, but you should never steal her toy. Mossy is the supreme controller of the toys (except when I have them). You might be able to retrieve it if your lucky, but if you drop it, she will be the one to pick it up and bring it back. If you had tried to pry or tug it out of her mouth; well let's just say you might get more than you bargained for. Mossy has always been a work in progress. She is a social climber, and tries to test her limits every day. Mossy's world is very controlled. Sit and wait for food, must go out of the door after me, bring me the toys, etc. Mossy loves people, and is a compact bundle of love. She likes to try to sneak onto the bed, and under the blankets of our bed at night when we're sleeping.

You were beginning to learn to respect your elders, although, your learning curve was a little less steep with this affair. Although I know that you like to give a hello sniff, you have yet to understand your limits. At 7 1/2, Henna is a patient soul. She will even stand still and let you move all around her, and patiently accept the whole 'once over'. But what you didn't seem to understand is that her rear end smells the exact same as it did 30 seconds ago. There is simply no need to linger; and Henna wholeheartedly agrees. After the 3rd or 4th rear end examination, she simply tires of your lack of civility, whips around, lets out a quick GRRRRR, and simply walks away. Henna is a dynamo at work and at play. But in the house, she is a gentle and loving soul that would prefer to stay constantly by my side. She is a mama's dog.

You and Buddy were quickly becoming good friends. Raised hackles and a certain wariness had given way to a fun game of show and tell. You preferred to spend your time with Buddy. If he went to explore the muddy depths of the empty pond, you followed closely behind. When Buddy got the wild hair to run, you were trailing behind him looking like a extension of his shadow bouncing across the grass.

After the initial bursts of energy were exacerbated, I decided to retrieve some outside toys from the garage. There was a large, hard plastic, red Jolly Ball that could be pushed and kicked around the property, but was too big to pick up in your mouth. There was a smaller, soft purple ball that had been well loved. This one had originally had a handle, but had been mangled over time, and finally cut off by me. And last, but not least, I brought out another, softer Jolly Ball of the same large size as the hard one. But this ball was bright blue with a large handle for carrying. This one was Mossy's favorite. She would carry it around the yard, roll it down the hill, retrieve it, and repeat many times over without the need for a person to throw it. Of course, every so often I would request the toy, carry it around myself, then offer to throw it for her again.

You loved that big red ball. Funny, too, because it was also Buddy's most favorite toy. He yipped and yelped as he chased it at high speeds across the yard. You were never far behind. Sometimes he would shove it way out ahead, and you would run up to and and try to pick it up. It didn't take you long to realize it was an impossible task. This was one toy that could not fall prey to a snatch and grab.

The two of you pushed it back and forth across the yard, through the creek and around the dozens of tiny christmas trees that grew on one side of the property. But inevitably it got away from you both as it sped down the hill toward the mucky pond. In a matter of seconds you were both covered in mud. Buddy would push the ball, creating waves of muddy water in the small remaining puddle in the very center of the pond that splashed the front of you. Oh yes, we were going to have bath night tonight for certain.

I grabbed the camera from the house and snapped some pictures of the five of you playing together. The sunshine was nice, and I was finally able to get pictures with enough natural light to make them not blurry. I got some great shots. My favorite was a completely unplanned fluke. Mossy was coming toward me, carrying her big blue ball in her mouth by it's handle. But just behind her, and off to the side were each of the dogs. They were all coming toward me in a nearly perfectly straight line. As the swaggered closer, I was laughing and imagining the theme song from Clint Eastwood's, The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly. This will be a picture I will treasure for many years to come.

A few hours before dusk I began to bring one dog at a time into the house for their bath. One at a time, each dog would climb into the tub for me to spray off the mud and dirt from under their coat and suds them up good with shampoo. Buddy was so filthy, that I actually had to wash him twice to before the rinse water ran clear. Buddy really likes to play in the water; no matter if it were a crystal clear lake or simply a muddy 12 inches to splash in. But once thing was for certain. If it was there, he was going to wallow in it. And you, being his protege, went right in along with him.

After dinner, you and Elizabeth played on the floor. You sat adjacent from her and watched intently as she moved chess pieces across the board that was positioned in the middle of the living room carpet. Wanting to play with you, she put away her game and the two of you had some one on one time. You sprawled on your back, with your legs stretched out behind you, resting on her lap. Your tongue happily dangled from one side of your mouth, and you looked a bit silly. I had never seen her interact with any of our dogs in the way she played and cared for you. Undoubtably you and Elizabeth share a special bond.

The night was a pretty routine one, and you were really catching on to the routines. During our dinner, you lay peacefully in your kennel. The new rug I placed on the bottom of your kennel was holding up so far. There were no chewed up pieces....yet. I noticed that ever since our swim yesterday, you were doing a bit more coughing. I was beginning to wonder if maybe you have been just inhaling bits of water when you swam. I would need to keep a close eye on this, and planned on sharing it with Dr. W later this week.

You smelled wonderfully clean, and had much softer fur after your bath this afternoon. Two weeks spent in a kennel make for a bit of a stinky dog. But I was convinced that all the dirt, mud, and grass that you had been rolling in, helped your dry skin and shedding coat. Indeed it did the trick! What fun adventure can we have tomorrow?

Freedom At Last (Oso's Rescue - Day 14)

Today was your lucky day. It had been almost 14 days since we brought you home, and today you would finally be released from quarantine status. You were about to be sprung from house arrest, and you didn't even know it. If you had known, I wonder if you would have been quite so content in the covered kennel in your special corner of our living room. This morning you were dancing about and singing a whiny tune from the moment you saw me. But after i had taken you out to relieve yourself and fed you your breakfast, you settled down and contently watched the activities of the house from your special corner, that by now had now been dubbed 'Oso's corner of the world'.

I had been thinking about this day all weekend long, and rushed through breakfast and a few morning chores. The day was decent for the time of year. It was a balmy 54 degrees outside; unusually warm for the first day of February. The sky was overcast in traditional Northwest early spring fashion, high cloud cover with sporadic rainy sprinkles every now and again. I was able to stay plenty warm with a t-shirt and a zip-up fleece jacket. In the back of my mind, I was thinking that it was warm enough that we could spend a good long time outdoors today without you getting too cold. After all, you had spent the last 14 days in a cozy warm kennel directly across the room from the warmth of a pellet stove. The stove sat on a river rock hearth in a corner of the living room. Mossy's favorite cedar bed was positioned at the base of the hearth. You could easily see her from your kennel. She would lay, curled up on her bed for hours at a time in the evening, rather impervious to the activities around her after a long day of play in the great outdoors. You would know that type of tranquil rest tonight!

When we headed out the door for the first time, it was just you and I. The other dogs were left in the house leaving us some one on one time to practice a few recalls with the whistle and basically get the ants out of your pants during your first hour of freedom. As we walked toward the upper pond I was met with disappointment. Over the last 4 days, the water had seeped back into the earth and left only a large, muddy, puddle in it's place. Darn! I was so hoping that we could have tried to see if you might swim. I silently wished it would rain again so the dogs would have water to play in. Our largest pond is the lower pond. When full it was nearly 10' deep on one end. This made for excellent swimming opportunities for the Labs. The problem was that once it stopped raining, they quickly emptied; seeping into the ground.

I tossed the bumper across the puddle. It landed in a thick area of mud, and was barely visible. You struggled to find the now camouflaged toy, and skeptically nosed along the edges of the pond. You even stepped on the bumper once without noticing. Finally, a few minutes later you were able to locate your prize. You snatched it right up and came running toward me with wild abandon. The purple rope, that was used for throwing, on the end of the bumper was dripping in muck. As you dashed by me, brushing my leg, my clean and dry jeans were now slathered in mud. I peered down to see a clump of overly slimy mud fall from the side of me thigh, and made a sour face. "Gross", I whispered.

I called you to me, and was pleasantly surprised when you returned right away. We had practiced this many times during our on-leash potty breaks during the last two weeks, but this was really the first time I had tried it with you off leash. You executed it beautifully. Yes! The next hurdle was to see if you would actually give me back the bumper. The first time I tried to take it from you, I was met with a little resistance. But after a few seconds your teeth chattered as you reluctantly handed it over. Yes! I tossed it immediately again. I wanted to remind you that if you gave me back the bumper we could play again; because this is a fun game.

We spent almost half an hour wandering about the property. Sometimes I'd let you run a

round freely, carrying the bumper in your mouth. And when you would come back to me on your own, I would toss the bumper again. You explored the now dry river bed, stepped carefully along the edges of the ponds, sniffed foliage, and rooted under the straw that covered the old logging roads that ran parallel to the ponds.

You were filthy! In a matter of minutes you were covered in dirt and mud. The thick slime that coated the pink of your jowls had dribbled out. And as you ran, jumped, and played strings of it lay across your nose and the top of your head. This has to be a boy thing. Buddy, my 3 year old rescue, is the only male dog I have ever had. The first time he rubbed against me and left a trail of slime that ran up the sleeve of my sweatshirt and stretched across the front, I winced in repulsiveness. I had never seen anything like it. It looked like an army of slugs had just got their marching orders, and they took a direct route across my clothes. Although I have grown used to the 'ick' factor, I am forever grabbing the nearest towel to catch 3-foot long shoestrings from hitting the floor and wiping remaining drool from the bottom of his chin. Forget worrying about

being jumped on when you are greeted at the front door of my house. Instead the focus is to stave off the potential sliming of our guests pant legs.

Reluctant to have to hose you down, I decided to take you on a walk to the nearby lake. Although

the lake is only a few hundred yards from our house, technically it is private. It is a large manmade lake, that belongs to the community of home owners that surround it. On the end

nearest my house is a large grassy area with a picnic table and several benches. From time to time I have taken one or two of the dogs over for a swim. But usually during the day, when fewer people are at home, and never with more dogs so as not to draw too much attention. It is a wonderful swimming spot, and so far our visits there have been uneventful.

We walked through the woods, and you carried your bumper most the way. I had to push some branches aside as I walked. You would sometimes stop and give me a dubious look. The path was perfectly passible for a pup your size, but needed a bit of ducking and brush beating for me to get by. I made a mental note to bring some clippers with me the next time we walked this trail so I could do a bit of trail maintenance. You loved the path through the woods, and bounded happily along.

When we reached the grassy beach area, you carefully tiptoed along the shore; balancing between grass and water. I had discerned that you had never swam before the accidental dip you had in the pond the day after I brought you home. I tossed the bumper parallel to the shore, and only a foot or two into the water. You cautiously retrieved it every time. As you became more brave I began to toss the bumper a little farther from short each time. First three feet, then five, and then about twelve feet. I had accidentally thrown it too far, and you weren't quite that brave. You waded into the water, gradually walking out deeper and deeper until your chest was in the water. I had watched you do this a few times during each of your last retrieves. As soon as you couldn't possibly go any deeper without floating, you would start to paddle. At first your paddling was sloppy and inefficient, but each time it got a little better. Eventually you started to swim more horizontal and toward the bumper. But this time, you gave up before reaching it. I was worried that I had worn out our luck.

I tried tossing some rocks at the bumper, and stood by you on the edge of the lake with words of encouragement. Your sqeaking and intense focus let me know that you truly had the drive and the want for the bumper. But your newly acquired swimming abilities, and confidence were holding you back. I stepped into the water with my black rubber boots and encouraged you again. You waded in a little faster and began to swim for it. By this time it had floated almost 20 feet from shore, and again you turned around before reaching your prize. You were disappointed. I could tell that you wanted it so bad, and just couldn't muster up quite enough courage to go for it. I had resigned to the fact that I was going to have to come back a little later with another dog to retrieve my $5.00 bumper. I buy them in bulk, but still hate to loose a single one.

With your interest finally waning, you retrieved a stick from the shoreline and brought it to me. I tossed it out in the water about five feet, and decided that one short water retrieve would be a nice positive note to end on after losing our bumper. You quickly waded in and swam toward the stick. Still splashing and swimming not-so-effectively, you managed to sink the stick with your front feet. You glanced around, searching for your stick, and gave up. But instead of returning to the shore you made a quick adjustment and headed straight out to the bumper, still floating about 25 feet from shore. I silently watched from shore as you sucessfully grabbed the bumper. "YES", I hollered, "Yes! That's a gooooood boy!" And with that, we ended your first ever successful swim.

We blasted back down the path toward home. I was excited to tell Chris about your swimming adventure. You and the other dogs spent the afternoon hanging out with me as I took turns working in the yard and watching all five labradors interact and play. Although you struggled to keep up with their games of chase, I knew that it would just be a matter of time before you gained stamina and strength. You followed me around and watched intently as I scooped a few days worth of dog poop. I cursed myself for not scooping the grassy areas around the house over the last several days. I had been working many extra shifts at the hospital, and no one was home in time to do the chore before it was too dark outside. If there's something I've learned about this chores, it is that in a multiple dog household, one should never scoop poop in the dark.

A few hours later, a glance at my happy pack of Labs, I realized that bath time was pretty much inevitable. I hemmed and hawed, and begrudgingly headed in for a stack of towels. I simply MUST work on getting a warm water spigot outside! The water from the hose is just too cold on my aging hands, and I have found it more and more difficult to make them work once they begin to turn blue. In a rash decision, I decided that I was simply not in the mood to freeze my hands. I talked Chris into walking with me over to the lake. I decided it was early enough in the day that if we could sneak in in stealth mode, keep all the dogs at a heal until we reached the lake, toss in a stick two or three times, and get out; no one would ever notice.

Chris picked up a couple of sticks on the trail tossed them in when we got to the lake. All the dogs dove right in. Good bye dirt and mud. And, after a time or two, much to our surprise, so did you! We quickly made our escape, and hiked back down the trail to the house. Systematically I dried everyone off, and Chris helped to put them in the house one at a time. You loved being dried off with a towel. You leaned into me, and stretched out as I dried off your neck, head, and ears.

Once inside I decided to let you roam free for a bit. I had everyone's attention as I opened a few pieces of string cheese and started to break them into pieces. You were quick to follow suit when I asked everyone to sit, before I would dole out a single piece of cheese. You took your thimble-sized piece of cheese gently with your lips. Now that you are not so hungry, I have noticed that you are much more gentle with your food.

After your snack, I cleaned out your kennel. You had been busy this weekend. For the first time you showed signs of destructive behavior. You pulled strips of blanket from the ends of the Woolrich blanket that had been in my family for a generation. I winced at the damage and scolded myself for being naive enough to put that particular blanket in your kennel. Shame on me! This time, I instead gave you a smaller fleece blanket. Although, you tend to bunch it up in the back corner of your kennel during the moments of the kennel gymnastics that you seem to be so good at.

Unwillingly, you dawdled into your kennel. But once I closed the door, you flopped down on your blanket and laid your head down. In a couple of hours Chris would feed you, and then I was pretty certain that you would go right back to sleep. You thoroughly enjoyed your freedom, and now you were going to thoroughly enjoy your rest. I headed to town for some errands. When I was there I had planned on picking up a cotton rug for the bottom of your kennel. Maybe that would be a little less appealing to eat, and would stay put even after your gymnastics.