I miss...

Yesssss...?
Originally uploaded by Jessica Jessica

my pre-toenail-incident Pooka.

Toe incident aftermath No. 1

Toe incident aftermath No. 1, originally uploaded by Jessica Jessica.

Last week, Pooka was playing at day care when something Very Bad happened. One of her back toenails somehow parted with her toe, taking a little piece of toe-bone with it.

Ouch.

She tolerated the fluorescent green bandage for a few days, takes her antibiotics wrapped in peanut butter without complaint, and even holds still for 6 or so minutes while I soak the foot in epsom salts twice daily.

To keep her from licking at the wound, which must scab over and heal or the unthinkable happens, she's now trapped in a lampshade collar thingie, and giving me the look. See other photo above.

Update: I wanted to add thank-you's to our Hounds Abound friends for saving Pooka's toenail and keeping her calm and mellow until I could get out of work, and to the affable and energetic Dr. Mortimer at Green Lake Animal Hospital who took a look at said toenail and realized Pooks needed an X-Ray. She wasn't limping, so at first, no one expected she had broken anything. Dr. M. called me on Monday to check in, too. We feel good knowing he's on the case.

Beach adventure, part one

Pooka, M. and I fled the city for the Oregon coast two weekends ago. We rented a little house in a little town where the Pook could wander in and out to a nice fenced-in back yard, run wild on the beach by day and sprawl in front of the gas fireplace at night.

In sum, the three of us had a divine time, but the two humans got a real kick out of a few of Pooka's more amusing discoveries. Discovery No. 1: Giant whips of seaweed are really cool! She poked, chased, jumped, dodged and eventually dismembered with her teeth the spikey end of a beached hunk of seaweed. As documented by M:

Pooka has me trained

Quick upload of snapshots from our advanced obedience class. Don't think she was the only one who learned how to behave!

Two of a kind

Our fabulous obedience class instructor K. just sent some photos along of Pooka and Tuxedo, the improbably similar black-and-white ridgeback mix we met at Sound Animals. (Pooka's the smaller one.)

Every day's a lesson

Pooka and I had an eventful, educational weekend.

Saturday we went for our regular long walk through Woodland Park. It was early, there were no other people around, and I know many folks let the pups run off leash in the fields, so I decided to experiment. Unclipped the leash and watched Miss P. take off at a sprint, running faster and with more determination than I've ever seen her do at the dog park. Straight for the squirrel-laden trees, then bounding around wildly among them. Completely ignored the "come" command for what seemed like minutes. Leashed walk resumed.

Next was an unpleasant adventure in grooming. I've been clipping the tiny ends of her toenails sparingly, but felt sure I wasn't cutting as much as I could have. Wrong! I went too far on one poor little nail and drew blood (and a dirty look from Pooka).

After sopping up most of the stains, I started a load of laundry, and let Pooks hang around in the little laundry porch with me. B. came over to say hi, and inadvertantly let her slip out the door. "Let's see what happens," we decided, since she does love to sniff around for the cats in the back yard. But the driveway gate was open, and as soon as she realized it, I saw a black streak zip by the window.

When I padded out into the driveway in my socks, I saw that black streak darting wildly from house to house, yard to yard, back and forth across the blessedly quiet street. Yelling "Pooka, get your a** over here" didn't work too well, and when I finally nabbed her by the collar, she cowered. "Sorry, mom! Couldn't help myself!"

Of course, the mad Ballard dash opened up the toenail wound, and P. tracked bloody paw prints all over the living room. Poor kid. Doc recommended immersing the paw in corn starch and staying off it for a bit, so we went back to bed and read for a while.

Saturday afternoon and Sunday were much nicer adventures. We visited M. and Cody on Mercer Island and walked down to the lake, where Pooka jumped in and actually SWAM in mad pursuit of ducks. Cody is a very avid swimmer, but P. seems to be more utilitarian about how wet she gets. Cody is not a very avid wrestler/dog chase game player, which confused Pooka to no end. She made extremely exaggerated "come play with me please" gestures, pounced and teased to no avail. Cody does, however, play a mean game of keepaway. Pooka acquiesced and let him be the alpha, a calculated decision, I suspect, just to keep engaged with him.

Sunday we joined O. and Olli, and new friends M. and J. and their dogs Dude (my favorite line of the weekend was, "Dude, seriously????") and Paps on a hike up Little Si. We went early enough that the trails were clear, and so we unleashed the monsters, who bounded with breathtaking agility over and under, around and about in the trees and boulders. I had to stop Pooka from playing a rowdy game of "keepaway" with a stick on the precarious mountaintop area, but she did an incredible job otherwise of playing nicely and listening to me when I called. Can't wait for the next pack outing.

Daylight savings switch means I can now zip out of work, pick up P. and hit Green Lake for a jog and a dog park romp. Cannot wait for summer.

Duck!

This morning, Pooka tried out some new living room perches. She usually opts for a couch cushion, but today she tested both the chair and the windowsill. Chair cushion on the windowsill was ultimately the winner, and she sacked out in the sun for a bit. I didn't dare get up for the camera; when I finally reached for my cell phone she decided it was time to move, too. Hence the alert-looking animal in the photo.

We've been running around Greenlake at night a few times a week, me with a headlamp and Pook with my red bicycle tail light clipped to her harness. We occasionally blind each other, but it's basically a good system for seeing and being seen in the dark. Until the last few times, Pooka was indifferent to the various waterfowl bobbing in the water. But then, one night, it hit her: They're floating cats! Now, running is occasionally derailed as a duck flutters or squawks and P.'s prey drive kicks in. And she goes nuts on the dock, back and forth as the ducks gracefully drift away, and return, drift and return.


I know I haven't posted much; things have fallen into a nice rhythm of walking, running, park and relaxing. We haven't been skiing since the last time; the roads have been bad and I've been lazy or busy. In general, her digestive woes have passed, though she's been very, very funny the last 24 hours or so: She assumed the poop position last night, and atone point let loose a loud bit of gas. What? Her head whipped around, as if she couldn't imagine she'd have made such a racket. It happened again this morning twice just as she sat down. The look of surprise and confusion was priceless.