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.

Ridgeback-Malamute mix?

Sunday was Pooka's first real snow day, and she loved every second of it. M. and I cross-country skiied, and Pooka ran around in her new booties. The trail was not designated for dogs, but the alternative was a hectic snowmobile route, so we broke the rules and enjoyed an hour and a half of rolling hills and soft snow.

From the moment P.'s paws hit the trail, she was ecstatic, sprinting ahead, screeching to a halt in a cloud of snow, reversing course and hoofing it back. I've never seen her enjoy herself so much without another dog around.

I outpaced M. down one of the first big hills, and after waiting for her to appear for a minute or two, I called, out, "M., are you OK?" Silence. Then Pooka took off at full tilt up the hill and out of sight. I heard a faint, "Hi, Pooka." And then, my little Lassie, having confirmed M. was unhurt, dashed back down the hill and returned to me.

She was extremely attentive and obedient, came when I called, sat and stayed when other skiiers needed to pass. She bounded off the trail -- once. For one step. When she found herself up to her neck in snow, though, she hopped right back out.

Since the kitchen rampage, I've mostly been keeping her crated when I'm not around. But I did some additional Pookaproofing, including a new garbage can I can lock under the sink, and many new airtight bins for various food items.

I left her out twice in the last few days, in the evening. She has not wreaked any havoc in the kitchen, but she has a new trick: chewing almost all the way through her leashes, which hang by the front door.

The first time, I clipped on the leash and zipped out the door before I noticed it was hanging by a thread. One tug and poof! There went Pooka, with about 9 inches of the 6' leash dangling from her collar. Beelined for the neighbor's cat-door, of course. She is a very, very smart dog.

Last night, she didn't make it quite as deep into leash #2, so we made it around the block a few times before it gave way. I shall be dropping dough on leashes, and more storage bins, after work tonight.

Premature, and paying for it

Brief synopsis:

- Left Pooka out of crate this afternoon
- Was optimistic
- Came home to dog sitting quietly on couch
- Petted dog, good dog!
- Looked at kitchen
- Noticed trash all over kitchen
- Noticed treats (rawhide, bully sticks) in Pooka's mouth as she trotted them out to show me
- Noticed half-empty giant box of milk bones
- Took dog for a walk
- Dog pooped. Mush.
- Returned to house, noticed giant pile of poop on floor
- Picked up kitchen disaster
- Cleaned up poop pile
- Glowered at Pooka
- Pooka slunk into bedroom, lay in her bed
- Ate on couch
- Pooka slunk out to join me
- Suffered greatly, because whatever Pooka ate, between the trash and the milkbones, is now causing great amounts of noxious fumes to seep out of Pooka into the atmosphere