Call the Hotline!

There is a nip of fall in the air these past few days. As a result, our fifteen month old puppy, who remembers how much fun snow was last winter, has an extra spring in her step. It is especially evident in the patches of deep weeds and tall grasses that adorn our various walking routes. Lately, once she's in the tall grass, it's hard to entice her out. She just wants to leap and hop and run around, chasing grasshoppers and crickets and what-have-you until I drag her out by the leash.

"Oh no!" I said. "Our girl has a gamboling addiction!!!"

Led (by) A Stray

I call her a stray because that was what she was when Animal Control picked her up a year ago. She was already totally housebroken at two months old, so we imagine she was not well treated wherever she began her journey. But that is not the subject of this post.

Last Tuesday morning, Grace and I were out on a nice long walk, when a big dog came running out from a yard on Center Street. It came at Grace with purpose, and we soon found out what that purpose was. Mocha - for that is her name - spread her front legs and went down into the universal canine "let's play" stance. Well... Grace never turns down an opportunity to play. They romped and jumped and ran and sniffed each other for a good ten minutes while Mocha's human and I talked about out dogs. Mocha is about the same age, just over a year, and loves loves loves to play. It was hard to end their obvious joyfulness, but I had to get home and get ready for work.

This morning, Sunday, Grace and I went out for our pre-church walk. Usually there are two choices to start out with - north to Shadybrook Park or south to either the VFW property or Cora Clark Park. This morning she surprised me by heading west. She led me up Chestnut Street to Lafayette. She stopped and looked around for a few minutes, then proceeded north on Lafayette. She turned west on Euclid, over to Porter, then north again. This was when I got an inkling. Sure enough, after sitting at Porter and Center for several minutes, looking around and sniffing the air, she led me down Center Street and directly to Mocha's yard. Mocha was not outside at 8:15 on a Sunday morning, so we came back home, Grace disappointed, and I bearing a great respect for her memory and her willingness to follow her dreams.

Clean Getaway

I took Grace to the groomer this afternoon, her first time. It was hard leaving her there with strangers, but the groomers immediately fell in love with her. Most people do. Carmen told me to stay there with her while they worked, but a big sign out front proclaimed the Rules - no waiting for your pet, in the building or even outside the building. Too much of a distraction, it says. Sadly I scratched her head while she was carried away in the arms of Katie.

Two and a half hours later they called to say she was done. I sped away and was there in record time. Katie brought her out, stylin' in her little bandanna, and totally distracted by the other dogs. I walked her around the outside for a few minutes, but nothing came of it. I brought her home where, after the photo session, she slept for four hours.

Evidently, getting groomed is hard work.

Critters

Part of the fun of walking is the chance of encountering a critter or two. We have yet to encounter a moving object Grace is unwilling to chase. Leaves, snowflakes, bumblebees, any size or shape of bird, squirrels, chipmunks, whatever. Of course humans, other dogs and cats are of special interest.

Bassets were bred to hunt rabbits, but as far as I know she has only ever seen the one on Saturday May 17th, which I saw run from a brush pile on one side of the road to the bushes on the other side. Grace saw it as it disappeared on the far side. Carmen tells me she saw one a few days before, but Grace was so busy sniffing the ground that she missed it completely.

She did knock a bumblebee out of the air last week, and step on it. She rooted up and chased a cricket a few nights ago. And probably her best conquest ever, she scared up a mole. She chased it, caught it, flipped it into the air,.chased it more, caught it again, tossed it up, chased it etc. etc. until it finally ran into some thick weeds along a fence and escaped.

My favorite so far was a killdeer. You nature lovers out there (you know who you are) will know that the killdeer builds its nest right on the ground. If a predator threatens, mama will run erratically away from the nest, dragging her wing as if it is broken, to lure the predator away. Yesterday morning, I saw a killdeer performing this stunt for the benefit if Grace and me. She ran until she ran out of room, flew back nearer to us and took off running again. Two more times she performed this stunt trying to lure us away from her nest. Grace never ever saw this impassioned performance. I applauded, but I don't think Mama Killdeer knew what it meant.

On The Road

Last week (March 18 - 24) we were out of town, visiting my parents in north Georgia. The drive takes ten and a half hours, according to Googlemaps. That's not counting the extra time for walks around the dog walking zones of five or six  rest areas along the way. We drove it in two days.

We found out on our trip to Grand Rapids in December that Grace is an excellent car dog. Except for the walk breaks, she slept all the way. With a few brief periods of mischievous wakefulness (she dug out her bag of treats twice) she slept almost  all the way this time. And then came the night in the hotel.

The Hampton Inn in Summersville, West Virginia accepts pets. That means, of course, that other dogs are there. That means, of course, that Grace had plenty of noises to bark at. When she barked at the heat coming on, we knew we were in for a long night. I took her for a walk in the rain  before going to bed, a walk in the mud at 3:30 in the morning, and another walk before we hauled ass out of there at 6:00. Then she was a perfect angel all the way to Blairsville.

Nights at the cabin were much better. Grace slept through the night, and so did we. We did learn a few things about our girl, though. She quickly accepted my parents into her pack. She also quickly found the box in which they keep plastic bottles for recycling. Walks around Smokey Mountain Estates were strenuous and tiring, just the ticket for an overactive puppy.

The most interesting bit of information we learned came during a late evening  walk. We were on our way down White Oak Drive when Grace suddenly froze. She stared  down the road for ten or fifteen seconds, turned around and led me back to the cabin. I don't know what she saw or heard in the pitch darkness ahead - a bear, a coyote or what - but she had the sense to walk away from it.

Signs

Dogs can't read, as far as I know. If Grace can read, she is unconcerned about the rules. The first thing she did during our walk this morning was take a dump beside the "NO DUMPING" sign. An hour later we had arrived at a new favorite destination, the tennis courts at the Meadville Area Recreation Complex. They are four courts wide and completely fenced in with no breaches once the gate is closed behind us. I can unleash her and throw a ball as far as my arthritic shoulder will let me, and Grace can run full bore, chasing down and catching it before it gets to the fence.

All we have to do to enjoy this marvelous freedom is ignore one little sign: NO DOGS ALLOWED"

Toy Surgery

Carmen ordered four plush dog toys from Amazon. The first one we let Grace have was a cat. Within minutes the tail and the ears were surgically removed, followed in a day by a hind leg, the squeaker and all of the stuffing. Carmen threw it away  and offered an alligator to replace it. Same shit, different body parts. The goat's horns went first, and the elephant's tusks led the carnage. Within a week, all four critters bit the dust. The cheap Big Lots penguin didn't last five minutes.