Never mind: here are some pictures of our walk a couple of days ago: as ever I hope you find them enjoyable.
Good grief, I haven't given you the attention you deserve! In my inadequate defence, I've been very busy writing a book (not about dogs), starting another book (about a dog) and blogging elsewhere, as well as working and having Bosco inflict a truly debilitating injury upon me (unwittingly, of course). I'll not bore you with the details, suffice to say that until today, typing for longer than a few minutes has been excruciatingly painful. Actually; it still is...
Never mind: here are some pictures of our walk a couple of days ago: as ever I hope you find them enjoyable.
A useful article for our consumption and consideration:
Bosco seems to fly in the face of some of these: he's a physical contact junkie and throughly enjoys having his head stroked, scratched, rubbed etc., and uses it to make his presence felt. If my lovely wife and I are having a hug, wrestling (yes, I know!) or even close to one another, he usually notices and will try to insert his bulk excitedly into the moment somehow...
The point in this article which most catches my eye is - as you may guess - the one about walks. The other day, while waiting for my teenage daughter to pack the car with an amazing amount of bags, I watched a woman of a certain age walking her toy something-or-other. I couldn't tell what it was because it wasn't much larger than a big squirrel and I didn't have my glasses on, but the poor little thing had the head of a cocker spaniel - albeit on a microscopic scale. The lady wasn't walking particularly quickly, but because of the terrible mismatch of scale, even her leisurely stroll meant that the tiny little dot was scampering along just to keep up with her.
As I watched, the dog/puppy would stop occasionally as it came across an interesting smell on the pavement/sidewalk. Mrs I-want-a-dog-that-I-can-treat-like-a-baby/cat/dolly was having none of that, and each and every time (they were in view for a full five minutes) the dog tried to sniff something, she almost took its head off simply by continuing to walk at the same speed and allowing the leash to tighten.
There is no way that dog was having a satisfying walk; neither physically (restrained on a leash and walking along on concrete) nor mentally (not being allowed to use its instinctive skills and senses). I'm sure that the lady feels that she walks her dog like a good and responsible owner should, but really; haven't we evolved enough intelligence to understand that a dog's needs are different from our own? If we don't have the means to give our dogs proper fulfilling exercise, firstly seriously consider whether it's fair to even keep a dog in such circumstances, and secondly; let's dop our best to make the walks we do provide for them as
He's more than four years old now, this silly pooch of ours. You'd think that the world would be settling into understandable and predictable patterns for him...but apparently it's not that simple.
Bosco seems to be the dog most likely to be surprised by pretty much anything - anything at all.
He's surprised to see me arrive at the bottom of the stairs even though he's just heard me walking down them, and even if I've been talking to him (as, I admit, I frequently do in a sort of invented-conversation kind of way) as I approach. He's surprised to see me or my lovely wife even though he's watched us walk up to the front door, and he's run (well; I say run - more of an enthusiastic amble, really) to the door to greet us.
He's surprised to be given his dinner even when he's watched me (pretending to not care at all whether or not he gets any food) making it from out of the corner of his eye. He's surprised by every single noise he hears when out walking, every noise outside the house (usually imaginary - he's obssessed with Raccoons and those pesky Squirrels and will move heaven and earth - or the glass in the window in the picture above to try to get to them) and everything he sees through the window.
Basically, he seems to live in one of two states; either torpor or shock. It must be quite stressful for him, but he seems to enjoy himself and occasionally the surprises are fun as well as...surprising. Travelling in the back of the truck (under a canopy, people; relax) to or from his daily walk in the local countryside, everything is new and wonderful, his ears shooting up to the top of his head every few seconds as things come into view (I just accidentally typed 'thongs come into view', and I have to admit that my ears shoot to the top of my head if that happens).
The thing he most likes to be surprised by is a squirrel - squirrels appear to be the things he would most like to get to know, mostly from an omnom-omnomnom perspective, closely followed by the aforementioned raccoons, although since he's never even got within fifty feet of a raccoon, I suspect that if he did, things might be...well...surprising. The thing he least likes being surprised by is a snake. If he comes across a snake - let me start that again; if he comes across a snake AND realises it's a snake, he rapidly levitates about a foot, darts away looking mightily alarmed, and then stands off with an "I don't like the look of THAT!" expression on his face. I should mention that the snakes around here are typically harmless garter snakes, at most the thickness of my index finger and about two feet long...oh dear.
Oddly enough, the 'surprise' stuff doesn't seem to work if anyone walks into the house unannounced. If that ever happens (one of our kids' boy/girfriend for example), he tends to react with a level of complete indifference and calmness that I find a little unsettling. Anyone could stroll in and he'd probably just give them a dirty look for waking him up. We are clearly on our own in the event of trouble, and at the mercy of the zombie horde.
Sometimes I think he's just toying with me.
Go here; you'll enjoy it!
A quick rant about the trend for 'fur babies'.
I'm not sure if it's a sign that society in the west (I don't know if this goes on elsewhere) is devolving or that simply some kinds of people are regressing to their teenage girly personas, but the idea of having apet which is your 'baby' is really rather strange.
No; really - it is. I mean; come ON! Dogs are NOT babies. They're animals. They do NOT think like people or even baby people! Who decided that they do?????
I see so much stuff online - and of course in TV commercials which deliberately exploit the delusion - telling us that our pets 'love' us (and - for example - so, therefore, we must buy them brand X dog food, to show our love in return, because otherwise who knows how bad the animal might feel???). I wonder where this delusion comes from? Could it be human wishful thinking, perhaps? Of course it is - we shower affection and attention on our pets, we love them, and as sentient, emotional beings, we hope for that love to be reciprocated. In the case of dumb (unable to speak) animals, we invent the meaning behind their responses. Let's just be HONEST about our pets.
I love my dog - which itself may be a little strange, but I know that I'm not alone. Whenever I've lost a pet I've been devastated by it, because of the emotions that I - not the animal - have invested in the relationship. Dogs are pack animals by instinct - they are most comfortable when not alone, and their behaviours are geared to living in a pack.
When Bosco approaches me for a stroke/a cuddle/ a play, he's doing so for two reasons: firstly because he enjoys it (play is a major part of a domestic dog's psyche, since they rarely get out of the puppy phase of mental development) and secondly (and this is circuitously linked to his own enjoyment and feeling of safety/security within the pack) because it emphasises his lesser status in the pack (he does as I direct him to do) while ostensibly pleasing the perceived pack leader. He does not play with me because he 'loves' me, for goodness sake!
The tendency for people to turn their pet animals into baby humans is disturbing and contradictory. After all, if the animal were indeed as sensitive and emotional as a human, would you really put a leash around their neck? Feed them from a bowl on the floor?
There is SO much wrong with the whole 'fur baby' idea and the industry that exploits it - honesty about animal instinct and behaviour seems to have been thrown out by such people. It can only lead to trouble and increasingly weird lives for the dogs we choose to be our companions.
You may need to be on facebook to view this, not entirely sure:
Just when you thought it was safe to stop following, I'm back, like a bad smell (which of course, Bosco would love).
I find it hard to believe how long it is since I last posted - time has flown, mostly due to a busy time doing other things (not much of huge significance, except...) and pushing my online activities to the back burner.
This last weekend we have returned from a vacation in our home country which necessitated putting Bosco into kennels for two weeks. It's the first time he's been in boarding kennels on his own (he and Buckley had their first kennels experience together about three years ago) and while we were a little uncomfortable handing him over to comparative strangers, our previous experience with Mission Country Kennels gave us some confidence.
We picked up Bosco as early as we could after arriving back home - somehow the house feels very different without him there; there is a certain energy missing from it. At just after 8am we were there, collecting his blanket, his bowl and his favourite toy (one of my old leather slippers), but most of all, excited to see him.
A 100lb puppy bounded over to us, jumped in and out of the old Volvo tailgate several times, whined and sort of grunted a bit, and rubbed himself against our legs in what appeared to be his version of excited bliss. A dog that is pleased to see you is one of life's wonderful little treats, and we both basked in his very obvious joy while we heard how he had behaved himself and seemingly enjoyed the company of his kennel-mates. His habit of scratching himself a little too hard seemed to have not manifested itself, and his sore shoulder (a recurring injury) also seems to have almost completely healed.
Within a few minutes we were headed up the road to one of our favourite walking trails, and just as if nothing had happened (well, almost), we were following the big daft dopey mutt around while he checked on our progress just a little more often than usual. The tension we had both felt about collecting him and potentially hearing something unpleasant drifted away as he galloped, lolloped and scampered about in the bushes, in puddles and through the forest.
Once back home we were sure to follow the old routines of towelling him down (he gets wet during almost every walk) and playing the 'towel game', followed by his morning meal, a sleep (him, not us, despite the jet lag) and then what I think is his favourite part of the day; a small bone to chew, worry and consume. I could almost watch him relax into his old familiar patterns; the things which make him feel safe and part of the pack.
We were back, and until we retrieved our faithful companion we hadn't felt properly home. Our thanks to the folks at Mission Country Kennels for looking after and keeping safe our pet in an idyllic location and with genuine care, and for giving us such complete feedback about his stay. We know he will be safe there if ever we need to have him cared for again.
'Humane' is a word that we habitually use to describe something that is merciful, moral, ethical - the best way to do something unpleasant.
Perhaps, in the light of this story (link below), it's time for us to abandon this word, since what we humans do to the animals with which we share this tiny dot is clearly in many cases none of the above. Perhaps it's time we stopped thinking of ourselves as the most principled beings on the planet...