Tucker the Terrier, Temporarily Tethered

Poor Tucker.

He hurt his paw this past weekend. Nothing major, really. And not that much of a surprise, either. That boy takes off like a bat out of Hades when he's in the yard and released from his leash. Or when he sees a little critter that needs to be chased. (Hint: ALL little critters need to be chased.) Tucker goes zooming through the yard, oblivious to any obstacle and barreling through bushes, all intent and intensity.  SO, it's not wonder that he hurts himself often. At least once a week, I'll be petting him and discover a new scab.

This past Saturday morning, when I called the dogs onto the deck after their morning speed constitutional in the yard, I noticed Tucker chittering. I'm sure there's a scientific name for the behavior; it's when a dog makes fast little chattery noises with his or her mouth. Usually it's a behavior that I see in Lilah--and it's nearly always done when she's in Dr. Lilah mode and inspecting an injury or problem with one of the boys.  I've never seen Tucker do it. So he's standing there looking sorrowful and chittering and I knew something was wrong.

A bee sting? Wouldn't be out of the question, since Mr. Inquisitive sticks his nose in everybody's business.

Ate something bad? Also a possibility, since he's an Eat First and Ask Questions Later kind of dude.

Then he looked at his back left leg, started chittering harder...and I noticed the blood.

Ah. That would be the problem.

So we all trooped indoors where I sat Tucker down to examine the injury. A puncture wound. Really, it was almost nothing. About the size of a pencil eraser. But it looked kind of deep. And it gaped a bit. Poor baby.

By 10:30 AM we were on our way to the vet. Tucker is such a good boy, he let the tech shave his foot and wash the wound with nary a peep. Though after she left, he hid under the chair. When the vet came it, Tucker allowed himself to be coaxed out with a few treats.

The vet put some antibiotic cream on his paw and closed the wound with a single surgical staple. Then, she bandaged it so Tucker wouldn't lick and worry at it.

And then she gave us a Cone. Because Tucker just had to get at his foot.

Thus began our weekend.

At first Tucker was quite depressed about The Cone. As every dog who has ever had to wear one, Tucker discovered that it isn't so easy to walk through doorways or up or down stairs. And don't even try to crawl under a table. And the humans in the house had to be reminded not to walk in front of a dog wearing a Cone; all you need is to get shoved in the back of the legs with the sharp circle edge just once and you won't want to repeat the experience.

Tucker when he first came home. Bandaged paw. Sad face.

Lilah gave Tucker a complete inspection, and then tried to lick his ears. That's Dr. Lilah's treatment for anything that ails her furry family. Jasper, on the other hand...er, paw...was terrified of Tucker's Cone. Jasper squished himself next to me, and as far from Tucker as he could get. One would think that Jasper was just being a Silly Scared Princess. But I completely understood where the poor Moose was coming from: the last time he had to wear a cone, he was in excruciating pain and had to stay in the hospital for a few days. (You can read about his trials in two posts: Spoiler Alert: Jasper is Okay and Patient Jasper.) I bet the sound and smell of The Cone brought it all back. Poor Jasper.

However, by the end of the weekend, Jasper was able to stand next to Tucker, and even Touch the Cone with His Nose. Very Brave Jasper.

Brave Jasper.

As for Tucker, he adapted to The Cone amazingly fast. The first time I took him outside, I let him off his leash in the backyard, thinking the combination of cone and bandage would slow him down.

That was a mistake.  The boy charged around the yard at near-warp speed, catching bits of shredded plant in his cone.

Cone can't stop a terrier.

Tucker takes a break. Notice the plant bits caught on the right side of the cone.

After that, Tucker was only allowed outside while leashed. Even then, by Saturday evening, as we attempted to relax in the family room, Tucker had figured out how to pick up a Ball--as encumbered as he was. And then he learned how to throw it at me, over the rim of The Cone. And even used The Cone to help catch The Ball or scoop it up. And no matter how insistent he was (and he really was Insistent), I wasn't going to throw the ball down the hall as usual for him. I want him to heal. Instead, I gently rolled it a few feet or tossed it for him to catch without running. That wasn't really satisfying to Tucker the Terrier. But it was all I was offering.

Got to Play Ball!

Using his paw to push The Ball under The Cone.

A new technique: rolling The Ball down The Cone.

By the end of the day, Tucker had the Cone thing completely figured out. In fact, he had it down so well that he managed to get his snout around it and in a few short moments had unraveled a good chunk of the bandage.

Back to square one, I had to put more topical antibiotics on the wound and re-wrap it.

And fit Tucker with an even larger cone. One that we had used for Jasper when he outsmarted his smaller cone.

Now the only time The Cone comes off is for dinner, but afterwards, it has to go back on. Tucker is already so used to the routine that I can just hold out The Cone and he'll put his head in. Grudgingly, but I don't even have to ask him. Tucker has just accepted that This is the Way Things Are.  That's such a dog thing. To just accept what he's been dealt and learn to deal with it. Wish I could do that half as well.

So, while it may seem really sad that Tucker has a been injured and has to wear a cone, he's really okay with it. Particularly since he seems to be getting more treats and a lot more pets and snuggles as he plays on everyone's sympathy.

In the morning, Tucker relaxes on his--our--bed.

He'll get better soon, I'm sure. The Cone will come off. And Tucker will continue to run around the yard and get hurt now and again--just like certain other terrier we all knew and loved: Rosie. And that very terrier-ness, that intensity, that ability to figure out a puzzle because you Really Want Something, that playfulness and that acceptance of What Is, will continue to define our Tucker.

Tucker, with his cone, picking up signals from one of the Mars Rovers.

Swimming in it

The hot days of summer are nearly upon us. And if you're a furry black dog like Lilah, you're going to find ways to cool off. Lilah is always the first dog to find a shady spot under a tree. She's also the one who finds mud to lie down in, and will dig a lovely, cool dog bed in the garden.

But I think Lilah's favorite thing to do when it gets warm is to go swimming in the doggy pool.  On hot days, I'll drag the pool out of the shed and set it up in the shade. Lilah watches the whole process closely, probably because she is somewhat suspicious of the water hose. But once the pool is filled and the hose is removed, she jumps right in.

Lilah's favorite activity in the pool is to walk around in a circle, blowing bubbles with her nose under water. Now Jasper and Tucker, on the other paw, well, their favorite thing to do with the pool is to stay far, far away. For two dogs with an aversion to getting wet, a doggy pool seems like utter insanity.

Lilah loves blowing bubbles in her pool

Nothing like a wet drippy doggy face.

There is often more than one pool out for the dogs. Well, Dog. It's Lilah who plays in both of them.

The boys just don't understand the concept; if a bath is torture and rain is barely tolerable, why in the world would you want to put your paws in the pool? Even for treats. Though I have been able to convince them now and again to do it.

With treats as incentives, Aaron entices Jasper to get his paws wet on the top step of our in-ground pool. Lilah has already happily splashed back and forth along the top.

With lots of encouragement and treats, I can sometimes get the boys to put a few paws in a pool. Rarely all four at the same time. Here, Jasper has his two front paws in the water, and Tucker just the one.

Because Lilah is aware of the boys' distaste for water, she uses the pool quite strategically. When Jasper and Tucker chase her a little too aggressively, she heads straight for it, leaping in with a big splash. You can hear the screech of tires burning rubber as the two brothers put the brakes on so they don't wind up in the pool with Lilah. She'll slowly turn around in the pool, with a sneaky dog smile, "Why don't you come in, boys? The water is divine." Of course, they don't. Lilah: 1, Jasper and Tucker: 0. A typical score on a warm sunny day.

Tucker just doesn't understand the appeal.

 

Fascinated at Lilah's behavior, Tucker still keeps his distance. He doesn't want to get Unnecessarily Wet .

On his own, without Lilah to splash him, Tucker investigates. Maybe it's just a giant water bowl?

When Rosie was with us, swimming took on a whole new meaning; she loved to jump in our in-ground pool. She'd chase a stick or ball thrown in the water, diving in and paddling back to the stairs with it, hoping you'd throw it again. She was such a pool hound; it was amazing to see her swim over to a float and climb up on it; I don't know how she managed to balance on those wobbly things, but she did. Rosie was In Charge of the pool. If you were splashing too much and she thought she needed to "save" you, she'd leap into the water, and make her way over to you with her scruffy wet nose in the air--and then she'd paw at you until you took notice. And if you kept on being noisy after that, she'd run around the deck and bark. 

Rosie loved water in all its forms. She used to Help me water my garden, and enjoyed Helping a young Corinne fill up a re-purposed kiddie pool as well.

A dripping wet Rosie after a swim in the pool.

It's June already, and hot summer days are upon us. I'll be bringing out the doggy pool more often, and I'm sure Lilah will make good use of it.  Maybe by the end of the summer, I'll convince the boys that swimming can be fun.

Or maybe not.

Paws to reflect: Doggy edition

I don't think it's just me. Really.  I'm not the only one who thinks that paws are among the cutest parts of a dog--or a cat. Of course, noses, waggy tails, whiskers and bellies are also adorable.

But there's something about paws.  They're not just for walking and running. They can shake hands and high five. They can tap you gently to remind you that petting and belly rubbing needs to continue. They are flexible and expressive. They can be fuzzy, furry, soft, rough, muddy, wet, slippery.  And--I swear--dog paws smell like popcorn.

In looking over the many photos I've taken through the years, I realize that there is a preponderance of paws, so it seemed like a likely topic for a post. Today, I'll feature puppy paws; next week, I'll look at kitty feet.

Lilah has delicate velvet paws, Tucker shows off his furry feet and Jasper stretches his long legs.

Even though Jasper is 60 pounds to Tucker's 38, their paws seem about the same size. Like a canine Clydesdale, Tucker's legs end in large hairy feet.

Lilah's small, pretty paws contrast with Jasper's moose feet.

Pasha used to cross his paws and look oh-so-sophisticated.

Jasper can create the same air of calm dignity. Sometimes.

I love it when Lilah's paws hang over the edge of a stair or bed. They look so dainty and sweet compared to her brothers.

Paws come in handy when you need to chew a bone. You can balance the bone just perfectly--to get the best spot for a good gnaw.

Rosie used her paws to hold frisbees--and sometimes to nearly catch them. Though usually she just grabbed them out of the air with her mouth.

Jasper and Tucker pause (can't resist the pun) to contemplate their next move.

Paws are also part of a good hug--or in this case a wake up kiss from Rosie to a young Aaron.

Or a hug from Lilah as she nibbles on Jasper's ear.

Paws are also good for stretching. Sometimes they seem to get stuck, with one or two legs extended in the air in a silly pose.

Even when he's not stretching, Jasper's paws look endless. We call this position "broccoli paws." Imagine how broccoli bunches look when you buy them rubber banded-together in the store, and you'll understand how we came to that expression.

Tucker's furry paws are a mud magnet. After he and his siblings come in from a run in our yard, they are all required to play the "Treats for the Feets" game where they give me paws to wipe, and I give them treats--one per paw.

If I don't wipe paws, there are sometimes consequences. Last spring, Lilah felt it was necessary to review my To Do list for the upcoming Passover seder.

One of the best things for paws is to lay your head upon them and ponder the big questions of the universe.

Sticks Together

What is it about sticks?

It seems everybody likes them.

Dogs like 'em of course.

Jasper and Lilah, sticking together. Pun intended.

But people have been known to play with sticks as well. When my daughter Corinne was little, she had a pet stick. To anyone who has young children, it would come as no surprise that she named it Stick. Every time we went outside, Corinne wanted to walk around with Stick. Just holding it. 'Cause that's what you did with Stick. You held it. Though she wanted to bring it inside, I was able to convince Corinne that Stick would be happy in it's wagon bed in the garage.

There was a slight issue, though, because our dog at the time--Kelsey--liked sticks, too. And she really could not tell the difference between uppercase, proper noun Stick the pet and the lowercase, garden-variety, tree debris type stick.

This led to several disagreements that often resulted in tears on the part of Corinne, and a quick sleight of hand switcheroo that allowed Kelsey to play with a generic, unnamed stick.

And all was right with the world.

Corinne and Stick. The official Stick is in her right hand. The other one is a generic stick for Kelsey.

And it's not just little kids that play with sticks.

Last year, Brian, Corinne and I went to see Big Bambu, an art installation on the roof of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in Manhattan.  (It's worth clicking on the link to see the pictures.) Constructed of bamboo, this huge piece was designed and built by Mike and Doug Starn, along with a team of experienced climbers. The art was in the doing, and visitors were able to walk around--and eventually through and on top of--this incredible interactive sculpture--even while it was under construction--and deconstruction.

Stairway to heaven...on sticks. The path through Big Bambu.

We were lucky enough to get on a guided walk through Big Bambu as sunset bloomed over the city. Cameras weren't allowed within the exhibit (too many opportunities to drop them on the other art lovers below), but it was quite magical.

Corinne, surrounded by sticks, at Big Bambu.

A grown-up Corinne loved it. I guess I shouldn't be surprised.

And even I have had the pleasure of working and playing with sticks. Since more than half of our property is woods, there were plenty of branches, limbs and twigs for me to create a visual barrier to my perennial garden.  My goal was to keep the dogs out; only partially effective, it still added an artistic, rustic feel to my flower bed.

My garden, with its natural stick fence.

But in the end, sticks really are The Best Things for Dogs.

First of all, they're so much fun to chew. You get that satisfying munchy feel against your teeth, yet because sticks are softer than bones, you get lots of little Stick Bits that are fun to spit out. (Unless you're a puppy and still try to eat them.)

Kelsey, enjoying a good chew. (And that's not Stick, by the way.)

Tucker looks like he's smoking a pipe, but it's just a good gnawin' stick.

If you're not busy chewing on a stick, you can just walk around with it.   Or run around with it. Kelsey used to love to carry a really long stick and then sprint toward her people, in an attempt to run between them with it. She never quite got the concept that the stick was wider than she was, so her errors of judgement often resulted in two humans being slammed in their calves, and a stunned Kelsey who didn't understand what stopped her so suddenly.

We all learned to pay close attention when Kelsey was Carrying a Big Stick.

A stick in the snow is lots of fun, too. When people throw it for you, sometimes it lands in a way that points up--and other times you have to dig for it, which is even more exciting. The best sticks are the ones you remove from the snowman and snow lady. How nice of Mom to make them so accessible and easy to find.

Rosie and her stick in the snow.  Eventually, she'd ask us the throw it, but it was fun to Run Mucks first.

There's a whole process, by the way, to finding the perfect stick.  The recent fall snowstorm left our yard littered with humongous piles of branches just waiting for the right dog.  Many of them still had leaves on them, which are, to some, extra special.

To find the right stick, you need to assess the inventory.  Once you decide which one you want, you have to Get It. Which might mean pulling it off a larger branch.

Tucker puts all his weight into getting the right stick.

You can always see if the large branch itself has possibilities.

Lilah considers a large branch. Tucker looks on, in case he would like it, too.

Even a large piece of bark has potential--stick potential and pun potential, though the dogs didn't really appreciate the latter.

Tucker and Jasper discuss ownership of a bark. I believe they both own pretty impressive barks.

So many huge limbs fell during the snowstorm, that, as a dog, you just had to try to get The Big One. Just once, at least.

Tucker chews on a huge limb.

Or if you were Lilah, who we've always felt is part cat and part goat, you could just walk on the big stick.

Lilah is so proud of herself, walking on the giant branch. Jasper seems a little worried. But that's his normal state: a little worried.

Or use it as a springboard to leap over your brother.

All the agility practice pays off as Lilah leaps over Jasper.

Picking out the best stick takes strength and skill.

Tucker and Jasper choose sticks from the same pile.

Sometimes, it's best to do a test gnaw while the stick is still attached to the rest of the branch.

Lilah testing out the chewability of a possible stick choice.

Once you found your stick, it's best to run around the yard and show the other dogs that you have the Best Stick and they Do Not. More then likely, one or the other of them will try to Get Your Stick. But they have to catch you first. Which is probably the point.

I have a Stick and you don't. Now try and catch me. Lilah and Tucker play Stick Keep Away.

Though sometimes, it's okay to share the stick, if it's long enough.

Tucker and Lilah share.

And sometimes it's not okay. Then there's a growly discussion about Stick Ownership.

Jasper and Lilah disagree over the Rightful Owner of a particular stick.

Or sometimes just a staredown at the two ends of the stick.

Showdown; usually Lilah wins.

Though if you find a stick with lots of branches to it, there's more than enough to go around.

Tucker and Jasper companionably share a multi-branched stick.

Even three dogs can sometimes share one stick. That usually doesn't last long, as someone will eventually claim it as his or hers.

Three-way tie: Jasper, Lilah and Tucker each claim the prize.

And the victor takes off with her prize; the other two in hot pursuit.

One of my favorite picures; Lilah runs with a pine branch, with Jasper in hot pursuit. Tucker is looking to join in as well.

Ah...the joy of the chase!  Below is a 5-second video of Three-way Stick Tug; the first video I've attemped for this blog.

And Jasper's the winner!