Tidying Up

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Dash is doing his part in our most recent state of emergency (ice storms, temperatures below freezing, power outages, etc.) It's been just five months since the last one, and his enthusiasm is still high.

Dash's To Do List:

Patrol the yard...

Keep the squirrels from eating all the bird seed.

Make sure the rabbits get enough exercise.

Pick up the ice-covered twigs that fall from the trees with every gust of wind. Bonus: When you bite the sticks, you get to eat the ice covering. Free ice cubes!

And inside?

Keep a close eye on the kitchen (never waste food when power is scarce).

Sound the alert when the salt trucks, snow plows, utility company trucks, and emergency vehicles come our way.

Watch out the front windows for anyone brave (or crazy) enough to go out in the cold, and then tell us all about them.

And finally...

Make a really warm spot on the bed at night.

What a good boy!

Happy Birthday, Dash!

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Dash was one today. Already? It doesn't seem possible.

It was one of those warm, gorgeous, blue sky kind of days that are so rare in late November. Family members stopped by and played with the Birthday Boy and his new toys.

Dash's birthday gifts included an agility tunnel (which he's not at all sure about), glow-in-the-dark flying discs, and his favorite, a glow-in-the-dark Orbee Tuff-Ball from Planet Dog. (Do you detect a theme here?). He cannot get enough of that ball. It's sturdy with a very satisfying heft, mint-scented, and whistles a little when you throw it. I may have to get another to put in his stocking!

We met friends at the Gateway Agility Club Trial and had a great time watching the classes. We talked with some of the Corgi people who were entered, and some who were spectators. Dash played with Matilda, a cute Australian Shepherd puppy. (Dash's idea of heaven!)

Later, we shared a birthday lunch at an outdoor cafe. In between bites of (the inside of) his turkey sandwich, my very social dog visited with customers and employees.

We wrapped up the evening around the outdoor fireplace...with some games of glow-in-the-dark fetch, of course.

Here's to many more birthdays, Little Man!

I Should Have Named Him "Herb"

"You gonna use all that?"
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I put wire edging around my herb garden for the first time this year. Why? Not for the rabbits, but to keep out a certain Corgi.

Dash loves the smell and taste of fresh herbs. Sometimes I wonder if he got some special mojo from his chef-breeder. He can get just enough of his nose through the edging to get a good whiff of basil, thyme, parsley, oregano or rosemary. When the basil began to grow through the fence, he would cruise by and grab a mouthful. He knows how to strip the tiny thyme leaves by running his teeth down the stem. He reaches around the fuzzy comfrey to snatch leaves of stevia. I thought I would have to move the chives when I saw how often he stopped to inhale their oniony aroma (alliums are not healthy for dogs), but he never samples them.

Under the watchful eye of this little Corgi, I cut several armloads of basil to make pesto. He followed me into the kitchen and watched every move I made. Any basil leaves that fell were caught before they hit the floor. I handed him a stem full of pungent green leaves, and he tossed it in the air and caught it, chased it across the floor and pounced on it. It was a grand game.

We may have discovered "dognip".

Spice Guy

My Dad brought back a forgotten habit when he offered Dash a whiff of some dry horseradish from Penzey's. He wrapped the open jar in his fist and held it out for Dash to sniff. Dash stood tall and straight, his front feet planted on the chair where my Dad sat. He pressed his nose against Dad's fist and inhaled deeply. Dad pulled the jar back and they looked at each other. I think they both were a little surprised. (Dash's sinuses were undoubtedly more clear.) Dad offered the jar of horseradish again and Dash plunged his nose back into his fist.

Dad put the lid on the horseradish and set it in the basket of spices. Dash looked from Dad to the basket and back again, so my Dad reached for another jar. He removed the lid and closed the jar in his fist. Dash again pressed his nose against my Dad's fist and inhaled deeply. He was completely engrossed in this new game.

When Dad moved the jar away to replace its lid, Dash followed his hand, nostrils fluttering, eager for more jars to smell. He liked them all; horseradish, zatar, Vietnamese cinnamon, coriander, sweet curry, even rosewater.

I had forgotten that I routinely offered things for my Newfoundlands to smell. It was almost unconscious, a natural way of including them in my life. They would sniff the item, and look as though they were considering the scent. When they were satisfied, they would stop sniffing, sit back and look at me. I loved that exchange.

I don't do that for Dash, maybe because his nose isn't as near to hand as a Newfoundland's nose. Or because a thing offered to this eager puppy is usually nibbled, rather than sniffed. So, with a bit of tweaking, I'm going to try and resurrect this tradition. I know we'll both enjoy it.

Wild Kingdom

Dash caught a live bird. One of those big mourning doves, the B-52 of backyard birds. He trotted around the hedge toward me, very pleased to have found such a neat interactive toy.

I tried to keep my cool, but I hate it when my animals stage their own Wild Kingdom episodes. I didn't fool him one bit. So he began a game of keep away. In the meantime, this poor terrified bird was flapping the one wing that was outside Dash’s grip.

He dropped the bird several times in response to my commands (okay, threats). Once it nearly made it over the fence to safety, but fluttered back down where my happy boy could retrieve the poor thing again.

I finally got him to drop the bird and back away. I stashed Dash inside, and went out to see about the bird. It didn’t look very good. His feathers were disheveled and his head drooped to one side. I had to walk away, and when I peeked again, the bird was sitting upright with a "how did I get here" look on his face. I went inside to get a clothes basket to put over it to protect it from the neighborhood cats, should it be recovering. When I went outside again, it was gone.

My To Do list just got longer. Obviously, we need to work on “Drop it!” and “Down!” as in, "Right Now I Mean it Mister and Don’t You Dare Move!"

Dog Days

Last week we had temperatures in the 100s, violent storms, and seemingly endless days without power. To my happy guy, it was one long party! There were coolers full of ice cubes to munch, and fast food to eat. The air held the interesting odors of BBQ (the contents of neighbors' rapidly thawing freezers) and exhaust from chainsaws and generators. There were men in hard hats to investigate and noisy trucks to bark at.

Dash kept cool by playing in his pool. He herded his floating toys and retrieved the sinking ones from the bottom. He picked out the leaves and sticks blown in by the storms. He even walked around and around the edge, making a little whirlpool in the center, stopping every so often and wobbling from dizziness.

In the midst of all the troubles, life is still good.


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See more happy wet dog photos here:

Ears

My brother Chris says that Dash's ears are battery level indicators. You can tell when he's fully-charged, or when he's running on low-battery, as he is below. Thankfully Corgis are self-charging!


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Cool Under Fire

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Dash survived his first Fourth of July.

I was concerned, as the annual city fireworks are in a park just five houses away. You can feel the booms in your chest, in your bones, coming up through your chair, echoing in the floor beneath your feet. It's awesome.

I was worried this might not sit well with the little Welshman. It was a good sign that the booming test shots in the daytime didn't interrupt his game of bocce ball (his version, involving herding the red, white and blue balls around the yard). The firecrackers set off by neighborhood kids weren't a concern either, except for one type that squealed long and loud before it exploded. These sent him fleeing toward the back door, barking, with ears pinned back.

Around dinnertime, Dash positioned himself on the sofa so he could see out the front windows and tell us about the people walking up the street toward the park. When night fell and the evening barrage began, he looked only mildly curious. No panting, no pacing, just relaxed posture and a curious expression. I had been ready to hop in the car and head for a quiet corner, but he was taking it in stride. I stepped outside to watch for a few minutes, and when I came in, he was waiting patiently by the front door, head cocked.

I went back in the bedroom, flipped on the tv, and invited Dash up on the bed to ride out the rest of the show. He fell asleep with his chin on my leg. In the midst of the thunderous finale, he lifted his head sleepily, looked at me, and let it fall back to the bed. No worries!

Dash the Gourmet

Dash is a picky eater. What he likes one day may be out of favor the next. He eats sticks, dirt, rabbit droppings and insects, but often doesn't care for more nutritous fare. He's surprised me lately by eating the following with enthusiasm...

• Dried wild blueberries
• Tiny, unripe strawberries from the yard
  
• White stilton with blueberries
• Yogurt, Greek only
  
• Spanakopita (Greek spinach pie)
• Almonds roasted with salt and rosemary
• Fresh stevia leaves (an herb used for sweetening)
  

Go figure.

New Summer Hobbies

Dash has discovered two more ways to amuse himself this week. He is obsessed with one-liter water bottles and will push them at top speed around the yard with his nose. His other new hobby is a little gruesome; he stands in the yard at dusk and watches for fireflies. Any unfortunate enough to come close are promptly eaten.

Corgi Theme Song

A friend saw this picture of Dash and said, "They should play 'Low Rider' when Corgis are in the ring". I wonder if I'll ever be able to watch Corgis fly around the ring again without hearing that song...


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