Monday Forest photo: January 9, 2012

12:30pm 2C cloudy

The last couple of days have been glorious in Monday Forest: bright, reasonably mild and hard-surfaced. Our neighbour has been over the trails with his snowmobile, packing down the snow and providing almost a sidewalk to walk on. I can hardly recall enjoying my walks more and that's saying a lot. Mind you, my week was hijacked by a very nasty stomach virus which laid me low and kept me out of the woods until yesterday. It was a joy to get back out with Meg.

My little adventure in illness gave me a new appreciation for our town's amazing emergency room service. Within ten minutes of leaving home, I was triaged, examined and iv'd. I spent the night and left in the morning - nausea under control and rehydrated (I left out the grislier parts of the story). All at no cost, I might add (for the benefit of any of my American readers who doubt it's possible to receive quality, timely medical care in Canada).

I was also reminded that I am not nearly as sturdy as I think I am, and that my previous good health may have been as much luck as right living. So, humbled and recovering, I resumed my daily walks.

I had to include Meg in the photo this week, because today is her third birthday. If it's true that a tired dog is a happy dog (and I believe it is), then Meg had a great day.

The tao of Meg

Meg is our two and a half year old border collie. She is pretty much in constant motion. When she is happy or excited she jumps and twirls and zooms in circles, practically all at the same time. Luckily, many things make Meg happy: the prospect of a walk, seeing someone after they've been out of sight for a moment, letting the chickens out in the morning, seeing the dog next door, fetching slippers, letting Madeleine know it's time to get up, being invited onto the bed, chasing a ball, rounding up the chickens, licking a cereal bowl, running on the trails or being brushed. Her big ears, which don't fold down like most border collies' (she might miss something), are constantly rotating like two furry transceivers. She jumps into the UPS truck to meet the driver, rather than wait for him to come out with a biscuit.

A few things aren't so popular with our Meg. The stove timer, vacuum cleaner or smoke alarm are pretty scary things. Meg sneaks downstairs to crawl under Madeleine's bed until the danger has passed. She stoically endures car rides by curling up on the seat and waiting until it's over.

Good or bad, Meg lives in the present. She doesn't stress about the future or harbour regrets. Her life is a moment by moment adventure and if things get a little slow, well, who's up for ball?

Doggie tale

Meg's kind of camera shy, so it's hard for me to take a decent photo of her and I together. It doesn't change the fact that we've become pretty good buddies over the last couple of years. The two-year anniversary of her arrival was on Tuesday. To mark the anniversary, I rescued her from a tree. Yep, Meg, our intelligent little border collie, managed to get herself stuck in a tree.

We had just started out on our daily walk, me on the trail and Meg running everywhere, when I heard a horrible, pained yelping and coming from the trees. My first thought was that she had encountered a porcupine, but when she didn't come running to me (as I was running toward that awful sound) I worried she may have got into a coyote trap. Occasionally, we hear about traps being set and dogs getting into them, but the theory wasn't really computing in my little racing brain as there are no livestock near our property. When I found Meg, she was standing on her hind legs with her left front leg wedged between the two trunks of a large red oak. She was a little twisted as she had tried to free herself. I ran over and picked her up to relieve the weight on her leg and shoulder and tried to release her. Nothing moved. I was nervous that her leg was broken and shoulder dislocated, so I was a little ginger at first, but even with more effort on my part her leg didn't budge. Meg had calmed right down and was letting me fix the situation, but I was starting to get a bit worried that I didn't have a good solution. I was holding her up and I didn't want to set her down as I didn't want to put more stress on her shoulder, and I certainly didn't want to leave her there while I went for help, but I was feeling a bit out of options. I took a little while to catch my breath and figure out what to do then tried freeing her once more. It worked! I guess the trunk of the tree moved in the wind just slightly, and her leg just popped out.

I checked her leg and shoulder and set her down, and she took off running as though nothing had happened. I thought at least she'd be a bit sore, but if she was, she didn't let on. She didn't explain how she had arrived in her predicament, but I'd wager there was a squirrel involved. There's probably a lesson here, but sometimes things just happen. I am very happy I could help.

Why is this dog smiling?

Meg and I both love our daily walks in the forest. I mostly stick to the trails and amble along, while Meg runs huge circles around me, taking side trips to chase squirrels. We've had a pretty wet fall, so there are some muddy spots on the trails and in the secret places where Meg goes. I wear my rubber boots so the mud doesn't bother me, and Meg wears her bright white fur, so the mud doesn't bother her. For much of the past few weeks, our walks have ended with Meg in the laundry sink getting rinsed off. Neither of us likes this very much - me because lifting a muddy, unhappy dog into the sink almost always results in some mud transferring from her to me, and she because, well, I don't know exactly, it's a dog thing. What could be so unpleasant about a nice warm shower after a brisk walk?

We've had a few cold nights recently, enough to freeze the mud puddles, and a tiny bit of snow to cover all the dirt. This fortunate state of affairs leaves Meg in pristine condition after a walk - maybe just a bit cleaner than when we started. We certainly don't miss the bath. In a part of the world where we have four distinct seasons: mud, mosquito, mud and winter; winter definitely has some advantages.

Can Meg come out to play?

Harrison, the rough collie lives next door. He's a charming fellow (and well-dressed). Meg has taken advantage of his gentle nature since she was a little puppy and he was a strapping young dog. She chases him mercilessly and steals his toys and bones without repercussion, even though he's three times her size. Still, he seems to think she's a fun playmate and they spend hours together running and wrestling and chewing on each other's neck fur.

It's a dog eat dog world (almost)

This morning Meg and I were looking for a ball to play with. Meg was looking at the edges of the mown area where the balls roll out of sight. I looked up to see Meg trotting towards the vegetable garden followed a few feet behind by what at first glance appeared to be a playful dog, but what I soon realized was a coyote stalking her. It was the size of a lanky German Shepherd and the colour of a dark Golden Lab. When it saw me, it stopped and looked for what seemed like quite a while, perhaps evaluating the threat I posed to it, before heading into the long grasses towards the woods. I had the distinct impression that it did not find me to be threatening, it just didn't feel like sticking around. When Meg realized what had been so close, she put on a short brave show of some weak barking and lots of sniffing, then came running to me.

I admit that I've not been terribly sympathetic to the people who are occasionally featured in the paper calling for the extermination of the local coyote population because their cat or small dog was killed by one. In fact, I always side with the coyote whenever they come into conflict with pets. Now I have to refine my opinion slightly. Now I side with the coyote, except if it's eyeing my pet for breakfast.

Update August 13: Meg was spayed today and when we picked her up we mentioned the coyote incident to the vet. Our vet is also a sheep farmer so I respect his opinion on coyotes. He said it is possible that the coyote wanted to play with Meg as this is not unheard of. Apparently, they will also mate with dogs, but that potential has been removed as of this morning. I think it is always safe to assume the coyote's intentions are not honourable.

Meg is recovering comfortably at home.

Meg and Patty getting along

Stepping out

The chicks had their first free range experience the other day. They met Meg, who was promptly pecked on the nose and now avoids chickens, and ventured out for a little walk outside the coop. 

Puppy class

Back in March when Meg first came to live with us, we knew that having a puppy would add an element of chaos to our lives. I think we were preparing ourselves to minimize the disruption by maintaining strict control over the situation. What I didn't anticipate was how much we actually enjoy having an out-of-control furball in residence. Meg is messier, faster, less obedient, goofier, smarter and loves us way more than any of us expected. She jumps on company, unravels yarn, catches birds, leaps on furniture and fails to demonstrate her tricks to visitors. She cries outside the bathroom door and wags her entire body when you emerge.

I've learned a lot from Meg. I've learned that nothing terrible happens when you relinquish a little control in your life. Meg's the perfect demonstration that you might as well enjoy the moment. And you can get away with almost anything as long as you convince folks that the best thing that ever happened to you was seeing them just now.

Doggie do-over

What a day we had yesterday. By yesterday morning, we realized that we had made a huge mistake in taking home two puppies. We began to see some ominous signs that it would be very difficult to train and bond with either puppy, and that they were very stressed, particularly Kit. The girls were fighting viciously (as vicious as 8 week old pups can be, but I was worried that someone was going to end up needing stitches in an ear). Kit was showing a disturbing lack of responsiveness to us. She followed Paige everywhere, but barely acknowledged our presence unless alone with us. Kit also demonstrated some territoriality around M which was surprisingly intense for such a little puppy.

A google search soon turned up the almost unanimous opinion that adopting littermates is a very bad idea. Littermate syndrome is a condition where 2 dogs develop an unhealthy dependence on each other but live with such stress that they are unable to properly socialize with people or other dogs. They often fight with each other.

There are two solutions. The second best solution is to feed, house, walk, train and play with each dog separately for the first 12 to 14 months so they develop as complete individuals. This would require an almost impossible commitment in the case of border collies who require a couple of hours a day of vigourous exercise in addition to the usual housebreaking and other puppy issues. The best solution is to rehome one of the pups. The breeder had already told us that if a dog didn't work out, she wanted it to return to her so she could be assured that it would find a good home. So we decided that it would be for the best if one of the dogs went back.

But which one? Several emotional hours ensued while the matter of which puppy to keep and which to return was discussed and dissected from every possible angle. The breeder was consulted, puppies were hugged and played with, and tears shed all around. In the end, it was decided that Paige would stay and Kit would go. So we brought Kit back to the farm. For a couple of reasons we have also decided that Paige should get a new name, and is now called Meg.

Kit has resumed her old life on the farm and has a couple of potential new owners already. Meg is less stressed, we're less overwhelmed, and life with one puppy is suiting the entire family well. We now know that we can raise one great dog, but that we stood a less than even chance of having two good-enough dogs. I wish we had figured this out before taking them both home, but I'm glad we sorted it out before any lasting damage was done.

The girls are home!

We had glorious weather for Paige and Kit's first day at home. We spent most of the day outdoors with them exploring the yard and playing, playing, playing. They had a very exciting day with many new adventures. They said goodbye to their old home, had a car ride, played with lots of new toys, slept in a crate and met the rats. A great first day.

Meet the puppies!

L is holding both Paige and Kit, but Paige is the one looking at the camera. Paige is a half sister to the rest of the litter and is 11 days older than the rest. She's been hanging out with the litter for a couple of weeks and she's just one of the gang now. She's a little shy because she wasn't socialized with humans very much in her litter of origin, but she's quickly gaining confidence. She's very pretty with very standard border collie markings: white ruff, collar, paws and a little blaze nose. Paige loves to play with the adult dogs.

M is holding Kit in this picture. Kit is a little female with delicate features and an almost entirely black face. She has a lacy little collar, but is mostly black like her parents. M and I have had our eyes on her since our first visit when she looked like a guinea pig. She's very friendly and mellow (mellow for a border collie).

On Sunday we'll take them home. Meanwhile, we're enjoying the peace and quiet before the puppy extravaganza starts.

Puppy day

Heidi and Jake checked out potential adoptive parents.

Heidi was kind enough to show us her babies.

In this pile of 3 week old (update Feb 16: turns out these guys are actually only 11 days old in this picture) Border Collie puppies lies the newest member of our family. We just don't know which one yet. In a couple of weeks, we'll go back to the farm where they currently live to pick out the perfect pup and then in March we'll take her home. Or maybe we could take them all.