Adventures of the Spotted Dog

It Takes A Thief

2006-08-23T05:51:00.000-05:00

Remember the old 60's TV show "It Takes a Thief", starring Robert Wagner? Wagner played a cat burglar who worked for the government to steal state secrets. At 10 years old, me and my buddies thought that show was sooo cooool. Still do.

It seems that Roux has taken that cat burglarin' to heart. And we have proof.

Now we know Roux is bossy and has no compunctions about snatching the tennis ball away from Gumbo. At the park, Gumbo's the one who is goes after the tennis ball at "warp factor six." Roux kinda keeps up with Gumbo, instead waiting 'til Gumbo starts to trot back with the prize and BAM! - Roux snatches the ball from Gumbo and comes prancing back ever so arrogantly for another round with the ball in her mouth.

Ice cubes, Milk Bones, Booda Bones, pig ears, doesn't matter. If Gumbo's got it in his mouth, Roux steals it.

As of late, we've had to resort to placing platters of meat or other delectable dinner entrees to the back burner on the stove. It seems a certain border collie has been known so slink away during dinner to sample a morsel or two if the object of her affection is left too close to the edge of the countertop.

Earlier this week, during a morning bike ride, Kathy found a brand-spankin' new tennis ball over by the tennis courts. She brought it home and placed it on the kitchen table, close enough to the edge to make Roux go into the "klepto-zone." We caught the perpetrator in the act.

The crafty BC

2006-08-07T20:27:00.000-05:00

Roux is quite the bossy girl.

She knows how to nudge her head under your arm so you know to pet her. She knows the routine in the morning -- when the newspaper reading and ball throwing is over, Lindsey gets up for his shower and it's time for "Mama love." She insists on her private time with me, right on schedule every morning.

She can't stand it when Gumbo is getting petted. She always manages to wriggle in on any lovefest.

Gumbo, the perfect gentleman, always acquiesces to Roux's intrusions. But he's got a one-up on her.

He's learned she also can't stand it when he plays with her toys. Roux especially likes Booda bones, and Gumbo really doesn't have anything to do with them.

Except...

When Roux wiggles in on his "love time," Gumbo has now started finding a Booda bone. He sits in plain view, tosses it in the air a few times, lays down and places it ever-so-coyly across his forelegs.

She's torn. This is human love. There's my Booda bone. Love. Bone. Love. Bone.

The bone eventually wins, and as she romps into the bedroom, merrily tossing it into the air ....

Gumbo gets his love.

Roux the island dog

2006-08-01T06:42:00.000-05:00

Good fortune smiles upon the border collies occasionally, and this time it was an invitation to a weekend retreat at Worthington Island on the Mississippi River.

In addition to miles of trails to explore and other pups to play with, in mid-summer the island features a large sandbar that extends into the river.

We knew from a prior trip that Gumbo would chase a tennis ball anywhere, including into shallow water if necessary.

We toted our umbrellas, chairs, lunch and reading materials to the sandy beach. We gathered driftwood for a fire to grill some hot dogs. We turned around to count dogs -- there were five -- and Roux was standing in water up to her shoulders.

Just standing there.

We thought she was stuck in the muck. But no, she was just cooling off.

As we rafted in the cool water and watched the river traffic go by, we learned that Roux is one fine swimming dog.

In fact, she coulda been a retriever!

That's Mr. Alpha Dog to you!

2006-06-19T19:12:00.000-05:00

Father's Day can be a little bit strange in our blended family.

My husband truly helped raise my daughter, whom he met as a teen-ager. I'm proud to say they are very close and he always has considered her his child also.

Together, we helped raise a foreign exchange student who now is in pharmacy school at the University of Louisiana at Monroe.

And we have friends, who at various stages of their lives and our lives, can be more like family than friend.

Such was the conjunction of the planets on Father's Day 2006. A close friend spent the night to help us with some projects around the house. The daughter was happy with her other fathers and her new husband in Baton Rouge. We didn't hear from the student, which isn't all that unusual since he doesn't pay much attention to American holidays.

But we have our "children," the border collies.

They sent their Alpha Dog e-cards to announce their participation in the holiday. And on Father's Day morning, along with exquisite Honduran coffee on our newly improved, lushly landscaped patio, there were the border collies, showing up for their morning game.

But on this special day, they showed up wearing banners:

"Happy Father's Day!"

"We love you Dad."

And, in true border collie fashion:

"Our Dad has the best balls!"

"Mr. Personality"

2006-05-20T21:50:00.000-05:00

Summerfest was indeed summer.

At 88 degrees, we were sweating out our time as therapy dogs and owners. But this was our first therapy visit with kids, and we wondered how Gumbo would react to all that energy.

It was a beautiful thing.

They petted. They loved. He behaved.

But when the kids discoveed the border collie would run after a stick -- well, we drew a crowd.

It's a miracle the tree beside us had any limbs at all!

We had a great time, and we're really hooked on this therapy dog thing. It's a wonderful thing to love an animal and to be able to share that love with so many people who want just to be able to pet a dog!

(Later in the dog show the two therapy border collies, Gumbo and Cody, were judged the dogs with the "most personality.")

Dog biscuits were shared by all....

Officially therapeutic

2006-05-16T19:56:00.000-05:00

Gumbo is officially a therapy dog now. He made his first visit recently to Azalea Estates, which is an assisted living complex.

We think he likes it. Who wouldn't like being petted by everyone in sight?

Lindsey and I enjoyed our visit, also. We walked in the door, and a gentleman was sitting right inside the foyer.

"OOOOHHHH, a DOG!" he exclaimed.

We learned that many of the residents miss their pets. And we heard many stories of this good dog, or that good dog.

More therapy visits are definitely in our future! Lindsey and I are checking out where we might want to live someday!

Stick-Tuitiveness

2006-04-15T18:05:00.000-05:00

Lately we’ve had an old friend helping with our landscaping. Over the last few years, vines have taken over the shrubs in the back yard and, in general, most of the perimeter border plants seem to have morphed into something else.

Deb, our friend, has bulldog tenacity when it comes to tackling our yard. She hangs in there if she’s pulling some big-ass vine out by the root, or meticulously unravels the spiral strangulation of the creeper vines. We can’t tell you have many sticks and branches Deb has dug out of the shrubs from the fragile pecan tree next door that drops branches with the slightest breeze.

But Roux can.

Every branch dropped from the top of the ladder Deb is working on gets carried away by Roux, who proudly takes the branch in her mouth and carts it off to another spot in the yard. She then proceeds to try and eat it.

I’ve yelled “Roux, quit eating that Goddamn stick!” so many times the neighbors are sure I’m gonna go to hell for blasphemy.

At one point, Deb would lower hard-to-get-at branches down to Roux, who would hold them in her mouth while Deb lopped the branch off. They had a system going and Roux was more than happy to help.

Roux takes all sticks, large and small. Sometimes she would have the stick in her mouth the wide way and would get hung up at the door trying to bring it into the house – just like in the cartoons.

Today she wrestled with a branch that had to be at least 3” in diameter and must have weighed at least thirty pounds. But somehow, this wiry, skinny, bundle of energy border collie somehow managed to cart that behemoth of a stick off.

And Roux has a new name for our friend Deb - "Aunt Stick"

Just slap me

2006-03-10T21:58:00.000-06:00

Tonight was "Girls just want to have fun" night at the annual Monroe Junior League Spring Market.

Hundreds of vendors filled the Civic Center arena. The girls were treated to wine and tapas as they shopped, so you KNOW we all shopped 'till we dropped.

I encountered a dog booth, and was momentarily mesmerized by a jeweled pink collar that probably would fit Roux.

Peggy and Vici came by and dragged me away, but not before I saw the itty bitty teenie weenie yellow polka dot dog bikini.

"Just slap me if I ever try to buy something like this," I said.

"Don't worry," Peggy said. "I'll commit ya."

Sense. Responsibility. Reality. That's what friends are for.

TAG! You're It!

2006-03-10T15:10:00.000-06:00

Remember playing "tag" as kids? Now-a-days we play phone tag and e-mail tag. Ah, the innocence of youth . . .

Last Tuesday evening turned out to be the finale of one of those early spring days where it was comfortable enough to sit outside, at least 'til the sun dropped behind the trees.

Kathy and I were parked on the patio in the anirondack chairs, glass of wine at the ready. The kitchen and other small sections of the house were still in the process of being painted. We were able to get some welcome fresh air from a warm and gentle breeze, and to get away from the paint fumes.

Gumbo and Roux, who have learned the art of "entertain self", were for once not demanding the tennis ball be thrown in their general direction. Actually they had a case of "the rips."

Watching their full-tilt-bonzo ripping and snorting, it dawned on me Gumbo and Roux were playing "tag."

Gumbo would chase Roux at full speed as she dodged his lunges and did 180 degree turns that would make an Olympic figure skater proud. Eventually Gumbo would catch up, nip her on the butt and off he was to the races, Roux in full pursuit.

TAG! You're It!

Gumbo, the master of spins and dodges, deftly avoids Roux at all costs. But Roux is cunning, using her feminine wiles to cut Gumbo off at the pass as they circle the patio at full speed.

TAG! You're It!

Roux bolts like her butt is on fire, tail tucked between her legs as not to give Gumbo an advantage. But Gumbo knows Roux oh-too-well and doubles back waiting for Roux to emerge from the row of shrubs in the back of the yard. The trap is set.

TAG! You're it!

Now Gumbo is trying to get the hell out of Dodge. Roux, upset she's been tricked so easily, goes into some sort of hyperdrive as her warp engines kick in. Gumbo, this time, never stood a chance of escape.

TAG! You're it!

And on and on and on and on the game goes for at least another 5 to 10 minutes. Kathy and I are now mesmerized watching the pure joy of play emanating from our two canine companions.

Eventually the border collies collapse in sheer exhaustion, panting heavily as their tongues hang askew several inches out of their mouths. From the looks on their faces, they had a great time.

And so did we.

Two dawg, one cat nights

2006-02-23T22:08:00.000-06:00

Winter finally has arrived in northeastern Louisiana.

And with it, we've discovered the true meaning of "three dog night."

Lindsey says that means it takes three dogs on the bed to keep you warm.

We're experiencing a similar reaction.

We call it the "two dog, one cat night."

When the temperature outside dips below 40, the two border collies and the calico cat all find warm places on our queen-sized bed.

It's bad enough that they park themselves politely when we first go to sleep.

Then they stretch out.

When they're asleep, they're as dead-weight as a bunch of concrete blocks on the bed. You can't budge. You can't change positions. They've got you locked down.

At least once each night, I'm awakened by Lindsey's gruff, "ROUX! OFF!"

She's the worst bed hog -- she stretches out, managing somehow to cover about six square feet of bed space.

I finally took half a Tylenol PM past night and wasn't awakened once by "Gumbo, MOVE" or "ROUX! OFF!"

Couldn't have been that I was in a drugged sleep. Maybe it was just warmer...

The spark

2006-02-15T23:07:00.000-06:00

Sometimes the world weighs so heavily on your shoulder, you lose the spark.

The spark, as I call it, is the degree of creativity that allows you to see the exceptional in the ordinary, to celebrate and observe life as it is.

After a seminar today where the facilitator lit a veritable fire under my bee-hind, I came home to the spark.

How ordinary is it to walk into your house, and have your dogs at the door, waving their tails in a joyous salute to your arrival?

How exceptional is it that anything or anybody would be so totally filled with joy at the sight of you?

Survey says?

2006-02-09T18:48:00.000-06:00

The American Kennel Club recently announced survey findings concluding that dog owners look for canine qualities in their human partners. Highlights include:

* 33% of men said the number one canine quality they wished their women had is “always being in a good mood.”

* 66% of dog owners said they wouldn’t even consider dating someone who didn’t like their dog.

* 18% of dog owners said they either have included (or would include) their dog in their wedding ceremony. (Someone very close to me included her dog in her engagement picture....)

* Sixty percent of dog owners said if they split up with their significant other, they’d definitely get the dog.

In addition, below are qualities/traits that singles may find appealing and a dog that possesses said qualities.

Loyal- German Shepherd Dog, Norwegian Elkhound
Sense of Humor- Boston Terrier, French Bulldog
Good Listener- Poodle, Portuguese Water Dog
Athletic- Border Collie, Doberman
Faithful Servant- Labrador Retriever, Golden Retriever
Non snoring- Dachshund, Parson Russell Terrier
Ideal couch potato to watch sports- Bulldog, Pomeranian
Intelligent- Wire Fox Terrier

The spotted dog jar

2006-02-08T19:13:00.000-06:00

A few weeks ago, I found a cookie jar on eBay that looked a lot like our spotted dog Gumbo.

In the bidding process, I discovered the person selling it had border collies, and was also involved in border collie rescue.

We corresponded. I won the cookie jar for a remarkably low price -- guess there's not a lot of demand for spotted dog cookie jars.

When it arrived, I could hear something rattling in the box. I feared the worst -- a zillion pieces of spotted dog pottery.

But the jar was intact, and the rattling was a box of maple-flavored baby teething biscuits. The seller sent it as a gift to Gumbo and Roux, saying it was her border collies' favorite treat!

I vowed to always have a jar full of treats, and Lindsey and I have been experimenting with some homemade dog biscuit recipes that go beyond our world famous "Gumbones" that dogs will jump on top of the refrigerator for.

A new peanut butter recipe has been a big hit, as has one that uses sweet potatoes.

Now, these are dogs who turn up their noses at a regular Milk Bone, so you know this stuff has to be pretty good to capture their imagination.

It has taken absolutely no time for us to teach this command:

"Who wants a cookie?"

They beeline to the spotted dog jar!

Fun quotes about dogs....

2006-01-30T12:04:00.000-06:00

If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went.
-Will Rogers

I wonder if other dogs think poodles are members of a weird religious cult.
-Rita Rudner

If your dog is fat, you aren't getting enough exercise.
-Unknown

My dog is worried about the economy because Alpo is up to $3.00 a can. That's almost $21.00 in dog money.
-Joe Weinstein

If you think dogs can't count, try putting three dog biscuits in your pocket and then give him only two of them.
-Phil Pastoret

The happy dog's bedtime prayer

2006-01-25T18:36:00.000-06:00

My dear friend Jeri Cohen shared this prayer with me, and since I sleep with the bed hog Roux every night, it touched my heart....

Now I lay me down to sleep,
The queen-size bed is soft and deep.
I sleep right in the center groove
My human being can hardly move!

I've trapped her legs,
she's tucked in tight,
And here is where I pass the night.
No one disturbs me or dares intrude
Till morning comes and I want food!

I sneak up slowly and it begins
My nibbles on my human's chin.
She wakes up slowly and smiles and shouts,
"You darling beast! Just cut it out!"
But morning's here and it's time to play
I always seem to get my way.

So thank you, Lord, for giving me
This human person that I see
The one who hugs and holds me tight
and shares her bed with me at night!

--Author Unknown

And from the humans...

2006-01-24T21:24:00.000-06:00

Dear God, help me to be the person my dog thinks I am.

Dear God, from the dog

2006-01-24T21:11:00.000-06:00

I received this email today - I'd seen it before, but I thought you might enjoy it...

Dear God: Why do humans smell the flowers, but seldom, if ever, smell one another?

Dear God: When we get to heaven, can we sit on your couch? Or is it still the same old story?

Dear God: Why are there cars named after the jaguar, the cougar, the mustang, the colt, the stingray, and the rabbit, but not ONE named for a dog? How often do you see a cougar riding around? We do love a nice ride! Would it be so hard to rename the "Chrysler Eagle" the "Chrysler Beagle"?

Dear God: If a dog barks his head off in the forest and no human hears him, is he still a bad dog?

Dear God: We dogs can understand human verbal instructions, hand signals, whistles, horns, clickers, beepers, scent ID's, electromagnetic energy fields, and Frisbee flight paths. What do humans understand?

Dear God: More meatballs, less spaghetti, please.

Dear God: Are there mailmen in Heaven? If there are, will I have to apologize?

Dear God: Let me give you a list of just some of the things I must remember -- to be a good dog.

1. I will not eat the cats' food before they eat it or after they throw it up.

2. I will not roll on dead seagulls, fish, crabs, etc., just because I like the way they smell.

3. The sofa is not a 'face towel,' neither are Mom and Dad's laps.

4. The garbage collector is not stealing our stuff.

5. My head does not belong in the refrigerator.

6. I will not bite the officer's hand when he reaches in for Mom's driver's license and registration.

7. I will not play tug-of-war with Dad's underwear when he's on the toilet.

8. I don't need to suddenly stand straight up when I'm under the coffee table.

9. I must shake the rainwater out of my fur before entering the house -- not after.

10. I will not throw up in the car.

11. I will not come in from outside and immediately drag my butt.

12. The cat is not a 'squeaky toy' so when I play with him and he makes that noise, it's usually not a good thing.

And, finally, My last question . . .

Dear God: When I get to Heaven may I have my testicles back?

Owning Border Collies IS a Contact Sport

2006-01-18T11:50:00.000-06:00

It’s been at least 35 years since I was in a schoolyard ruckus. “Back-in-the-day” those ruckuses could have been just aggressive play driven by pre-adolescent surges of testosterone or a bona fide fist-fight over something mundane, like a ball glove or even – gasp! – a girl! Most of my bone-jarring and rights-of-passage dramas came from playing football. As the team center, I was involved on every offensive play, and we switched sides to play defense. So I had lots of rough ‘n tumble moments on the old gridiron. Scrapes, cuts, and bruises were just part of being a boy.

This morning Gumbo brought all those youthful memories back.

At 5:30 AM, I toddle out in my bathrobe, sans slippers, to pick up the paper. As usual, Gumbo and Roux bolt from the door like thoroughbreds at the Kentucky Derby. I always mimic the race track announcer with “And they’re off!”

Gumbo, leading the way, heads to the Ward’s house to harass their dog with a frenzy of barking. A pit stop or two later, he and Roux are in the final stretch headed back to our bedroom for ball throwin’ time. It should be noted that these dashes to and fro are done at full border collie speed.

Just as I’m ready to stoop over and pick up the day’s edition of “pulp truth”, Gumbo slams into me going full-tilt-bonzo. I drop like a sack of potatoes.

I’m in pain and I’m bleeding. Adding insult to injury, I’m lying on the driveway with my bare-ass butt exposed to the world. Luckily it’s near freezing and still dark, and the morning neighborhood walkers haven’t ventured out yet.

I lie there for several minutes. I can’t get up. I do manage to throw my robe back over my butt so if the paramedics come I won’t embarrass the family. I finally manage to get upright and hobble back inside the house.

Roux is standing by the open door, tail wagging and looks of “Where’s the ball? Got the ball? C’mon, where’s the ball?” Gumbo is nowhere to be found.

As I stumble into the kitchen to sit and see where the bleeding is coming from, I see Gumbo is sitting on the far side of the kitchen, ears back and an “I’m sorry, Dad!” look on his face. His tail is working up an apology too, swishing back and forth ever so slightly.

I cuss him out.

The injuries hurt worse than they look. Nothing more than skin abrasions, I’m now sporting a quarter-sized scrape on my left foot near my little toe, along with a scuffed right knee and some skin ripped from a toe on my right foot.

After washing off the now drying blood, I bring Gumbo to me and accept his apology. The border collies and I throw the tennis ball like we do every morning. After showering I manage to find three bandages to put on my injuries so my shoes won’t cause a blister. We’re out of Sponge Bob Square Pants Band-Aids in the medicine cabinet. Now wouldn't that be cool!

If any NFL team needs a middle linebacker, I got one. I can personally attest that a 40 lb. border collie, without slowing down, can drop a 250 lb. man. Gumbo will work for tennis balls and won't cause any public relations nightmares. And any team owner would certainly like that.

Every girl's lookin' for a sharp-groomed dog

2006-01-15T17:21:00.000-06:00

WOW! Talk about the change a little beauty treatment can make!

Gumbo and Roux (the formerly mentioned poo dog) spent an afternoon at the Petco Spa and Grooming Center.

They both came home looking great and absolutely knowing it.

Their coats are different - Gumbo's is soft, very thick (double-coated) and mostly white. Petting him is like petting a rabbit -- except he's much more gentle than the rabbit my daughter had as a child.

Roux is what is known as "rough coated." Her hair is coarser, curlier and sleeker. If she were a human, she would have wavy, thick, luscious hair -- she would be an Italian lover with locks we would love to run our fingers through and eyes we can get lost in forever.

We usually get them groomed once a month to six weeks. They usually mess up the "new look" within a day with their snarly facing -- both of them some to see us with wet chins and necks quite regularly.

We evidently skipped the holidays, because I'd forgotten how great they looked with a fresh grooming.

In honor of their spa appointments, I had a nice haircut today and shopped the mega Talbot's sale in one size smaller! We're all a bunch of stylin' babes at the Wilkerson household!

Roux's Eau de Poo

2006-01-15T08:53:00.000-06:00

The border collies were quite frisky this morning, probably because Lindsey and I didn't spend much time at home yesterday. We played ball and Lindsey set out to replace the kitchen cooktop, his home improvement chore for the day.

Both dogs spent some time in the back yard, and then Roux wanted to go out again. She was outside for longer than usual before she came to the door.

I was watering plants throughout the house, and Roux came wiggling up to me. I spoke, and she jumped up, planting her front paws squarely on my shoulders.

I got a faceful of her "surprise," a fragrant brown streak all the way down her white bib.

"AWWWWW," I screamed. "She's been rolling in poop."

Lindsey, never ruffled by such matters, called her over and washed her off as best he could. I can't get the smell out of my nose, so I'm about to light every candle in the house.

Talk about a dog who knows how to command attention. Eau de poo will do it every time!

The grooming salon at Petco doesn't open for another hour. Hope they can fit her in today.....

Gumbo and Roux, outstanding in their field

2006-01-14T20:03:00.000-06:00

Ever since Gumbo, Roux and our granddog Lucy discovered the wonderful dog park operated by East Baton Rouge Parish's recreation department, we've been itchin' to start one here. (See our other post below about the Baton Rouge dog park!)

Doesn't matter that half the folks in our world don't even believe in leash laws. We want to participate in developing a safe, fun, place for our animals to run and play with each other. Our "city digs" have a fenced back yard, but border collies need room to romp, so we regularly travel to a nearby park for some good ball chasin'.

I've located an under-used public park, and contacted the mayor about the possibility. He seemed amenable to the idea, so we'll see. I'll keep you posted as this develops.

We took Gumbo and Roux out to test our theory -- is there enough land for a good dog park? They ran and ran and ran -- chasing the ball so much that Roux finally said: "I've had enough."

She took the ball, went to the Jeep and sat down by the door.

It's 70 degrees and snowing

2005-12-30T15:25:00.000-06:00

As I write, Gumbo and Roux have just been given two of their Christmas gifts. These are small, stuffed, squeaky toys resembling a gingerbread man and Santa.

In the time it has taken me to compose two sentences, Roux has ripped the foot off Santa and stolen Gumbo's gingerbread man. He's stolen one back and is working to render the toy mute.

She's now ripping and running with the other, making it squeak as though it's screaming for its life. Meanwhile, Gumbo guards the gingerbread man while herding the cat.

Oops! He's stolen Santa from Roux and is guarding both of them. She's come to me with this, "Mom, make him play right" look.

They're playing tug of war with Santa, whose arms are about to give. It's only a matter of minutes before the bedroom and den will be covered with a soft stuffing snow.

It's 70 degrees outside. This is as close as we'll get to winter wonderland this holiday.

The Christmas picture.....

2005-12-10T11:18:00.000-06:00

Parkin the pups

2005-11-28T21:50:00.000-06:00

While visitng our daughter and son-in-law, we discovered something new in our lives -- a DOG PARK.

Now, I know this is country come to city for lots of folks. Dog parks exist across our nation. But we live in a part of the world where people say "nudge, nudge, wink, wink" to leash laws, and most folks have lawns for their pets to play on and use other people's lawns for their pets to poop on.

We live in a place where people say -- pooper scooper? What is that?

So we go to a community where it's dangerous for dogs not to be leashed and a neighborhood where people really do care where dogs poop. And guess what -- the community responds with a special place for dogs!

We pile up the border collies and granddog Lucy for a trip to the dog park. They enter through the double gates. Lots of other owners and dogs are out playing, and as our dogs enter, we wonder how this will all turn out.

It turned out wonderfully. It must be dog neutral ground, because suddenly, there was a pack of dogs chasing the balls we threw. Big dogs, little dogs, it didn't matter. They were all having a doggie blast. And we were having a blast playing with the pack.

We liked the dog park so much we went for three consecutive days. It was just like any other playground. The kids played and the moms and dads chatted. We encountered the largest dogs -- a Newfie, for example -- and the smallest terriers. They all just chased the border collies for the balls.

Everyone sniffed. No one got mad. No one nipped. No one bit. Even the dogs who went submissive in the sniffing stage got right up and played with the big boys. How cool is that?

We loved the experience so much, we've decided we have to get a dog park here -- our new mission in life.

R BCs R TBD

2005-11-28T20:05:00.000-06:00

Has anyone noticed how acronym-driven our language has become these days?

Let's see...

I drive an SUV
Our adopted nephew/soldier Wayne West eats MREs in Iraq (and the military is the epitome of acronyms)
Gumbo is a CGC and a TD, and would like to get a CD or even a CDX on him
Since Roux doesn't have papers from the AKC, I can get a ILP for her
Co-workers who tell you about their sex life are giving you TMI
IMHO and LMFAO are code de rigeur for instant/text messaging and e-mail
My recent physical involved HDL, LDL and EKG

and the list can go on and on and on...

So, what the hell does R BCs R TBD really say?

Very simply put - our border collies are tennis ball driven.

This acronym business can be quite a time saver. I think I'll try it some more.

CYA

Happy Thanksgiving to all

2005-11-22T23:23:00.000-06:00

This has been a long, hard year.

We have experienced extreme joy and extreme sorrow.

Hurricanes Katrina and Rita have ripped apart the earlier joys we experienced in 2005 as Anne and Jeff married, we went to England and then Jean and Mindy married.

Gumbo grew up and became a therapy dog. Roux came into our lives.

Yet, it's been an extraordinary time. We ache for the thousands of our fellow Louisianians who've lost everything.

This Thanksgiving, we are so grateful for our friends, family and pets. We are grateful and thankful for our soldiers like our friend Wayne. We hope our world will change for the better soon. And we hope everyone is safe and has someone to cling to in this uncertain world. That is our prayer.

First big road trip together

2005-11-22T23:19:00.000-06:00

We're on our first big road trip tomorrow as a two-border collie famiily. Gumbo has been a good traveler, but we don't know how they'll both do in the back seat of the Caddy on a long drive...We'll let you know how it all works our.

Dog day afternoons

2005-11-22T22:59:00.000-06:00

The border collies are creatures of habit, and they are time/daylight sensitive.

When our routine varies -- watch out!

Our morning routine is:

1. Wake up.

2. Get the newspaper and potty.

3. Get coffee.

4. Settle back into reading position.

5. Throw the ball.

They would happily skip steps 1 through 4 if the Chuck-It was in somebody's hand.

The past two days upon our awakening. the border collies have been sequestered in the den while I've been allowed to sleep late because I'm on vacation. It has not made them happy.

Lindsey gets dressed and goes off to work. I get up and I wish I could provide your the video of the border collies prancing for the ball the moment I wake up.

If you couldn't stand still for a big present you knew you were going to get while screaming, "PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE"... Well, that might begin to describe the BC prance.

I comply and throw the ball until Roux, who doesn't play right, finally captures the ball and hides it under the sofa. Game ended.

Because we're gone all day, the BCs take big naps. After the ball tossing, they settle down.

I work all day in the house, occasionally letting them out for a break. I go outside in the afternoon and notice they haven't followed me. Not like my border collies at all.

They're both sound asleep on the sofa, basking in the afternoon sun. A true dog day afternoon....

Third Time's a Charm

2005-11-12T08:45:00.000-06:00

Roux, our young, female, whippersnapper of a border collie, has a mysterious past. We know nothing of her lineage or where she came from.

Lois, the guardian angel for pets, hooked us up with Roux in early May. Roux had been boarded at Dr. Rundell’s clinic, and the owners never returned to pick her up. What little Lois could tell us was she was 14 weeks old (uh, that’s a big 14-week old puppy there, Lois) and the previous owners had been evicted from their home. That’s how Roux landed at Rundell’s, which is better than out in the country somewhere. We went through the process of letting Rundell’s office file abandonment papers and eventually we could “legally” own Roux.

Anyway, a few months back, Lois calls and tells me there was a possibility of Roux’s previous owners may have AKC papers on Roux. I need to call a lady who had befriended Roux’s previous owners to see if she could be a liaison to obtain the papers.

At this point, we’re pretty excited about the possibility of Roux having AKC papers. Even though she’s been spayed and couldn’t enter an AKC confirmation competition, she was eligible to enter agility, obedience and other AKC events. And at worse, we would get an ILP (Indefinite Listing Privilege) from the AKC, sort of a set of “unofficial” papers that allow purebred dogs to compete except for conformation, since the ILP does not have lineage records.

I finally call my liaison to discuss Roux with her. Much to my dismay, Roux doesn’t have any papers at all. But Roux’s guardian angel did tell me more about where Roux (then known as “Bella”) came from.

It seems Roux was found by an OTR (Over the Road, or cross-country) truck driver, based out of Alabama who was friends with the family that abandoned her at Rundell’s. Now where this trucker found Roux is the mystery. My new guardian angel friend said she may be able to see if she can get more information from the man of the family who abandoned Roux, since she still has some contact with them, but I’ll have to wait and see.

I did tell my guardian angel friend to let these folks know that Roux is extremely smart, a quick learner, is in a wonderful home with another border collie to play with. She’s learning agility and obedience, and has only one flaw – she’s a bed hog!

So Roux’s background remains cloaked in mystery, just like the Loch Ness Monster and Jack the Ripper. But after being found by a trucker, parlayed to a family who couldn’t keep her and at least conscientiously dumped at a place she would be cared for, she has found her home with us.

We will probably never know where Roux came from or anything about her lineage, but it doesn’t matter. We love her to pieces and she’s at home with us and Gumbo.

Third time really is a charm.

People who don't like dogs

2005-11-11T23:39:00.000-06:00

I work with a very sweet man. I was trapped in a car and at a meeting with him for eleven hours yesterday.

The difference in our personalities, I think, is that I love animals and he doesn't.

Now, the very interesting thing is -- I have to trust him to love my work.

I like him. He likes me. He likes much of the work I do. He's very supportive of my work.

But he doesn't have any animals, and I don't think he even likes any animals.

He needs the love.

I think he's a kitty kind of guy. I might plant one at his house...

Two Benadryls and you can roam the 'hood

2005-11-11T23:07:00.000-06:00

After several totally nasally stopped-up mornings, I woke up today with a lovely golf ball implanted in my right jowl.

I love my husband.

I am horrified, and he says, "Honey, I can barely see it now that you've pointed it our to me."

When you're horrified, I'm not sure that's the correct answer, but I love him just the same.

Wouldn't you know I had planned to take today as a VACATION day?

I took Benadryl and Advil to the max, puttered around the house playing ball with the border collies.

The combination got to me mid-morning, so I took a nap. The golf ball in my neck took that opportunity to swell to baseball size. The worst thing about it -- as I look at it, I'm thinking...I'm so chubby, the fat neck may be only something I can see.

Waking up with a baseball in your neck is enough to scare anybody to the doctor's office, particularly on a Friday afternoon. I sought the comfort of Dr. Tom Dansby, my "doc in the box."

Good ole doc saw it immediately, and gave me an enormous medical explanation, complete with multi-syllabic terms, on what it might be. Not the mumps. Maybe a sinus infection. Most probably a sinus and saliva gland infection. But could be worse, so he wants to see me in 10 days if it's not totally gone.

Now, here's the scariest confession from me in all of this... I absolutely do not remember letting Roux out at any time. And if I did, it would have been out in the back yard. When I went to take my nap, Gumbo was in his crate and I guess I thought Roux was under the bed.

When I woke up two hours later, I saw a black flash chasing Natchez in the front yard. It was Roux. She had evidently been outside the entire time, and I still haven't figured out how she got into the front yard.

She was hot and sweaty and out of breath -- evidently having a very good time. I was sick and thankful the Lord spared me dog grief for my evidently drugged state. (Two Benadryls, baby, and she's out!)

Now that Roux is spared from her outdoors adventure, I hope I can give an equally promising report on my baseball neck. Bless Lindsey's heart, he said the right things but I don't think he knows how worried I am about this thing I've never had before getting better.

A special present for me from Petco?

2005-11-02T19:39:00.000-06:00

You'll remember in an earlier blog note that LINDSEY, the love of my life, objects to dressing up dogs. Dogs is dogs and they shouldn't look like Elvis, he says, or something to that effect.

I had a reasonably growly day today, needed to contact the love of my life and he is out there traveling incognito. Since I am the only person now who calls him on his cell, it's not always on his body. Imagine that!

Late in the afternoon, we chatted and he explained: There's a bag on the kitchen table from Petco, and it has "SOMETHING FOR YOU."

Now, last time I checked, you couldn't buy diamonds at Petco.

So, I joked: "Honey, you finally bought me that special collar I've been looking at."

He said: "That's right -- the one with all the spiky studs."

For most of you dear readers, that is just too much information. But, the studs were not to be because I'm really not a stud kind of girl.

I really want to be a girly girl, the kind who wears DIAMONDS.

So I anxiously ran into the house, thinking there MIGHT be a slim jewelry box sitting on the kitchen table from my husband who loves me so very very much.

Hell no.

It was HOLIDAY COSTUMES FOR THE DOGS!

We've got a Santa hat and a pair of reindeer antlers. Pics to come. But in the meantime, I think I'll be wearing the antlers when Lindsey comes home tonight.....

A moment of peace

2005-10-30T19:45:00.000-06:00

It's peaceful on Spencer Avenue.

A nice, fall Sunday afternoon.

Lindsey and I played nine holes at Forsythe, also known as MUNY, and the dogs waited patiently for our return. We didn't keep score, thank goodness.... although it may be stated for all mankind that I played with the same ball throughout the game, and Lindsey played with about a dozen.

He took 'em out for some ball tossing, and they returned spent. He then practiced some special obedience moves with Gumbo while I was completing the weekend task of trying to knock down the dust indoors. (I can't believe we pay for a maid service!)

Roux is asleep on the bed. Gumbo guards me from the doorway.

We are so happy, being content together at home. I am so grateful for my family and the border collies who have so enriched our lives.

That THING in the bedroom growls!

2005-10-27T19:17:00.000-05:00

As part of our newfound health addiction, Lindsey and I are spending some time exercising every evening.

Tonight, he took Gumbo to his novice obedience class. I got home a little later, un-crated Roux, took her outside and decided she wasn't a good candidate for walking. But I was.

So there is this big metal THING in our bedroom, standing off to the side with a wonderful view of the television set. It's been there more than a year. It has been used four times, maybe five or six if I include the times daughter Anne has used it. That does not include the many times the thing's bars have been used as a clothes hanger.

It's a treadmill.

The treadmill came from my very healthy coworker, Mike Radoff, who moved to Monroe from Wisconsin. He didn't have a treadmill for a time, so he went out and bought one. When his family made the move, they wound up with one more treadmill than they needed. So I asked to buy it, and Mike delivered it to me as a gift.

I used it three times, and then Gumbo as a pup decided to chew off the plug. It took me about six months to ask Lindsey to replace the plug and another couple of months for him to remember to do it.

It sat unused until tonight. I opened a window to let in the cool fall air, plunked myself on the treadmill and got to walkin'.

Roux jumped up on it with me, and when I started walking, her foal-like legs splayed like a deer on ice.

She slid off the back, into the wall and ran with tail tucked out of the room.

I just kept walking.

A few minutes later, she reappeared, ran up to the treadmill, nipped at the armpost and fled out of sight.

She ran back into the room and started barking at the tread, which I then realized was making a noise resembling a growl. (No, not groaning under the weight... the growl of movement.)

She nipped at my ankles, as if to say, "Save yourself! Get off! Get off before this thing bites you!"

Then she disappeared.

I continued to walk until I felt like I'd had a good workout. I went looking for Roux.

She was hiding in the kitchen, under the table. She came out, Miss Wigglebutt, as though to say, "Thank goodness you survived the growling THING."

It's Halloween, and your dog is going as....

2005-10-26T19:41:00.000-05:00

Lindsey and I have a philosophical departure on the question of "dogs as dress-up dolls."

He says "no."

I'm a girl.

I say, "Why not?"

Photo to come, I'm sure, but we have compromised. No costumes, but doggie decor is allowed. I guess you might call that "accessorizing" your dog.

Roux has a lovely, sparkly, gauzy "jester" collar that she will wear on Halloween. Gumbo has the male-appropriate bandana with little Halloween pumpkins on it.

In checking out my RSS feeds today, I discovered a web site where people have, perhaps, gone a little over the top with their pets. But it's pretty darn funny, especially if you keep clicking and get to the people and their pets dressed alike.
Check out www.beedogs.com

Doctor's orders -- walk the dog!

2005-10-25T19:17:00.000-05:00

Lindsey hasn't been feeling 100 percent.

With much persuasion (he's an admitted stubborn German), he finally went for the big physical this week.

The verdict? Heart is good, cholesterol is not, blood pressure is not, blood sugar is not, weight is not.

(Like that's not the verdict for most of us...)

The doctor's advice (other than, I'll see you on Friday for some meds): Walk your dog!

We started tonight. I say "we" because I need it too. I'm in equally bad shape, and I love this man so much I want to keep him around for awhile. If I didn't, I'd hand him a beer and say, "Oh honey, it's all right. Sit down and watch the ball game."

Despite the obedience and agility training, we haven't really been out with both dogs on leash. It was somewhat organized chaos. They certainly walked us! After about a half-mile, I could feel it in every joint from my waist down.

I told Lindsey I felt like I had been greased -- walk a dog you're trying to "hold back" and it's a real workout...

We hit a Cajun low-fat, low-cal cookbook tonight in search of foods for our newly re-adopted healthy lifestyle and danced in the kitchen as we prepared dinner with newfound energy from our brisk walk in the autumn air.

It's all good.

And, even the dogs will learn to walk with us old folks on our strolls around the 'hood. Here's to Lindsey's health, bolstered by the love and help of Kathy, Gumbo and Roux!

TGI Autumn!

2005-10-24T20:47:00.000-05:00

It is the first really cool day of the year.

And, for a Monday, it's been a good one. I had an absolutely great day at work. Hubby had a physical and it seems like all of the "getting older" things he was worried about relate to acid reflux. So by 5 p.m., we were both walkin' on sunshine.

The elevated moods and cooler weather definitely spilled over into the doggie world. Gumbo and Roux were more ecstatic than usual when we walked in the door.

They've all gone to work agility in the cool air, leaving me to tend the first fire in the fireplace of the season and to cook a big pot of taco soup.

I'm happy. They're happy. We're all happy.

After the past couple of months in our hurricane-ravaged lives, happy is good. Happy is darn good.

Diaper Dog!

2005-10-23T14:08:00.000-05:00

I have stolen this post from my daughter. This is my
granddog Lucy, and she's the most wonderful chocolate lab in the world. OK, she's the most wonderful chocolate lab of all the chocolate labs I know...

Lucy the Diaper Dog came to visit this weekend, and I do believe we spent the entire weekend washing the cute little denim panties described below....

There's no need to fear! Diaper Dog is here!

when canines in this world appear
and destroy her toys, now they should fear
and frighten all who see or hear
the cry goes up both far and near
for Diaper Dog! Diaper dog! Diaper dog! Diaper dog!

speed of lightning, roar of thunder
fighting all who rob or plunder
Diaper dog. Diaper dog!

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I was watching That 70's Show last night. Jeff was on the phone with one of his buddies. Lucy and Gatsby were playing snarly face. It was a pretty typical week night, but when I looked over at the pups and what do I see? Lucy's "tutu" is red.

How is it that this dog goes into heat almost as much as a human?

So, hoping that none of the red stuff gets on the carpet, I rush to the still unpacked box in the hallway and grab her doggy diaper. Its quite handsome for its purpose--a decorative, dark denim, but the sight of it makes her run from me. After a quick little game of chase into the laundry room, I slip the diaper on, secure the velcro straps, and walk back into the living room to resume my half hour of senseless comedy. However, Lucy did not walk back with me. She stood there peaking from behind the door--only her head shown. Lucy is embarrassed by her new fashion statement.

I called her to sit next to me and she takes off running towards me only to fall hind first on the kitchen floor. What on earth???? She tries to shake it off, pull it off, rub it off. Any way to remove the label of "dog in heat". I call her again. She runs to me and quickly sits down--her back is to the chair so that none of the fabric shows.

Jeff calls to her from the dining table. "Lucy, come here, girl!" Lucy runs to Jeff, but instead of sitting by his side, she quickly ducks under the table and lays down; again, her back is against his chair so no fabric shows.

Despite our unnecessary calls of humiliation, Lucy has been dubbed "Diaper Dog". So, if you ever find danger lurking in the dark, there's no need to fear! Diaper Dog is here!

Spotted Dog for Dinner?

2005-10-17T16:57:00.000-05:00

OK, someone TOLD me there's really a food called Spotted Dog. So I had to go look it up.

It contains no canine. It's actually an Irish pudding....although shredded suet doesn't sound like something people are supposed to eat. I suppose if you don't follow directions closely about leaving the cloth loose for expansion, your kitchen could become spotted....

Spotted Dog

8 oz Self-raising flour
1 pn Salt
4 oz Shredded suet
1 oz Sugar
8 oz Currants or raisins
150 ml Cold water

Stir together the flour, salt, sugar, suet and dried fruit. Mix to a firm dough with water. Form into a cylinder about 8 inches long, and put on a pudding cloth that has been wrung out in boiling water and sprinkled with flour. Roll the pudding in the cloth and tie the ends tightly, but leave room for expansion. Put into a pan of boiling water, cover, and boil for 2 hours, adding more boiling water if necessary to prevent boiling dry. Turn the pudding onto a hot dish and serve with custard.

Dear Abby...

2005-10-17T07:46:00.000-05:00

This is a real Dear Abby letter from our newspaper today....

"I have been living with 'Angelo' for six years. His dog passed away in May. Frankly, I was relieved because the dog had been the main focus in Angelo's life and the cause of many problems and fights."

Tip no. 1 -- Man likes dog best.
Tip no. 2 -- "...the cause of many problems and fights."

Do you just want to scream at this woman, Abby? Why are you there after six years if you're jealous of the dog?

Now, Angelo has gotten a new dog, and she's given him an ultimatum, me or the dog.

The dog is still there.

Pack those bags, honey.

And a therapy dog, too!

2005-10-16T15:51:00.000-05:00

After passing his Canine Good Citizen test, Gumbo also was certified as a therapy dog through testing for Therapy Dogs International.

Here's some information from their web site about the job therapy dogs do:

"The dogs bring sparkle to a sterile day, provide a lively subject for conversation, and rekindle old memories of previously owned pets. TDI Dogs come in all shapes and sizes; real dogs with real personalities and real love to share. Some have pedigrees, some have been adopted. All are very proud to wear their TDI tags.

"The volunteers in the program and the dogs who visit with those in care facilities do make a difference in the quality of life. Real therapy is provided between animals and people.

"The first time a dog prances into a care facility, most people do a double take. A split second later broad smiles stretch across faces. Regardless of how residents look or how they feel, the animals are happy to see them. Those who live or must stay in a care facility truly benefit from the unconditional love and acceptance provided by TDI Dogs. Typically, there is an immediate response to the tail wagging greetings and warm paws.

"Four-footed therapists give something special to enhance the health and well-being of others. It has been clinically proven that through petting, touching and talking with the animals, patients’ blood pressure is lowered, stress is relieved and depression is eased.

"TDI is aware of the necessity for continuing clinical studies on the human-animal bond and TDI volunteers are willing to participate whenever needed. Each TDI volunteer as an individual has made a tremendous difference in the lives of so many, by sharing their canine companion with those who no longer are able to have a dog of their own. Just think! How sad it would be if you never could touch a dog again."

Postell's Gumbo Legacy, CGC, TD

2005-10-16T15:34:00.000-05:00

Gumbo now has more titles behind his name than either of his humans!

On Saturday, he passed the test for the American Kennel Club Canine Good Citizen program. According to the AKC:

"Started in 1989, CGC is a certification program that is designed to reward dogs who have good manners at home and in the community. The Canine Good Citizen Program is a two-part program that stresses responsible pet ownership for owners and basic good manners for dogs. All dogs who pass the 10-step CGC test may receive a certificate from the American Kennel Club.

"...Canine Good Citizen® is one of the most rapidly growing programs in the American Kennel Club. There are many exciting applications of this wonderful, entry level that go beyond the testing and certifying of dogs."

Here are the components of the test from the AKC:

Before taking the Canine Good Citizen test, owners will sign the Responsible Dog Owners Pledge. We believe that responsible dog ownership is a key part of the CGC concept and by signing the pledge, owners agree to take care of their dog's health needs, safety, exercise, training and quality of life. Owners also agree to show responsibility by doing things such as cleaning up after their dogs in public places and never letting dogs infringe on the rights of others.

After signing the Responsible Dog Owners Pledge, owners and their dogs are ready to take the CGC Test. Items on the Canine Good Citizen Test include:

Test 1: Accepting a friendly stranger
This test demonstrates that the dog will allow a friendly stranger to approach it and speak to the handler in a natural, everyday situation. The evaluator walks up to the dog and handler and greets the handler in a friendly manner, ignoring the dog. The evaluator and handler shake hands and exchange pleasantries. The dog must show no sign of resentment or shyness, and must not break position or try to go to the evaluator.

Test 2: Sitting politely for petting
This test demonstrates that the dog will allow a friendly stranger to touch it while it is out with its handler. With the dog sitting at the handler's side, to begin the exercise, the evaluator pets the dog on the head and body. The handler may talk to his or her dog throughout the exercise. The dog may stand in place as it is petted. The dog must not show shyness or resentment.

Test 3: Appearance and grooming
This practical test demonstrates that the dog will welcome being groomed and examined and will permit someone, such as a veterinarian, groomer or friend of the owner, to do so. It also demonstrates the owner's care, concern and sense of responsibility. The evaluator inspects the dog to determine if it is clean and groomed. The dog must appear to be in healthy condition (i.e., proper weight, clean, healthy and alert). The handler should supply the comb or brush commonly used on the dog. The evaluator then softly combs or brushes the dog, and in a natural manner, lightly examines the ears and gently picks up each front foot. It is not necessary for the dog to hold a specific position during the examination, and the handler may talk to the dog, praise it and give encouragement throughout.

Test 4: Out for a walk (walking on a loose lead)
This test demonstrates that the handler is in control of the dog. The dog may be on either side of the handler. The dog's position should leave no doubt that the dog is attentive to the handler and is responding to the handler's movements and changes of direction. The dog need not be perfectly aligned with the handler and need not sit when the handler stops. The evaluator may use a pre-plotted course or may direct the handler/dog team by issuing instructions or commands. In either case, there should be a right turn, left turn, and an about turn with at least one stop in between and another at the end. The handler may talk to the dog along the way, praise the dog, or give commands in a normal tone of voice. The handler may sit the dog at the halts if desired.

Test 5: Walking through a crowd
This test demonstrates that the dog can move about politely in pedestrian traffic and is under control in public places. The dog and handler walk around and pass close to several people (at least three). The dog may show some interest in the strangers but should continue to walk with the handler, without evidence of over-exuberance, shyness or resentment. The handler may talk to the dog and encourage or praise the dog throughout the test. The dog should not jump on people in the crowd or strain on the leash.

Test 6: Sit and down on command and Staying in place
This test demonstrates that the dog has training, will respond to the handler's commands to sit and down and will remain in the place commanded by the handler (sit or down position, whichever the handler prefers). The dog must do sit AND down on command, then the owner chooses the position for leaving the dog in the stay. Prior to this test, the dog's leash is replaced with a line 20 feet long. The handler may take a reasonable amount of time and use more than one command to get the dog to sit and then down. The evaluator must determine if the dog has responded to the handler's commands. The handler may not force the dog into position but may touch the dog to offer gentle guidance. When instructed by the evaluator, the handler tells the dog to stay and walks forward the length of the line, turns and returns to the dog at a natural pace. The dog must remain in the place in which it was left (it may change position) until the evaluator instructs the handler to release the dog. The dog may be released from the front or the side.

Test 7: Coming when called
This test demonstrates that the dog will come when called by the handler. The handler will walk 10 feet from the dog, turn to face the dog, and call the dog. The handler may use encouragement to get the dog to come. Handlers may choose to tell dogs to "stay" or "wait" or they may simply walk away, giving no instructions to the dog.

Test 8: Reaction to another dog
This test demonstrates that the dog can behave politely around other dogs. Two handlers and their dogs approach each other from a distance of about 20 feet, stop, shake hands and exchange pleasantries, and continue on for about 10 feet. The dogs should show no more than casual interest in each other. Neither dog should go to the other dog or its handler.

Test 9: Reaction to distraction
This test demonstrates that the dog is confident at all times when faced with common distracting situations. The evaluator will select and present two distractions. Examples of distractions include dropping a chair, rolling a crate dolly past the dog, having a jogger run in front of the dog, or dropping a crutch or cane. The dog may express natural interest and curiosity and/or may appear slightly startled but should not panic, try to run away, show aggressiveness, or bark. The handler may talk to the dog and encourage or praise it throughout the exercise.

Test 10: Supervised separation
This test demonstrates that a dog can be left with a trusted person, if necessary, and will maintain training and good manners. Evaluators are encouraged to say something like, "Would you like me to watch your dog?" and then take hold of the dog's leash. The owner will go out of sight for three minutes. The dog does not have to stay in position but should not continually bark, whine, or pace unnecessarily, or show anything stronger than mild agitation or nervousness. Evaluators may talk to the dog but should not engage in excessive talking, petting, or management attempts (e.g, "there, there, it's alright").

Equipment

All tests must be performed on leash. Dogs should wear well-fitting buckle or slip collars made of leather, fabric, or chain. Special training collars such as pinch collars, head halters, etc. are not permitted in the CGC test. We recognize that special training collars may be very useful tools for beginning dog trainers, however, we feel that dogs are ready to take the CGC test at the point at which they are transitioned to regular collars.

The evaluator supplies a 20-foot lead for the test. The owner/handler should bring the dog's brush or comb to the test.

Encouragement

Owners/handlers may use praise and encouragement throughout the test. The owner may pet the dog between exercises. Food and treats are not permitted during testing, nor is the use of toys, squeaky toys, etc. to get the dog to do something. We recognize that food and toys may provide valuable reinforcement or encouragement during the training process but these items should not be used during the test.

Failures - Dismissals

Any dog that eliminates during testing must be marked failed. The only exception to this rule is that elimination is allowable in test Item 10, but only when test Item 10 is held outdoors.

Any dog that growls, snaps, bites, attacks, or attempts to attack a person or another dog is not a good citizen and must be dismissed from the test.

After the test, Gumbo got go to to Petco and pick out some special treats. He behaved like a good citizen in the store!

We'll take a look at Therapy Dogs International in the next post!

Where, o where has the spotted dog been?

2005-10-11T21:52:00.000-05:00

Last weekend, Lindsey and I fled the hurricane madness for a long, restful weekend in northern Arkansas. I literally had only one full day off from the newspaper business since Aug. 29, and many of those days were "half days" (10-14 hours).

We meet good friends at a wonderful place, Rainbow Drive Resort (www.rainbowdriveresort.com), and it's always a real disconnect from reality. We fish, eat, drink, read, play dominoes, sleep with the windows open, laugh, watch the wildlife and otherwise do not keep up with the rest of the world.

Until recently, our cell phones didn't work there. And, most disconcertingly, this time our wonderful hosts had added satellite TV. We don't think we like that. We did not turn to a news channel once, I promise.

The only thing we don't like about it now is we can't take Gumbo and Roux because pets are not allowed. We understand our hosts' rules -- but we still miss them. This is how they looked when we got home....

The Spot's been SPAMMED

2005-10-11T20:00:00.000-05:00

Not sure how it happened, but Adventures of the Spotted Dog has been spammed. I was so excited to see 27 comments on our last post! (Unfortunately, they're all trying to sell me something!)

Rescuing the stranded

2005-09-09T10:34:00.000-05:00

National animal rescue groups have arrived here in Monroe to aid with our local rescue shelter operation and expand to accept animals as they are rescued from down south.

We're expecting 50 more animals this weekend.

These will be the ones who've survived the floodwaters, separated from their owners, lost perhaps forever.

Lindsey and I will volunteer this weekend, and let you know. In the meantime, here are some photos shot by our Gannett Louisiana photographers of pet rescue efforts in New Orleans....

Animals need help -- PLEASE

2005-08-30T21:12:00.000-05:00

If you'd like to donate to pet relief for victims of Hurricane Karina, the pet shelter in Monroe is dealing with hundreds of animals. It is coordinated by my hero vet, Dr. Jim Rundell. The address is Rundell Veterinary Hospital, 104 Kansas Lane, Monroe, LA 71203. Anything that is not used for immediate pet relief -- which will probably stretch into weeks and months -- will be donated to PAWS, the ongoing pet rescue association in northeastern Louisiana.

If you say your donation came from reading about Gumbo and Roux, they'll appreciate it even more... They're the people who made sure we rescued Roux.

Much love and with enormous prayers for our hurricane victim disaster friends.

Kathy

An update on our shelter

2005-08-30T20:51:00.000-05:00

I had heard about the yellow lab, the one left to die in Hurricane Katrina. He had tried to escape so desperately, he'd literally rubbed off all the skin around his neck.

At the hurricane victims' animal rescue center, they sent me out to find the dog, who was being walked by the guy who had rescued him.

The guy was one most people would find scary.

The sleeves of his shirt were torn off at the shoulders, exposing his tatooes.

His teeth were yellowed, his jeans filthy, his hair too long and unwashed, his cigarettes tucked into his chest pocket. He was rough, in the scary rough kind of way.

The dog strained against a leather collar around its neck. He restrained it with a long chain.

Not good, I thought.

I approached him and stuck up a conversation. The dog had been left to drown, and he had rescued it. He'd sought veterinary help for its neck wounds.

I had hope. But he was dragging the dog he'd named "Bud" for "Budweiser" by the neck and chain, trying to train him with tough love to obey his commands.

I went inside the shelter, where I'd seen a box of treats, and tried to show my new unnamed friend and "Bud" how to respond the easy way. Sit for a treat. Down for a treat. Heel for a treat. Thank goodness for the Ouachita Valley Dog Training Center folks, I thought.

Within minutes, Bud was responding to the treats, and I was so encouraged I sent Lindsey to Petco for a shoulder harness. Petco already had donated thousands of dollars' worth of pet supplies to our rudimentary shelter, and I was able to find a nylon leash to replace the chain.

It took two trips to Petco for Lindsey to find the right size harness, but it worked. And good ole' Bud had a nylon harness so his neck could heal and a thick nylon leash, plus toys and treats for training.

My new friends were set up. I went back to check on them today, and they had left the shelter. I hope they're safe. I believe in my heart Bud will be loved. I just hope Bud's owner can afford to keep him.

Aftermath

2005-08-30T20:23:00.000-05:00

First off, Kathy and I feel for those in New Orleans and the Gulf Coast who have lost everything in Hurricane Katrina. The pictures you see in the media cannot begin to show the utter devastation the region has endured. The pictures out of New Orleans are particularly haunting. New Orleans is a city Kathy and I love to go to - I know "The Big Easy" will be rebuilt.

Second, this post is about evacuees - animal evacuees. Kathy and I help set up a animal shelter in Monroe Sunday afternoon as Katrina bore down on New Orleans and residents started to pour into our shelters.

Here's her story from the Tuesday, August 30, 2005 edition of The News-Star.

It was 4 p.m. Sunday in the hurricane evacuees' animal shelter, and it had already been a very, very long day. Because we were fitting in evacuees around the Monroe Civic Center's already scheduled work, the animals had to slide in after the weekend rodeo was over but not get in the way of the major preparations for the Labor Day weekend dog show. We kept moving around the back of the Arena until the Equestrian Pavilion finally became our home, the only animal shelter for miles around.

By 4 p.m., we had an untold number of dogs and cats, some birds, a hamster and a ferret. And they kept coming - so fast, the perspiring and exhausted volunteer crew representing all of the local animal groups could barely keep up with them. But they were grateful, these refugees. They left their homes without a place to go. They grabbed their pets, but many came as far as Monroe with no way to care for them.

One young man brought in two parakeets in a box with holes punched in it. We managed to find a wire hamster cage for them. An SUV showed up with five cats, three dogs and a ferret. Another family brought in their pets plus a puppy they found tossed in the Civic Center parking lot. The puppy went in a crate just like someone's family pet, with a worry about ownership to be dealt with later.

Some pet owners brought their own crates, pet toys, food and medicines. Other pets came with their leashes or carried in their owners' arms. Some pet owners went to the American Red Cross shelter at the Civic Center, and came over to walk their pets and check on them. Others found hotel rooms or housing with friends locally, but restrictions prevented their pets from staying with them. We took them all.

Our accommodations for the refugees were rudimentary, but we had fans, food and water. We volunteers were trying to be sympathetic and understanding of people in an extraordinarily stressful situation. We wanted them to know that of all their worries, their pets would be safe.

At 4 p.m., I was on the cell phone with the newspaper office discussing hurricane coverage and simultaneously trying to help corner Lilly, a medium-size dog who had broken loose from her owner and bolted into a grassy area next to the shelter.
Once Lilly was leashed, I went inside to grab some water. Lilly's owner and another young man found me and asked where to put donations. I told him I would make sure they got to the right place.

He opened a money clip and kept peeling off bills. His friend did the same.
"Oh, that's too much,'' I said.
"No, I see what y'all are doing here - sending people out to buy more fans, trying to keep all of these animals comfortable,'' he said. "We never thought we would
find something like this.''
My feet were aching and I could barely see for the sweat dripping down into my eyes. But it felt good. Real good.

Our community, you see, is that kind of place. A place that will open its arms to all.

Alex the barn kitty

2005-08-24T20:53:00.000-05:00

I'm not sure we even have a picture of Alex the barn kitty. She was a very typical tabby, one you've seen a zillion times before.

Here's how I met her....

My mother had been confined to nursing care with advanced Parkinson's Disease, leaving my father at home to deal with the household.

Part of the household involved my mother's legacy -- kindness to all animals, including the strays who were tossed by the roadside and wandered to the door. Naturally, most of those strays were cats and kittens.

My father abhorred and cursed them.

They were all wild, almost ferile, cats who came to the covered patio and devoured what my mother provided for them.

She, of course, could approach some. But no one else could.

I would joke that she had become the "cat woman," the crazy old lady who had more cats than she knew what to do with. My father just cursed -- and agreed.

Of course, that was all bluster, as I was soon to discover. When mother's Parkinson's progressed to the point that she was no longer able to get around, the caregivers fed the cats.

Dad, of course, continued to curse the felines that came and went in waves, depending on their reproduction cycles. As I visited, increasingly concerned at their numbers, I kept trying to count them.

Four, no there are eight, no there are six....

It didn't matter.

There seemed to be too many.

Mom went into the nursing home, and my visits to our Texas homestead became more frequent.

Dad and I would sit on the patio in rocking chairs, drinking a Coors and talking about our times.

He took it hard, abandoned in his seventies, not understanding really what had happened to my mother. And he found his friend.

Not me, his only child.

A kitten.

She came to him, full of love, and won his affection.

I first noticed her as she sidled up to his rocker, purring and rubbing on his legs.

He reached down and petted her.

"DAD!" I said. "A CAT?"

"Yes," he grinned. "This one is special. She's taken a liking to me."

And she had.

Alex, I discovered later, liked all male humans. But that was after Dad was gone.

Their relationship continued to grow, and Alex -- although remaining a scraggly, rough-coated, independent barn kitty -- loved Dad and he came to know her as the unnamed "cat" he liked.

When he met an untimely death, I took some things from the house that were special to me.

I brought the kitten home.

Anne named her Alexis, and you may already have read Lindsey's account of her full and satisfied life. She became a sleek, house cat who ruled the roost.

But from my perspective, she was an emotional tie to my father, the animal whose love we shared in a time that bridged generations.

When I petted her, I sensed his presence, and his approval that his daughter was carrying on. With Alex to watch, I did OK. His granddaughter turned out pretty good, I found the love of my life and we are all living satisfied lives with a kitty and a few dogs to pet now and then.

How I miss Alex. That connection was a big piece of me.

Best of Show

2005-08-22T12:58:00.000-05:00

Lindsey and I volunteered as stewards at an obedience show this past weekend. It was our first foray into the dog show world.

We donned our "Wal-mart greeter" vests, and set to work. My ring had novice, utility and veterans' competitions.

It was a blast, but we both learned something:

1. Don't bend over in old britches (Lindsey).
2. Be ready to grab the dog that bolts from the ring (Kathy).

Together, we learned that some folks have a great time with their animals, and some take it entirely too seriously. We hope to show Gumbo and Roux in obedience and agility at some point, but I think we'll keep a copy of the movie "Best of Show" around just to keep us grounded. I mean, people who have a dog weblog might just take it a little too seriously....

K-9 Compassion

2005-08-17T05:15:00.000-05:00

Do dogs have feelings? Can they think, rationalize, or sort out their emotions? These were but a few of the questions posed by Dr. Stanley Coren in his book, "The Intelligence of Dogs - Canine Consciousness and Capabilities." After reading Dr. Coren's book, but affirmed by personal observation, the answer to my questions is a resounding "Yes!"

The other members of our household are two cats, Natchez and Alexis. Natchez was rescued by Anne about 10 years ago, after being found scavenging french fries by a McDonalds dumpster in Natchez, Mississippi. Alex, the most civilized of barn cats, came to live with Kathy after her father died.

Natchez is pure feline. She hunts and is quite successful. I've seen her stalk a bird on the ground and execute a perfectly timed leap to snare the bird as it made its getaway flight. Obnoxious blue jays who once tried to torment Natchez were met with her "You wanna piece of me? You and me. Right here. Right now." attitude. This confrontational demeanor is what makes the Border Collies love it every time Natchez roams into the house. Cornered by Gumbo and Roux, Natchez stands on her back legs, boxing the dogs with her declawed front paws. They love it. After Natchez finds safe harbor atop the fridge, the BCs position themselves on the kitchen floor in front of fridge for hours on end, waiting for Natchez' inevitable trip to the food bowl or litter box. Who says you can't herd cats? Our border collies do!

Alex, on the other hand, is the sweetest cat in the world, and could purr for hours on end while stationed in your lap. For a former barn cat, Alex never hunted or acted catlike, but instead lived the life of Riley. She had it made and she took full advantage of it. The one time early in life when Alex had kittens, she was the worst of mothers. It was like being a cat was something she wasn't destined to be.

Well, several weeks ago, we noticed Alex gimping around with her left side almost totally limp. Her left eyes and mouth drooped, while the mouth quivered. The look in Alex's eyes was not one of pain, as she did not howl out, but one of "what the hell is happening to me?" Certain Alex had a stroke, we took her to the vet. A stroke was ruled out, but some sort of unknown neurological degradation had occurred on her left side. We were given little hope that Alex would ever walk normal again.

But Alex didn't give up. She gimped less and less each day, and preferred to lay outside in the scorching Louisiana sun. Now suffering from rheumatism, arthritis, call it what you want, the chill of an air-conditioned house made her uncomfortable. But she was losing weight. Fast. It was obvious to Kathy and I that Alex was not long for this world. Her condition reminding me of so many stories I've heard about elderly folks falling and breaking a hip and it's all downhill from there.

Last Monday, Alex slid outside, motoring quite well. The gimp was barely there. As I left for work, she was parked in the sun, basking in all its radiance. She's on the mend, I thought.

But by Tuesday evening, Kathy and I were asking each other "Had you seen Alex?" By Wednesday noon, we concluded that Alex had wondered off to die. When Anne called Thursday evening, we told her about Alex, but she rebuffed our logic saying, "No, cats come home to die."

That night, both Gumbo and Roux started a new session of obedience classes. Kathy shuttled Roux out to the OVDTC for the second session, giddily telling me, "Alex is back!" When I got home, Alex, looking skeletal and pale, plunked herself on my lap and purred herself to sleep.

Anne and Jeff came for the weekend, and Friday night Kathy took Alex under her arm and brought her to bed with us. Sometime after midnight, I got up to turn off the TV, and returning to bed, I stroked Alex's head and was greeted with a soft meow and I heard her purr motor kick on. At 2:35 AM, I awoke to go to the bathroom, but when I went to stroke Alex again, I was met with a limp cat. I took her lifeless body outside and buried her at first light, before the family was awake and the mosquitoes, humidity, and heat of a Louisiana summer could work on me.

So what is all this background about the life (and death) of a cat along with questions about if dogs feel emotions and understand situations doing in a dog-blog?

Since Alex's gimpy-ness, the border collies left her alone. They would harass the hell out of Natchez, but Alex was off-limits. Not once did they confront her. They respected her disability, and gave her wide berth. As I dug Alex's grave, Gumbo and Roux stood guard over Alex, her body wrapped in an old towel. After covering the ground with stone and brick, they both came by and sniffed the grave. Once inside, Gumbo looked at me with a set of a sad, brown eyes. As I sat and drank my coffee, reflecting about Alex's life and times with us, he came and pushed his muzzle under my arm. He knew.

Do dogs have compassion? You bet. I'll argue this point with any scientist at anytime. Gumbo and Roux will never delve into quantum physics, but they certainly know about quantum emotions, the lifeblood of the soul, both human and canine.

Graduation Day, Part Deux, er..Part Roux

2005-08-12T05:39:00.000-05:00

Roux, our newest, but growing-at-full-steam border collie, had a graduation ceremony of her own this last week. Roux graduated from Blue Ribbon K-9 Training Center after completing a 8-week course in Foundation Agility.

At this stage in her life, Roux could be compared to a gangly, long-legged, gawky teenager. So when we arrive at the training field, Roux is so excited to see other dogs her little "wiggle-butt" ends up going into hyperdrive. If you've ever seen a hip-hop video where the over-sexed women can shake their booty six different directions at once - well, that's Roux.

All that pent-up excitement isn't wasted when class starts. Roux eagerly explodes through the tunnel, buzzes across the see-saw, and flys through the tire. Therese, one of Blue Ribbon's trainers, commented one week, "She's got attitude. I like her attitude." It was one of those subtle comments where all the sweat, work, frustrations from "why-can't-this-dog-learn-this-simple-routine" become worth it. And as with Gumbo, when Roux gets in the Jeep and especially when we turn on Thomas Road, the excitement of knowing she is going to 'work' drives her into a spinning frenzy in the back seat.

Back at graduation, the dogs and handlers had to successfully go through all the exercises we learned to "graduate" to the next level - beginning agility. Individual dogs and handlers were scored separately; how well the dog did the exercises, but also how well the handlers gave commands without calling the dog's name, giving release words, and overall handling. In this foundation class the dog can pass, but the handler may flunk, thus dog and handler has to repeat the class.

We all drew number to determine our work order. Out of nine dogs, we were number "8". So we sat and waited. Roux was restless, all that "ready-to-go" forced to idle. Eventually we did our exercises and waited for the results. Roux came in second place, earning herself a red ribbon and the second pick out of a huge box of doggie toys drug out for awards.

Roux picked a pink and white knotted rope toy with a pink tennis ball impaled on it (well, pink is her color.) She went onto a flipping and tossing frenzy with it. But it was really getting late and we headed for home, knowing that Mom was fast asleep and will have to hear our good news in the morning. Upon arriving home, Gumbo immediately stole the pink and white tennis ball toy as Roux pranced into the house with it in her mouth. Snarly-facing ensued over this and by morning the ball, sans the knotted rope, is nowhere to be found. Kathy later discovered the ball filleted into one piece of pink material, much like a continuous peel from an apple.

It's on to bigger and greater things. Roux started Beginning Obedience last night at Ouachita Valley Dog Training Club, and next week starts the next agility level at Blue Ribbon. She's really a semi-rebellious teenager now, feeling her oats, starting to fill out, her body starting to catch up to those legs-right-up-to-her-neck, and certainly testing the pecking order of our pack. And Roux's moved up in that pecking order a notch. Kathy is now at the bottom of the pecking order, and will have to work at reclaiming her formally held number 2 position. I just hope she doesn't want me to take her to any training sessions! I'm just too pooped. Besides, folks might think we're a bit kinky if I'm leading her around on collar and leash.

We've been BLOGGED!

2005-08-05T12:43:00.000-05:00

Our friend Rebecca West makes us famous.....

Here's the link: www.waynesworld2005.blogspot.com.

Graduation Day

2005-07-30T16:55:00.000-05:00

Last week Gumbo "graduated" from his Beginner Obedience-I class at Ouachita Valley Dog Training Club (OVDTC). The class focused on the basics: sit, down, come, heel, etc. Luckily Gumbo pretty much knew how to do these things, but what I was after was "structured learning." You see, Gumbo does well when there is a set agenda. It's part of the "work-a-holic" nature bred into border collies as well as many other dogs. Gumbo needs a "job" to do and training in obedience and agility is part of his job. He loves it so.

After 8 weeks of training and practicing, the big night came. The class, consisting of 12 dogs, all participated in a mock obedience trial. The format and scoring was identical to the AKC Novice trial, but the rules were pretty relaxed. At this level, the OVDTC wants all the dogs to be successful. Most of the participants were there to make their dogs better companions and to minimize any problems when others beside family members interact with their dog. So we were encouraged to talk to our dogs and give treats if needed. This was just for "funnzies" anyway.

We all drew numbers from a hat to determine the order which we had to perform (we drew #5) our individual exercises - heeling on lead, figure 8, sit for exam, and recall. The dogs were lounging around, while the owners milled about, nervous as whores in church. I was hoping my nervousness wouldn't be relayed down the length of the leash.

We all got through our individual exercises, and the group exercise commenced. A one-minute sit while the owners faced their dog, followed by a two-minute down, with the owners facing the dog again. I was dreading this. Gumbo can be a strong-willed dog. I just knew he wouldn't stay down for two minutes. But he did.

So at the end of it all, Tanya, the judge, gave out prizes for the top four highest-scoring dogs. Gumbo came in second with a score of 194 (out of 200 possible points.)

Some other notable dogs in the class were Rocky the German Shepherd, Brett the Golden Retriever, Rhett the Australian Shepherd (who came in first with a score of 196!), Lilly the German Shepherd, Bear the Border Collie (who on day one didn't like ANY other dog, but ended up being tolerant of his K-9 pals at the end) and Cletus the 137-pound Bloodhound, who drug his female owner all over the ring while he bayed virtually the whole time, every class. You knew Cletus was in the building and I'm sure Cool Hand Luke is still running!

So we made it. I am so proud of Gumbo! Gumbo has matured into a wonderful, dyed-in-the-wool (no pun intended!) border collie. And second place is pretty good. After all, he came in dead last in his puppy obedience class way back when. And on the way home he got the best reward of all - his favorite treat, an ice cream cone.

But Gumbo's ready for more work. He and Roux start a new set of obedience classes next week. We'll keep ya posted.

Wanna be Pup Pals?

2005-07-26T09:51:00.000-05:00

We've found this web site, www.dogster.com, where every dog can have his own web page.

It's one of the top web sites for pet lovers -- and yes, there's a companion www.catster.com for our feline friends.

The site has a number of fun features, including the ability to vote on your favorite dogs (called "give some paw"), applaud a dog's web page ("give this dog a bone") and "save" favorite pages for later reference ("corral" this dog).

My favorite feature is the ability to invite another dog to be "pup pals." It's just funny to see how many folks are willing to put your dog's picture on their web page, and vice versa. You get an e-mail invitation from the dog, and if you agree, you just click a link and the "pup pal" automatically pops up on your page.

What does this say?

2005-07-24T21:20:00.000-05:00

What does it say about you when you have your dog's portrait painted?

A happy ending, but...

2005-07-24T20:58:00.000-05:00

Lindsey and I have had numerous comments about the "Lucy in disguise" story.

Everyone thinks it's an incredibly funny tale.

But today, Lindsey and I had a series of "what ifs."

We recalled Tanya, the obedience judge, saying this week: "Congratulations, dog owners. You are already in an elite class. Only 5% of dog owners seek obedience or any training for their dogs."

What if ... your dog runs outside. You see a car coming. What do you do?

With an obedience-trained dog, you yell the dog's name, followed by a strong "COME!"

Obedience training not only helps us all get along better... it can save a dog's life. That's a very small investment in time, money and energy.

Our dogs are part of our family. They're definitely worth that investment. How about yours?

Karma from dog heaven

2005-07-22T09:31:00.000-05:00

Our home computer displays a slide show that pulls from a stored photo file. This morning, as I was getting dressed for work, it locked up on a picture of a very content Shetland sheepdog sunning in the back yard.

That was Kazbah, originally Lindsey's dog, but certainly a dog who became a big part of my life as Lindsey, Anne and I started our lives together.

I'm still misty-eyed when I think about him, although I'm sure I'll catch up with him on the other side of the rainbow and he'll be stealing manna sandwiches off our heavenly table.

Here's the original Kaz and Gumbo story from my News-Star archives, published 2/8/2004.

Kaz gave his best despite age’s toll

It seemed like a long time since Kazbah had stolen a sandwich from the kitchen table, sneaked out of the back yard to stroll the neighborhood or jumped on the back of the sofa to greet us in the afternoon.

In his youth, our Shetland sheepdog was the ultimate protector, patrolling the yard one last time every night before bedtime to make sure we were safe. He herded raccoons, armadillos and stray cats out of the yard, and always placed himself between us and strangers.

He was confident and smart, loved going to Mr. Robert, the groomer, and grew so large people actually thought he was a collie.

His eyes eventually clouded, and we could tell he was growing deaf. He no longer came when called, but responded to a loud clap. We joked that he could only hear the sound of the bread wrapper in the mornings when we made toast.

He turned 15 in December. He slept a lot his last few months, going outside briefly only a couple of times a day. A walk around the block left him breathless. His appetite drifted away. We nicknamed him "Speed Bump," because you’d just have to step over wherever he lay.

We expected to come home any day and find that Kazbah had drifted off in his sleep.

He finally could not get up anymore without help, and although he never complained, we knew he was hurting. We spent a painful two weeks talking over quality of life with our vet. We all finally decided it was time.

Kaz was too big to bury in our yard, so we chose to have him cremated. We considered scattering his ashes at Cormier’s, his favorite spot to escape to during crawfish season, but thought better of it when we considered the health implications. So Kazbah, our loving companion and family member, returned home in a tasteful, sealed urn from Best Friends Crematory.

The loss left a crater in our hearts, an ache that even weeks later brings tears to our eyes. I still look for him every morning, asleep on his round rug next to my bed, until I awaken enough to remember he’s gone.

But we are certain our faithful old Kaz is still looking out for us.

My husband Lindsey and I held a wake for Kaz, remembering his good days and all of the joy he brought to our lives. We told stories and laughed until we cried again.

"We really need to get another dog," Lindsey said. "When we’re ready, of course."

That prompted a discussion of what the right dog might be, and we went online to look at pets available for adoption from the Ouachita Parish Animal Shelter and the Humane Society. We couldn’t agree on a breed, we just knew we didn’t want a really big dog or a really small dog.

We checked The News-Star’s classified ads. Nothing jumped out at us. So we pulled out a book and started looking at the photos of hundreds of different types of dogs.

"I had a border collie when I was a little girl," I said. "Other than Kaz, that was the best dog I ever had."

"Those are great dogs," Lindsey said.

So we went online again and started searching for border collies. We were reading about the breed when the telephone rang.

It was my daughter, Anne, calling from Baton Rouge. A death in our family a few months ago was causing a niece and nephew to have to find two adult dogs and a litter of puppies a new home.

"I just thought y’all might want to consider taking one of the puppies," Anne said.

"What kind are they?" I asked.

"Border collies," she replied.

She sent pictures, and within days we adopted a 5-month-old male puppy whose freckled face and warm eyes mesmerized us.

He has a black stripe on the top of his head that looks like a Mohawk. We almost named him "Mo," but thought that sounded too much like "no." We looked up "spot" and "freckles" in French, and didn’t like that.

Somehow we hit upon Gumbo, and that just seemed to fit his personality. He’s an energetic mess of ingredients that, with love and training, will turn out to be somebody good for all of us.

We still miss Kaz very much, and no one will ever replace the fond memories we have of the time he shared with us. But we think he had a paw in what has happened since in our lives.

Gumbo is keeping us pretty busy, and I think that’s exactly what was meant to be.

Hey, Gumbo, I'm getting tutored!!!

2005-07-21T15:48:00.000-05:00

My favorite Gary Larsen "Far Side" cartoon features a dog hanging out of a car window, proudly proclaming to another dog:

"Guess what! I'm going to the vet's to get tutored!!!"

Gumbo, who we believe communicates many other things to Roux, evidently failed to warn her. (He had already suffered the double indignity of being neutered and humiliated because of the size of his no-longer-useful-except-for-elimination penis.)

So she goes prancing into the vet's, all wiggly butted, just like it's old home week, looking like she does in the photo here.

The following evening when we picked her up, shaved from her ribcage to her rear haunches, we could barely find the puncture wound that signaled the end of any possibility of puppy mothering. She was also none the worse for wear, except that she was a little hesitant about jumping on the bed during our morning game of ball tossing.

Lindsey and I believe there are plenty of good dogs in this world, and we don't need to add to the number, since we're not particularly interested in "Running a Kennel for Fun and Profit."

I mean, who wants to sacrifice a good pair of drawers to put panties on a dog in heat?

The lifesaving blog, blog, blog

2005-07-15T14:57:00.000-05:00

I've discovered my daughter Anne is a talented writer and storyteller (you can read some of her comments posted on this blog....) But Lindsey REALLY pulled me out of the editor's special purgatory this week.

Several of our top editors were out for various reasons, and I found myself being a hands-on newspaper editor, the managing editor, the editorial page editor and the newsroom assistant all on the same day.

I needed an emergency column for the newspaper Thursday night, and I still had four editorials to write. I told Lindsey I was going to let him be my guest columnist this week with his "Lucy" story, but he didn't want to do that. He generously allowed me to rewrite it and use the story of his pre-dawn stroll. (Well, he HAD told it to me before he wrote it...)

It was a real lifesaver. I managed to slam everything out in the time it took Lindsey to take Roux to agility class.

My good friend and mentor Wiley Hilburn taught me that journaling is invaluable to writers for ideas, capturing emotions and recalling significant detail. But I've never had the self-discipline to do it before. For a person who hangs around words all day, writing in your "off" time seems too much like work.

For some reason this weblog stuff is a little easier to handle -- you can journal in a minute and when you're in a pinch, there might actually be something to use in the REAL job.

It took years, but I'm sold now. After this week, I really believe in the value of journaling!

Hurricane Lucy hits our town

2005-07-11T20:09:00.000-05:00

We expected massive thunderstorms. But we didn't get a drop of rain from Hurricane Dennis.

The yard, until the weekend, was beginning to show its "parched" spots from the relentless Louisiana summer heat and humidity.

Then, Lucy came for the weekend.

We anxiously anticipated how she would react to the new dog, Roux. Heck, what were we worried about? They instantly became a pack of friends, all running for the tennis ball and playing snarly face. Three was definitely not a crowd. It was a dog event.

But Lucy is a water dog, and she provided a show for everyone on Sunday afternoon when we set up the sprinkler. She adores the sprinkler, and delights in "talking to it" as she carries it and plays with it around the yard.

You have to hear Lucy to appreciate it, but her voice is somewhat higher than you'd expect from a big chocolate lab. In fact, her bark is so high-pitched and wimpy, we call her a "wuss."

Thirty minutes, and EVERYTHING, including the audience, was wet. The other dogs, Gumbo and Roux, watched in awe from a safe, dry spot in the yard.

Water dogs, they're definitely NOT.

Tick, tock, the BC clock

2005-07-07T06:47:00.000-05:00

Pounce!

I opened my myopic eyes to a black nose.

Slurp!

A wet kiss followed.

It was still dark outside.

"Lay down, Roux," I said.

Jump!

She bounded onto the bed and laid down, leaning on my legs. I'm not sure how a gangly, teen-aged border collie can take on enough air to make herself weigh a ton, but Roux's got it down. She might even weigh two tons some mornings.

Seconds later, the alarm went off. Roux and Gumbo started their morning pace, waiting for the daily games to begin.

Pad, pad, pad on the carpet. Pad, pad, pad.

If they pace long enough, bouncing on and off the bed intermittently, someone (usually Lindsey) will eventually get up and let them out. We try to let the snooze alarm go off once, but the border collies usually won't let us.

Get up! Let us out! Get the ball!

They are creatures of routine. They know there's a time to play, time to work, time to rest. They know reading the newspaper also means throwing the ball. They know when we're going to work and that Lindsey always leaves before I do. They know that when I brush my teeth, I'm about to leave. They know we don't play ball when we come home for lunch.

But I've never thought of animals as having a concept of time, and I've never known a dog as intuitive as these two are. They watch our movements and activities and act or react accordingly.

How do they know what time it is?

When we figure that out, we may be able to solve our other problem: Teaching the border collies who now awake at 5 a.m. daily how to sleep late on the weekends.

Where every dog has a web page

2005-07-05T07:50:00.000-05:00

If you scroll down through the posts, you'll see that Gumbo has his own web page. Now, we've discovered something pretty fun -- www.dogster.com -- where every dog can have his own web page.

Of course, there's the companion catster, but I'm scared to go there.

I always thought people were pet-obsessed like us. Now, it's confirmed.... there's a whole bunch of us loonies out there!

You can go there and search for Gumbo, Roux and Lucy-Go-Lucky. It didn't take long to get them online....

It's Always Darkest Before the Dawn . . . Thank God!

2005-07-03T20:01:00.000-05:00

I'm an early riser, up before the dawn. My routine is to start the coffee, let the dogs out to do their thing, and toddle out in my blue bathrobe to pick up the paper at the end of the driveway. One early fall weekend I was also charged with dog-sitting Lucy, our daughter's chocolate lab, while wife and daughter were out-of-town planning for our daughter's upcoming nuptials.

This one particular morning, everything was happening on schedule. The dogs had found their favorite places, the paper was at the end of the driveway, and as I headed back towards the house, my canine entourage blended back into a small but energetic pack to escort me back to the house.

Then Lucy decides to go AWOL.

Splitting from the pack, she makes a left turn and heads down the street. Loudly whispered calls of "Lucy, COME! LUCY COME!" fall on deaf ears. She makes a right at the end of the street. Now I know I have a problem. It's still dark, I'm trying to find a dark dog, and there are 3 blocks of houses and yards for exploring. And in I'm a blue terry cloth bathrobe, no shoes on, and my hair, what little I have, is going in a ka-jillion different directions. Get it? It's the latest in pervert fashion.

Luckily, I see the silhouette of Lucy dart between two houses. I'm in luck, I think. Both houses have a fenced yard. I have her cornered. Sure enough, Lucy is sniffing around one of the back yards. Now if I can just grab her by her hunter orange buckle collar without waking this family or having the cops called.

Lucy sees me and starts loping towards me. Soft whispers of "Here, Lucy! Here, girl" seem to be working. It is then I realize the back door of this house is standing wide open. I mean wide open. Lucy realizes this too and just before I can grab her, she makes a quick dart to the right out of my reach and disappears into the house.

What I whispered to myself at that moment cannot be repeated in this blog, but in the cartoon world I believe it goes something like this -"#!*&$%!#*&%!"

Within seconds, there is an eruption of dog barking and someone saying "What the hell?" I'm hoping this homeowner doesn't have a gun. The barking intensifies and sounds of multiple dogs annoyed from being awoke from the depths of their deep doggie dreams gets louder. I hear footsteps and now I'm thinking what the police will tell Kathy, "We're sorry, but your husband died from multiple dog bites and gunshot wounds. First fatality case we've ever had like that."

A woman appears at the back door.

"I'm sorry, ma'am" I tell her in my most apologetic voice. I know I am at her mercy.

"My dog got away from me and she's gone into your house. I am so sorry to awaken you and your family."

"Oh, no problem, " she says, sweet as pie. "I needed to get up anyway." I now know I will live.

About that time, a whole cadre of dogs exit the back door in a rush, a lab among them. In a flash, I grab the collar. Gotcha! Now for the graceful exit.

"Once again, ma'am, I am so sorry to have disturbed you."

She's chuckling now. "Well, that's what I get for leaving my back door wide open." This woman deserves sainthood.

I start to leave and Lucy refuses to budge. "Lucy, c'mon!" But Lucy now has somehow managed to lock herself into position. I pull again. Nothing. The whole time this woman's dogs are barking and running in and out of the house. Criminy, if I can't get away, this incesstant barking is gonna wake up the whole dang neighborhood. And it's dark outside still.

It's now or never. I gotta get out this place. With all my might I start pulling and Lucy still won't budge. More "LUCY! C'MON! LET'S GO!" I pull harder and now I am dragging a locked-leg dog. Meanwhile, the woman is telling her dogs to pipe down.

Then I see another lab exit the house. It's Lucy. My Lucy.

I look down at the dog I've got a death grip on. Lab? Check. Buckle collar? Check. No wait, it's a dark buckle collar, not hunter orange. Wrong dog!

My Lucy had stopped next to me and within a nano-second, I have my Lucy firmly in my grasp. I make one last apology and easily escort Lucy home. As I'm leaving the woman cheerfully tells me to "have a nice day!"

After work, I stop by the local pet store and buy a bag of doggie treats to take over to the around-the-corner neighbor whose morning I had so rudely interrupted. We live in a neighborhood where folks tend to know and try to know each other. It's very social. I need to make amends.

I knock, and a little girl of about 9 or 10 years of age answers. I ask if her mommy is home. I hear her mommy holler from inside the house "Ask who it is, baby." I holler back, "It's the man who's dog visited you this morning, I brought you a gift."

"Oh come in, come in!" God, I love the South and its genteel hospitality.

We make introductions, including her kids and I see the pack of dogs - 6 in all, mulling about. Among them is a black lab the same size of Lucy, wearing a brown buckle collar. That explains everything in the wee hours of darkness. A classic case of mistaken identity!

I present my doggie treats and the woman tells me how her husband slept through the whole thing.

"He never heard anything," she tells me. "But I will tell you this. I emailed my sister in Los Angeles about this morning and she forwarded it to all her co-workers and it was the buzz of her office all day."

Somehow I felt a bit thrilled that I made a bunch of folks half a continent away have a good laugh and gave them a story they can regal over cocktails. Maybe it would make Leno that night.

As I'm making my way out the door, I inquire about the black lab.

"So, what's the name of your lab?"

"Her?" the lady starts chuckling again. "Her name is Lucy."

Obsessive Dog-pulsive

2005-07-03T09:30:00.000-05:00

Our household contains two adult humans. We have rescued two border collies and two cats. That probably says we're suckers, or to be kind, a couple of old softies. But we've really become obsessed with these border collies, and even the cats tolerate them pretty well. (See Natchez, above, sleeping with the Simon Baxter portrait of Gumbo.)

What did I just say? Dog portrait? Well, yes.... The dogs have a blog, a portrait, a web site, an email address, a Dogster.com page.... And Gumbo's spotted face adorned our Christmas card last year.

They go to agility and obedience classes, and occasionally get to go to Petco and pick out new toys to add to their bulging toy box. We've searched the world for "pet friendly" hotels so we can take them with us when we go on vacation.

We're empty nesters. Or, at least we WERE empty nesters....

And they called it puppy love

2005-07-02T20:14:00.000-05:00

This is Lucy, the chocolate lab, and Gumbo's first true love.

She currently resides in Paris, Texas, but frequently comes to visit. She's very bossy and has never met a drop of water she didn't like.

In fact, it's a good thing she's brown... she splashes through every mud puddle in the neighborhood.

She's an adventurer, and recently took a bathrobe-clad Lindsey on a pre-dawn journey into a neighbor's house. But I'll let him tell that story....

Whadda mean his "tu-tu" is small?????

2005-06-30T13:16:00.000-05:00

Soon after Gumbo came into our lives at 5 months of age, we planned to have him "tutored" (with apologies to Gary Larsen). Not exactly sure when to do this, we assumed we should do this when Gumbo's testicles had descended. When inquiring a bit more about this procedure with The Ouachita Valley Dog Training Club, we learned that a male dogs' testicles descend at birth or shortly thereafter. A quick examination by one of the trainers indicated that Gumbo's testicles had, in fact, not descended. The advice was to get Gumbo "tutored" right away, since this condition, cryptorchidism, could cause cancer later in life. Besides, Kathy and I are firm believers in not bringing anymore puppies into the world. So this was a no-brainer for us.

So the "tutoring" is scheduled, and Gumbo goes in to Rundell Veterinary Clinic. I explained the whole scenario about Gumbo's non-descending testicles to Lois, the receptionist and know-all at Rundell's.

About 2:30 that afternoon, I inquire about Gumbo.

"How's Gumbo?" I ask.

"You know his testicles had descended." quips Lois.

"OK, so how's Gumbo?" I ask once again.

Lois chimes in, "You see, his testicles were very, very, very, very, very small."

"Wonderful, how's Gumbo?" for the third time.

"Oh, he's fine. You know, his 'tu-tu' is also very, very, very, very small." injects Lois.

"Whadda mean, his 'tu-tu' is very, very, very, very small?" I'm starting to get perturbed.

"You know, his 'tu-tu'."

"No, I don't know. What in the hell do you mean, his 'tu-tu'?" Lois probably thinks I'm obtuse.

"You know, " she whispers into the phone, "his penis."

"Gee thanks, Lois. Now I have an inferiority complex about the size of my dog's 'tu-tu'. One thing a man never wants to hear from a woman is that a 'tu-tu' is very, very, very very small, even if it is his dog's."

Well, I start self-esteem counseling next week, and I'm sending Lois the bill.

And the Alpha dog is?????

2005-06-28T18:40:00.000-05:00

In an attempt to be good canine parents, we've been reading.

Those of us who've actually raised children find the many theories and philosophies interesting, alternately practical and improbable, sometimes beautiful in their simplicity, sometimes totally unworkable.

In other words: Some of the folks who write about children and dogs know what they're talking about. The rest of them are full of BS.

We have particularly subscribed to the philosophies of Jan Fennell, and her book, "The Dog Listener," has helped us immensely with border collies who are known to be some of the smartest dogs alive.

The primary help Ms. Fennell has given us is understanding the dog's attempt at communication and the pack theory. Border collies, herders by nature, are definitely pack animals. Until we read "The Dog Listener," we just didn't understand we humans were part of the pack.

Lindsey has firmly established himself as THE ALPHA DOG in our pack hierarchy. Gumbo, Roux and I consistently challenge each other for the No. 2 spot.

I am enjoying letting Lindsey think he's the Alpha dog.....

Body language

2005-06-28T07:00:00.000-05:00

Gumbo and Lindsey have been practicing dog agility for a number of months now with the Blue Ribbon Training Academy in West Monroe.

Recently, Terese their trainer forbade Lindsey from talking while he and Gumbo are working. It seems Lindsey's voice would give one command and his body would signal another command... quite confusing for the dog.

It's working. Gumbo is doing much better at practice.

We went to a big agility trial this weekend at the Monroe Civic Center. We learned a lot by watching, and saw people of all ages and all walks of life having fun with their dogs. I think Lindsey gained confidence about eventually competing with Gumbo.

We watched a woman with no arms run barefoot through the obstacle course and have a flawless run with her dog.

Amazing, the communication between dog and owner. And we have the advantage of hand signals.

I am a ball-crazy dog

2005-06-27T19:35:00.000-05:00

Gumbo, au naturel.

Border Collie routines

2005-06-27T19:18:00.000-05:00

We're kinda new at this border collie stuff. But we're trying.

We've learned they're animals of ritual. Our ritual at our house involves a very set and well established daily routine.

First, there's the border collie standing on Lindsey's bladder. That usually occurs about the time the alarm is set to go off, 5 or 5:30 a.m. Our only problem there is that we haven't taught the border collies how to recognize the weekend, when we can all sleep later.

Lindsey gets up first, puts on his robe and goes out to get the newspaper.

The border collies lead the way, a lightning tag team versus our arthritic, sleep-weary joints, veering off to the right through Dave and Becky's yard and somewhere over to the Shaws' yard.

Lindsey toddles out, picks up the paper, shouts, "Gumbo, Roux, COME!" And the border collies blaze a path back into the house.

They park themselves on the bed, waiting for him to return with our coffee and newspaper.

He must, of course, return with the "Chuckit" toy and a tennis ball.

He tosses at first, I read the front section.

We start splitting up the sections of the newspaper.

He tosses.

I toss.

Gumbo has a sleek, roll-up-on-the-bed's-edge move. He drops the ball, ever so slightly out of our reach.

If we don't react quickly enough, he comes back up, rolling the ball ever closer. And if we are totally engrossed in the morning newspaper, he manages to come plant himself directly over whatever story I'm reading.

Roux, on the other hand, wants the affection and love that comes with completely delivering the ball and pouncing with her lanky, teen-aged puppy legs right up to us. She comes wagging her tail and often plants a kiss right after she's dropped the ball.

Considering where the balls have been -- I'm not sure that's the healthiest thing, but we haven't caught anything yet that we can attribute to dog kisses.

Roux, Roux, Roux-be-o

2005-06-26T11:58:00.000-05:00

This is Roux, a tri-colored border collie, on the first day in her new home.

All legs and possessing the energy of a locomotive, she's about 5 months old, based on estimates from our vet, Dr. Jim Rundell.

Gumbo, her older white and black-ticked border collie brother, thought it was great fun to have someone to play with for a few days. After all, Lucy, Gumbo's chocolate lab cousin, usually stays for a day or two.

However, Gumbo figured out that Roux wasn't going away and spent a few days pouting to us and trying to rip Roux's face off when we weren't looking. Eventually, Gumbo figured out that Roux could be a full-time playmate, and they are the best of buds now. Their nickname is Mr. & Mrs. Snarleyface and their mantra is:

"Rip, Rip, Rip

Run, Run, Run

Snarl, Snarl, Snarl

Fun, Fun, Fun"

The new dog

2005-06-26T11:38:00.000-05:00

We'd always heard two border collies are better than one. First, these dogs are very smart. Secondly, they have more energy than a nuclear power plant.

We'd been thinking about getting a second dog because our ball-throwing arms are now visibly larger than our non-ball-throwing arms.

My husband, Lindsey, came home from the vet's office one night and told me about a sweet little tri-color collie pup who'd been boarded and abandoned there.

A couple of days later, it was a kinda slow Friday afternoon at the office. I kept thinking about this puppy. So I went to meet her.

When I went in, Lois -- who runs the vet's office -- knew why I was there. Within minutes, this little wiggle-tailed puppy was licking my face and peeing on my lap.

Of course, there was no choice but to take her. I called Lindsey and told him I was on my way home from the vet's.

"What's wrong? What's happened?" he asked with alarm.

"Nothing," I replied. "I'm just trying to drive with this little girl puppy licking me in the face."

Lindsey and Gumbo were sitting on the front porch waiting for us. We've been inseparable since.

Her new name is Roux, which of course, is the base of any gumbo.

Meet Gumbo

2005-06-26T11:23:00.000-05:00

This is Gumbo the border collie in his famous "just throw it" pose. My job is to throw the ball. I may have more tennis balls than Pete Sampras and I don't play tennis. Yes, Gumbo has his own web site -- www.ulm.edu/~lwilkerson/gumbo.html and an email address, gumbo_the_bc@yahoo.com. He personally answers all emails.

Go to his web site to read how he came to be in our lives -- and you'll understand why our lives now revolve around the spotted dog.